Page 21 of My Lord, My Rogue
“I did. It was really easy being around him.” She sat on the edge of her bed. “Is Oliver with Mrs. Hadley?”
“Yes. I listened in,” she said with a chuckle. “Mrs. Hadley read him a story about cows. He told her all about Norma and how he and Riggs learned to milk a cow. It was all quite comical. He is probably taking his nap, if she follows the same schedule she has used since we arrived.” She tapped her niece on the arm. “Do not evade my question.”
“He seems too good to be true, Aunt Violet.” Honora bit down on her bottom lip. “He took me on a picnic. His staff had transformed the greenhouse into a beautiful glass oasis. Inside, ivy covered the walls, accenting a lovely carpet, white roses, and a table covered with white lace and crystal wine goblets.”
“I see it in your eyes. He has always been the one for you,” her aunt said, hugging her close.
“I do not know, Aunt. I cannot bear to ruin another life, as I did Adam’s,er,His Grace’s life, and look what I did to my parents.” She could never make up for the horror they must have felt to hear she had died. “My happiness comes with too large a price. But ’tis nice to dream.”
“Pish! Pray, do not let me hear that again. You have every right to dream of a happy future. Once we gain advantage in Oliver’s guardianship, you can come out of hiding. Until then . . .” she smiled and held out a card.
“What? Until then . . . what?”
“We have a ball to attend! Did I ever tell you that my dearest friend from college is the Countess Willington?”
Fear seized Honora.Was this a joke?“No, Aunt. You did not. Ever.”
“Well, we were wonderful friends as girls,” she continued, undaunted by her niece’s astonished tone. “Although we do not always travel in the same circles, we share a past. She married an earl, for goodness’ sake, and her son is now the Earl of Willington.”
Honora felt faint. “Aunt Violet, please tell me you did not speak to her about my… . . .” her throat grew dry, and she rasped her words. “My affection for her son.”
“Of course not!”
“Thank goodness. I see no future for the two of us, although the day was wonderful.”
“The setting sounds delicious. Is there more you are not telling me?” Aunt Violet slowly arched her brows in that expression of hers that meant,tell!
Honora’s cheeks flamed.
“There is more. Did he kiss you?”
“You are direct, Aunt Violet. Yes. We kissed, and it was,” she pivoted to the window and stared outside. “It was the kiss I shall dream about over and over.”
“Did Bridget accompany you?”
“Yes. She had her own table on the other side of the greenhouse, partitioned from us. I believe she shared a smaller portion of the same foods. Their cook made us both feel special.”
“I believe you meanLord Willingtonmade you feel special.” A knowing smile creased her aunt’s face. “I do not even think his mother was aware of the event. She mentioned she was visiting him this afternoon and complained about his proclivity for remaining a bachelor, but there was no mention of his activities.”
“You will never guess what else I achieved!” Lady Violet reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of tickets. “I secured an invitation for the masked holiday ball! It thrilled the marchioness to include my party. Of course, I only mentioned your parents and said we expected a long-lost niece to visit us.” She winked.
“Aunt, I realize this would be fun. So much fun, however, we cannot attend.Icannot attend.” Surely her aunt had not abandoned her wonderful sense over Honora’s singular appointment with Lord Willington. Bless her! Lady Violet Drake would move heaven and earth to reestablish her niece in Society. However, after three years of living a lie, Honora felt unready to consider it.
“Certainly, you can. It’s a week from now and I have already commissioned dresses for us. I took one of the older dresses that fit you well with me and left it with her to use as a pattern for your dress, as we did before. And we almost wear the same size. Madame took my measurements. The dresses should be here in a matter of days.” Her aunt’s tone brooked no argument. “And I ordered matching masks. ’Tis time you had a night out. The best thing about this ball is that no one will recognize you.”
Realizing arguing was futile, she attempted to find out more about the event. She would love to have an event to go to . . . just not yet. “What is the theme, Aunt Violet? I am curious about the costumes you ordered.”
“That’s just it! ’Tis a Christmastide theme. Everyone should pick seasonal colors for their ball gowns and wear masks and wigs, no real costumes. Some may wear a powdered wig. ’Tis fine to do that.”
“How easy can that be? I could wear a white wig with a sprig of holly and a mask that covers my face.”
“See? It will be fun!” Her aunt declared.
“Hmm, Aunt Violet. We should not do this.” Perhaps Papa and Mama would have more to say and could help her with this untenable situation. “Did Mama consent to going?” Honora would bet not.
“Of course! It thrilled your mother I had included her in the dress order. Madame has her measurements on file and had a lovely shade of silver brocade fabric. It will be beautiful on her.”
“What color gown did you select for me?”
