Intrigued now, Aurora flicked through the invitation — only to realize that it hadn't been answered. This Earl, he hadn't specified if he wished to come or not...and the meeting was less than a week away!
Howstrange.Usually, those attending the meeting replied as soon as possible, especially if they intended to go. This happened only once a year, after all, and it was important in the botany world. Some looked forward to it more than anything else, even birthdays and holidays.
Personally, Aurora didn't understand the excitement; it was a lot of old men sitting around a big table, when they could have been outsideinthe actual nature they claimed to love. Then again, Aurora hadn’t always thought like that; she had been so much more optimistic before thatChristopherbroke her heart. An aspiring botanist himself, he had stolen something much more precious than her affections; he had stolen her work.
Regardless, that wasn't the point. The point was that thisLord Wintershadn't responded, and time was running out.
She turned to glance at the ceiling. Above her, Father snored softly, and the sounds drifted down through the floorboards of his bedroom. He was stressed enough as it was, and Aurora hated to think that this could hurt him more. Mr. Buckley had been no help, rushing Father when he was already exhausted enough.
Perhaps it wasn't so terrible if one person didn't show up. Who was this Earl, anyway? Except, Father would only stress if he missed somebody, and would probably blame himself if the invitation went unanswered...he had this terrible habit of blaming himself for every inconvenience, which was probably another cruel result of his anxiety.
Well, there wasn't much that Aurora could do right now. At the very least, she had to get through the rest of the invitations if she wished to sleep tonight. So, without complaint, she set Lord Winter's unanswered invitation aside and continued through the pile.
She hadn't realized until now just how many people there were at these meetings; she had always worked from the sidelines, present but not exactlyinvolved.Older men, she knew, didn’t approve of women in their space. Besides, she hadn’t been inside a meeting since Christopher. Seeing these invitations now though, it became apparent how big this yearly meeting was.
Only when the last invitation was set aside, did Aurora think to write an actual guest list. Usually, Father simply edited the one from the previous year, scoring out names or adding new ones...but it was about time that he had a properly organized guest list, written clearly. It wasn't much, but maybe it would ease some of his troubles.
It didn't take long for Aurora to finish, writing each name alphabetically in her neat and looping script. Attendees on the left, those that couldn't make it on the right.
It was only Lord Winter's that gave her pause; his invitation separated from the rest. Did he plan to come? He was the only one titled Lord on the list, perhaps the most important guest there. If he showed, and Father wasn't prepared...well, Aurora had never met an Earl before, but all wealthy and titled people were the same; arrogant and rude. Entitled.
A particularly discontented Lord could, if he wished to, ruin Father's meeting and clear his reputation. The thought made her stomach squirm, and she had to turn away from the desk to fight back another rising urge to cough.
The only thing that stopped Aurora's cough was the knowledge that it could wake up her father. The last thing she wanted was for him to come downstairs and see her there, and to realize she'd gone behind his back. Just thinking about it made Aurora wince.
Well, no matter. She could deal with Lord Winter's letter in the morning; for now, she settled for bundling up the letters into two piles, with the guest list between them. Now that it was all arranged neatly, Father had one less thing to worry about. Maybe, when he saw what a good job she'd done, he would even allow her to help some more.
The thought made Aurora smile, as she stood to leave. The house barely creaked as she stood to blow out the last light. Then she traipsed upstairs, turned left, and slipped inside her bedroom.
She slept soundly that night, knowing that she had helped, but the curious matter of Lord Winters remained.
Chapter 3
Elmore Winter
The moment that Elmore stepped into the foyer and saw the wide-eyed look on his doorman's face, he knew that something was wrong.
“My Lord,” the doorman stammered, “I wasn't informed that you'd be here so early.”
He only raised a brow, already feeling heavy disappointment rise in his chest. “I did send a letter on ahead of me,” he said with a huff, “and informed my carriage driver two weeks in advance. How did you not know to expect me?”
The doorman was a younger gentleman, perhaps only nineteen or twenty at most — he stood awkwardly, with the air of somebody who didn't really know what they were supposed to be doing. He was stiff and, dare Elmore say it,afraid.
Elmore relaxed somewhat, knowing it wasn't the poor doorman's fault. He was only here in London at all for this botanist's meeting, held by Mr. Washam, and perhaps two weeks of notice wasn't enough to get his London house in order.
“You aren't in trouble,” he said, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. “My letter must have gotten lost in the mail. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be the first time such a thing has happened — but you were aware that I was coming?”
“I'm so sorry, my Lord, we haven't had a letter, but we were all informed months ago of the yearly botanist’s meeting. Same date every year, it’s only the host that changes.”
Then it wasn't a complete disaster. Elmore didn't much care if the house was ready or not, so long as it was livable. He even preferred his London home to his manor in Glouchestershirebecauseit was so simple. That wasn't to say it was poorly cared for, but it was a much more comfortable place to live because it didn't try to be perfect.
“Well,” Elmore said kindly, “no matter. Would you mind sending for somebody to take my bags upstairs, to the master bedroom?”
The doorman nodded. “I can do it, my Lord. Please, make yourself comfortable and I'll have the maids finish tidying. The cooks will have dinner ready for you, too.”
After hours of travelling on the rough roads, Elmore wasn't convinced that he wanted to eat. His coachman was an excellent driver, of course, but even a man like him could only do so much on uneven country roads; it had honestly left Elmore with a queasy stomach and no desire to eat.
“Actually, I was hoping to visit Mr. Washam in person, to tell him I will be attending his meeting next week. It's important that I see him as soon as possible.”