“I’m here to see Lady Whittington, please. Viscount Rothton,” Aubrey said to the butler who’d opened the door. He handed him his card.
“Yes, milord, I remember. Please wait here.”
Aubrey clasped his hands behind his back and waited in the foyer for an audience. He’d been there many times, not just for balls and soirees. Prior to the ball last night, he’d last been by to see the children.
The butler reappeared. “This way, milord.”
Aubrey followed him to the back parlor. Maribel sat on a sunny yellow settee holding a teacup in her hand. When she went to stand, he waved her to stay seated.
“Thank you,” he said to the butler, who then closed the door.
“Aubrey, I didn’t expect you this afternoon.” Maribel smiled. “I’m afraid the children are out getting their exercise with their nanny.”
