Page 57 of Sinfully Wanton
A huff left Healey. He shook his head, unable to fathom Aurora’s anger. Pinched the bridge of his nose. Abruptly, he jumped up and proceeded to storm about the drawing room, displaying a sort of quiet rage which made Aurora doubly glad of her decision.
“This is because of Worthington, isn’t it.” He spun about and skewered her with a look. “I’ve heard the rumors but didn’t want to entertain the thought that you could possibly be involved. I should have known when you kissed me like some strumpet. How long have you been lovers?”
Aurora fell back against the cushions, but immediately straightened. The voice of the dowager duchess echoed in her mind.
Steel your spine. Do not look away. Dare them to offer challenge.
“I think it best you leave, Mr. Healey. It is obvious we do not suit. I think it something we can both agree upon.”
“There was so much gossip about you and your family, but like a fool, I ignored the whispers. I’ve informed my uncle that I will finally take a grand tour of the Continent. I’ll be gone for some time and will leave before this travesty of a wedding between my uncle and that woman—”
“Her name is Charlotte Maplehurst. Or Aunt Lottie. But I’m not sure if she’ll welcome you addressing her as such.”
He glared at her. “Have you nothing more to say, Lady Aurora?”
“I wish you a pleasant journey.” Aurora was, in fact, vastly relieved. She needn’t worry over running into Healey at Tate’s again. Or seeing him at Aunt Lottie’s wedding to Kenebruke.
Mr. Healey took a step back. “I was willing to take you, no matter the talk.”
Hewasa condescending prig. No wonder Worth didn’t like him. “How kind of you. Now you need not take me at all.”
“When you are shunned by most of society, without hope of making a decent match, remember me and this conversation. Good day, Lady Aurora.” Healey stomped out of the drawing room, nearly slamming into Holly, who opened the door for him. The butler growled softly as he escorted Mr. Healey out, shutting the door behind him.
Bless Holly.
Aurora sat, brittle and still, until the heated conversation with Healey faded from her skin. Well, she’d long suspected there was a passionate nature behind the starched cravat, butAurora had hoped it would be put to more pleasurable pursuits. Mr. Healey would have made a controlling, rigid husband. Eventually he would have come to watch over Aurora’s every mood. Her brothers would have detested him, not to mention Ware.
She did not regret refusing Healey, but it was unfortunate they could not part on more amicable terms. But he’d insulted Aunt Lottie and his uncle. Not to mention finally admitting to Aurora what he really thought of the Sinclairs.
Healey thought Worth was her lover.
Well, isn’t he?
Aurora stood and went to the sideboard, poured herself a glass of her brother’s best Irish whiskey, and sat back down. Taking a sip, she sighed at the warmth spilling over her chest, hoping to dispel the rest of Healey from her mind. She looked up at the portrait of her parents, the affection they had for each other so bloody apparent.
She took a deep, shaky breath.
“I’ve never been truthful with Worth. I lied about what I felt because I didn’t want to risk my heart. But I suppose I have to. The only alternative would be to live with the regret of not telling him. I don’t want to emulate Aunt Lottie. Or wait years to find happiness.”
Worth might only love her for a time. Never wed her. But at least, Aurora would have had him.
Swallowing the remainder of the whiskey, she set the empty glass on the table.
“I will have no regrets.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Charles looked upat the sky, thinking what a fine day it was outside, despite the darkening of clouds in the distance that foretold a storm was coming. At least the ride here had been pleasant with the carriage top put down, though the journey had taken nearly an hour.
He hopped out of the carriage, instructing his driver he might be gone for some time before Charles made his way over the neatly kept grass to the gate. This visit was long overdue.
A bouquet of violets was neatly wrapped in paper and clutched in his hand. It was the least he could do.
Violets were Cecily’s favorite.
While he’d avoided visiting for years, Charles had known by the hollowness inside him after Aurora stormed away at the Travers’ ball, that he would need to see Cecily. There were things that needed to be said. Resolved. He’d gone straight home after leaving Aurora on the terrace, furious at her obstinate nature even though it was one of the things he adored about her. He’d tried to speak to her, though Charles hadn’t any idea what he really meant to say.
He’d returned home, frustrated, and unsettled. Taking a seat before the fire in his study, Charles had stared into the flames trying to make sense of his life.
