Chapter 34
The sun hung high over Mayfair, beating down on the rooftops and streets. But Aurelia felt none of it. The bustle of the city seemed distant.
She was walking with Nora on one side and Hyacinth on the other. Their gowns swished gracefully with every step. The other two ladies were smiling as they teased and gossiped about Nora’s suitor.
“I swear,” Hyacinth said with a grin, her eyes glinting wickedly, “if this man is even half as handsome as the whispers make him out to be, Nora will faint before she can curtsey.”
Nora gave a soft, dreamy sigh. “I won’t faint. I’ve already decided I love him. He’s the sort of man one only reads about in novels. Gentle, charming, and everything I’ve ever wanted. When I see him again…” Her cheeks flushed pink. “I just know he is my future.”
Hyacinth gasped dramatically. “Already in love? You, my darling, have been bewitched.”
They both laughed, but Aurelia didn’t join them. Her lips were pressed together into a tight line, her hands smoothing down her skirts as though to keep herself busy.
Why can’t I laugh with them? Why does everything hurt so much?
A pitiful, painful truth answered her questions.
She missed him. Her husband. The cold, unbending duke. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but his absence gnawed at her until every breath became a little heavier.
And yet, had he written to her? Had he sent a messenger to ask her to return to Whitmore?
No. Not a word. No sign that he missed her.
Of course, he hadn’t. He was as cold as ice. He had always been as cold as ice. And me? I was foolish enough to fall in love with him. Foolish enough to hope.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice when the laughter beside her quieted.
Nora and Hyacinth exchanged glances when they realized Aurelia had not spoken a single word in over an hour.
Finally, Nora broke the silence.
“Aurelia…” Her voice was filled with worry. “Are you daydreaming again?”
“Oh, she’s definitely daydreaming,” Hyacinth quipped, though her eyes searched Aurelia’s face. “Except it’s not the sort of dream that creates butterflies. Hers look like the kind that swallow you whole.”
Aurelia inhaled sharply and straightened her back. She had been caught.
She quickened her steps, trying to hide her inner turmoil. “I’m fine,” she said softly.
But she wasn’t. And they could see it.
“We can’t keep on like this, Aurelia,” Nora murmured. “You have been far too quiet. Something is wrong—I can feel it.”
Then, she asked the question Aurelia had been dreading.
“Are you… concerned about your husband?”
Aurelia froze mid-step. The mere mention of Percival was enough to make her heart skip a beat. She stared ahead, her lips trembling slightly.
Nora and Hyacinth exchanged another worried glance.
By now, Hyacinth’s playfulness had faded away. She stepped closer, her perfume like a soft floral cloud, and wrapped her arms tightly around Aurelia’s shoulders.
“Darling,” she whispered in her ear, “don’t carry it all alone.”
Nora reached out, too, and gently squeezed her sister’s hand. Her touch was so warm, like an anchor amid the storm rising in Aurelia’s chest.
“Tell us,” she pleaded. “Don’t keep it all in. Tell someone. Tell us.”
Aurelia’s throat tightened. For days, she had kept her pain bottled up. For nights, she had pressed her face into her pillow, pretending not to cry. For hours, she had lied to herself. But now, with their hands on her, with their hearts open to her, she couldn’t hold it back.
Her lips parted, her voice trembling. “I do miss him. Terribly. It burdens me that I should care so much for him when he does not return my feelings.”
Her eyes burned. Her tears threatened to spill over, but she blinked rapidly, refusing to let them fall.
“I love my husband, and yet… I think he is still in love with his first wife.”
The silence that followed was heavy.
Hyacinth released her, stepping back only to stare into her face, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Still in love with his first wife?” she echoed, almost incredulous.
Nora’s brows knitted together, and her expression tightened as though she could feel Aurelia’s pain. “Sister…” she whispered.
Aurelia swallowed hard, her gaze lowering to the ground. “How can I compete with a ghost? How can I give him all of me when his heart was never mine to begin with? I can never have his heart…”
Her voice faltered, but the words were out. Her hands trembled as her vision blurred. Her chest was heaving under her bodice.
In that moment, under the bright Mayfair sun, Aurelia felt as though the entire world had stopped just to witness her break.
Nora squeezed her hand tighter, as though trying to press strength into her.
Hyacinth pulled her close once more, whispering firmly, “Do not say that. Do not believe that. Whatever it is you feel now, it might not be the truth.”
She was determined, as though she could fight Aurelia’s sadness into submission.
Nora nodded in agreement, fighting back tears. “You’re hurting, I can see that,” she whispered. “Please, don’t succumb to a fear that may not even be real.”
Aurelia tried to smile, but it came out broken and so small. She let them hug her again, their arms wrapping around her like a shield.
For the first time in days, she felt a fragile comfort, as though she might not be entirely alone in this.
Hyacinth leaned back with a sympathetic smile. “Enough of these tears,” she said gently. “When we return from escorting Nora to her suitor, let’s visit the park. A musical event is being held there—I swear it will lift your spirits.”
Aurelia nodded faintly.
Although she was grateful for the distraction, her heart was still heavy.
“It will be fine, sister.” Nora kissed her forehead softly. “I promise.”
Together, they resumed walking to the carriage sent by Nora’s suitor.
When they finally reached their destination, the housekeeper greeted them warmly and guided them to the drawing room where tea was served.
They sat down, and for a moment, Nora fidgeted in her seat.
“I cannot wait to see him,” she whispered, her cheeks pink.
Aurelia tried to sip her tea, but her curiosity won out.
Who is this man who has stolen Nora’s heart?
It wasn’t long before footsteps announced his arrival. The gentleman entered and executed a low bow.
“Ladies,” he greeted with a smile that seemed to have been rehearsed so many times. “Sir Edmund Hawthorne, at your service.”
Nora nearly melted at the sight of him.
“That’s him,” she whispered quickly to Aurelia and Hyacinth, her hands trembling with excitement.
Sir Edmund straightened. His gaze darted between them before landing on Nora. He spoke politely, but Aurelia caught the faintest hint of something unsettling in his eyes.
“I must say,” he continued, “it is an honor to host such refined ladies. Might I…?” His gaze returned to Nora. “Might I have a few moments with Lady Nora in private?”
Nora blushed deeper. “Of course,” she whispered. She rose quickly and smoothed her skirt, before turning to her sister with a breathless smile. “I won’t be long.”
She followed him out, leaving Aurelia and Hyacinth alone.
Silence fell over the drawing room.
Hyacinth’s brow creased. “Something about him…” she murmured. “It feels off. Too… polished. Too eager.”
Aurelia let out a slow breath. “I felt it, too. As though every smile and every word were rehearsed.”
Hyacinth nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t like it.”
Still, neither of them wanted to ruin Nora’s happiness.
They sipped their tea, waiting. However, too many minutes ticked by.
Hyacinth couldn’t take it anymore; she set her cup down with a clink. “This is taking far too long.”
Aurelia rose as well, alarm bells ringing in her head. “Let’s find her.”
They moved swiftly through the corridors, passing maids and footmen who bowed to them. The longer they searched for Nora, the more Aurelia’s dread grew.
Something was terribly wrong.
When they rounded another corner, a muffled sound reached them, followed by a sharp thud and a gasp.
Hyacinth’s eyes widened, and Aurelia’s blood ran cold.
“What was that?” Hyacinth whispered.
Aurelia waved her hand, indicating that they should move.
They followed the noise down a hallway until they reached a closed door. Beyond it, a muffled scream came, followed by the sound of fabric tearing.
CRACK!
Something, perhaps a vase, was knocked over.
“Bastard.”
Aurelia didn’t hesitate. Didn’t waste a dime. She shoved the door open and froze at the scene before her.
Nora was inside, her gown torn at her shoulder. She was struggling against Sir Edmund, pushing him back as he tried to pin her down. His large hand was clamped over her mouth, muffling her cries, and he was staring deeply into her terrified brown eyes.
Hyacinth gasped as she rushed into the room, and the sound seemed to snap Aurelia out of her daze.
How dare he?
Aurelia moved forward, grabbed the nearest object—a heavy candlestick—and swung it with all her might. It caught Sir Edmund on his side, making him stagger backward and curse under his breath.
“Let her go!” Aurelia snarled, her eyes blazing.
Hyacinth moved to drag Nora away, wrapping a protective arm around her trembling body.
Aurelia didn’t stop. She kicked the cad, taking her pent-up frustration and fury out on him. Her hands blurred as she landed blow after blow.
Thanks to Louis, she’d had several sword fighting classes—much to her mother’s dismay. Lady Scovell never failed to press upon her the importance of pursuing ladylike activities.
Well, being unladylike was definitely saving them right now.
“Let’s go, quickly!” she shouted breathlessly when Sir Edmund was weak enough.
The three ladies gathered their skirts and darted out, their slippers pounding against the floor.
They flew down the corridor, ignoring the startled servants. Soon, they were out of the door and inside their carriage.
Almost immediately, Nora collapsed against Hyacinth’s shoulder.
“Drive!” Aurelia barked at the coachman. “Drive fast!”
The horses rushed forward. The carriage lurched down the lane, the wheels flying over gravel. They moved through the woods, the trees closing in.
Aurelia’s stomach dropped when she heard the thunder of horses’ hooves behind them. They were being chased by a group of furious men.
Soon, the riders overtook them and surrounded them, forcing their carriage to a halt. And at the center, seated atop a black steed, was Sir Edmund himself.
His face was contorted in wrath, his eyes dark with menace.
“You think you can run from me?” His voice cut through the air like a blade. Then, he lifted his hand, signaling to his men. “Take them.”