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Had he wanted to, he might’ve ruined her that day.

Women were strictly prohibited from such courses.

Another stupid rule made by men.

Since marrying had never been at the forefront of Aubriella’s desires, her disappointment in her continued spinsterhood was less significant than Mama’s discontent.

To appease her mother, Aubriella wore a long-sleeved navy-blue velvet day gown trimmed in black today. The pretty gown complemented her coloring and lithe figure, bolstering her confidence by a small degree. Nevertheless, she felt as out of place as a dull river rock among glittering, polished gems.

This morning, Roxina sat beside Aubriella with Matilda Fitzlloyd across from them. Aubriella hadn’t met the two couples babbling away like magpies at the foot of the table, nor the pair of indolent gentlemen halfway down the large rectangle and currently engaged in low conversation with Emmet and Quinten Honeybrook.

No doubt, Mama and Mabel Templeton would play matchmaker and devise a scheme or several to throw Aubriella into the company of the newcomers. She couldn’t help but suspect the cousins had plotted together toward that very end.

Three days ago, Aubriella’s family had rumbled up the circular drive to the Templetons’ grand estate. As always, they were the first guests to arrive so that Mama and Cousin Mabel might enjoy a short, intimate visit before the other invitees descended upon the estate.

At least Aubriella had Jack’s promise that he’d help her through the next two weeks.

If he came.

How peculiar that she anticipated seeing him when she normally went out of her way to avoid him. His presence was less objectionable than making a fool of herself—that was what she’d been telling herself since she’d impulsively accepted his offer.

So far, he and his brother remained absent, and something between disappointment and lack of surprise sat heavy and dull in Aubriella’s belly. As she’d descended the stairs for breakfast, she told herself she didn’t need him to manage the festivities. After all, she’d endured these annual gatherings her entire life. Another fortnight shouldn’t be so unbearable.

Even as she tried to convince herself, doubts lingered.

Why this year should be different, she didn’t know.

If only Jack hadn’t raised her hopes that she might be spared indignity and humiliation during this holiday season.

So stupid of her to have trusted him.

Although, to be fair, he had said he’d attend if he could get away from his business obligations. Aubriella imagined there must be many responsibilities with four successful ventures. Regardless, she shouldn’t have counted on him, and annoyance at herself for doing so chaffed her pride.

Aubriella squared her shoulders as she picked up a triangle of toast.

She’d simply do as she’d always done at these assemblies.

Find an out-of-the-way spot to retreat to whenever possible, and when she couldn’t escape, paint a benign expression on her face and pretend she didn’t care that she was a dismal failure. She’d laugh at her maladroitness with the others, and no one but her dearest friends or family would know how keenly she suffered.

“Do you suppose they are without family, and Mrs. Templeton has taken them beneath her wing?” Roxina nudged her chin toward the babbling foursome. “If she keeps it up, we’ll be four to a chamber.”

As it was, everyone shared their chamber with at least one person and, in some cases, with two others.

Aubriella didn’t mind.

At Blenstock & Handcastle Academy for Young Ladies, Aubriella, Matilda, Roxina, and Georgine had shared a bedchamber. Nonetheless, an orphan herself, Mabel Templeton’s soft heart knew no bounds, and she’d continue to take in waifs as long as her house could hold them.

Aubriella shrugged as she chewed her toast and then swallowed. “More than likely, though I do not know where she finds them since she rarely visits Town.”

“They’re like stray cats.” Matilda gave a sage nod. “Start feeding one and soon a dozen will expect a meal.”

She just might be correct.

Roxina gave a cursory glance around the dining room. “Do you suppose the Templetons invited the Willoughbys? I haven’t seen Lord Willoughby or Francine, though I confess, I’m relieved to have been spared their foul company.”

Aubriella’s stomach soured, curdling the hot chocolate.

She’d wondered that very thing, but refrained from inquiring. And, truth be told, she had convinced herself that if Francine didn’t come this year, that meant Jack was off the matrimonial hook.