“Your implications are vulgar,” Healey ground out. His left hand curled into a fist.
“That won’t do, Healey. You don’t want to cause a scene by punching me, do you? There are at least a dozen couples on the terrace. What a scene you’d cause. I wouldn’t advise it.”
“Always so glib, aren’t you Worthington? So smug and full of yourself.”
“It’s a gift.”
A derisive snort came from Aurora.
“Lady Aurora, my apologies, but I need to—”
“Mr. Worthington will see me back inside.” Aurora’s plump lips were lifted in a brittle smile. “As you know, he’s a friend of the family. I’ve known him since I was a child. Mr. Worthington is like a brother to me.”
Touché, Aurora.
“I’ll find you once I’ve seen to my uncle.” A look of pure loathing was directed at Charles.
“The small parlor down the hall to the left,” he said, as Healey stalked past him. “Can’t miss it. The most terrible color of green I’ve ever seen. Like mashed peas.”
Once Healey marched across the terrace and was firmly back inside, Aurora spun on him. “What is wrong with you, Worth?”
“I suppose I’m still addled. Momentarily blinded by what I witnessed. Miss Maplehurst is wearing a red petticoat. Red. At her age.” He pushed up from the wall.
“You should not have sent Healey to his uncle.”
“I could have pushed him off the terrace and into some shrubbery.” Charles took her elbow and moved Aurora further into the shadow and away from any curious glances. The edges of her skirts brushed seductively against his legs and warm honeysuckle filled his nostrils. He was jealous and somewhat aroused. A terrible combination.
Aurora jerked her arm out of his fingers. “Aunt Lottie and Lord Kenebruke—have formed an attachment.”
“I’ll say.”
Aurora kicked him.
“Or rather, they’ve had an attachment for decades. Long lost lovers, so to speak. Now their reunion will be spoiled. Because of you.”
“Are you more upset about the untimely interruption for Miss Maplehurst’s sake or your own?”
Aurora shook her head at him. “Just go away, Worth. You had no right to—burst upon us.”
“Are you going to kick me again? Swat me? Or throw a punch?” She looked distraught, furious, and entirely beautiful.
“I’m considering.” Aurora straightened her shoulders and looked up at him. She had the stance of someone who knows well how to throw a punch. Unsurprising given she was a Sinclair. Brawlers. The lot of them.
“As it happens, I interrupted your attempted seduction of Healey for your own good. Have you no sense of discretion? Unless you’re planning on being compromised and wed within a month, you should not be caught climbing all over Healey like some lascivious vine.”
The lines of her mouth drew tight. “Maybe that is what I wish, to be compromised by Mr. Healey.Hewould make a fine husband.”
The point being Charles would not. That made him angrier. Never mind that he’d spoken of never wanting to wed dozens of times while visiting Emerson House and decried his viability as a husband.
“He might. But I thought you wanted to wed for love,” he said ignoring the terrible ripping sensation in his chest.
“Why do you think I would allow Healey to compromise me if not for love?” Aurora looked away, not answering his question.
“You don’t love him.”
“Do I not?”
An emotion far worse than jealousy mixed with the tearing of his heart. He should have brought the bottle of brandy with him. But at the sight of those two bodies writhing about on the settee—well Charles was ashamed to admit he’d been shocked senseless especially after recognizing Miss Maplehurst. He’d dropped the decanter he’d only just picked up, spilling brandy all over the carpet.
