Aurora was stunning in a gown of rose silk this evening. Chestnut hair piled into a mound of curls atop her head and studded with brilliants. A goddess come to life in the Travers’ ballroom. The sight of her beckoned Charles like some bloody siren despite the unwelcome glance she gave him.
Charles didn’t dare approach Aurora, not with Miss Maplehurst and the austere Dowager Duchess of Ware on either side. Nor could he while Hildie and Lady Longwood watched him so carefully. Those two bitter harridans would make much of him greeting Aurora and draw far too much attention. Gossip was sure to follow.
Hildie was obviously out for blood, his in particular, but Lady Longwood wanted nothing more than to sink her claws deep into Aurora. Worth was aware of his reputation. Knew what the cost would be to Aurora if their association was not assumed to be innocent. Keeping his distance tonight would be wise when there was more than one pair of eyes aimed in his direction.
So Charles had kept his distance from Aurora, deciding to play cards for a time. But Hildie had followed. Now he was fleeing from her as discreetly as possible. That’s when he heard the whisper of her name.
Cecily.
Charles halted momentarily at hearing Cecily mentioned, though Hildie was bearing down on him.
On rare occasions at events such as this, Cecily Millstone’s name floated about. But not often enough to make Charles avoid going out in society, not anymore. Years ago, he’d allowed himself to be branded as a dishonorable rake because it was vastly preferable to the truth. He allowed Cecily to go about weeping that Charles had cruelly discarded her. She was ruined. Everyone knew it.
In all fairness, Charles did bed her, but he’d trusted that Cecily would be his wife.
He could not, however, take credit for her ruination.
Trust. Once gone, it was impossible to repair. Especially in Cecily’s case.
Aurora is not Cecily.
Charles made his way to the other side of the room, ducked through a doorway, and found himself once more in the hall. Moving toward the ballroom, he was relieved to not see Hildie behind him.
Aurora and Cecily were as different as two women could be. Cecily had been willowy with barely a bosom to speak of. Auburn haired. Undeniably cultured and beautiful. The epitome of the perfect lady.
She’d never spent a day digging in the dirt flicking worms off a cabbage.
Aurora was generous in both form and heart. Witty. Intelligent. Deeply sensual. And she held her whiskeyexceedingly well. Cecily displayed no such talent, blaming spirits for a variety of her misdeeds.
A gentleman pushed past Charles, jolting him out of his musings. The elbow purposefully nudged Charles in the back with an elbow without apology. He turned to say a word to this rudely impolite gentleman and stopped.
Healey.
A rude word was not required.
Lord Kenebruke had called on Charles just yesterday, solicitor at his side, apologizing profusely for any misunderstandings while he’d been ill. The contracts had been signed. Their business venture for the mills, complete. Given the dressing down Healey likely received from his uncle, Charles should be glad Healey hadn’t pushed him harder. Healey had been shut out of the situation. As he should have been from the start.
Charles watched Healey stomp off. Kenebruke’s nephew was making a beeline for Aurora.
Possessiveness pinched at him. Another unwanted emotion he hadn’t felt since Cecily. He didn’t want Healey touching Aurora or even speaking to her. The urge to punch the younger man in the nose had him forming a fist. How satisfying it would be to break the bridge. Blacken his eye. Watch Healey’s blood drip all over Lord Travers’s fancy ballroom.
It took so little to turn a gentleman into a savage, didn’t it?
He melted into an alcove, just before the entrance of the ballroom, watching happily as Lady Bryant passed, paused and searched the crowd, likely for him, and then moved on. He sunk into the darkness further, when Healey, his fingers firmly wrapped around Aurora’s elbow, escorted her toward the dance floor. She was laughing, her cheeks alight with color, shining like a jewel as Healey whirled her around.
Kenebruke’s nephew had the personality of a beet if he possessed any one at all. He was far too reserved for Aurora. She’d fall asleep from boredom if he bedded her.
A growl sounded inside Charles.
Nevertheless, Aurora smiled up at Healey. They made a striking couple. Even Charles had to admit it. Aurora would be a countess when Healey inherited from his uncle. But he doubted she cared about such things.
Unlike Cecily.
Charles had no idea how ambitious his former betrothed was until she fucked Viscount Worthington, his father.
The ugliness of that memory flooded Charles in an instant, no matter how he tried to shut it back away. Hide it all so that Charles never had to look at it again. But this business with Aurora had that old bitterness and pain leeching out of him again, seeping through his fine clothing, and reminding Charles that in the end, he hadn’t been enough for Cecily.
He might never be enough for anyone.
