Chapter20
The hotel where Aurora was staying was a bustling place of business catering to country gentry more than to members of higher society. She’d thankfully not seen anyone she’d recognized so far.
Aurora rose from her dressing table and walked to the window. Below, the street was busy, too, as new guests came and went despite the poor weather, headed inside for the areas reserved for paying guests before being shown up to their rooms.
Remaining here longer than a few days had not been expected, but Aurora lingered still, two weeks after leaving Drew. She had never stayed in a hotel before and had so much trouble sleeping at night in the strange bed.
But during the day there was plenty to see, and always someone coming and going at all hours. The servants never seemed to sleep very much at all.
Aurora had planned to be just like those other guests in the beginning. Pretend to be taking a short holiday in the great city before returning to the countryside, all the poorer for it. Upon leaving Sullivan, she’d used her own savings to secure lodgings, claiming her possessions were following some days behind.
She’d been too much of a coward to ask Mr. Bloom to return to Conduit Street to fetch her possessions at first. Bloom, however, must have taken matters into his own hands. Her possessions had simply appeared in her rented chamber one morning with no discussion of how they had gotten there. She’d dared not ask if anyone had tried to stop him, and Bloom never said anyone did. She was glad for the silence on the matter of her leaving Conduit Street. She did not want to know that Drew was no longer there.
It was hard enough living with the knowledge that he’d be going back to the life and family he’d always been meant for. Back to his hunt for a suitable bride. She’d done all she could to ensure he would not be disinherited. The rest, making a match, was up to him.
She wanted to wish him luck, but her heart was not capable of that yet. The first week had passed in loneliness for him, and then another, without her reading a notice of his engagement in any of the papers she’d scoured every day. But she was a long way from the heart of the ton now. Besides a few notes to and from her cousins, she’d heard no gossip about anyone she knew personally. They never spoke of Drew because she’d asked them not to.
For herself, she was indecisive and troubled by not knowing what to do next. Before taking up with Drew, Aurora had intended to become a matchmaker to support herself. She’d had no idea how difficult she’d find it to think of increasing the happiness of others after leaving him.
Especially, too, when her heart twisted painfully in her chest every time she remembered how Drew kept repeating that he loved her the last time they spoke.
She believed him. Had wanted to tell him she loved him in return.
But love had never done her any good before, and it was only harming him now.
In time, he would surely forget all about her. She was heartened by the knowledge he wouldn’t grieve for her loss like he had for his late wife. And when he was married and settled back in Kent, he would simply be too busy to recall he’d been led astray by a woman so imperfect, she couldn’t dare tell him why she was.
She glanced out the window again, filled with disappointment for the dull view. It was raining, and seemed determined to continue all day.
But today, at least, Sylvia was coming to meet with her around noon, so that was a welcome distraction and something to look forward to. She had to be ready. Put on her best dress, her happy face, to convince her cousin that she was unaffected by the scandal she had created, and by her decision to put an end to it so abruptly.
Sylvia peppered her with questions when she’d discovered Aurora had left Drew. But at the end, had only insisted on an answer to one: did she know what she was doing?
Aurora had assured her older cousin that she had a plan for her life.
Truthfully, she hadn’t a clue what to do with herself from one day to the next anymore. Opportunities for matchmaking were scarce, and when you lived at a hotel, had no fixed addressed, she was without an aura of respectability. It was difficult to convince anyone to trust that she could help them. During the days, she haunted the hotel’s public spaces, bored, or returned to her room and slept fitfully.
But nights were the hardest, and lonely, thinking of all the balls and amusements she could no longer attend with her cousins. Thinking of Drew charming some perfect young woman into his arms there.
She hugged herself quickly. She had no reason to have regrets or doubts about her decision. She had funds left, an expensive diamond bracelet and ear bobs, but no occupation to give her purpose. Just as before.
She turned away from the view and collected her hat and reticule from the narrow bed, and then tugged at her gown. She wore the same clothes she always had but they never seemed to feel comfortable anymore. Even her diamond bracelet weighed heavily on her arm. It was always secured around her wrist, but she kept it hidden under her glove, where no one could see its worth and think to take Drew’s gift from her. The ear bobs she couldn’t wear in public, though, because they were too valuable and too easily seen. She’d sewn them into the stays she wore to keep them safe and close to her skin.
She had to remember she was not among the safety of family or the ton any longer. She had to live now like she had as a young woman—keeping what few things she held dear well-hidden but assume she would lose everything of value in the blink of an eye. It was the only way she knew to protect herself from disappointment. One day, she probably would have to sell the jewels Drew had given her, quickly, too, if she didn’t find a way to support herself before she became that desperate.
But she had few skills that anyone would want…besides her on her back, under a stranger.
She shuddered, determined not to sink so low as all that, and kept her chin up.
She went down to the private dining room reserved for guests and glanced about the room, looking for someone who might want to talk to her today while she awaited her cousin’s arrival.
There was a married couple by the front window, peering out, and an older woman on a chaise, alone by the fire. Aurora had seen this solitary matron before, but they’d not spoken to each other yet. The woman was as well dressed as any Mayfair marchioness, with jewels on her fingers and feathers in her hair. She never smiled, and she had a lost look about her eyes, as if she was in the wrong place and didn’t know how she’d gotten there.
There was an empty chair opposite her, and Aurora bravely decided upon sitting in the seat. “Forgive me for intruding, but might I join you?”
“Of course.” The woman looked up, peering at her. “Do you know you are the first person to speak to me besides the hotel servants and manager in two whole weeks?”
“I’m sorry. If you’d rather be left alone…”