“Indeed, it is, Your Grace.”
“Have you been compromised, Aurora?” The dowager looked straight ahead at the couples dancing before them.
“No, Your Grace.” But she had wanted to be. Her leg had been wrapped around Worth’s hip. Had he lifted her skirts, Aurora would not have stopped him. No matter her anger, resolve or the words she’d said to Worth, it would never be Healey Aurora wanted. Pointless to deny it. She should be honest with herself if no one else. “I have heeded your advice on such matters.”
“So your virtue is intact, but not your innocence, I’ll warrant.”
Aurora’s gasp at her bluntness was quickly covered up by a cough. Best not to answer.
“I will assume, since that mincing nitwit Lady Bryant has just entered the ballroom with that overdone feral pigeon, Lady Longwood, in tow, that you might have seen them in passing as you strolled about with Mr. Healey.”
“I did, Your Grace.” Aurora clasped her hands tighter. “I believe I compared Lady Bryant to a berry that has been left on the vine to wither, deemed unfit to be picked.”
A soft chuckle came from the older woman. “And?”
“There is a strong possibility that Mr. Worthington has not been playing cards.”
A huff from the dowager duchess, but no scathing condemnation.
“Very well, Aurora. Tilt up your chin and look down your nose at the lot of them as I’ve taught you.Wedo not tolerate such talk from lesser mortals, not even when it may be about us. Now, as to the matter of Cecily Millstone,” the dowager duchess cleared her throat. “That event should be discussed further. Not with me, mind you. But those with a different view of the situation.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Aurora reached down and took the older woman’s fingers, squeezing gently. There was a great deal of reassurance to be found with the Dowager Duchess of Ware. “I would like to say, Your Grace, that I bear you a great deal of affection.”
“As you should.” A smile tried to make itself known on her taut lips. “Maudlin, Aurora. You are becoming oversentimental for a young lady. You must learn to contain such an emotion while in society.” But she squeezed Aurora’s fingers back. “An important lesson that I insist you learn.” Another huff as Lady Longwood strolled deliberately to a group of society matrons across the ballroom. “One hour and we may leave. Stare the feral pigeon down. She won’t dare to attack.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I will endeavor to do so.”
Lady Longwood stalked back and forth, horrid yellow feathers bobbing about in her hair, all pointing in Aurora’s direction. Malice had contorted her already sharp features until they were almost unrecognizable. Lady Bryant’s lips moved in tandem, pausing to whisper behind her fan and not so discreetly gesture in Aurora’s direction.
Aurora didn’t flinch. Nor blink. Refused to back down.
She carefully sorted through every horrible thing Lady Longwood had done or said about the Sinclair family. The sobbing of Mama at being banished to Dunnings to die there. Bentley doing his best to starve Aurora and her siblings.
Lifting her chin higher, she said, “Perhaps more a mad hen, Your Grace.”
“I can see it,” the dowager duchess intoned. “Straighten your shoulders.”
An hour later, after three more dances from gentlemen who obviously hadn’t yet heard the gossip Lady Longwood was busy spreading, and two glasses of overly sweet lemonade, the dowager duchess finally deemed they could depart.
The guests in the ballroom were far too busy being amused over the news that Miss Charlotte Maplehurst, elderly chaperone, and Lord Kenebruke had been found in a compromising situation to spend much time on Aurora.
But that was likely only due to the commanding presence of the Dowager Duchess of Ware at her side.
Lord Kenebruke had left some time ago with Miss Maplehurst, according to the dowager duchess’s footman, who assisted them into their waiting carriage. Mr. Healey was forced to take a hack or find another way home. Someone must have taken pity on him, for Kenebruke’s nephew was nowhere to be found.
Aurora fell back gratefully against the fine leather seats with a sigh.
“Kenebruke,” said the dowager duchess said as the carriage began to roll, “will not be pleased by the scene Mr. Healey caused. One does not dare to chastise an earl in such a public manner nor dare to disparage the company he keeps. Kenebruke’s nephew has overstepped.”
Mr. Healey had indeed. “Do you know Lord Kenebruke well, Your Grace?”
“He is a close acquaintance of Lord Curchon and has been for years. I was at the ball when Kenebruke’s betrothal was announced. My brother and I were both in attendance. Coincidentally, that ball was Kenebruke’s first meeting with Charlotte Maplehurst. I do not know the particulars of their history together, but I saw the earl’s face when he first cast eyes on her.” The dowager looked at the passing scenery outside. “Identical to Kenebruke’s gaze tonight. I believe—he has always loved her. Curchon claimed he did. I’m not sure what caused their recent falling out after so long apart, but I suspect Mr. Healey stuck his nose into his uncle’s affairs. So—I sent Charlotte to him.”
Aurora digested the information. She opened her mouth to ask more, but the dowager duchess held up a hand.
“It is Charlotte’s story to tell. Not mine.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
