“I want to sit with you. Alone,” the viscount said firmly.

“I see.”

He moved the chair out and seated her before sitting himself and said, “I’ll let the line die down a bit before filling our plates if you don’t mind.”

She started to reply and saw Barton headed their way. She supposed the butler would ask her and Aubrey to move to Jeremy and Catherine’s table.

Instead, he brought a silver tray to the viscount. “For you, Lord Aubrey.”

“Hmm.” Aubrey took the folded page atop it and Barton stepped aside, remaining close in case he was needed.

Laurel watched as her companion skimmed the contents. His face drained of color. Folding the note, he slipped it inside his coat.

“I must apologize, my lady. I must leave immediately.”

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“My father has passed away suddenly.”

A lump formed in her throat. “Oh, my lord. I am so sorry for your loss. My mother passed recently. I understand how difficult this is.”

He rose. “Let me escort you to your family.”

The viscount led her to the Everton table. He kissed her hand. “I’m afraid I will be in mourning, Lady Laurel. I will not see you for a while.”

Aubrey looked as if he had more to say and then shook his head. “I must find Amanda.”

He left and she watched him cross to where Lord and Lady Stanley sat. He bent and spoke to her. She stiffened and rose, Lord Stanley doing the same. The three quit the supper room.

“Has something happened?” Jeremy asked, looking concerned.

“Yes. Lord Aubrey just received word that Lord Rutherford has passed,” Laurel replied.

“Oh, no,” Catherine murmured. “I received a note from Lady Rutherford, saying they would not be in attendance tonight. That the earl was feeling ill. This is terrible.”

“Should we end the ball?” Laurel asked.

“No. The death will be announced soon enough,” Jeremy said. “I’m sorry if this has colored your evening, Laurel. It seems you and Aubrey were getting along well.”

“He is very nice,” she responded. “As is Lady Stanley. They’ve both been very kind to me.” She rose. “If you will excuse me. I need a few moments to myself.”

Laurel escaped the ballroom. She’d never really grieved for her mother after Dinah had passed because of the financial difficulties she and Hudson had faced, as well as the threats hanging over them from Julius Farmon. She knew she wasn’t reacting to the death of Lord Rutherford, whom she’d barely known, but to the emptiness she’d felt ever since her mother had died.

She needed to be away from the noise and slipped out a door which led to the balcony. The cool air of the April evening engulfed her. She moved to the far end of the terrace and leaned her forearms against the railing.

And cried the tears that had never been shed.