by Anne Brear
“Thank you, Miss Pettigrew. A delightful dance.” Philip bowed as the last notes died and led her to her mother, who sat on a cream sofa with an elderly neighbor.
Once Philip left, Aurora turned towards the open doors leading into the next room. “I’m in need of some refreshment, Mother. I shan’t be long.”
“Very good, my dear.” Her mother waved her away and resumed her conversation.
At the refreshment table, Aurora waited for a footman to pour her a small glass of punch. She smiled and nodded to those she knew, pretending to be having a wonderful time, when all the while her stomach was tangled in knots of misery. The simple beauty of the flower decorations, the sumptuous food and the attentions of the single men were lost to her.
“Is your dance card full, Miss Pettigrew?”
With her heart banging in her chest, she slowly turned her head to gaze up at Reid. Her pulse slowed then sped up again. “And what if it is, Mr Sinclair?”
“Then I would be aggrieved to have missed a dance with you.” His blue eyes so like his mothers, but much warmer, kinder, smiled down at her.
“You only have yourself to blame, sir, since the night is nearly over.” She nodded her thanks to the footman and took her drink.
“Perhaps a stroll in the gardens then? It’s not too cold.”
“It has rained for a week. Do you wish for me to ruin my gown and slippers?” She stepped away from the table and him. The forced civility made it easier for her to be near him. She’d treat him like a stranger and see how he liked that!
“And such a beautiful gown it is, but nothing compared to the beauty of its wearer,” he murmured, following her.
Her teeth clenched at his comment. The Reid she knew never spoke such trite compliments. Her new pale blue gown was very becoming and she spent hours readying herself for tonight because he would be here. Yet now, it all felt wasted. The night hadn’t gone as planned. In the past they had danced numerous times, sat together, ate together, and laughed together. Only tonight none of that happened. He looked the same, still dashing, lithe, powerful, compelling, but not the man she knew and loved. Not her Reid. Not her best friend. The one who talked to her for hours about any subject under the sun. Something in his manner told her he was holding back. Was he protecting her or himself?
Without realizing it, they’d walked to the corner of the room, half shaded by a large potted palm.
“I’ve missed you, Aurrie.”
She glanced up at him. His intense look made her shiver with awareness. She studied his handsome face. It wasn’t a classical face, his nose was a little crooked from a fall he took from his horse as a boy and his dark brown hair never sat straight, but kicked out over his collar if grown too long, but to her, he was perfect. “Have you?”
“You believe I lie?” He frowned, shocked, then a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“I’m not sure what I believe any more. I rarely see you.”
“I’m sorry for that.” He sighed deeply. “Much keeps me occupied in London.”
“I’ll wager it does.” Anger, her constant companion this week, swelled again. “Society down there is far superior to ours in the country. Is it not?”
Reid stepped closer, his manner gentle. “What is wrong, Aurora?”
“Were you too busy to answer my note last week?”
“What note?”
“What note indeed.” She gulped down the fruity punch to hide the hurt clawing at her. Seeing him again was a bittersweet pleasure. Something had changed between them, distance and time had taken its toll. She no longer felt close to him and grieved at the loss.
“I’ve hardly been at home since I arrived. Every day has been taken up with activities and arrangements. My father—’
“We live just across the lawn, Reid.” She stepped back, putting space, and more, between them. “But of course it is not a mere lawn that divides us, isn’t it?”
His eyes narrowed, a clear sign she knew well of his growing frustration and annoyance. “What on earth do you mean?”
“And ignoring me tonight has that been intentional too?”
“Aurora! There you are!” Bettina hurried to her, all smiles for Reid, but quickly dragging Aurora by the hand. “Come, you have been awfully lacking. Your dance partners have been queuing up for the last three dances. Mother refuses to apologize to another disappointed young man and sent me to find you. Excuse us, will you Reid?”
“Certainly.” He bowed, his eyes assessing.
Aurora was glad to be away. Why had she allowed her emotions to get the better of her? Why didn’t she stay calm and gracious? Instead of rekindling his affections as she had hoped to do, she’d acted like a spitting cat. Full of despair, she was quickly engulfed in a circle of willing partners and for the remainder of the night, she neither spoke to nor saw Reid again.
In the carriage on the way home, she stared out of the window at the approaching dawn. The shell pink of the sky was advancing on the gloom of the night. Her feet ached and her satin shoes were ruined from dancing, but none of it mattered when her mind only dwelt on her strange relationship with Reid. Repeatedly she tried to put him from her mind, to think of some other man who could fill his shoes, but it was useless. She hadn’t imagined their closeness all these years. Surely he hadn’t played her for a fool? Someone to casually toss aside when no longer needed? No. Reid wasn’t that type of man or friend. So what did that leave her to consider? What was the truth of it all?
“Well, I am ready for my bed indeed,” her mother said, sighing.
“It was a wonderful night.” Bettina closed her eyes, a smile lifting her lips while Harriet dozed against their father’s shoulder.
Her mother shifted in her seat and stifled a yawn behind her hand. “Julia finally revealed Reid’s intended’s name, a Miss Hermione FitzGibbon from down south, lands in Kent, close to a Sinclair property, or something like that.”
“How exciting,” Harriet said, turning to Aurora, her yellow ribbons and curls now lank and in disarray. “Did he mention his news to you? You two have always been close. You must be happy for him?”
Aurora stared, a silent cry opening her mouth. Anguish filled her heart.
“I think Julia is being a little premature, dearest,” Josiah murmured. “John Sinclair mentioned nothing to me about the matter, and if an imminent engagement was to be announced, then surely he’d have spoken of it.”
“Perhaps they wish to keep it quiet for a while longer, though no one in Julia’s presence was in any doubt of the news, she talked all night of it.” Her mother’s gloved hand covered another yawn.
“Well, do not speak of it yourself until it is confirmed and acknowledged, my dear, we don’t want to be accused of spreading gossip.”
A heavy weight pressed on Aurora’s chest making it difficult to breathe. Inside the carriage the only sound was the creaking of the springs and the carriage wheels rumbling over the road towards home. Denial screamed inside her head, but outwardly she kept calm. No one knew what this news meant to her and she would keep it that way. She wanted to cry, rage, beat something hard, but instead, she gazed out as the sky lightened to a pearl gray and acted as if everything was as it should be.
Later that morning, Aurora skipped the late breakfast and ordered for her mare, Princess, to be saddled. She rode out beyond the fields at the back of the house, those that also bordered the Sinclair property. The weak autumn sun brightened the countryside while a stiff cool breeze swayed the uppermost branches of the ash and beech trees. Leaves the color of amber and russet fluttered and swirled to the ground, carpeting the grass and crunching under Princess’s hoofs.
The fresh smell of recent rain enveloped the land and Aurora had a hard job keeping Princess steady. She sensed the mare’s need to gallop and after a few minutes of pulling at the reins, she let the horse have its head and canter over the fields - scattering sheep and jumping hedges. After a few minutes of pace, which Aurora enjoyed just as much as the mare, she reine
d in Princess and turned her back the way they’d come.
Usually, when at home, Reid rode early with his brothers before breakfast. She was counting on them doing so today, despite the ball ending only hours earlier. She had to make amends for her waspish conversation of last night and learn the truth of his engagement.
She guided Princess out through the small coppice at the edge of their boundary and rode on into Sinclair lands. A small stream ran at the bottom of a long slope and from the top, she spotted Reid and his brother Tom walking their horses along the water’s edge. With a nudge of her knee, she sent Princess down to meet them.
Both brothers smiled in greeting as she joined them. Tom, always the charmer, reached out to take her hand. “This is a nice surprise. I expected all fair maidens to be abed after last night.”
She beamed at Tom, a younger version of his older brother, only with the gray eyes of his father. “Some of us are made of sterner stuff, Tom Sinclair. You should know that by now.” She did her best to ignore the way her heart skipped at the sight of Reid.
“Yes, with you I should. You could easily have been a man, Aurora.”
“Is that a compliment?” She grinned into his boyish laughing face. At twenty one, Tom was athletic, gregarious and aware of his own good fortune in looks and family. She loved him like a brother, as she did the two other Sinclair boys, James and Edward.
“Of course. Though I confess I’m rather glad you are a woman. Your tennis game is good enough without you hitting like a man to beat me every time we play.” His laughter sounded loud in the fresh stillness of the morning. At their appearance, a rabbit broke cover of the undergrowth and fled across the fields, white tail bobbing.
“Will you return and have breakfast with us, Aurora?” Reid asked, steering his large bay around an outcrop of rock. He wore simple riding clothes, a dark tweed jacket and pale trousers tucked into high boots that strained across his thighs as he rode.
“Thank you. I would like to.” She averted her gaze from his thighs and the strong hands that lazily held the reins. How many times had she gone riding with Reid and never once felt all hot and bothered at seeing him astride his horse. Yet, this morning, when she looked at him, her skin felt as though she stood too close to a fire. Straightening her back, she smiled at Tom and chatted with him about nothing in particular all the way to the Hall. If Reid thought her rude, then so be it. She couldn’t let him see her flushed face.
The breakfast room at the Hall caught the morning sun and the household was up and about as they entered. The aroma of bacon and coffee filled the air. Black-frocked maids, their white aprons starch to a stiff brilliance, refilled platters with smoked herring and kidneys, eggs and black pudding.
“Ah, Aurora. How wonderful.” John Sinclair rose from his chair as did his sons Edward and James before they resumed their seats and hungrily attacked their meal.
Mrs Sinclair spied her over her teacup. “Delightful indeed. Were you out riding?”
“Yes.” Aurora glanced down at her deep blue riding habit, hoping it didn’t have mud on it. She sat on the chair Reid held for her. “Thank you.” Tessa, a maid Aurora had known for years, filled her cup with tea with a smile, and Ben, the footman set a small rack of toast in front of the place setting he’d quickly laid out when she walked in.
“Did you enjoy yourself last night, Aurora?” Mr Sinclair said, his gaze flicking over the newspaper at his elbow, an indolent smile playing on his lips. The Sinclair men were stamped with John’s noble-shaped head and straight nose. They all had differing shades of his thick dark brown hair, with Reid’s being the darkest.
“I did, yes.” She added sugar to her tea, aware of Mrs Sinclair’s cold stare on her.
“Danced with every man there I’m sure.” Edward grinned, a fork loaded with egg half way to his mouth. “I know I got two dances with you. How many did you get James?”
“Three was it, Aurora?” James spread marmalade on his toast, his eyes full of good humor.
She chuckled self-consciously. “I’ve no idea, I lost count.”
“And yet I didn’t get one.” Reid rested back against his chair, his face unreadable as he stared at her. His long fingers played with a teaspoon.
Mrs Sinclair straightened, her smile brittle. “I’m sure you were not short of partners, darling. Besides, dancing isn’t for all.”
The men quickly switched the conversation to the last agricultural fair of the year to be held next month and the subject of horseflesh and bulls was of no interest to Aurora.
Wiping her mouth with a linen napkin, Mrs Sinclair then stood. “If you are finished Aurora, perhaps you’d join me in the morning room. I’m certain discussion of animal husbandry holds no interest for you.” Her tone made it perfectly clear to Aurora that she knew exactly why she was there.
Aurora rose, her breakfast reluctantly abandoned. Spending time alone with Julia would be a punishment too detestable to tolerate. “Actually, I should return home, Mrs Sinclair. My mother will be wondering where I’ve got to. Thank you for breakfast. Good day to you all.” She nodded to the men.
“I’ll escort you.” Reid casually left the table to come around to her side as farewells were said.
Mrs Sinclair took her elbow and called over her shoulder, “Reid, have Aurora’s horse brought around to the drive. Oh, and will you collect my shawl from the chair in the drawing room?” She steered Aurora towards the front of the house as Reid, wearing a bemused expression, disappeared on his errand. Leaning close like a conspirator, the older woman grimaced. “Poor Reid. He’s at a loss without his lady love. Doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. But I believe he’ll return south shortly to be with her. You will be kind to him while he is lovelorn, won’t you, Aurora?”
The warmth left Aurora’s face, but she was saved from answering as Reid joined them at the front door that was being opened by the Sinclair butler, Matthews. They stood on the steps while the groom brought her mare around to the front.
“Shall we simply lead her across the lawn?” Reid asked her as he took the reins from the groom.
“Very well.” With a brief smile at his mother, Aurora stepped out alongside of him through the gardens, Princess following behind. They walked for a few minutes without talking, each absorbed in their own thoughts.
Once out of sight of the house, Reid took her elbow. “I never received your note.”
Her step faltered. “It is no longer important.”
“But it must have been?”
She shook her head, wondering how to broach the subject of his impending engagement. Suddenly she hadn’t the courage to voice it. She didn’t want him to acknowledge that he loved another. It was easier to suffer in silent ignorance.
Reid walked along, head bowed. “I am to return to London soon.”
Her breath caught. So it was true. She closed her eyes in agony as pain pierced her.
“Would you write to me?”
“Why?” She swallowed past the lump in her throat.
He stopped and looked at her, puzzled. “Why? Because I thought it would be nice. I thought—’
“You thought I would want to listen to your engagement plans?” She grabbed the reins from him. “You thought wrong, Reid Sinclair!” She marched away with Princess, furious tears clouding her vision.
“Aurora!”
“Go away, Reid.” She quickened her step, but he easily caught up with her.
“What engagement?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. Your mother goes to great pains to mention it as often as possible.”
He ran his hand through his dark hair making it stand upon end. “I’m not engaged.”
“But you soon will be, is that it?” she spat. Then, seeing his shocked face, willed herself to calm down, to act mature.
“Not that I’m aware of.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and let out a breath. “There is a young lady who has become ... fond of me.”
Pride made her stiffen and blink back the thr
eatening tears. “I don’t want to know.”
“Listen to me.”
“No!”
“Hermione’s family have been corresponding with Mother. They want a union.”
“I’m very happy for you then.”
His grip tightened. “They want it, not I.”
“And are you a boy to be told what to do and whom to marry?” Frustration was replacing the pain and she held on to it for it was better to be angry than cry in front of him.
“Of course not.” His expression hardened. “I will inform Mother that her plans to join Hermione and me are fruitless. I want none of it.”
“Then why did you allow it to go so far?”
“It kept Mother from pestering me day and night. Foolish of me I know, but at the time it seemed easier with everything else I was doing. Father and I have great plans to expand some of our business interests. It’s all I have been focusing on.”
Her shoulders drooped, helpless against the hot emotion searing through her body. “I didn’t want to believe it.”
He lifted up her chin with a fingertip. “As if you could believe it.”
“You’ve been away so long. I wondered if what had happened ... between us ... our special friendship ... was all my imagination.” Embarrassed, she lowered her lashes to hide her feelings.
“Special friendship?” He grinned and the small dimple in his left cheek that she loved so much appeared. “You know how much you mean to me.”
“No, I don’t. I didn’t know what you felt. How could I when nothing has been said?”
“Then let me show you.” Slowly he lowered his lips to lightly touch hers. As soft as a butterfly’s quiver he kissed her mouth, her nose, her eyes and then came back to linger over her lips once more. “See now? That is a small hint of what I feel for you.”