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“Not at all. I happen to be meeting an old friend there. By the look of you, I think you must know her. Lady Westcliff, the former Abigail Croft? She is Abigail Brayden now.”
Hyacinth gasped as she walked beside them. “That is Aurora’s mother.”
“Do you know her?” Aurora’s hands were now free to take some of her cousin’s packages, for Hyacinth had been equally burdened with purchases. But she dropped one, surprised by the astonishing coincidence. “My mother said not a word to me about you.”
His smile turned indulgent and incredibly appealing as he stared at her. “You are Aurora? I should have guessed it at once.”
She nodded and quickly bent to retrieve that package before they walked on.
“And I am Hyacinth,” her cousin chirped. “Our fathers are cousins. My father is Romulus Brayden. Do you know him? Or my mother, Violet?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”
“Do you know Aurora’s father? His name is Tynan, and he is the Earl of Westcliff.”
He nodded. “I do know him. But I am better acquainted with Lady Westcliff’s side of the family, the Crofts.”
Aurora was now intrigued. “Have you known them a long time?”
“Since I was nine years old.”
“How lovely! And you have never met Aurora in all this time?” Hyacinth did not give him a moment to respond before resuming her chatter. “I am sixteen, and Aurora is nineteen, by the way. How old are you now?”
“Hyacinth! We do not even know the gentleman’s name.”
“Forgive the oversight. I am Perin Marsh. At your service, ladies.” He bowed his head, careful to keep a tight hold of Aurora’s packages, so they did not spill into the snow, which had completely blanketed the ground and was beginning to collect in earnest.
The Westcliff carriage was on the street in front of the tearoom when they turned onto the quiet square where the charming establishment was located. “Mr. Marsh, I’ll deposit those bundles in the carriage. Our driver will keep them safe while we are having our tea.”
Aurora noted that he was surprisingly polite to their driver, making small conversation as the two of them stowed her purchases and those of Hyacinth. Few in her circle deigned to acknowledge those in their household staff, a tradition she had always found rather cold. Her parents had taught her to respect all who worked for them. Indeed, they had raised her to be kind and polite to everyone unless given cause to be wary.
She was glad Mr. Marsh knew her parents, for she did not wish to be wary of him. She thanked him as he held the door open for them to enter the tearoom.
Hyacinth poked her in the ribs.
She turned in question to her cousin. “What?”
While Mr. Marsh was busy giving their overcoats to one of the hostesses, Hyacinth whispered in her ear. “Do you think he is married?”
Heat shot into Aurora’s cheeks. “Hush, Hyacinth! He will hear you.”
“Don’t you want to know? Of course, you do. You have been staring at him moonstruck the entire time. I will ask him since you are going to be a chicken about it.”
He turned to them, grinning.
Heavens! Had he heard their whispers?
Was there a hole big enough for her to hide in?
“No, Hyacinth. I am not married.”
Hyacinth gasped, then began to giggle inanely.
Aurora just wanted to hide. She would even settle for a tiny wormhole if it would help her disappear.
“There’s your mother, Aurora. Oh, mine is here, too. They arrived before us and are already seated.” Hyacinth dashed off to join them. “Aunt Abigail, you will never guess…”
“Seems we have been abandoned.” Mr. Marsh offered his arm to escort her to their table.
