“He’s boring, Your Grace.” Aunt Lottie interjected. “I’ve had tea with Grisham. Goes on about the weather, which is to be expected. But then he settles in on horses. Nothing but horses.”
“Well, Grisham breeds them on his estate, so I understand his interest. Fine horses, I may add.” The dowager raised a brow.
“We’ve nothing in common, Your Grace.” Aurora gave her an apologetic look. “I don’t think we’d suit.”
“I see. Perhaps over time?”
“No, Your Grace.”
“Hmm. And what of Mr. Healey? He’ll be an earl one day.” She watched Aunt Lottie from beneath her lashes. “Kenebruke,” she paused, “won’t live forever.”
Aunt Lottie glared at her. “Nor will you.”
The dowager laughed softly. “Goodness, Charlotte. I’m only stating the obvious. Consider our ages.” She huffed. “At least he’s no longer married.”
Aurora had been correct. The feud between the dowager and Aunt Lottiedidhave to do with a man. Given the conversation, all signs pointed to Kenebruke. She was about to ask, as innocently as possible, how the dowager came to be acquainted with Lord Kenebruke, when a honey-blonde shock of hair appeared in the crowd atop a lean, elegant figure.
Worth.
His chin tilted in Aurora’s direction almost as if he’d heard her say his name. Magnificent in his dark evening clothes, the stark attire a perfect foil for his aristocratic beauty. He easily put every other gentleman in the ballroom to shame, at least in Aurora’s opinion. They regarded each other across the ballroom for scant moments before Worth disappeared, heading in the direction of the room set aside for cards.
Well, that was disappointing. Did she not deserve the pretense of a polite greeting? Manners would demand he’d at least greet Aunt Lottie and the dowager duchess. But she supposed it best if she and Worth didn’t speak to each other.
Lady Bryant’s eyes followed Worth before she detached from Lady Longwood. Purposefully, she strolled in the same direction as Worth.
Aurora kept herself still, refusing to allow the sight of Lady Bryant sauntering after Worth to bother her.
A wave of nausea struck her.
“Charles Worthington. Such a rogue,” the dowager said lightly. “Entirely too charming for his own good. Hardly a gentleman, though his brother the viscount, most certainly is. But eye catching all the same. Like a jewel set in gold catching the sun. Brilliant, I’m told by Ware.”
“That is my understanding as well, Your Grace,” Aurora answered. “I doubt Drew would have become his business partner otherwise.”
A tiny sound came from Aunt Lottie. She pressed a hand to her throat as if distressed by something. “I—”
“Is something amiss, Aunt Lottie?” Aurora immediately went to her side.
“Not at all, dear.” Her hand fell back to her side. “It is only that the terrible punch we’ve been served, and the heat of the ballroom has caused my temples to ache. I should—find a quiet spot to rest for a moment. Gather my wits once more.”
“I completely agree. I’ve often considered you witless.” The dowager waved a gloved hand. “If you follow that corridor, Charlotte, you’ll find a small parlor. The interior is painted a horrid shade of green. Much like a gown I once wore many years ago. I never really cared for that gown, Charlotte. Not then,” she gave Aunt Lottie a meaningful look, “or later. I don’t believe I’ve ever told you. At any rate, despite the atrocious hue, the parlor is quite private. I doubt you’d be disturbed, were you to lie down and rest. At our age, Charlotte,” the dowager punctuated each word, “one should not put off such things.”
Aurora looked between them. The two were not speaking of a gown.
“I also had the misfortune of a gown in that same terrible shade of green. Too many flounces and ribbons. I daresay, Idon’t even care for green. A momentary madness overtook me else I would never have—” her eyes caught those of the dowager, “worn it. I discarded the gown as soon as I found out how—poorly it was made.” Aunt Lottie bobbed politely. “Please excuse me, Your Grace. Lady Aurora.” She walked swiftly away in the direction of the corridor the dowager had pointed out, weaving around the dance floor and disappeared from view.
Aurora took a deep breath. “Was it Kenebruke?”
“Who?”
“The gown,” Aurora asked. “I think it must be Lord Kenebruke you are speaking of.”
The dowager gave her a shrewd look of approval. “Clever girl. It was not Kenebruke. Though I did happen to spy him across the ballroom a short time ago, leaning heavily on his cane.” She looked up at Aurora. “Fell from a horse. Leg didn’t heal properly. At any rate, he’ll need to rest. Our hostess will have directed him to that terribly decorated parlor. She’s terribly proud of the décor for some unknown reason.” She gave a shiver of disgust.
“Why?” Aurora’s heart swelled with affection for Ware’s mother.
“Well, for one thing, my eyesight is much better than Charlotte’s. She’s been squinting the entire evening which is incredibly distracting. Had I not pointed out his whereabouts, Kenebruke might well have left soon due to his leg.”
“Who was the gown, Your Grace? I knew it had to be a gentleman.”
