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Aurora brushed down a wooden bench before sitting; it was dusted with rose petals that fluttered to the ground when she brushed them away.

Out here, hidden behind the lattices with the house out of view, Aurora could almost pretend that she was alone. That Lord Elmore wasn't inside her house, that she had all of this just to herself for the evening.

As a child, Aurora had hated being alone. She had always clung to her father, unwilling to let him out of her sight. Even in the garden, she had watched him work. When she got older and he hired a governess, she had cried whenever he left for work.

Now, she found peace in the solitude. It offered her time to think, time to work out her feelings without interruption or influence from others.

Unfortunately, it also gave her time to worry. Because if Christopher had broken her heart and used her own research against her, what was to stop Lord Winters doing the same? What was to stop her from repeating the same mistakes over and over, and for people to justkeep on hurting her?

It shouldn't have hurt as much the second time around. She disliked Lord Winters from the beginning and had never fully trusted his intentions; it was his adamance that she hated, his sincerity that he was doing the right thing. Even if he truly believed it, it didn't change the fact that he had taken her ideas, taken her passion, and stomped it into the ground.

The only thing that she could do now was wait, and hope that Lord Winters would do the right thing. If their museum presentation went ahead, and he was at the forefront, she hoped that he would at least credit her where it was due. If Father was there, perhaps it would encourage him to do so.

A breeze rustled past, twirling Aurora's hair about her head and sending a shiver down her back. The sun had vanished behind thick white clouds, just for a moment, turning the world a pale grey.

Aurora stood, wishing that she'd taken a shawl. The brief lack of sun had given her a spike of cold, and it was time to return inside. If she was lucky, they could continue the conversation as if she had never left, and nothing would be said about the swift exit.

She returned inside, brewed fresh apple tea, and hoped that it was a good enough unspoken apology. Then she sat, sipped her tea quietly, and tried not to think about anything except their project.

Chapter 22

Elmore Winters

It took a week to fully develop the presentation, as well as to speak with the museum manager and organize a date. Happy for the chance to bring in new interest and boost the museum's influence, the manager had accepted almost instantly.

Which was why Elmore was now setting up his space on the museum floor, in a space connected to the main hall. It was open enough that anybody could stop by and listen, in a little side-hall connected by a tall archway.

Already a few people had stopped to watch from the room's entrance, hovering awkwardly while Elmore and Mr. Washam prepared. An elderly man asked, "what's going on here, then?"

Elmore was all too excited to reply. "We're hosting a presentation on the medicinal uses of poisonous plants. It's in an hour if you would like to stop by and listen."

The man's nose wrinkled. "What use couldpoisonhave for medicine?"

Elmore beamed. "If you come by you can find out. We're hoping to raise funds for a personal project of ours, related to these plants. Have you ever heard of angel's trumpet?"

He clearly hadn't, his expression intrigued and yet somewhat confused. He wasn't a botanist, then, just a man who wanted to know more.

"Perhaps I will stop by," the man offered softly, "It sounds interesting."

Elmore smiled and nodded as the elderly man wandered off. Then, he turned to Mr. Washam with a grin. "It looks promising," he announced, "we have somebody interested already."

"I have at least two from the botanist's meeting coming too. I tried to convince more men to come, but they're all busy."

Elmore was in too good a mood to feel disappointed. His heartbeat thrummed in excitement; the closer they got to the hour, the more excited he was.

"I'm back," Aurora's voice chirped from behind. He turned to see her standing in the doorway with a wooden chair shoved beneath each arm. "I thought it would be helpful if those not presenting could still sit, so that we can all be at the front but not be a distraction."

Mr. Washam quickly darted forward to help her with the chairs. There was no stage, just the back of the room with a black cover draped across the wall for them to stand in front of. So, they set the chairs to the side, still in view of their audience, but a little to the side.

Aurora's mood had improved now that they day was here. She had an eager smile that lit up her entire face, and there was an excitement in her step that hadn't been there days earlier. She walked with a confidence that Elmore had come to admire, swaying with a rare kind of elegance. The dress fit her just so, twirling around her ankles when she turned.

No,he scolded, turning away from the sight. Why was he thinking about that at a time like this? Not only was it improper, it was a distraction they couldn't afford.

Even so, as she bent down to adjust the chairs, Elmore couldn't help but peek one more time. She was slender, and her heavy skirts hid most of her figure; but she was no less beautiful for her lack of curves. If anything, he thought it added to Aurora's unique charm.

It was difficult to shake his mind off her, even once they were ready to begin.

By then a decent crowd had formed; twenty or thirty people had slipped into the room while they prepared. Elmore recognized a few faces from the meeting, as well as one of his own staff on his day off. It was the coachman, Alexander.


Tags: Abby Ayles Historical