Charles inhaled sharply at her tone. “He’s a twit.”
“A twit I might make a future with. You finally convinced me that our association was never meant to be long-lasting.” A small laugh came from her. “And you need not fear I’ll follow you about at a ball or a garden party. Or bother you further. I think you’ve taught me enough.”
“I’m pleased to see you’ve come to your senses.” Charles hated that she was so bloody composed.
“I’m sure you are most relieved.” Aurora pulled the book from where it had sat hidden in her lap. She tossed it on the table before her. “I came to return your book.”
He had never considered how much Aurora returning this stupid book to him might hurt. Or that knowing she would never visit him again left parts of him feeling shredded and torn. He should be glad of it. Thank her. The pain helped him refocus. Reminded him of Cecily.
“So you mean to wed Healey then?” The words were bland. Casual. As if he wasn’t resisting the urge to kiss her senseless until she couldn’t recall Healey.
“I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “Possibly Grisham. I haven’t yet decided between them.”
The point being, no matter who she ended up choosing, it would not be Charles.
“Well, no matter on whom you decide,” he said calmly. “I beg you to leave our association out of the conversation.”
“You need not worry.” Aurora came to her feet. “I wouldn’t dare mention you. Good day Mr. Worthington. I can see myself out.” Proud as any queen, she marched out of his drawing room and his life. Her heels sounded on the tiled foyer as Ropely saw her out.
Pouring himself a much larger glass of brandy, Charles took a seat on the settee, his hand touching the place where Aurora had been, the spot still warm and the air smelling of honeysuckle. The drawing room was completely still, empty and hollow without Aurora’s presence.
Which only made Charles furious.
His drawing room, hislife, were exactly as they should be. Charles had been overly concerned, it seemed, with Aurora forming an attachment to him over the course of their association. But the opposite was true. She had managed to separate the pleasure they’d found together from her heart. Only Charles—
I am not attached to her.
His mind shouted the words before any other thought could be formed. It was merely the result of his ego, this terrible stinging sensation. Charles was usually the first to leave a dalliance or end an affair. Honestly, he couldn’t call his association with Aurora either. What had it been then? Blackmail of sorts? Tutoring? The appeasement of her curiosity?
Charles snorted, nearly spilling his brandy.
This entire affair had been ridiculous in nature. Thank goodness no one had ever suspected. As amusing as it had been, Aurora was right to decline to visit further. Charles had no idea why he’d been so unsettled. She would go on to wed Healey—who should bloody well thank Charles and—
He swallowed down the rest of his brandy. Poured another. Finished it. Then decided to just place the bottle before him.
When next he saw Aurora because it was inevitable, they would once again be nothing more than familial acquaintances. Charles would probably be invited to her wedding to the tepid and uninspiring Healey. Or Grisham, that bloody prig. If she chose him.
His palm fell once more to the spot where Aurora had sat on the cushions. Her warmth was gone. Charles took several deep breaths. Forced himself to remember Cecily. Drank some more brandy.
It was some time later that Ropely found him, half-asleep on the settee.
Chapter Sixteen
Aurora glanced overheadat the sign in red lettering proclaiming she and Aunt Lottie had arrived at the apothecary shop. This apothecary she’d never visited, though Aurora had been to the small apothecary in Spittal many times after Mama had become ill at Dunnings.
The smell alone as she stepped inside reminded Aurora of all those useless herbs and potions Jordan spent precious coin on to help ease Mama’s illness. But it had done little good. Mama had still died.
Her fingers dug into the sides of the door, foot hovering in the hair, unwilling to take another step.
Aunt Lottie took her hand, guessing at her reluctance. The older woman knew all about Dunnings and the cost that had been extracted. “There’s no need for you to accompany me, Aurora. I can find what I need.” A look of concern wrinkled her brow.
“When Mama fell ill, I traveled to Spittal nearly every day with Drew trying to find something that would ease her cough. Poultices. Tinctures. Nothing worked. I suppose I don’t have much faith in such cures found within.” She sent Aunt Lottie a weak smile. “I’ll be fine in a moment.”
“I’m sure you will be. Why don’t you visit Tate’s?” The bookseller stood three shops down from the apothecary. “Much more interesting to pore through those rows of books while I attend to business within this dusty place filled with dried herbsand lord knows what else. What I need will have to be mixed and may take some time.”
Aurora gave the shop a wary look. She truly didn’t want to leave Aunt Lottie who had been incredibly melancholy as of late. Kenebruke was the cause. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“Nonsense. I’m a solitary creature,” her voice cracked just slightly, a sign of her distress. “I’ve been alone my entire life, Aurora. I can venture into an apothecary without your protection.”
