A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (13 page)

“
You’ll never guess,”
Rebecca said, removing her gloves to select a cake from the tea
tray, “who Mama and I visited with this afternoon.”

Did she really think Aurora wanted to
gossip? She had plenty more important matters on her mind. But
since Rebecca was her dearest and most especial friend, she
mustered, “Oh? Who would that be?”

“
The Marchioness of
Laughton and her daughter, Lady Phoebe Seabrook. You’ll remember
Lady Phoebe from last night, of course.”

She would? How was she supposed to
remember anything from last night that was not in some way
connected to her encounter with Lord Quinton? With that
delightfully sinful kiss that changed the course of her life
forever?

When Aurora failed to respond, Rebecca
went on. “You remember her. She is friends with Iris Leggett. You
know—long face, grey eyes…”

“
Oh, yes,” Aurora said.
“The girl with the horse face.”

Rebecca gasped. “Aurora! That is a
horrible thing to think, let alone to say.”

“
Well, it’s the truth,
isn’t it?” Aurora asked with a frown. “Besides, no one is here but
you. I restrained myself at the ball last night, did I
not?”

“
Whether it is true or not
does not give one leave to say such things.” Rebecca shook her
head, sending the cascade of golden ringlets surrounding her face
into a frenzy. “You really need to learn some tact. And
humility.”

“
Shall you be the one to
teach me these traits?” Aurora drawled.

With a wave of her hand, Rebecca went
on. “That is for another day, my dear. The reason I am here now is
what I learned from Lady Phoebe over tea.”

Aurora was becoming irritated. They
should be speaking of the wedding that loomed, not some silly
debutante who sported a horse’s face and a lamentable choice in
friends. “And what, pray tell, was that? How she tames her
mane?”

“
No
.” Rebecca had the audacity to cluck her tongue. “It seems
Lady Phoebe was once affianced to your Lord Quinton.”

“
Indeed,” Aurora said and
leaned forward. Now Rebecca held her rapt attention. Lord Quinton
had never mentioned a previous engagement. Granted, they hadn’t had
much opportunity to mention anything to each other. But he had been
engaged to
her
?
What could he possibly have seen in the girl? Lady Phoebe had
broken off the engagement? The woman was daft if she thought she
could do better than Lord Quinton, particularly with her
unfortunate face. “And did she say why she cried off?”

“
Lady Phoebe did
not
break off the
engagement,” Rebecca said, leaning in. “She arrived at the parish
church in all her wedding finery, only to find that Lord Quinton
had gone missing.”

“
No!” The scoundrel. It was
poor form for a lady to back out of such an agreement, but for a
gentleman? And the idea that he didn’t even tell her ahead of time,
but allowed her to suffer her shame before an entire wedding
congregation—preposterous.

“
Yes,” Rebecca
insisted.

Scandalous
.

“
She told me he has not
been seen at his estate since that day over three years ago. No one
had heard from him at all until he arrived in Town this
Season.”

Aurora’s earlier numbness left, to be
replaced by a rather odd combination of intrigue and elation. “And
I am to marry him tomorrow. Oh, dear good Lord.”

Rebecca took her hand and patted the
back of it. “Once word of this gets out, no one will think less of
you for breaking the engagement. And it hasn’t even been officially
announced. Perhaps no one need know you ever accepted
him.”

“
Oh, pish. I’m not worried
about what the
ton
thinks of me. It is far too late for such
concerns.”

“
But your father—he will be
scandalized,” Rebecca said. “Surely you must think of him. He will
be devastated if you go through with this engagement.”

“
I’ve already broken
Father’s heart,” Aurora said. “He is utterly disappointed that I
behaved in such an unseemly manner. How could breaking off an
engagement—and being ruined in the eyes of the
ton
—make anything better? You know
how the gossips will spin this. I will be made out as fast. No, I
don’t think that would be a wise course of action.”

“
You cannot seriously think
of going through with this. Aurora, he is the worst sort of
blackguard. What if he does the same thing to you?”

“
Why would he do that? I’m
not nearly as hopeless a fiancée as Lady Phoebe.”

Besides, the man had to
have
some
honor.

~ * ~

Quite simply put, sleep was out of the
question.

In fact, Aurora wondered if she would
ever be able to sleep again. If the first time Lord Quinton kissed
her hadn’t been enough, then the kiss that afternoon in her
father’s library ensured she would never be able to close her eyes
without thinking of him.

The way he’d used his mouth over her
breast.

The feel of his hands gripping her
thighs, rough and gentle all at once.

The low growl emanating from his
throat—primal, almost inhuman.

The heady scent of the overheated air
between them.

She flopped about in her bed for what
had to be hours, trying to fall asleep. Lord knew she would need
rest before the day ahead of her. But that precious, blissful state
proved elusive.

Aurora closed her eyes and imagined
herself drifting off into the netherworld, staring at a cloudy
sky—only to have the images of clouds somehow turn to the
confectionary fabric of her gown bunched up about her waist. In the
next instant, her nightrail bunched up like her gown had been, and
she found herself covered in a sheen of perspiration, remembering
the feel of Lord Quinton’s body pressed up against hers.

They had fit, like they were molded
just for each other. If that weren’t enough reason she should
follow through with marrying him, there was the delicious thrumming
sensation deep in her core. Something she’d never experienced
before. Something she doubted any other man capable of producing
within her.

How could she possibly deny their
attraction?

Still, was that attraction enough? It
was not love—at least not on his part. Surely not on her part,
either, despite her apparent inability to think of anything at all
without wishing he were there and kissing her again—or more than
just kissing. After all, she’d only met Lord Quinton the evening
before. Love took time.

Didn’t it?

Or was it possible that men
and women simply loved, or didn’t love? Perhaps her parents had
never been destined to love each other. Maybe Aurora and Lord
Quinton
were
destined to fall in love.

One thing she knew for certain: she
would never gain another wink of sleep if she didn’t find a way to
get him out of her mind. Aurora knew herself well. She would never
manage that if she didn’t write.

She tossed back the counterpane and
slipped out of bed as quietly as she could. No point in waking
Rose. The maid meant well, but would undoubtedly bring some sort of
tonic if she knew Aurora wasn’t sleeping the night before such an
important event. Barefoot, she padded to her escritoire and found a
candlestick, then tiptoed out to the hallway to light it on one of
the sconces.

Aurora dipped her quill into the ink
pot, placed the tip to parchment, and let the words
flow.

Our wedding night finally
arrived. Though it felt like years, in truth it was only hours
after the ceremony. I already knew that Lord Quinton’s kisses did
inexplicable things to me, sending my heart aflutter and causing my
body to overheat and making it impossible to form two connected
words. But when he moved behind me and I felt the strength of his
hands upon the bare skin of my arms and the rough tickle of his jaw
line against my neck, I shivered.

Surely this was sinful.
Surely husbands did not see their wives in their nightrails and
touch them in the intimate ways my husband
—
my husband
!
—
touched
me. But I could not bring myself to care in the least.

He moved his hands from my
arms to wrap around my waist, pulling me closer to him until only
the thin fabric of my nightrail and the sturdier fabric of his
shirt and pantaloons separated us. That delightful and wonderful
hard, heat-filled length pressed against my bottom and

And what? Drat. Sometimes, being an
innocent could be a deuced curse.

Aurora pushed the parchment
aside. She couldn’t very well go on from there until she knew
what
it
was. And
what it was
for
.
It must have something to do with the wedding night. But without
someone to tell her—or without Lord Quinton to show her—she’d never
decipher it.

It was rather inconvenient
that he hadn’t taught her just a bit more in the library that
morning. They’d have to have a discussion about his lack of
instruction. He should have taught her what she would need to know
in order to perform her wifely duties. Granted, she wasn’t his
wife
yet
, but that
would change shortly. Why wait?

Unless he felt her
incapable.

Was that why he had jilted Lady
Phoebe? Had he kissed her and touched her in that manner, and found
her lacking in some way?

Lord Quinton
had
stopped their kissing
rather abruptly that morning, and with no explanation. If he’d been
enjoying it—if he’d felt half of what Aurora felt at that moment,
with electricity flowing through every pore of her skin and a need
she could never explain—he surely wouldn’t have stopped. Would
he?

Blast. He was going to jilt
her. She just
knew
it.

Unless, of course, she jilted him
first.

~ * ~

“
You look stunning, miss,”
Rose said, twisting a tendril of Aurora’s dark hair into a soft
curl about her face.

Truthfully, she did. But what a sight
she would be in a few moments’ time. She hoped Father would not be
too terribly disappointed in her, but there was nothing to be done
for it.

“
Thank you, Rose.” Aurora
gave her maid what she hoped was a nervous-but-excited smile. “You
should go into the church now. I’d like a few minutes to myself
before the wedding, please.”

Rose placed one more flower into
Aurora’s coiffure and smiled. “Of course.”

When the door clicked to a close,
Aurora took a breath. It would be better if she could change out of
her wedding gown, but that would be virtually impossible to do
alone. There were far too many buttons along the back. She’d just
have to make do.

The Spencer she’d worn on her way to
the church was draped across a chair. She fastened it about her,
secured the matching bonnet atop her head, and looked one more time
in the mirror. The coquelicot velvet did little to hide her gown.
Gads, she might be mistaken for a harlot, with the oddity of her
attire.

There was no time to worry about that,
though. Aurora turned the lock on the door before she moved to the
window, raised it, and hurtled herself out and to the ground.
Luckily, the small church was not too high; she only fell a couple
of feet, rolling over a few times before coming to a
stop.

Aurora took a look around. No one was
watching her. She dusted the debris from her gown and
walked—hurriedly, but quietly—to the mews.

If only she knew how to unhook one of
Father’s horses from the carriage. Becoming a horse thief had never
been high on her list of priorities. But after a moment’s
inspection of the rigging, she knew she’d waste far too much time
in attempting it.

A few horses stood in a stall near the
entrance. Two of them were even saddled and ready to go—traditional
saddles, not side saddles, but a horse thief couldn’t very well be
picky.

Aurora took one more look around. The
last thing she needed was for a groom to come upon her
unawares.

All clear.

She moved up alongside the smaller of
the two and gripped the reins. Thank the good Lord Father had
taught her to ride. One foot in the stirrup. She hitched her gown
up to her knees and tossed the other leg up and over and settled in
to the saddle. Oh, dear good Lord. Even with this small horse, her
feet could not reach the stirrups.

The mare pranced around, surely uneasy
from having an unfamiliar rider atop it. Aurora leaned forward and
whispered into the horse’s ears, “Calm down, girl. It will be all
right.”

The door creaked at the opposite end
of the mews. Blast. She had to go.

Aurora flicked the reins, and they
were off.