Chapter 12

Twelve

M iss Robertson regarded the impeccably tailored coat and the starched perfection of the cravat over the rims of her spectacles for several long moments before her gaze slid down to the fitted fawn breeches and polished Hessians. “Hmmph,” she sniffed. “It appears that your legs, at least, are a good deal steadier this morning than they were ten years ago, sir.” In a lower voice she added, ”I wonder whether the same can be said for your character.”

Alex repressed a twitch of his lips. “You are, I take it, the infamous Robbie. I hope I shall not come to regret the fact that it was not you who ended up sunk in the waters off Ayr.”

The former governess’s mouth dropped in momentary shock before it resumed its pursed scowl.

“An attempt at humor,” he murmured. “Perhaps it is still a bit early in the day for such things.”

If anything, the scowl deepened.

He cleared his throat. “Er, would you kindly inform … my wife that I wish a few words with her.”

“No.”

His brow rose a touch. “No?”

“No.” Miss Robertson crossed her arms. “Since it is rumored that you attended Oxford, I trust it the meaning of the word is quite clear.”

Alex took a step closer and fixed her with a grim smile. “No. It is not. It has been a long time since I was required to study the nuances of language, so in this particular instance, perhaps you will humor me with a more precise definition.”

She swallowed hard but refused to back down. “Very well, sir. No, I won’t inform her, because no, she doesn’t want to speak to you.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes.”

His lips twitched. “Perhaps you would care to give a detailed definition of the word ‘yes’”

Before another round of verbal sparring could begin, the door to the morning room opened, framing Aurora in a halo of sunlight. “I appreciate your concern, Robbie, but I’m capable of fighting my own battles.” She fixed Alex with an icy look, hoping it would mask the frisson of happiness she felt run through her on seeing him again. “Besides, I think we may trust that His Lordship is not intent on causing anyone bodily harm this morning.” There was a deliberate pause before she added a muttered aside. “I won’t promise that the same can be said for me.”

He make a polite bow. “As I am not unused to danger, madam, I am willing to take the risk.”

She turned slightly and motioned for him to enter the room. Miss Robertson made to follow, but the door was quietly, yet firmly, drawn shut. Aurora moved to a spot by the window, placing a small japanned settee between them, and began to toy with a Staffordshire figurine that sat on the matching sidetable.

“Choosing a weapon already?” he murmured dryly.

She kept her eyes averted so she could didn’t have to see how the snug cut of his coat set off the muscled breadth of his shoulders, or how the stripe of his slubbed silk waistcoat picked up the exact shade of his eyes. “I assume you would prefer a truce for the moment.”

“I was going to suggest something of the sort.”

Her fingers tightened on the smooth curves of fired clay. “Why? That is, why exactly are you here, sir?”

Alex made as if to speak, but stopped as his eyes traveled from the narrow silk sash of her stylish day dress to the rucked bodice, which revealed a good deal more creamy skin than her former gowns were wont to show. He cleared his throat, letting his gaze drift up to the loose knot of curls that her new lady’s maid had arranged to graze against one bare shoulder. “You know, with all the, er, distractions of yesterday I neglected to mention how … well you look.”

The figurine fell to the thick Axminster carpet.

“I was worried about you,” he continued in a low voice. “Even now, I have a Runner out searching for you, to ensure that you made it safely to wherever it is you call home.”

Her gaze flew up to meet his. “But you needn’t have troubled. I-I told you on more than several occasions that I was quite used to taking care of myself.”

“Yes. So you did.”

Confused by the rawness in his voice, Aurora looked away again. “I must also remark that you clean up rather nicely, Major Woodmore,” she said after an awkward moment of silence, hoping that a note of dry humor might serve to ease the tension that had crept into both of their words.

The comment did indeed evoke a twitch of his lips. “As my talents at rinsing linen or stropping a razor are, as you know, rather rudimentary, it does make a difference to have a skilled scullery maid and valet at one’s service.”

“Ah, the advantages of being an earl.” Lord, how she had missed their easy banter. She bent down to retrieve what she had dropped in order to hide the spasm of longing that suddenly twisted her features. “But I imagine you did not come here to discuss sartorial matters, my lord.”

“No.” Alex clasped his hands behind his back. “I came to apologize for what I said yesterday,” he said in a halting voice. “The situation took me by surprise, to say the least, and I’m afraid that the shock of it caused me to let fly with some words that, well, that I wish I might recall. I didn’t mean them as they sounded.”

“My own conduct was far from exemplary, sir. I fear my temper also got the better of me, and I uttered a number of things that were … unfair.” She drew in a deep breath as she shoved the small figurine into her pocket. “Considering all things, perhaps we may both be excused for a certain lapse in judgment.”

He studied the tilt of her profile, a thoughtful expression spreading over his lean features. “Yes, I couldn’t agree more.”

Aurora forced a cheerful face. She imagined that, apologies made, he meant to take himself off, maybe for good. The prospect of never seeing his face again should have her feeling not merely cheerful, but ecstatic. “Good!” she said in a voice so brittle she feared it might break. “We have that settled, so you need not give us another thought, sir. Now that the papers are signed, Robbie and I can go home. And you can go about doing … whatever it is that titled lords do in Town.”

A look of faint amusement flashed in his eyes. “As I am rather new to the job, I have not the slightest idea what those things are.”

“Oh.” Her lips pursed. “Well, given the broad range of your other skills, I am sure you will pick up the knack of it very quickly.”

He gave a little cough. “Actually there is something else I wish to discuss.” His gaze strayed pointed to the plump sofa facing two claw footed wings chairs. “Might we sit down?”

The color rose to her cheeks on realizing how sadly lacking in drawing room manners she had shown herself to be. It would serve her right if he thought her nothing more than a churlish country hoyden. “Of course,” she said through gritted teeth, reminding herself that his opinion of her mattered not a whit.

Aurora sat down on the sofa and with what she hoped was a graceful wave of her hand indicated he should take the facing chair. To her dismay, he ignored the gesture and took a seat close by her side. So close that his thigh threatened to crush the folds of her skirts. Somehow the nearness of his person, despite the layers of cloth between them, was making her skin feel even warmer.

She essayed a deep breath to steady her nerves, but that proved a big mistake. The scent of bay rum and woodsy herbs, coupled with an unmistakable undertone of Alex himself, filled her lungs. The effect on her senses was like that of a bottle of brandy being downed in one hurried gulp. The sofa seemed to be listing heavily to the left and she felt herself sliding slowly toward the intricate knot of his cravat.

“A pleasant spot, isn’t it not?”

“What?” she gasped, finding that the notion of her nose coming to rest with an ignominous thud in his linen was not a pleasant one at all. Determined not be make a complete cake of herself, she managed to regain a measure of control and remain upright. With a small flounce, she threw her shoulders back against the damask cushions, as if she had merely been seeking a more comfortable position.

“The room,” he replied mildly. “I have always thought Aunt Letitia’s morning room to be an extremely cheery place, especially when the sun comes through the windows just so.”

Aurora eyed him warily. His arm had been thrown negligently along the carved back of the sofa so that his hand was nearly brushing the nape of her neck. Drat the man! How could he sit there looking so utterly composed when all she could think about was how much she longed for those long, lithe fingers to skim a light caress over the exposed skin and then entwine themselves in the very depth of her curls?

A series of little shivers shuddered up and down her spine, and to cover up she was forced to jab at one of the cushions with her elbow.

“Is something causing you discomfort?” asked Alex blandly. “I should be happy to fetch an extra pillow?”

“No need,” she muttered. Resolved to match his cool composure, she affected a look of studied indifference and brushed at a minute wrinkle on her sleeve. “Just a small lump, but it’s taken care of.” Her hands rearranged themselves primly on her lap. “If you don’t mind, sir,” she said briskly. “Perhaps we could get on with it—you said you had another matter to discuss.”

“Hmmm. Yes, I did.” It seemed, however, that he was in no hurry to speak. He crossed his leg, shifting his thigh ever closer to hers.

She crabbed sideways several inches. “Well?”

“My, my, getting right down to business, I see,” he murmured.

Her face scrunched into an odd grimace. “Why else would we be sitting here talking with each other?”

He looked at her with an equally odd expression. “Why else indeed.”

She thought she finally detected a hint of emotion beneath the show of sang froid as his fingers moved away from their position by her ear to give a nervous tug at the corner of his waistcoat. Her suspicion was further confirmed by what looked to be a slight tensing in the muscle of his jaw.

Ha! So the Earl of Woodbridge was not quite as at ease as he wished to appear either.

Alex seemed to be inspecting the polished tips of his boots. “Very well. I was going to suggest that, given we are both adults with a modicum of intelligence and common sense, we might agree to act as in a rational, civilized manner in each other’s presence.”

“You are, in other words, suggesting that we don’t go at each other like cats and dogs.”

He gave a nod.

“That seems to be assuming we are going to be having some sort of contact in the future.” Her brows came together. “I thought everything had been settled. The papers have been signed, and as I told your man of affairs, you may make any changes you wish to the exact wording. From what Mr. Seymour said, there is no reason?—”

“There may be one or two, ah, minor details that still have to be attended to. The solicitors may require us to meet again, and the atmosphere might be more conducive to reaching a mutually acceptable resolution if there was not the threat of flying inkwells. Or reticules.

“I-I suppose that makes some sense,” she mused.

“I thought I could count on your practical bent of mind to see the advantages of such an agreement. In the meantime, it would not be advisable for you to leave London until everything is settled once and for all.” He reached down to flick an invisible speck from the mirror like leather. “As it is impossible to predict just how long that will be, I thought that perhaps you and Miss Robertson would care to see some of the sights the city has to offer. I believe I remember you mentioning that neither of you had ever been here before.”

“You are offering to squire us around Town?”

“The acrobats at Astley’s Amphitheatre, Mrs. Siddons at Haymarket, the menagerie at the Tower, the fireworks at Vauxhall Gardens. That sort of thing.” He gave a low cough. “Polite Society deems it a tad more acceptable if females, especially ones new to the ton , are accompanied by a male escort when they go out. I don’t believe you know anyone else in London.”

Aurora chewed on her lower lip. “Robbie would adore the chance to visit all the places she has read about.”

“The ices at Gunter’s are also said to be delectable,” he murmured.

“I-I shall think about it.”

“Do.”

It would mean spending a good of time in Alex’s company, she reflected. Sitting with him in the theatre, close enough to breath in the subtle scent of his musky cologne. Strolling down a torchlit path, her arm resting on his sleeve. Conversing during the carriages rides, forced to watch every nuance of expression that played on the molded curves of his lips.

Aurora set her jaw and turned slightly. “On further consideration, I don’t believe your services will be necessary, my lord.” The words came out rather more sharply that she intended.

His expression remained neutral, but the color of his eyes clouded to a stormy shade of blue. “May I ask why?”

“Don’t you see, sir, how it would be all very confusing. Not to speak of creating a good deal of gossip that would surely cause you embarrassment when the time comes to seek a real wife. ” Her chin rose a fraction. “I mean, we can hardly appear as a married couple on intimate terms, then announce an annulment, without giving rise to all sorts of awkward speculation.”

“If that is your only concern, you needn’t fret overly on it. Since some story was needed to explain your presence in my great aunt’s townhouse, I have already seen to it that she has written to several of her friends who can’t resist a bit of gossip. By now, all the ton will know that you are Mrs. Sprague, a family connection from the country who has been invited to make use of her townhouse while she was away. I would be seen as merely doing my duty by escorting you and your companion around Town,” he answered quietly.

“You appear to have given this some thought, sir.”

“Why not discuss it with Miss Robertson?” He rose and walked to the bank of high Palladian windows where the sunlight silhouetted his chiseled profile. “Have you had a chance to drive though Hyde Park?” he asked abruptly.

“No.” There was a wistful note to the word. “Not yet.”

“I shall bring my carriage around at five, when all of fashionable Society comes out for the grand promenade.” Aurora looked about to speak, but he went on too quickly to allow an interruption. “You and your friend should at least see such a grand sight while you are here. As for the rest, well, you may tell me your final decision at that time.” He gave a hurried bow and left the room before she could think of any reply.

“We are invited for a drive in Hyde Park? Past the Serpentine? Down Rotten Row? At the height of the Season, when the crème de la crème of the ton will be on parade?” An expression of delight slowly split Miss Robertson’s broad features as the import of the words sunk in. “Oh, what fun!”

“What fun, indeed,” muttered Aurora through gritted teeth.

The older woman put down her teacup and fixed her former charge with a searching look. After some moments she brushed a wisp of grey hair away from the bridge of her spectacles. “My dear, you needn’t do this for my sake. If the prospect of riding out with the earl is repugnant to you, we shall of course not even consider it.” Her lips pursed in a wry smile. “Since I have managed to exist for over fifty five years without seeing the Tulips of the ton canter through the park or the young bucks ogle the actresses treading the boards, I imagine I shall not go into a state of permanent decline if the opportunity does not present itself now.”

Aurora crumbled the rest of her biscuit between her fingers. “Don’t be silly. I know how much you would enjoy it and I would be a selfish beast were I to deny you the pleasure of it.” She exhaled deeply. “After all, I lived with the dratted man for more than a—” Her voice cut off sharply as her face turned a vivid shade of crimson. “Er, that did not come out exactly as I meant it.”

Miss Robertson ducked her head to hide a grin. “Ah, well, that finally answers that.”

“That answers what?”

The former governess deliberately took her time in buttering a piece of toast and applying a dollop of strawberry preserves. “You have always been a bit vague about what, exactly, happened between you and the dashing major during your little adventure. But now, things have become a trifle clearer since this morning.”

“What do you mean?” Aurora’s voice sounded as if a large hand were around her throat and squeezing very hard.

“For one thing, I saw the way you looked at the man. And the way he looked at you.”

“Ha! Both of us were no doubt looking at each other as if we were contemplating murder,” she muttered, keeping her eyes studiously averted from the keen gaze of her companion.

Miss Robertson slowly brushed a crumb from her chin with a pat of the thick damask napkin. “Ha! The crime of passion you looked to be contemplating was most definitely not murder.” The last morsel went into her mouth and she took her time in swallowing it. “Not that what you were thinking of was by any means a crime, mind you. The two of you are, after all, married.”

Aurora made a choking sound.

“There is just one other question I would like to ask, if you don’t mind, my dear.”

The choking ceased, replaced by utter silence.

“Is falling in love at all like it is described in the horrid novels?”

Her mouth fell agape. For several moments it hung slack, then its movement began to resemble the actions of a fish out of water. Finally, a strangled squeak made its way out. “Robbie! You don’t really think for one instant that I am in love with the Earl of Woodbridge!”

“Well, I know that among the ton it is not considered very fashionable to have a tendre for one’s husband, but there are exceptions.”

“I do not have a tendre for that odious, arrogant, insufferable, overbearing, ill-tempered …” She paused, sputtering, as if groping for more words.

“If you are searching for additional adjectives, you forgot ‘devilishly handsome,’ and ‘wittily amusing,’” murmured Miss Robertson with an air of great innocence. “Though to maintain the parallel construction of grammar, it will be necessary to omit the modifier.”

“Robbie!”

“You’re right, it’s not quite the appropriate time for an English lesson. I can see that at the present moment you are in no mood to discuss the nuances of sentence structure,” she went on airily. “So both subjects can certainly wait until another time. In any case, I wish to make a quick trip to the milliner on Bond Street to pick up your new bonnet, which will look quite dashing with your new carriage dress. Then I think I shall take a nap so that I am ready for when His Lordship arrives.”

The napkin came up for a final pat at Miss Robinson’s mouth, its heavy folds hiding the look of unholy amusement tugging at its corners. “Good gracious, this stay in London is promising to become even more interesting than I imagined. I do hope my elderly nerves will hold up to all the excitement.”

Robbie’s elderly nerves seemed to be surviving the ordeal quite well, fumed Aurora some hours later. It was her own frayed temper she was worried about. A mild breeze ruffled the emerald ribbons of her new bonnet and caused a lock of hair to fall over her cheek. She brushed it back, trying hard to keep a scowl off her face.

“That is Lady Trenboro,” murmured Alex to Miss Robertson. He then nodded a polite greeting to a buxom blond of uncertain years who sported an unusual frogged jacket designed to accentuate her rather obvious assets. The bright canary yellow silk was matched to perfection by the color of the stylish phaeton that she drove herself. “She is considered to be a bit of an eccentric,” he added as her team of jet black horses maneuvered through the crush of carriages.

“Isn’t the word more like outrageous, milord.” Miss Robertson gave a little snort. “From what I have gleaned from the newspapers, she is considered to have an appetite for men that rivals that of Catherine the Great. Aren’t both Lord Atherton and Viscount Havlock rumored to be her latest paramours?”

Alex stifled a chuckle. “It seems you are particularly well-read, Miss Robertson. What other subjects do you favor, besides history and, er, current events?”

“The works of Mrs. Radcliffe,” muttered Aurora under her breath.

A mischievous twinkle came to his eyes. “You seem to have more than a passing interest in books too, as I recall.”

If one had been at hand, she thought, it would have landed smack between those two glittering sapphire orbs. “Actually, I tend to spend more of my time writing up my reports.” She smiled sweetly at four turbaned matrons who were practically falling over each other in the back of their open landau order to gain a peek at the new Earl of Woodbridge’s companions. “On the subject of married men and their various lies and peccadilloes. But then, you no doubt recall that as well.”

That wiped the grin from his face rather quickly, she noted with some satisfaction as she settled back against the soft leather seat and watched two dandies on horseback vie for the attention of a fetching young lady walking with dour-faced chaperone.

Miss Robertson made a reproving sound in the back of her throat. “Really, my dear, there is no need to snap at Alex?—”

“Alex!” repeated Aurora in some amazement. This was outside of enough! No more than twenty minutes had passed and already the dratted man had charmed so formidable a female adversary as Robbie. She would have to keep a more careful eye on this whole charade lest things really get out of hand.

Two spots of color came to the older woman’s wrinkled cheeks. “I-I—that is, Lord Woodbridge insisted that we mustn’t rest on formalities if we are to present to Society that we are friends.”

“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 little rapscallion 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 be cowed 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. It was the 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.

It was hardly the sort of story to inspire a novelist to lift a pen, she thought with a rueful grimace. Rather a playwright to compose a farce?—

“Aurora!”

Her head came up, wondering who on earth could possibly be interrupting her thoughts.

“I thought it was you!” Jack reined his mount to a slow walk beside the carriage and tipped his hat with a gentlemanly flourish. “How wonderful to see you again, and under more comfortable circumstances.” His broad grin shifted to include the others. “Good day, Woodbridge.” He gave a polite nod to the older woman. “I’m afraid I have not have the pleasure.”

“Wheatley,” murmured Alex in reply. “Then allow me to introduce Miss Robertson. Robbie, this is Viscount Wheatley, eldest son of the Marquess of Sedge?—”

“Good Heavens, was I the only one unaware that the entire House of Lords was rusticating in the north?” snapped Aurora.

Jack colored slightly. “Your pardon for the little subterfuge, but when engaged in a clandestine mission?—”

“Yes, yes, I know—when engaged in a clandestine mission, it doesn’t do to reveal your true identity,” she muttered.

“What bring you here to Town,” he asked quickly, in an endeavor to change the subject. “I seem to recall you mentioning that you never had occasion to visit.”

“Some pressing matters of personal business have required my presence,” she replied tightly.

“I see.” As a gentleman, he forbore making further inquiry. “I do hope they are resolved to your satisfaction.” He adjusted the angle of his brim. “But how delightful to have you here. Where are you staying?”

Keeping her eyes averted from Alex, Aurora gave a small cough. “By purest chance, it was discovered that Lord Woodbridge’s great aunt and I are related. Through marriage. Miss Robertson and I are residing for the next little while at her townhouse while she is away in Bath.”

“Splendid! You must promise to come to the gala ball my mother is giving at Sedgewick House on Friday evening. She has outdone herself in the preparations, and as she is accorded to be one of the best hostesses in London, the evening will no doubt be a stunning affair.”

“Oh, b-but …” A ball? The chance to wear a frothy gown? The prospect of waltzing in a gentleman’s arms? She had done neither in her life, and the very thought of it reduced her words to an incoherent stammer.

Jack looked a bit crestfallen at her less than enthusiastic response. “Perhaps you do not care for such frivolous entertainment, given some of your, er, opinions on human nature.”

“No, it’s not that. I-I am simply not sure we are free.” Her eyes flew to Miss Robertson in mute appeal. “Are we, Robbie?”

It was Alex who answered. “I think it might be fitted in between the visit to Astley’s and the arrangements to see A Lady of Great Sensibility at Haymarket,” he said dryly. “We shall be delighted to attend.”

“Wonderful! I shall have the invitations sent around to Woodbridge House.” Seeing that the friends he had been out riding with were growing impatient for him to return, he gathered his reins. “I’m afraid I must take my leave , but I look forward to Friday.” His smile lingered on Aurora. “You must promise to save me a waltz.”

“A waltz,” repeated Miss Robertson, a dreamy expression softening her normally sharp eyes. “Imagine that!”

Aurora did just that, and the vision brought a particularly vile grimace to her features.

Alex’s brows rose a fraction. “You truly dislike dancing?”

Still flustered by the turn of events, she blurted out, “I don’t know how to dance.”

“So there is actually some discipline that you have not mastered?” He gave a low chuckle. “I thought all young ladies knew how to dance.”

Color flooded to her cheeks. Stung by his teasing, a note of defensiveness crept into her tone. “It’s all very well to laugh at my lack of feminine graces, sir,” she said stiffly. “I am well aware of how unpolished I appear to you. But it’s not as if I have had a great deal of opportunity to hone such skills.”

The humor faded from his face. “You think I am making fun of you, Aurora?” He asked quietly.

Her mouth quivered at the sound of her name on his lips.

“I am well aware that you have had no chance to partake in the normal social activities befitting a lady of your station,” he went on. “But not knowing how to execute a box step or a twirl may be rectified quite easily. I shall see that a dancing master comes to call at your townhouse daily. By Friday you will leaving all the other young ladies in the dust.”