Come here and say those things.
Lady Longwood didn’t dare.
Not with Ware’s formidable mother looming over Aurora, like a lioness protecting her cub.
If there was another lady in society more terrifying than the Dowager Duchess of Ware, Aurora had yet to meet her. The dowager duchess was feared in London society. One word from her and all of London might give you the cut direct. She did not tolerate fools or vile gossips.
Aurora found her to be a fierce and loyal protector. Much like her son. And despite Aunt Lottie claiming she didn’t have one, the dowager’s prickly exterior hid a warm and loving heart.
“I never did care for Lady Bryant,” the dowager drawled from Aurora’s left. “She’s intolerable. Goodness, I’ve seen doxies with more modesty.”
“At last, we can agree,” Aunt Lottie said from Aurora’s right. “I pity Lord Bryant for his poor choices.”
“Lady Bryant attempted to call upon me once.” The side of the dowager’s mouth lifted. “But I was not at home. I cannot fathom why she thought I would find her of any interest.”
“I doubt you would have been entertained, Your Grace. Given the company she keeps.” Aunt Lottie tilted her chin at Lady Longwood. “Wine after a time turns to vinegar, though I hadn’t considered it to be true of people.”
“Lady Longwood’s pursuit of Lord Jeffries has gone awry.” A ghost of a smile pulled at the dowager’s mouth. “Pity, since LordLongwood has nearly bankrupted his estate. As dumb as his father, or so I’ve heard.”
“Isn’t Lord Curchon closely acquainted with Jeffries?” Aunt Lottie gave the dowager a sideways look.
“My brother is acquainted with a great many gentlemen.” The dowager gave a careless roll of her shoulders, but her smile widened just a bit.
Aurora didn’t react to the information other than to feel a gleam of satisfaction at Lady Longwood’s circumstances. How fitting, since Lady Longwood had once banished the Sinclairs to suffer in poverty. Aurora had little pity for her or her terrible son.
“Oh, the irony.” Aunt Lottie shook her head. “Lady Longwood has two daughters. I’m sure either one would take her in.”
“Yes, but their husbands will not.” The dowager laughed softly. “She should have cautioned Longwood against spending so lavishly. But she seems to believe herself immune from creditors. The duns beat at his door nearly every day.”
“She is starting to resemble a bird of some sort, don’t you agree, Your Grace?” Aunt Lottie discreetly ran her gaze across the ballroom, looking for Kenebruke, no doubt. “One that squawks about ruining everything.”
“A feral pigeon, perhaps?” the dowager asked. “Destructive things. Always roosting where they aren’t wanted. I am always so pleased when my cats bring one down.”
“Can cats be coaxed to take down a person?” Aunt Lottie mused.
“Unfortunately, no. They are difficult creatures at best and have no master.”
Aurora was enjoying this conversation immensely. She didn’t think Aunt Lottie and the dowager truly disliked each other. At least not anymore.
“A chicken,” she interjected. “It’s the feathers Lady Longwood insists on wearing in her hair along with the yellow gown. Or perhaps one of those mythical winged creatures who attempt to claw at your eyes.”
“Harpies.” Aunt Lottie smiled. “An apt comparison.”
The dowager wrinkled her lips in disapproval, but her eyes twinkled. “A young lady of good breeding should not speak so, Aurora. I fear Miss Maplehurst is a lost cause.”
Aunt Lottie nodded. “I am in complete agreement.”
“I’m a Sinclair, Your Grace.” Aurora patted the dowager’s hand. “My breeding has always been in question and fodder for the gossips. But I will heed your advice, nonetheless.”
“As you should,” the dowager’s imperious tone commanded.
Aurora liked Ware’s mother a great deal. She was more than a bit bossy. Vastly superior. Somewhat obsessed with cats. Very much like Ware, though his tastes ran more to insects. And much to the surprise of everyone in London, she adored and protected her new daughter, the former Tamsin Sinclair, shredding those who dared to cast a disparaging sniff in the new Duchess of Ware’s direction. She had embraced all of Aurora’s family, just as Ware had done.
“Lord Grisham is acceptable in my opinion,” she murmured to Aurora. “Attractive, wealthy and from good family.” The dowager didn’t so much as lift her eyes from the ballroom floor where the dancers swirled about. “Well-mannered. But I fear you do not find him as appealing as I do.”
“I think him a lovely gentleman, Your Grace.”
“But?”
