“If you’ll excuse me,” Aurelia murmured. It was not her intention to add to the evening’s unpleasantness by quarreling with Max.
She avoided the drawing room where everyone was assembled and exited the balcony through the salon, slipping unnoticed upstairs without making her farewells. She knew the breach in etiquette would be addressed later. Mama would not let such a thing pass, but at the moment she did not care. She simply craved the solitude of her room.
Cecily soon joined her and helped her unpin her hair for the night. Reading her mood, her friend did not ask too many questions.
Aurelia stared pensively at her reflection in the mirror as her hair fell in dark waves around her shoulders.
Will and Violet were having a baby. She would be an aunt.
A brief smiled crossed her face in the reflection of the mirror until the memory of her own bent-back, doddering spinster Aunt Daphne flashed across her mind. Daphne collected pillows and cited scripture about the evils of man whenever one was in her presence.
No. She wouldn’t be an aunt like that. She was still young. She had years ahead of her. Years to live and experience life. To taste a kiss other than the one Archibald Lewis had forced on her behind the vicarage when she was sixteen. She would know a kiss that didn’t taste of fish and soured milk.
Her mother chose that moment to enter her bedchamber.
Aurelia bit back a groan and pushed to her feet, knowing very well what was to come. “Mama,” she began. “I know you’re here to lecture me, but you needn’t. I know I should have made my farewells to everyone. My apology for that . . .” She ducked her head, permitting Cecily to pull her gown over her head. “I’m sorry, Mama. It was badly done of me.”
Mama waved a hand. “No. I’m not here about that.” Cecily’s eyes met hers in silent question. Mama did not mean to reprimand her? Something must have happened to distract her from Aurelia’s social gaffe of the night. Something grave indeed.
Her mother sank down at Aurelia’s dressing table bench. She stared at her hands in her lap for several moments before speaking. “Have you given thought to your future, Aurelia?”
Aurelia started, blinking several times, questioning whether her ears had deceived her. Mama often spoke on the subject of her future, but she never inquired as to what she wanted . . . or thought . . . or planned. No, she only ever talked at her. Telling her what she expected her to do. Who she expected her to wed. For marriage to a suitable gentleman was the only option Mama ever presented.
Mama lifted her gaze. She considered Aurelia for a long moment before looking away, glancing at Cecily. “Leave us for a moment, dear, would you?”
Cecily nodded. Gathering up Aurelia’s discarded garments, she left the room after shooting a meaningful look at Aurelia. Her friend would expect a full report later. Aurelia gave her a slight nod of affirmation and then turned to her mother as the door clicked shut behind Cecily. She looked at her expectantly, waiting for what she was certain would be a momentous conversation. It had begun in such an uncharacteristic manner, after all.
“This is splendid news, is it not?” Mama said. “Will and Violet are to have a child.” She paused, a soft smile lifting her lips as she stared at something beyond Aurelia’s shoulder. “It’s a boy, you know. I feel it. I’m always right about these things.”
Aurelia smiled, nodding indulgently. “Every time?”
“I was right about Will and you and Dec. About Agatha’s children. All my friends. You can outfit the nursery based upon my predictions.” Her expression grew faraway. “It seems so long ago that I was expecting my first child.” Her smile grew wistful. “Your father was so very proud. Oh, I know he had his faults, but he loved me. And each of you.”