Page 45 of The Banished Bride
“We are not friends,” grumbled Aurora. “We would all do well to remember that.”
Alex appeared unperturbed by her waspish words. He nodded a greeting to the occupants of yet another carriage, then calmly pointed out a well-known general to Miss Robertson and launched into an amusing anecdote that had the other woman back to smiling in a matter of moments.
Aurora’s mood became even glummer. This had definitely not been a good idea. It was not only Robbie’s reactions she was concerned about, but her own. There had been no denying that her pulse had quickened on seeing Alex descend from his carriage at the appointed hour, dressed in his elegant navy coat and snug, buff-colored breeches. She could only hope that he hadn’t noticed any flutter of the draperies that would have revealed her clandestine observation. And even now she had to keep her face averted to hide the heated glow of her cheeks and the look of longing in her eyes.
Surely Robbie couldn’t be right. Aurora sucked in a bit of her lower lip. How hopelessly absurd. Surely she had not developed a real tendre for the man. And what did it matter if she had, she told herself roughly. The Earl of Woodbridge possessed no such tender feelings for her. What he possessed was a sheaf of neatly penned foolscap that would soon serve to sever any connection between them, romantic or otherwise.
Whether she wished it or not.
A peal of loud laughter rang out from a nearby carriage. Aurora was grateful for the sound since it covered what she feared had been a tiny sniffle.
Alex was just finishing his story when he remarked the vehicle swinging in from the left. A whisper that sounded suspiciously close to an oath formed on his lips. “Good Lord, it is Lady Renfrew who is bearing down on us,” he said in a slightly louder voice. “She is one of my Aunt Letitia’s more outspoken cronies, so prepare yourselves, ladies, for?—”
His warning was cut off by the sharp rap of a silver-tipped cane against the lacquered panel of his vehicle.
“Alexander. Or Woodbridge, as I suppose I must call you now.” It was, thought Aurora, nothing short of remarkable that such a deep-throated bellow could emerge from such a frail creature. “Hmmph! Hard to imagine the grubby faced littlerapscallion who smashed three of my drawing room windows with his cricket ball is now an earl, but life has a way of turning out as one least expects it to. Take my word for it.” Another rap of the cane punctuated her pronouncement. “You are still the very naughty boy I remember. Haven’t paid me a visit yet, although I’ve heard you have been in Town for ages.”
Alex murmured a handsome apology which appeared to mollify the elderly lady somewhat.
“Well, no doubt you have had numerous demands on your time, but I expect you will rectify the oversight in short order.” Lady Renfrew paused to polish the lens of an ornate man’s quizzing glass that hung around her neck on a silk ribbon. When raised to her eye, it gave her the look of a diminutive Cyclops. “Your gallivanting across the globe seems to have done you no harm. Still a handsome devil, I see.” The glass then focused on the other occupants of the earl’s carriage. “What’s this I hear about relatives staying at Letitia’s townhouse?” The cane gave another whack to the side of carriage. “She mentioned nothing of the sort to me.”
“Must have slipped her mind.” Alex gave a winning smile. “Unlike you, dear Lady Renfrew, her wits are not quite as sharp as they used to be.”
Lady Renfrew gave a low snort, but the corners of her mouth turned up. She surveyed Miss Robertson before letting the lens linger on Aurora. “Unusual gel,” she remarked after some moments. The one magnified eye narrowed. “Are you on the Marriage Mart?” she demanded with unabashed interest.
“No!” Taken rather aback by the question, Alex’s brows drew together. “Mrs. Sprague is not?—”
Aurora fixed him with an odd stare, then turned to Lady Renfrew with sweet smile and interrupted his halting reply. “What Lord Woodbridge means is ‘not exactly.’ I am a missus, but I have lost my husband.”
The elderly lady gave a knowing nod. “Well, there’s some who vastly prefer a gel with some experience to one fresh from the schoolroom. It seems you also have some spirit as well, which may or may not be in your favor. Have you an inheritance?”
“None to speak of.”
“Hmmph. That will make things more difficult.” She slanted a sideways glance at Alex. “Perhaps Woodbridge may be convinced to cough up some blunt. You are a relation after all.”
Aurora dropped her lashes. “While the earl has kindly given some attention to certain aspects of my finances, I must confess it had not occurred to me to discuss the matter of a dowry.”
“Don’t be shy, gel! A lady must take matters into her own hands at times, if she wishes to succeed in this world.”
“As if she needs be reminded,” muttered Alex under his breath.
Lady Renfrew shot him a keen look that showed her ears to be in as good form as her lungs. “I imagine Woodbridge will do what is right. He was always the best of the plaguey lot of Fenimores, even if he was a handful at times.” She let the quizzing glass fall back to her wizened chest. “Bring her with you when you visit, Alexander. She appears to be more interesting than most milk and water misses.”
With that the cane came down once more, this time against the railing of her own door. The driver, apparently well used to his employer’s little quirks, immediately started the horses off at a smart trot.
Alex turned to Aurora as soon as Lady Renfew’s vehicle had moved off, the irritation writ plain on his face. “What the devil made you say such a farrididdle such as?—”
Although the poke of her bonnet hid her expression, the tilt of her chin was clear enough indication of her refusal to becowed by his tone. “What do you mean, sir? What I said is the truth, is it not?”
His mouth thinned into a grim line, but he made no answer. After a few moments of awkward silence, he shifted in his seat and fell back to regaling Miss Robertson with more pithy commentary on the various personages who were making their way along Rotten Row.
Aurora jerked her head around to look out over the crowd of strangers on her side of the park, suddenly feeling rather sick to her stomach. Itwasthe truth, she told herself. So why was the taste of it so bitter?
She choked down a groan. Perhaps it was no longer possible to avoid certain other truths. If she was bent on examining her own situation with the same sort of brutal honesty that she applied to all her other investigations, she would have to admit the real state of her heart. As if to remind her of its precarious position, that vital organ gave a little lurch.
Robbie would have to be informed that it hadn’t happened at all like in the horrid novels. No clap of thunder, no swoon of joy had accompanied the momentous realization. Somehow, amid the snarls and the smiles, the confrontations and the closeness, love had simply happened.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
