Stunned, he stared down at her. The dance ended and he escorted her to the edge of the ballroom floor. He looked down at her enticing display of cleavage. “Is this why you’re dressed as . . . as—”
“As what?” she demanded, a sharp edge to her voice. “A woman?” An angry flush stained her face. “I simply took charge of my wardrobe from Mama.”
About bloody time. And then he retracted that thought. Perhaps if she were still wearing one of her pastel, frilly concoctions she would never have caught the notice of a man like Mackenzie.
“And what brought about this sudden urgency to wed?” he asked numbly.
“Mama is leaving at the end of the Season. She’s going to live with my Aunt Daphne in Scotland. Permanently.”
“Permanently?” His mind raced, concluding that Aurelia would likely be compelled to go with her. That is what unwed daughters did. They remained with their mothers. Only in this case, he had not imagined Lady Peregrine ever leaving the comforts of Town.
“Well, there will be the occasional visits, I’m sure.” Her voice thinned into something small. Even she did not sound too convinced. “Well. Not too often. Thurso is a great distance.”
The very ends of the earth. “It’s the most northerly town in the mainland, is it not? And you intend to live there?” He stared at her, troubled at the idea of her isolated in faraway Scotland. “The weather can be quite inclement that far north.” Was he actually using the climate as a reason for her not to go?
“If I should go, I can withstand a bit of cold. However, it’s a few months until the Season ends. A very great deal could change before then.”
He studied the resolute set of her jaw, the firm press of her lips, as she stared out at the ballroom, gradually coming to understand her sudden interest in gaining suitors. He followed her gaze, scowling when he found it resting on Mackenzie.
“He’s not for you,” he heard himself saying in a hard voice.
She snapped her gaze back to him, color spotting her apple cheeks. Her chest lifted on a deep breath. “Stay out of my affairs, Camden.” A thread of emotion shook in her voice, and that was entirely different from her usual blithe repartee.
It sank in for him then. She was utterly serious about this suitor business. She was on a mission to find a husband. Aurelia not only wanted to marry, she was hell-bent on it.
Chapter 8
The ladies’ retiring room offered much needed solace following her dance with Max. Aurelia chose a couch angled in the corner, where she could sit with her back to the row of dressing tables. At the moment a pair of middle-aged ladies powdered their noses and discussed their fractious daughter-in-laws. Thankfully, she was of no interest to them. She pressed a hand to her heated cheeks.
What on earth was wrong with Max, daring to insert himself into the matter of whom she chose as a suitor? She shook her head and dropped her hands from her face. He was a distraction she didn’t need. The gall of him interrupting her dance with Buckston. Indignation crawled over her skin like a swarm of angry ants.
Sighing, she smoothed a hand down her bodice and froze when she heard the crinkle of paper. Goodness! She’d almost forgotten the drawing of Lord Eddington that she had rolled up and slid inside her corset. Blast Max for throwing her off-task. Not only from her quest to find a husband but also from keeping her from her work tonight. He was muddying her head.
She slipped a tip of finger inside her bodice, feeling the sharp edge of the parchment she had rolled into a tight scroll.
She had intended to leave it at the ball this evening when the opportunity presented itself. She glanced over her shoulder at the women sitting at the dressing tables. One of them caught her eye in the mirror and Aurelia forced a bright smile, slipping her hand from the edge of her bodice. Obviously now was not that opportunity.