The Complete Regency Bestsellers And One Winters Collection. Rebecca WintersЧитать онлайн книгу.
be home and no one must ever know about the events of her lost evening.
She had played her cards and folded. She doubted Lord Stephen Hawkhurst would ever want to see her or speak with her again.
Stephen listened as his carriage pulled away from the house, his four greys running well. Luc’s words came back in the silence.
Only a good woman can get under your skin. Well, Aurelia St Harlow was neither good nor loyal, her knowledge of Charles’s murderer countering all she had told the courts of England and confessed to tonight by some misguided sense of perceived advantage.
Everything they said of her was true. The lies. Her part in her husband’s demise. Even the rumour that had circulated about her unusual tastes might have been genuine, given her easy offer of sexual gratification and her attendance at the opium parties of his cousin.
And yet he was still not running to the War Office with the facts at hand and turning her into Shavvon as the traitor he suspected her to be.
Why not? Because underneath everything Aurelia implied he saw the shadows of what was not being said and he had always been adept at understanding nuances. There was something wrong with her confessions, some fact missing that might otherwise explain her actions exactly and he needed to find out just what they were.
For the first time in a long while he capped the bottle he drank from and sat at his desk to write. Lists always worked for him, lists to connect the dots from one to the other and come up with an explanation instead of a mystery.
She was loyal to her family and she was brave. She was hardworking and tenacious. She had been married to his cousin for three long years, yet nobody could remember her in Charles’s company because she had never come down to London.
She loved her sisters and she protected her father, and the mother she had spoken of who resided in France was still alive. Could she be as loyal to her? She protected everybody in her family and sheltered them under her wing of refuge, never mind that the task was an onerous and never-ending one. Her money was low and her costs were high and the silks she designed were not yet making ends meet.
A pattern was beginning to form and it was not that of a self-serving mercenary with little regard for the welfare of others. As more questions formed he jotted them down and, oblivious to the time passing, worked well into the early hours of the morning as he tried to determine the motivation of a woman who was beginning to inhabit his very soul.
‘But it suits you, Lia, and there is no earthly reason that after eight years away from society you cannot at least show off a few of your charms.’
Leonora’s voice crowded in upon doubts as Aurelia looked at herself in the full-length mirror to one end of her sister’s room. The emerald gown seemed to glow under the sunlight slanting in from the windows, making her hair look redder and her skin more pale. ‘I do not know. It is awfully tight here and very low there.’ She pulled at the heavy silk, trying to make the décolletage rise up further over the swell of her breasts.
‘It seems low only because you insist on wearing that ghastly high-necked black dress which is a hundred years out of date.’
Her sister’s exaggeration made her smile, though a more sobering thought overtook the humour. Perhaps it was time to be the person she should have become before it was too late. For a whole two weeks she had worried as to what might be the outcome of her foolish attempt to bribe Lord Hawkhurst for his continued silence. Every day she had watched for members of the constabulary to come and take her away. Like a sword about to descend. Like walking on eggshells. When exactly would he testify against her and ruin what little reputation she still retained? Lord, perhaps this might be her last chance to wear a gown such as this one.
Shaking her head, she resolved to listen to her sister. The dress had been fashioned by a most respectable seamstress on the advice of Leonora and, with the proper accessories, would hardly be considered ‘racy’.
‘It’s not as if we never receive cards any more, Lia, and Rodney was most insistent that you come with us tonight. Besides, a masked soirée is a perfect opportunity for you to have some fun for you hardly ever go out save to the warehouse and the park with Papa on a Monday. If you tarry too much longer, your chance of anything different will be gone, don’t you see, and I want you to be happy.’
Aurelia smiled and when her sister leaned over and kissed her on the cheek she took another quick look at herself. The mask would largely hide her face and if she left before midnight she would have a good chance of remaining anonymous. Hawkhurst would be there—she had heard from Rodney Northrup himself—and it had been that fact that had propelled her headlong into considering putting in an appearance.
She wanted to see Lord Hawkhurst, even from afar. She wanted to be in a room where he was, breathing the same air and seeing the same things that he did because since their contretemps at his town house she had not heard anything at all from him.
The very thought of it made her worry. Should she not cut her losses and simply disappear altogether? A feat more easily accomplished without three sisters all requiring the help of society to find husbands, a very sick father to care for and a business that needed her at the helm for a few months longer.
‘Elizabeth Berkeley was in tears last night at the Sorensons’. Lydia Sorenson whipped her away before anyone could enquire what was wrong, but it seems Lord Stephen Hawkhurst might be a part of the problem.’
Breathing in slowly, Aurelia feigned the least bit of interest as she picked at a thread hanging loose from her sleeve. ‘In what way?’
‘Perhaps he has cried off from offering his hand in marriage. Rodney says his sister Lady Lindsay was never certain about such a match.’
‘But Cassandra Lindsay told me Lady Elizabeth was lovely.’
‘Lovely for a younger man, perhaps. Lord Hawkhurst needs a woman of more substance and resource.’
The words did not seem the sort Leonora would have normally used. ‘Rodney told you that?’
‘He did.’ She clapped her hands across her mouth. ‘Though on reflection he asked me to say nothing of it to anyone and I should have respected his wishes.’ She paused for a moment and Aurelia knew that there was something on her mind. ‘The thing is…Lord Hawkhurst specifically asked if you were coming tonight. I heard him enquire when he was speaking to Rodney the day before yesterday.’
Despite trying not to, Aurelia reddened and felt the unwelcome glance of her sister’s puzzlement upon her. Would he wish to speak to her about Charles? She had promised him a letter, after all, but had not penned it because it was too precarious to entrust such a secret to a man whose motives she did not comprehend. Could the whole evening be a trap?
‘Everyone says Lord Hawkhurst is a dangerous man, Lia.’
‘I do not need a warning to stay away from him, Leonora, if that is what you fear.’
Her sister frowned. ‘There is something about him that reminds me of you.’ When Aurelia stayed silent with shock Leonora went on to explain. ‘He cares not a whit for the good opinion of others whilst shepherding what little that remains of his family out of the range of any unkindness, and he has a certain menace that is…beguiling. All of the women in society are half in love with him, of course, even given his wildness, but the men admire him, too.’
‘Then I cannot see much that is alike between us.’
‘He holds secrets and keeps others out.’
‘You think that of me?’
‘Sometimes I wish you would allow us to help you more. There are things we could do, after all, if only you would let us.’
Turning away, Aurelia nodded. Leonora had grown up over the past few weeks and was no longer the