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Alas, her efforts proved futile.

Eyes only for Jessamine, Mr. Durham didn’t extend the same invitation to her. Not that Aubriella would ever allow a man to tote her about like a bag of grain. Besides, no one ever died from cold, wet feet. Well, mayhap they had, but surely, she wouldn’t catch the ague on the quarter-mile hike to the manor house.

If the need arose.

Even now, Mabel engaged in furtive conversation with several footmen near the conservatory entrance. She was probably arranging to ferry the guests back to the house.

Just once, Aubriella would like to have been the object of male attention, not her prettier sisters. It was stupid, silly, and irrational, but it did rather rub one’s pride raw to be overlooked and ignored constantly.

Mama took Jessamine’s elbow and half-turned away. “Come, dearest. I would like you to sit with me.”

Ever the protective mama bear.

“What about Elli, Mama?” Compassion—or was it pity?—softened Jessamine’s eyes.

Aubriella didn’t like that one jot.

No, indeed.

Accustomed to being disregarded, she’d have found a seat in a quiet corner. However, having her younger self-absorbed sister notice their mother’s negligence brought home just how insignificant Aubriella was.

“Elli?” Mama couldn’t quite hide her befuddlement.

Yes, Mama. Your middle daughter. The one you generally deem inconsequential.

Mama swung back to face Aubriella. Seemingly as an afterthought, asked, “Do you wish to sit with us as well?”

She glanced behind her to the nearly full table where Papa, Lenora, and her husband already jabbered on about something or other with several guests.

Only Emmet was missing. Something had spooked his horse this morning when he dismounted, and he’d strained his ankle. Nothing serious, but he thought it wise to allow the swollen appendage to rest.

“I’m not sure there’s room.” Mama blinked, appearing rather flummoxed at what could hardly be considered a conundrum. Dear Mama. Never the brightest candle in the chandelier. “But you are so thin. I suppose we could squeeze in another chair.”

“And inconvenience you?” Aubriella shook her head when her sarcasm didn’t register. “I wouldn’t think of it.”

Just as they never thought of her.

She always managed on her own. Pain twinged behind her ribs, but she tamped down the emotion. She wouldn’t wallow in self-pity. So, life hadn’t handed her a basket of roses. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be happy.

Out of nowhere, Jack appeared at her side, smelling utterly marvelous, and for the umpteenth time in the past few days, she nearly sighed in relief. It wasn’t wise to depend on him so much, but he had volunteered to keep her company during the yuletide festivities. She hadn’t asked the favor of him.

“With your permission, Mrs. Penford, I shall find seats for Miss Penford and myself.” He flashed his rakish grin, and Aubriella’s heart flip-flopped in her chest.

“There. See, Minnie?” Her relief apparent, Mama patted Jessamine’s arm. “It has all worked out.”

Jessamine mouthed, “I’m sorry,” before permitting their mother to tow her away like a barge.

When had Jessamine grown up and begun considering others’ feelings?

“Does that happen often?” Jack’s question was too casual, too nonchalant.

Aubriella despised his pity.

She slanted him a sharp look.

“What do you think? Surely, you’ve observed our familial interactions long enough to know the answer.” She hitched a shoulder as she searched for a table with room for them. “I’m accustomed to it and do rather well on my own.”

She shouldn’t have to, but she’d learned to manage.