Chapter Twenty
Aunt Lottie tooka chair among the other matrons clustered on this side of the Travers’ ballroom, just to the right of the Dowager Duchess of Ware. The two women stared each other down, when neither flinched, both sniffed and then exchanged a polite greeting.
Aurora released the breath she’d been holding. Meetings between Aunt Lottie and the dowager duchess could often be unpredictable. Thinly veiled insults were hurled, often covered in compliments. References to the past that no one could quite understand. Spilled tea. An upturned plate of scones. Comments on each other’s clothing.
Very much like two schoolgirls.
Their mutual animosity stretched back at least four decades according to Ware. Odessa claimed that the hostility started when each walked into the same ball wearing a gown of identical style and color. Both women had once patronized the same modiste in their youth. The only notable difference between the two gowns had been the cut of the bodice. Aunt Lottie’s, as expected, had a much more indecent neckline. The entire ballroom that night had erupted in conjecture before either of them took to the dance floor.
Aunt Lottie found the entire incident amusing. She still did. The dowager duchess claimed utter humiliation.
The blame was fixed on the modiste, who soon left London for France.
How two gowns and an uncreative modiste had caused such a feud was anyone’s guess. Aurora assumed a gentleman was at the core of their dislike. Possibly both women had been rivals for his affection. It was no secret that the former Duke of Ware had been uninterested in his duchess. Aunt Lottie had never wed and remained a spinster.
It all made perfect sense.
Aurora tapped her foot in time to the music, imagining what the two older women had looked like as young, carefree girls, scorning each other across a dance floor in matching gowns. What a sight that must have been.
Content to watch the proceedings from her place between both ladies, Aurora observed the swirl of dancing couples. Lord Grisham had already received his dance earlier, merely reinforcing Aurora’s tepid feelings for him. A pity that the earl was dull as dishwater. Not even the wide breadth of his shoulders and his athletic build could overcome such an obstacle. Grisham could barely carry on a conversation beyond the weather and horses, neither of which Aurora had the least interest in.
Such a shame, because he was quite attractive.
Grisham had politely conversed with the dowager duchess and Aunt Lottie, earning smiles from both before promising Aurora to return at some point.
No matter how handsome Grisham was in his formal wear, Aurora wasn’t sad to see him depart. Once they’d exhausted the topic of whether rain would fall tomorrow followed by a description of a gelding he meant to purchase from Tattersalls.
Aurora hoped to see Mr. Healy tonight, not only for his own sake, but because Lord Kenebruke might also be in attendance. Aunt Lottie’s mood had lifted dramatically after seeing Healey at the apothecary and learning that Kenebruke’s absence was due to a bad cough. She had smiled for the remainder of theweek, sending off two notes to Kenebruke wishing him a speedy recovery.
Both went unanswered. Just as before.
Aurora suspected Mr. Healey’s interference. She did not voice her thoughts to Aunt Lottie.
Her plan, when Healey appeared, was to confront him herself. There was much to like about Kenebruke’s nephew and Aurora wished to give him the benefit of the doubt. He could be overly polite. A tad pompous. Controlling, even. But she had also caught glimpses of his sense of humor. He was thoughtful. Kind. Enjoyed reading and books as she did. Best of all, Healey was transparent in his admiration for Aurora. She didn’t have to wonder at his feelings for her.
Unlike Worth who blew hot and cold depending on the day.
Upon returning from Tate’s that day, Aurora had spent the remainder of the afternoon writing out a series of letters to Worth, all of which ended torn up and tossed into the fire. She wanted an explanation for the passionate, intoxicating kiss they’d shared at the bookseller. A kiss that should never have happened because Aurora had returned the book. Worth had made his position clear. There was also the matter of Lady Bryant. Was he really so bloody obtuse he didn’t realize his paramour’s cousin was Lady Longwood?
Aurora took a deep breath. Clasped her hands before her and kept her gaze on the couples dancing.
The longer she considered Worth, the more incensed at his actions she became. Aurora had stopped short of throwing on her cloak, hailing a hack, and showing up at Worth’s door to demand answers. Ropely, his butler, would admit her to the drawing room without blinking an eye. After all, he had before, discreetly shutting the door behind him.
Poor Ropely. Aurora did wonder what Worth’s butler thought of her. Had he heard her screaming out her pleasure into the cushions of the settee?
But she hadn’t gone to Worth that day, or any day since. Charging down the stairs, Aurora had made it only as far as the drawing room before realizing the absolute stupidity of her actions. Nothing would be served by arriving at Worth’s home, unescorted. Tossing off her cloak, she had gone straight to the sideboard, refusing to look at the portrait of her parents smiling above the fireplace as they would certainly disapprove, and poured a healthy glass of Irish whiskey.
Aurora had sat before the fire for a length of time, sipping whiskey, considering how brazenly she’d pursued Worth without any shame. Insisting he was merely a tutor of sorts. Rather embarrassing, when it came down to it. What right did Aurora have to question him after the tone she had set?
“I don’t,” she said, her thoughts returning to the Travers’ ballroom. Lifting her head, she looked scanned the room, absently looking for Mr. Healey. Her perusal was stopped by a pair of eyes, gleaming with malicious intent. The spray of feathers spilling wildly atop the lady’s coiffure gave away her identity. Pale yellow garbed her stark, angular form and when combined with the headdress of feathers gave Aurora the impression she was being stared down by an overly large chicken.
Lady Longwood snapped her fan, flinty eyes never leaving Aurora even as she bent to whisper something to the woman beside her.
Lady Bryant.
Aurora was unsurprised at their staring or the smug tilt to Lady Bryant’s crimson lips. Likely they were dissecting Aurora’s character, her origins, and the fit of her gown. Aurora had never spoken to Lady Longwood directly save when she’d been a child.The day the Sinclairs were banished to Dunnings she’d leaned over a terrified Aurora and whispered,Deadly Sin. Though only a child, she remembered the utter contempt Lady Longwood had shown Mama. The only other encounter she’d had with the dowager viscountess had been at a modiste’s shop when the Sinclairs had returned to London.
Aurora lifted her chin in challenge to Lady Longwood.
