Twelve

TWELVE

Stockworth Manor conservatory

The next day — afternoon

Aubriella roved her gaze around the large conservatory, seeking an ideal location to sketch Jack. Perhaps over there, against the backdrop of potted Ficus and ferns. With enough candles strategically arranged, the lighting should be sufficient.

She’d decided the greenhouse was the most logical place to carry out her daring plan. To draw the various poses she desired, Aubriella estimated she’d need four to six hours, which meant at least two nights, mayhap three, of clandestine sneaking back and forth.

Jack wouldn’t be happy, and she fully expected he’d refuse more than a single night. She’d cross that hurdle when it arose. Nevertheless, not only was the solar warm—she didn’t want him goose fleshed and shivering—but late at night, it wasn’t likely anyone would interrupt them, including Francine.

She and her father had departed Stockworth Manor last evening without bidding their hosts farewell. No great loss there. What was a loss was Roxina’s presence. She’d pleaded a headache when Aubriella had retired last night and refused to leave their shared chamber today.

In truth, her friend appeared quite ill, though she refused Aubriella’s offer to send for a physician. When Aubriella had peeked in on Roxina an hour ago, she’d been asleep in the darkened chamber. As soon as tea was over, Aubriella intended to check on her again. It wasn’t like Roxina to remain abed.

Twice today, Shelby Tellinger approached Aubriella and inquired after Roxina.

That was most peculiar, since he usually distanced himself from Roxina. His concern was highly suspicious, and the more Aubriella considered it, the more she became convinced that not only was Roxina hiding in the bedchamber, she was hiding something . Something that caused her such distress that the typically stalwart Roxina refused to leave her chamber.

Aubriella meant to have the truth from her dearest friend.

With Jessamine’s hand tucked in the crook of her elbow, the sisters and several others strolled the stone pavers, heated from beneath by a system of pipes linked to a wood furnace.

With its orange and lemon trees, pineapple plants, as well as several palms and other sun-loving vegetation, the greenhouse emitted a tropical atmosphere, which is exactly what Mabel had intended for this afternoon’s tea. The idyllic scene starkly contrasted with the outdoors, where fluffy, wet snowflakes had started falling half an hour ago.

“Do you think the snow will stick, Elli?” Peering through the slightly foggy windows, Jessamine pulled her mazarine blue velvet pelisse’s collar higher before glancing down at her impractical flared-heel, striped shoes.

“I honestly don’t know, Minnie.”

Aubriella hoped not.

Wasn’t it a mere fortnight ago she prayed for snow and now asked the Good Lord for the opposite?

She didn’t relish trudging from the manor house to the conservatory at midnight in a foot of snow. All in the name of science, of course. It didn’t hurt that Jack was dreadfully handsome and possessed a Greek god’s splendid physique. What else explained the taut fabric across his broad shoulders and long legs?

Jessamine formed a moue with her mouth.

On other girls, the pout seemed petulant, but the small turning down of Jessamine’s lips gave her a fragile appearance rather than spoiled. “I shall ruin my new shoes for certain, and so shall you should we have to walk back to the house in the snow.”

“Never fear, Miss Jessamine.” Will Durham, one of Jessamine’s most ardent admirers, sidled closer, not about to let such an opportunity pass. Reed thin and an inch shorter than Aubriella, he puffed out his chest.

An underweight robin or a bantam rooster.

“I shall be honored to carry you,” he proudly pronounced.

Aubriella bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the comical image that presented. She would wager Mr. Durham couldn’t lift a hay bale, let alone her sister, and Jessamine would find herself headfirst in a snowdrift.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mr. Durham,” Mama interjected before Aubriella or Jessamine could formulate a suitable response. Leave it to Mama to hone in on an over-eager suitor and firmly dissuade his zealous efforts to court Jessamine.

Aubriella slid a glance at the glass panels.

She doubted anyone would make it to the house without sodden footwear and damp hems.

A naughty, rebellious impulse made her shove her pointed-toe shoe outward a couple of inches and wiggle her foot. To test the waters, so to speak.

Would Will Durham notice?

She even cleared her throat. Quite noisily, in fact. A frog with croup would’ve sounded more ladylike.

Alas, her efforts proved futile.

Eyes only for Jessamine, Mr. Durham didn’t extend the same invitation to her. Not that Aubriella would ever allow a man to tote her about like a bag of grain. Besides, no one ever died from cold, wet feet. Well, mayhap they had, but surely, she wouldn’t catch the ague on the quarter-mile hike to the manor house.

If the need arose.

Even now, Mabel engaged in furtive conversation with several footmen near the conservatory entrance. She was probably arranging to ferry the guests back to the house.

Just once, Aubriella would like to have been the object of male attention, not her prettier sisters. It was stupid, silly, and irrational, but it did rather rub one’s pride raw to be overlooked and ignored constantly.

Mama took Jessamine’s elbow and half-turned away. “Come, dearest. I would like you to sit with me.”

Ever the protective mama bear.

“What about Elli, Mama?” Compassion—or was it pity?—softened Jessamine’s eyes.

Aubriella didn’t like that one jot.

No, indeed.

Accustomed to being disregarded, she’d have found a seat in a quiet corner. However, having her younger self-absorbed sister notice their mother’s negligence brought home just how insignificant Aubriella was.

“Elli?” Mama couldn’t quite hide her befuddlement.

Yes, Mama. Your middle daughter. The one you generally deem inconsequential.

Mama swung back to face Aubriella. Seemingly as an afterthought, asked, “Do you wish to sit with us as well?”

She glanced behind her to the nearly full table where Papa, Lenora, and her husband already jabbered on about something or other with several guests.

Only Emmet was missing. Something had spooked his horse this morning when he dismounted, and he’d strained his ankle. Nothing serious, but he thought it wise to allow the swollen appendage to rest.

“I’m not sure there’s room.” Mama blinked, appearing rather flummoxed at what could hardly be considered a conundrum. Dear Mama. Never the brightest candle in the chandelier. “But you are so thin. I suppose we could squeeze in another chair.”

“And inconvenience you?” Aubriella shook her head when her sarcasm didn’t register. “I wouldn’t think of it.”

Just as they never thought of her.

She always managed on her own. Pain twinged behind her ribs, but she tamped down the emotion. She wouldn’t wallow in self-pity. So, life hadn’t handed her a basket of roses. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be happy.

Out of nowhere, Jack appeared at her side, smelling utterly marvelous, and for the umpteenth time in the past few days, she nearly sighed in relief. It wasn’t wise to depend on him so much, but he had volunteered to keep her company during the yuletide festivities. She hadn’t asked the favor of him.

“With your permission, Mrs. Penford, I shall find seats for Miss Penford and myself.” He flashed his rakish grin, and Aubriella’s heart flip-flopped in her chest.

“There. See, Minnie?” Her relief apparent, Mama patted Jessamine’s arm. “It has all worked out.”

Jessamine mouthed, “I’m sorry,” before permitting their mother to tow her away like a barge.

When had Jessamine grown up and begun considering others’ feelings?

“Does that happen often?” Jack’s question was too casual, too nonchalant.

Aubriella despised his pity.

She slanted him a sharp look.

“What do you think? Surely, you’ve observed our familial interactions long enough to know the answer.” She hitched a shoulder as she searched for a table with room for them. “I’m accustomed to it and do rather well on my own.”

She shouldn’t have to, but she’d learned to manage.

He made a harsh sound in the back of his throat that Aubriella couldn’t interpret.

Of course, he appeared utterly splendid, tempting masculinity wrapped in a muscle straining bottle-green jacket and black pantaloons. His emerald cravat pin twinkled playfully. She couldn’t remember another time he’d worn such an adornment.

In recent days, she’d observed all manner of details about Jackson Hart Callen Matherfield that had previously gone unnoticed.

Why, she could not fathom.

His brother, Duncan, seated with the Fitzlloyds, waved them over. Jack leaned down as they wended through the tables and whispered, “I have to return to London for a couple of days. Something urgent requires my presence.”

Jerking her head upward, Aubriella searched his face’s hard contours and angles.

Already a trifle trampled, her bruised emotions surged forward with a tsunami’s force. Temper unbridled and uncontrolled, she snapped, “So you don’t have to model for me? Less than four and twenty hours since I won our bet, and you’re breaking your word already?”

Aloofness entered his hazel eyes, turning them flintlike.

Ah, here was the ruthless, sardonic businessman others whispered about who’d clawed and scrambled his way to success and wealth. “That’s not the reason, though I confess I am relieved. I should be back in three days, and we’ll discuss our arrangement then.”

Arrangement?

They had a deal.

Aubriella would bet her carefully saved nest egg had she been a man, Jack wouldn’t consider breaking his word. Foreign, scorching anger surged through her, heating her blood and temper.

He was no different from her family or most of the people here. Everyone thought she wouldn’t mind being disregarded, manipulated, or lied to.

Well, he was wrong.

They were all bloody wrong.

Aware of how easily someone might overhear them, she modulated her tone. “Either you are a man of your word, Jackson Matherfield, or you are not. I won our wager, fair and square.”

He narrowed his eyes as he directed her toward an unoccupied corner behind a trio of huge potted elephant ears.

“And had I won, Aubriella, would you have honored your stake?”

Aubriella averted her gaze. “It’s not that simple.”

“Exactly.” Sarcasm he generally reserved for others lanced her.

She’d been naive to believe anything had changed between them.

“My appetite has flown.” She lifted her chin and retreated a step. Icy politesse replaced their former friendship. “I’m returning to the house.”

“Suit yourself.” Without another word, Jack turned his back and made for his brother’s table.

With an odd aching in her throat and heart, Aubriella slipped out the door. As she turned to latch the handle, she perused the conservatory. Engaged in conversation and tea, not a single person noted her departure.

In truth, she could disappear, and days would pass before anyone noticed her absence.

Never had she felt more alone, and Jack’s impending departure made her realize how much she’d come to rely upon him. She’d been a fool to trust him. An idiot to think this Christmas would differ from a dozen others.

That was what came of banking upon anyone but one’s self.

Rebellion, mutiny, and disgust burgeoned within her.

By God, she’d had bloody well enough.

You are not a feckless female, Aubriella Kendra Larkspur Penford.

If you’re discontent, do something about it.

I shall!

Suddenly resolute, Aubriella marched to the house, relishing the jarring cold snowflakes hitting her face. She didn’t wait for Fredericks, the butler, to open the door but let herself in. Finding the foyer empty, she brushed snow from her cheeks, then stripped off her gloves.

A plump maid humming to herself wandered down the corridor and gave a startled jump when she saw Aubriella. “Did you need something, Miss?”

“Indeed.” Aubriella sucked in a breath, bracing herself for what she was about to do. “Have the Penford coach brought around in fifteen minutes.”