Troubled? She winced at the apt description. She mulled over the well-meaning question. Was she seeking something specific? She supposed she was. Only the same mind-numbing passion she had felt in Max’s arms. Not too much to ask. She swallowed back a derisive laugh, accepting that it might not be something she could likely replicate.
She scanned the large room. Conversation and laughter buzzed in the crowded space. “I should have no difficulty finding what I need, thank you.”
Her stomach grew queasy as she assessed the various men. Several who now looked her over with speculation . . . as though she was a piece of horseflesh to be appraised. None of them enticed her in the slightest, and it occurred to her that she might have a slight problem even permitting anyone to touch her.
“Very well, then. Send for me if you need anything. The staff can locate me at a moment’s notice.”
“Thank you.” She forced a smile for Mrs. Bancroft.
“It’s simply good to have you back.” With an elegant bob of her head, the proprietress turned and made her way back up the stairs.
Alone, Aurelia stared out at the room. Loud laughter in one corner snared her attention. She looked that way and gasped. A woman sat on a man’s lap, halfheartedly batting his hands away as he tugged her bodice down to reveal one ripe breast. She squealed as he lowered his head to suckle her.
Mortification burned through Aurelia and she suddenly became self-conscious of her breasts in her low-cut gown.
She knew she shouldn’t be shocked. It was not her first time here, but she recognized several faces among the room’s occupants. The Earl of Hedderfeld, an old friend of her father’s, sat at one of the tables with a girl who couldn’t be older than herself snuggled up beside him. Aurelia’s skin crawled as she watched him feed her grapes like she was some kind of pet. Hm. Perhaps she should keep him in mind for a future sketch.
She continued to scan the room, pressing a hand over the stomach of her tight bodice. Any time she made eye contact with anyone, she quickly looked away as though she were staring down the barrel of a rifle. Her stomach knotted and she glanced behind her toward the door. Perhaps this had been a bad idea. It did not seem nearly as enticing without Rosalie for company. Last time, the experience had been adventurous. Now it just felt . . . tawdry and uncomfortable. Max’s face flashed through her mind. She could only envision him across a table from her in this very room, stripping his clothes off to the titillation of onlookers. Her flesh warmed at the memory of his body, all long lines and hard angles
A tray passed her and she lifted a glass of champagne off it and downed it in one fortifying gulp, hoping it would supply her with some courage. The last thing she wanted to do was return home right now and endure Cecily’s well-meaning I-told-you-so stare.
Someone suddenly stepped beside her. She looked sideways and then quickly stared straight ahead again, her pulse hammering in her neck. She pressed her hand against her throat, pushing her fingertips to her warm flesh there in an attempt to still the flutter. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. She knew the man.
Struan Mackenzie. The very man who had sat beside her this evening at her family’s dining table now stood here beside her. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt inside her rib cage.
Please don’t recognize me. Please don’t recognize me.
“Hello, there,” he murmured in his deep brogue.
She didn’t dare glance at him. Relieved for the protection of her domino, she fixed her gaze on Lord Hedderfeld’s balding head. When her eyes started to sting, she realized she hadn’t blinked for several moments. With a small shake of her head, she blinked several times. Behave normally, she told herself. Say nothing. Not a word. Give him no encouragement and he would move on.
His brogue came at her again, heavy and deep with a ring of satisfaction. Or perhaps that was just her own doom she heard in his words. “I said hello there.”