~ * ~
Aurora sat in the shade of a beech tree just off the kitchen garden with the older and married ladies, watching as Nia and Lady Emily and the two Miss Osbournes all painted the landscape with their watercolors. She’d never had a taste for painting. Perhaps because she was a rather poor artist. She preferred to think her dearth of talent in that arena stemmed from her distaste for it rather than the other way around.
Quin and the other gentlemen (save Lord Rotheby, who had declared it high time he took a nap of an afternoon) had snuck off earlier to do a mite of game hunting, which didn’t particularly bother Aurora, since the weather was lovely and the ladies wished to be out of doors with their feminine pursuits.
What did bother Aurora, however, was that Lord Norcutt had not gone with the other gentlemen. Not only that, but Rebecca was not out with the other young ladies. Instead, the two of them were off by the river having a picnic. Alone.
Scandalous. And Aurora couldn’t for the life of her understand why Rebecca would choose to do something scandalous with Norcutt, of all the gentlemen she could have chosen from. It made absolutely no sense. But Lady Aylesbury had seen no harm in it, and had even neglected to insist a maid go along to chaperone them. It was hardly Aurora’s place to contradict the duchess, despite the obvious flaw in her line of thinking.
So off Rebecca had gone on Lord Norcutt’s arm, up and over the hill and out of view.
They’d been gone for almost two hours before they returned: Rebecca, smiling from ear to ear until the whole of her face was alight with pure joy, and Norcutt, looking as though he would cast up his accounts on a moment’s notice, walking along hand-in-hand—hand-in-hand! —with the picnic basket Cook had prepared for them swinging along beside Norcutt as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
From the other direction, she heard the hoots and hollers of the rest of the gentlemen coming back from their hunt. Aurora couldn’t turn to look at them, however, because her attention was focused squarely upon Norcutt and Rebecca.
What was his game? She would have to pull Rebecca aside later that evening and have a serious discussion with her. This kind of behavior simply could not continue, regardless of what her mother had to say about it. Rebecca was not built to live a boring life.
Then the gentlemen were upon the group of ladies, bustling about and laughing, and generally having a grand, merry time of it. Could they not see Aurora’s distress? Or did it not matter to them? And then they were milling about amongst the ladies, with “My, that is a lovely rendition of the wisteria,” here and with “I daresay we killed enough pheasants for tomorrow’s luncheon,” there. Then one of them called out, “Here comes Norcutt with his ladylove! Come on now, bring her over to join the rest of us.”
His ladylove, indeed. Rebecca ought to have spurned his attentions long ago. Leading the man on in such a way was downright despicable. Even Aurora wouldn’t have been so cold and unfeeling as to have allowed his ardor to have intensified to this point. Perhaps she ought to pull Rebecca aside now, to save Lord Norcutt from as much embarrassment as she possibly could. She may not particularly like the man, but he was a guest in her home.
But just before Aurora rose to her feet and did just that, she noticed something rather odd. Lord Norcutt searched someone out in the sea of faces gathered beside the kitchen garden, and gave an almost imperceptible, but very deliberate nod of his head.
“What?” she started to ask, but then stopped herself since she didn’t honestly know what she had intended to ask. Who had he looked for? Aurora scanned the faces as well, looking in the direction of Norcutt’s gaze, but only finding Quin. What could he want with her husband? That made no sense at all. Quin and Norcutt hardly had an acquaintance before the house party. Certainly not any real sort of friendship.
Quin cleared his throat and almost the entire group turned to look at him. “If I may ask you all to be quiet for a few moments, Lord Norcutt has something he wishes to announce.”
Something to announce? It wasn’t possible. Surely Rebecca hadn’t…
Aurora couldn’t allow this to happen. She abruptly stood and dashed to Rebecca’s side. “I do apologize, Lord Norcutt. I know this is highly irregular. But I must insist on having a word with Lady Rebecca.”
Quin’s voice thundered across the small clearing. “Aurora, you may have your word with Lady Rebecca later.”
Later would not do. It simply would. Not. Do. “I am terribly sorry, but I must insist upon having a word with her right this moment,” Aurora said. She took Rebecca’s free hand in her own and tugged.
She didn’t expect Rebecca to tug back. “I’ll not come with you now, Aurora. We can discuss anything you wish later.” After another, firmer tug, Rebecca continued with, “Later.”
Oh, dear good Lord. Rebecca wouldn’t cooperate. Quin clearly wouldn’t assist her. There was only one other person Aurora could think to ask for help. “Your Grace,” she implored, only to be cut short.
“Lady Quinton, I would very much like to hear what Lord Norcutt wishes to announce,” the duchess said. “Do sit down.” That final bit was delivered with the authority—and finality—which only a duchess, or perhaps the queen, could muster.
“But”
“Aurora, sit down!” Quin roared. “For once in your life, would you think of someone other than yourself?”
Aurora immediately plopped back down onto the blanket spread over the grass. Her face felt as hot as a smoldering blaze in the hearth. The rebuke from Quin before their guests was bad enough—but it was accompanied by a churning in her stomach.
She studied her hands in her lap and tried to pay attention to Lord Norcutt and Rebecca. Was she thinking only of herself and not of her friend? Had she always done as much? She looked up and studied Rebecca’s face. Her friend seemed happy. Glowingly happy, even.
Could Aurora not see past her own dislike for the man in order to see the good in him Rebecca obviously saw?
“Yes, well…” Norcutt said, seeming to search the air for his words, since his gaze rested solely on the sky. “Lady Rebecca has…er, that is I have asked…Oh, blast. I don’t know what to say.” His eyes widened when he realized he’d cursed before a crowd of ladies. “Oh, dear. I do apologize profusely for my language. I’m truly making a mull of things.”
Rebecca patted his arm gently and whispered something in his ear. He frowned and thought for a moment, then gave her a single, short nod.
“What Lord Norcutt is trying to say is that he asked if I would become his wife—and I accepted.”
The small gathering burst into applause and shouts of “Bravo!” Everyone, it seemed, was overjoyed by the news.
Everyone except Aurora. She was too busy wishing she could bury herself under a rock for behaving so churlishly.
Chapter Twenty-Four
24 June, 1811
I am a horrible, vile, utterly despicable friend. It is a wonder anyone puts up with me at all.
~From the journal of Lady Quinton
Everything was in place for the scavenger hunt to begin. After Lord Norcutt and Rebecca made their announcement, Aurora had made her exit from the gathering, claiming to feel not quite the thing.
Truthfully, she hadn’t, and it had nothing to do with Norcutt. The clenching pain in Aurora’s abdomen had returned only moments after Rebecca had informed the revelers of their engagement. She didn’t tell anyone about that specific ailment—especially not Quin. The last thing she needed at that moment was for him to be relentlessly by her side, worrying that something was wrong with the baby. She couldn’t allow herself to think like that. It just would not do. Aurora’s emotional distress her own behavior—that was all.
So she had gone back to her chamber and laid down for a rest while Quin had continued to entertain their guests. When she woke from her nap, the pain was far less intense—down to a dull throb instead of a sharp, shooting tightening. Clearly, rest had been precisely what she needed.
After Rose helped her to dress ag
ain, she set to work making certain the clues were all sorted out properly. Quin was only too happy that he wouldn’t have to participate, since Aurora would be judging the activity and determining the winner. Because of that, she sent him off to do some of the more rigorous work of hiding the clues about the abbey and the grounds.
Once she had everything situated just so, supper time had arrived. She ate and tried to put on a happy face for all and sundry, even though her heart broke a bit more each time she looked at Rebecca or Lord Norcutt. She couldn’t believe her own behavior. Aurora had never seen anyone behave as gauchely as she had done that afternoon. When the meal was finished, she adjourned the ladies to the salon so the men could enjoy their port. She sat and talked and laughed with them all, even though her heart was not in it.
And then she excused herself and retired to bed. Aurora was so exhausted that she fell asleep at the escritoire while writing in her journal. Only when she awoke the next morning did she realize that Quin must have come in at some point and carried her to his bed.
His heat enveloped her. He had her pulled against him, his front to her back, with her derrière held snug to his hard length. Aurora rolled over to greet him with a good morning kiss, only to discover that he was still firmly entrenched in sleep. How could he possibly be so hard and ready if he wasn’t even awake? Perhaps she would never learn all there was to know of her husband.
She watched him in his slumber, taking advantage of the rare moment when he was entirely at peace. His breaths rose and fell in slow, even measures, almost in time with his heartbeat.
Aurora could watch him like this for hours. Quin was so peaceful now. So sweet, even. She chuckled at the thought of calling him sweet to his face. Her husband would not care for such a term.
While his eyes were still closed, Aurora leaned in and placed a soft, chaste kiss upon his lips. Apparently, that simple touch was all it took to wake him. Quin rolled over atop her and deepened the kiss.
“Good morning,” he said to her a moment later, raising his face to smile down at her. “I could get used to waking up that way. How are you feeling today, love?”
Aurora shoved him so he would roll off her. “I feel perfectly robust.” The untruth was only a tiny one, not really significant. She didn’t want him to worry about her. Not today.
Quin did roll over, but essentially just exchanged places with her, pulling her atop him as he went. “Have you thought more about your response to Norcutt and Lady Rebecca’s betrothal?”
Aurora frowned. “I’m trying to be happy for her. She is my dearest friend and she looks truly happy. I just don’t know that he’s right for her…”
“He is a good man, Aurora. He will treat her well. He won’t…” His voice trailed off into silence and he looked away from her.
“He won’t what? Hurt her? Like you think you’ll hurt me?”
Quin nodded but refused to look at her.
“You haven’t, though. You haven’t hurt me, even though you’ve been scared you would. You haven’t hurt me though I’ve tried your patience more than any reasonable man should have to endure. You haven’t hurt me, because you don’t hurt women.”
Finally, his eyes returned to hers. “So you would wish a marriage such as ours upon Lady Rebecca?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly at the end.
Oh, dear good Lord. She hadn’t thought about it quite in that way. Quin and Lord Norcutt were about as opposite as two gentlemen could be and still be considered gentlemen. For that matter, some might not consider Quin a gentleman at all. But their marriage was…what, precisely?
He loved her. He had said so himself, on that morning out by the hermitage. And she loved him. She even enjoyed his company, now that he’d finally begun to trust her and share some of his secrets with her, his pain.
“Yes,” Aurora finally whispered. “Yes, I would wish a marriage like ours upon her, complete with all the arguments and disagreements, with the scandals and the passion. I would wish that on them a thousand times over.”
“And who is to say,” Quin said, “that Lord Norcutt and Lady Rebecca will not have just such a marriage when it is all said and done? Do you honestly, in your heart, believe they will not?”
How dare Quin think reasonably, again? That was a terribly boorish habit he seemed to have. Blast him. “I suppose I cannot,” Aurora conceded. Even though she would never be able to look at Lord Norcutt in the way she looked at Quin.
Then again, she wasn’t the one marrying the man.
~ * ~
And so they went about their day as it had been planned, with the scavenger hunt serving as the culmination of a long day’s events. By the time it was set to begin, Aurora was exhausted. The dull throb in her belly had continued throughout the day, intensifying at times and then lessening at others. She still felt it best to keep that fact from Quin.
When the gentlemen joined the ladies in the salon following their after-supper port, a frisson of excitement hung in the air. In fact, most of the guests had been anticipating the evening of the scavenger hunt almost as much as the grand ball Aurora had planned for the final night of their stay.
After all, a scavenger hunt allowed for pairs to go off along dark paths only partially lit by lanterns and candles, in search of both hidden treasures and perhaps a few stolen moments alone.
Since Lord Norcutt and Rebecca had taken it upon themselves to destroy Aurora’s plans for a match between Rebecca and Lord Tucker Flynn, she had no choice but to redouble her efforts where Nia and Sir Jonas were concerned. Tonight would be a perfect opportunity.
Aurora clapped her hands to gain the crowd’s attention. “All right, if everyone is ready, the scavenger hunt is set to begin. Gentlemen, do please select a lady to be your partner for the night’s adventure.” As expected, Norcutt immediately bustled over to Rebecca’s side. In fact, the gentlemen almost all took up their expected partner in record-setting time—all save Sir Jonas.
Nia sat in her corner again, looking down at her hands where they rested in her lap with a blush coloring her cheeks to a furious red. Sir Jonas looked about, as though searching for a respite, for any other young lady not yet partnered. There were none to be found, of course.
Aurora raised an eyebrow at the blasted baronet, indicating Nia in the corner. Slowly, almost as though it pained him to do so, Sir Jonas shuffled across the floor to where Nia sat. He bowed low to her and murmured something Aurora could not make out, and finally she nodded her assent.
All was as it should be.
“Very well,” Aurora continued. “Now, gentlemen, each of you must come and fetch a slip of parchment. On each slip is a clue to your next clue. You must all find a series of ten clues, though they will all be different, save for the very last one. Whichever pair finds the final item and returns it here, to me, first shall be declared the winner.”
“And what shall be our prize?” called out Mr. Bentley.
Oh, goodness. How could she have forgotten a prize? What a hostess she was turning out to be, forgetting such things as that.
But then Quin stepped out from near the window, where he had been playing whist with some of the older crowd. “The winning pair shall select what is to be the first dance at Friday’s ball,” he declared.
Oh, yes. That would be lovely. And it seemed to suit the gathered hunters rather well, also, as they all mumbled to their counterparts.
Then the gentlemen came over to her to fetch their thrice-folded clues before returning to their partners for the hunt to begin. Still, once they were all set to go, no one made a move to begin.
“What are you waiting for?” Aurora asked. “The hunt is on!”
Without further ado, each of the partnerships opened their clues and huddled their heads together, interpreting what they were to look for and determining where they ought to begin their search.
Within moments the salon had cleared out except for Quin and his fellow card players. Aurora sat back on a nearby settee and sighed. The difficult part, for her
at least, was over. Now she merely had to wait for the winners to arrive.
Hopefully the hunt would not go on so long that she could no longer keep her eyes open. That would be rather badly done on her part. But with the way she was feeling, she might very well fall asleep where she sat if she had to wait more than about thirty minutes. Oh, blast. Why had she made it so there were ten clues? She could have done five, and that would still have been more than enough to provide ample entertainment for the evening.
In the quiet, she watched Quin from across the room. He still seemed rather carefree and relaxed, much as he had that morning when they awoke. When had the change taken place? She couldn’t be certain. Sometime since he had told her of Mercy’s death and of his father.
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