Page 99 of Aurelia

Arthur just smiled—no, he smirked. “Sir Gideon is a fine man. I have known him all his life and never have I seen him so—if you’ll pardon my indelicacy—enthralled with a woman as he is with you, Aurelia.”

Aurelia stared, speechless.

Arthur continued, evidently mistaking her mortification for encouragement. “I would so like to see you happy. I have said in the past that I have paternal feelings toward you, so I believe—” he hesitated, as if torn, but then seemed to come to a decision. “I know my cousin has a magnetic appeal for women, but I should hate to see you hurt, my dear. You really should understand that Crewe is not the sort to marry.”

“I do not like what you are insinuating,” she retorted.

“Do not be angry, my dear,” he hastily said. “It is only that I have watched so many women fall to Crewe’s not inconsiderable charm. But—but you have so much talent and are so… vibrant that I would hate to see you hurt when he tires of you and casts you aside. And I am afraid that is exactly what he will do.”

Aurelia clamped her jaws tight, not trusting herself to respond.

“Sir Gideon is the sort of man who will be a caring, faithful husband and a kind, thoughtful father. I would not see you throw away his regard because Crewe might have… dallied with you and gave you false hope.”

Aurelia recoiled at his cruel words.

“I can see you are hurt, my dear.” Arthur’s face fell and he suddenly looked ill again. “I am very sorry—I didn’t mean—” he broke off and pushed to his feet, muttering to himself as he shuffled from the room, his stooped form plucking at her sympathy even though she was furious at his words.

You are furious because you believe what he said. Lord Crewe has had you, and now he has disappeared.

As angry and hurt as Aurelia was, she greatly feared that the voice of reason might very well be right. It was becoming harder and harder to hold onto her hope with every day and week that passed.

It was time for Aurelia to consider the possibility that she might be a gullible fool just like every other woman who had lost her heart to the Earl of Crewe over the years.

***

“We shall have to dress quickly for dinner,” Aurelia said as she and Lady Celsa cantered home from the west side of the island.

They had been taking advantage of the fine weather and exploring a secluded cove that had excellent rock pools but Aurelia had allowed the time to get away from her and now they would be late.

“I don’t know why we bother changing our clothing for dinner. With only the two of us, we should just go as we are,” Celsa groused, and then turned to Aurelia, a notch of concern between her eyes. “Do you think Uncle Arthur is sicker than he says he is?”

“I don’t know,” Aurelia admitted, not wanting to lie about such an important matter. Nor did she want to admit that she would be glad if Arthur did not come to dinner that night. She was still furious after their last conversation. “Hopefully your father will be able to convince him to see a doctor when he returns.”

“If he ever returns,” Celsa muttered. “I feel like he has been away forever.”

Aurelia silently concurred.

The stables were a hive of industry when Aurelia and Celsa crested the hill that led to the main road to the castle.

Not only was there a wagon with all sorts of barrels and crates and trunks, but Silas held Frost’s bridle and was leading the mud-spattered stallion back into the stables.

The Laird of Crewe had returned.

Chapter 22

Aurelia took a ridiculous amount of care with her appearance that night. Even so, she managed to arrive at the dining room a good five minutes before dinner, which had been set back an hour due to the earl’s unexpected arrival.

Her heart, which had been behaving erratically since she had seen Lord Crewe’s horse in the courtyard, thumped uncomfortably hard as she opened the dining room door.

There he was, standing in front of the huge fireplace, a glass in his hand, and his wicked lips already curving into a welcoming smile.

“I was hoping you would be the first to arrive Aurelia.” He set down his glass, strode toward her, and seized her hands and held them in his, his gaze hot as he stared down at her. “You look even more ravishing than I remembered,” he murmured, leaning low to kiss her.

His lips were warm and soft and the smell of him intoxicated her so quickly and completely that she wanted to grab him and yank him back to her when he pulled away.

“Ah.” The smug smile on his lips told her that she was shamelessly broadcasting her desire for him.

Fortunately, his smirk brought her to her senses and she stepped away from him, putting several feet between them as she brutally shoved down all the joy she had felt at seeing him and quickly donned her mask of reserve. How dare he kiss her as if he had not just disappeared for almost two months without a word?