To say she possessed fond memories of the lady would be a lie. Before she became a widow, the young woman had taken her first curtsy with Aurelia. Whenever Aurelia spoke to her, she had stared at her as though she were repugnant before whisking past, her retinue fast on her heels, leaving Aurelia among the titters of onlookers.
Despite all that, when her betrothal to old Knotgrass was announced, Aurelia had felt only pity for her. True, the man was wealthy beyond reason, but he was ancient and bound to a wheelchair. No one seemed to acknowledge the wrongness of a girl of eighteen marrying a man in his nineties.
Ever since his death a year ago, the Widow Knotgrass had been seen about Town with all manner of handsome, unattached gentlemen. It stood to reason she would eventually turn her eye to Max.
Aurelia finished her sketch with a few angry flourishes and then sat back—still fuming. She sat there for some moments, waiting. The anticipated euphoria never came. As good as it felt in those moments to create her image of Max and the widow, she had not totally exorcised her demons. Deciding her day at the park had been ruined, she stuffed her sketch pad into her satchel and rose to her feet, ready to return home.
She took the most direct path, the route that edged the pond. She couldn’t, however, stop her gaze from straying to where Camden rowed the boat serenely back toward shore. She bit her lip and paused, realizing that if she kept her course she would come abreast of them as they came ashore. Unless she broke into a run. She winced, considering her options. Or she could turn around and lurk somewhere, waiting until they disembarked and left the park. Her chin shot up as she considered that undignified image of herself.
Rubbish. This was a public park. She had every right to be here. She had nothing to be ashamed of. She certainly wasn’t afraid of them. She would not hide or skulk away.
Moments later her brave thoughts didn’t seem so wise. Max spotted her as the nose of the boat bumped shore. Holding her spine straight, Aurelia readjusted her satchel and continued a steady pace, watching as he hopped into the water, submerging his fine Hessian boots ankle deep as he worked to pull the boat fully ashore so his lady could disembark without wetting her slippers. Aurelia snorted, trying not to notice the way his back flexed and moved beneath his jacket. Such a gentleman. When the purpose served him.
There was no saving her, however. As she suspected, they would come face-to-face. Max assisted the widow onto solid ground almost the precise moment Aurelia came abreast of them.
“Hello, there,” she greeted with a nod. “Mrs. Knotgrass. Lord Camden.”
Max executed a quick bow, keeping his eyes fixed on her face. They had not seen each other since the Chatham ball. Since he sent her fleeing from the room, very close to tears. Thankfully, she had kept those tears at bay until she was alone.
He watched her face closely now. She stiffened her spine. What? Did he think she would break down at the sight of him? Did he think her that fragile? “My lady. Fine day for a stroll.”
She hugged her satchel closer to her side. “Indeed.” She fanned her fingers over the supple leather. “A lovely day to sketch by the water.”
His eyes narrowed. Her message had been received. Now he knew he had not broken her. She would not stop drawing her caricatures no matter how much he tried to bully her.
The widow looked her over, a pouty frown tugging at her mouth. “Do I know you?”
Aurelia sighed, suddenly feeling like it was her first Season all over again. Invisible. “We made our first curtsies together,” she reminded. Only she didn’t know why she bothered. Either the widow didn’t recall her or was feigning lack of memory. Either possibility rendered her dreadful.
“Ah, yes. Arielle, isn’t it?”
“Aurelia,” she corrected.