Good grief.
A tremor ran through her as the drawing room emptied and Aurora was left alone. A plan had been forming as she listenedto Tamsin snore while Odessa and Alyss debated the existence of ghosts, one that was daring, reckless, and highly improper.
Aurora had questions, of a sensitive nature. And hadn’t Worth said he would answer those questions when giving her the book?
Chapter Ten
“Sir, you havea caller.”
Charles looked up from the ledgers and correspondence divided into neat stacks on his desk. He had just been about to write a rebuttal to that pest Healey, who seemed determined to stick his nose into the deal Charles was working on with Lord Kenebruke. The older earl had asked him to allow Healey his inquiries, after all, his nephew would inherit one day and needed preparation.
Charles was trying. Honestly. But Healey was something of a nitwit.
“Whoever it is, send them away. I’m busy at present and not at home.”
He had neglected to tell Aurora the complete truth when claiming only a slight acquaintance with Lord Kenebruke.
Kenebruke owned a textile mill, one he’d received as part of his wife’s dowry ages ago. The mill needed a great deal of work to make it profitable once more. The equipment was outdated and Kenebruke had no desire to spend the sum needed to modernize the mill.
Drew had first spotted the opportunity after meeting with a gentleman in London, Mr. Swift, who was focused on producing ready-made clothing to be sold to the burgeoning middle class. The demand for such clothing would soon outpace the supply, especially as more people left the countryside to take employment in the larger cities. After some consideration,a visit to the mill, and thorough inspection of the legers, Kenebruke and his textile mill was designated as a good investment. Kenebruke would remain a partner, though his share would be greatly reduced. Drew and Charles would fund the modernization as well as handle the agreements with Mr. Swift.
Until Kenebruke’s pompous, idiotic nephew, Mr. Healey inserted himself.
“Sir.” His butler, Ropely, returned once more.
Charles ignored him.
Despite knowing nothing about textiles, dyes, the market for ready-made clothing, or cotton importing, Healey had cast himself in the role of his uncle’s protector, because of Kenebruke’s age. He inferred that Kenebruke’s mind was not as sharp as it had been in his youth and thus any business matters required his oversight.
Patently untrue.
Kenebruke’s mind was sharp. His assessments sound. Healey only wished to put his stamp on everything in a bid to exert his control over the situation. Kenebruke allowed it out of affection for his nephew.
“The young lady is quite insistent.” Ropely didn’t move from where he stood at the door. “Lady Aurora Sinclair,” he said in a low tone.
Charles pushed back from his desk, his annoyance at Healey momentarily forgotten. What on earth was Aurora doing here? Alone and unescorted? He’d taken great pains to avoid her since lending her that tome, hoping that would put an end to the situation. Granted, it hadn’t for Charles. Aurora still haunted him. Far too often.
“I’ve taken the precaution of calling the staff to the kitchens. The condition of the guest rooms must be discussed.” Ropely inclined his head.
There wasn’t anything wrong with the guestrooms as they were rarely used. Bless Ropely.
“I took the initiative of putting Lady Aurora in the drawing room, Mr. Worthington.”
“Very good, Ropely. I’ll be along directly.” Charles stood. He’d taken off his coat and rolled up his sleeves while he worked and reached to retrieve the garment, but then decided not to bother. Lady Aurora Sinclair was not going to be here long enough for it to matter.
If she had questions of a personal nature, then Miss Maplehurst could damn well answer them.
Charles had assured himselfThe Bloom of the Rosewas an inspired choice for a young lady of Aurora’s overly curious nature. Shock some sense into her. The tome was rather descriptive and detailed. Any young lady in her second Season would faint dead away at the recounting of the various acts a courtesan was required to perform. At the time, Charles had seen it as his only recourse. He couldn’t allow Aurora to throw herself at the likes of Grisham nor could he have Aurora practicing her wiles on him. Or teach her the myriad of wicked things—
He ran a hand through his hair.
Charles had some vague hope thatThe Bloom of the Rosewould satisfy Aurora’s curiosity enough so that she would put it aside until she was properly wed. Her questions and experimentation would involve her future husband. Aurora should be so taken aback by the explicit carnality inThe Bloom of the Rosethat she would be far too embarrassed to ever broach the subject with Charles again. Their relationship could once more return to distant politeness.
It is possible, given her appearance today, Charles had underestimated Aurora.
“Would serve me right if Malcolm pointed a pistol at my head or Emerson beat me to a pulp,” he said under his breath. “Drew will kick me in the ribs.”
Or more likely, Emerson would require Charles and Aurora wed.
