Page 11
FOUR
Stockworth Manor—Templetons’ estate,
Westerham, England
19 December 1818 – Breakfast
God had not dumpedseveral feet of snow on London and answered Aubriella’s fervent prayers that she might be spared the Templetons’ Christmas house party. The day after Emmet’s birthday dinner, she’d awoken to a mere dusting, as disappointingly light as confectioners’ sugar sprinkled on almond cake.
Regardless, the holiday gathering mightn’t be a complete loss. With just over thirty people in attendance, half of which were women, there could be multiple opportunities for placing discreet wagers and bets.
Taking a sip of cocoa, she surreptitiously swept her gaze around the Templetons’ expensive but tastefully decorated dining room. Only a few of the more intrepid guests had arisen early and ventured below to break their fasts.
Most of the ladies—and potential clients—either remained snuggly asleep or had ordered trays in their chambers like Mama usually did. Jessamine never rose a minute before ten, and Papa had probably already ridden out with the other men for an early morning constitutional.
At Mama’s insistence, Aubriella had only packed her newest gowns, outerwear, and slippers. She’d been forbidden to wear her faded work frocks and apron.
Dear Mama still held an unrealistic hope that Aubriella might find herself a suitable husband. It escaped her what gentleman her mother thought would attend the Templetons’ party that Aubriella didn’t already know and would show an interest in her.
For the most part, men looked past her as one did an urn in the foyer or a statue in the garden. One knew something was there, but the object wasn’t riveting or intriguing enough to garner one’s full attention.
She was unremarkable.
Ordinary.
And above all, a realist.
It was as unlikely as jewels falling from the sky, for an unattached man Aubriella would find striking to find her attractive, too.
“You cannot be seen in those rags, my dear. What man would consider you if you don’t take care with your appearance?” Mama had patted her cheek and given her an indulgent smile. “You might not have mine and your sisters’ fair coloring, Elli, but you are not unattractive.”
Mama had intended to encourage Aubriella, but the backhanded compliment fell short of the mark. Mama loved her. Aubriella didn’t doubt her affection. But the truth was, her mother didn’t understand her middle daughter.
Mama wished to talk of fashion and soirees and to share gossip, recipes, and scandal. All of which Aubriella had no interest in. Should her parents ever learn of the outrageous da Vinci drawings hidden in her bedchamber…
A shiver tripped across her shoulders.
Lord, Aubriella didn’t want to consider what her mild-mannered parents would do. Even they drew boundaries at what was acceptable and what was not, and she’d crossed those marks long before now.
When she’d dressed as a man and sneaked into the biology laboratory at university seven years ago, her parents had expressed their disappointment in the calmest tones. They’d sent her to her prissy spinster aunt’s outside of London for the summer.
They’d undoubtedly prayed Aunt Astrid’s prim, proper, and boring-as-Hades decorum would rub off on Aubriella.
It had not.
After Aubriella volunteered to assist the local doctor in setting an unfortunate lad’s badly broken leg—really, the blood didn’t make her the least faint, but poor Aunt Astrid had swooned—she’d been sent home as incorrigible.
However, in an odd and unforeseen twist, Aunt Astrid had bequeathed Aubriella her small house. Possibly because her aunt believed her irredeemable, unmarriable niece might find herself in need of a home someday.
If it hadn’t been for Jackson Matherfield, Aubriella felt certain her subterfuge would’ve worked—another reason to dislike the scoundrel.
How was she to know he was in that class?
Fate must, indeed, have something against her.
Despite what she believed to be a remarkably good disguise, he’d recognized her immediately. She still hadn’t forgiven him, though instead of revealing her to the professor and other students, he had let her escape with her reputation intact.
He had, however, told her parents, the rotter.
