“That is not what you told me, Felton.” Michael was gratified to note that the older woman seemed to be at least considering that her nephew had not been telling the truth. “You informed me that Aria was devastated and would not come out of her room. That she did not wish to see anyone and you were growing concerned. You told me she might need to be sent to Bedlam because she was descending into madness. You told me that you hoped to wed her to Lord Farrington as her parents planned with the hope that he could correct her behavior! And I believed you.”
“She is mad!” Bowles screeched again in a voice that Michael was truly coming to despise. “Do you not understand? I was given control over her and she would not do as I commanded, the stubborn chit! She was supposed to be mine to do with as I pleased!”
“Careful,” Michael warned the other man angrily, still just barely stopping himself from reaching for Felton Bowels throat. “You are speaking of my wife.”
Rising from her seat, Aria was clearly furious. “You wanted to auction off my virginity and then wed me to one of your reprobate friends. When that was concluded, your plan was to take me as your mistress, keeping me locked away from everyone!” Magnificent in her anger, Aria came around to the front of the table where they had been seated, giving Michael no choice but to follow her. If Bowles lost his temper, he needed to be able to defend her and quickly. “Just because I wanted no part of that wretched plan does not make me mad! Rather, it makes me a lady with dignity who wanted to protect her reputation!”
“Protect it so much that you ran away and then spread your legs for the first man you stumbled across in hopes that he would wed you? If that was your plan, cousin, then may I say you have succeeded brilliantly. How much did he pay you for the privilege? For I can assure you that Lord Fitzsimmons would have paid double. Perhaps triple. He always said that you were a tasty morsel.” Bowles smirked as the horrid words spilled from his lips.
That was the final insult. Before Michael allowed himself to think further, he had landed a solid punch to Bowels’ jaw. The other man went down in a heap. Thankfully, Michael’s staff already had their weapons trained on Bowles’ men so they were in no position to step in and assist their employer.
“You will never speak to my wife again!” Michael roared as the man at his feet held his head groggily. “Never! And if you so much as come within ten feet of her, I will slice you to ribbons. I will carve you up into such tiny pieces that no one will ever identify you and I will consign your soul to the devil himself. I will destroy you, bit by bit until there is nothing left of you but dust beneath my boots.” His eyes glittered darkly. “For I am Satan’s Physician and I have killed better men than you. Best you remember that.”
Then, unable to contain his temper any longer, Michael stalked out of the dining room, confident that his men had everything well in hand – but not at all confident that he would be able to stop himself from killing Felton Bowels just then. The last thing Michael needed was to be arrested for murder on his wedding day. It was bad enough that he had already shown Aria the true darkness and anger that lay within him, likely ensuring that she would no longer want him. He did not wish to make things any worse – for anyone. But especially not for her.
Aria watched as her husband of only a few hours stalked off in a fury unlike any she had ever witnessed. That truly was Satan’s Physician, she decided as she watched Michael’s staff escort her cousin’s henchmen out the door, most of whom were only too happy to flee the place where a madman lived. She had heard the men whispering as much as they collected Felton and made their way to the entry hall as fast as they possibly could.
She should go after Michael, and she would. Because he needed her now more than he ever had before.
First, however, Aria had to deal with her aunt and unfortunately, that was the less pleasant of the two tasks awaiting her.
“You…you…you married that man?” Aunt Tilly watched Michael’s retreating back as he stormed out of the room. “He is a beast and his nickname an apt one, I think!”
“Did you know many in Society refer to Felton as The Deflowering Gentleman?” Aria asked tartly in return, her anger still simmering just below the surface. “Because they do, and it is not his only nickname. There are others far more horrid than that, I can assure you.”
Her aunt shook her head in a sign of refusal. “That cannot possibly be true. Not sweet, gentle Felton. He is a lamb and has been so good to me as of late. A true treasure of my heart, to be certain.”
“Because he paid your gaming debts with my father’s money and then bought you as much drink as you desired?” Aria scowled. “Come now, auntie. I think you know that deep in your heart, I am telling the truth. Felton held me prisoner in my own home. He was going to auction off the right to my virginity as if I was a whore, wed me to a reprobate for propriety’s sake, and then take me as his mistress. An unwilling mistress, might I add. I feared the future he had planned for me so much that I fled my home in the dead of winter, disguised as a boy, in search of you. Now I think that was a rather foolish thing for me to have done, for I’ve no doubt you would have promptly handed me back over to that madman.”
Aunt Tilly reached for Aria’s hand, clearly still wishing to plead Felton’s case for him. “Your cousin is a good man, Aria. I am certain you misunderstood. It is a mere trifle of a matter that can be put to rights if you would only just listen to his side of things.”
Aria snatched her hand back, disgusted. “I did not misunderstand! Ask your friend Lord Farrington if you do not believe me. The man you would be so quick to have me wed!” Something must have connected inside of her aunt’s mind just then for an expression of incredulity crossed the other woman’s face.
“No. Not Frederick! Surely not! He was to wed you properly as both he and your parents desired once he was out of mourning! That was why you were called home, so that he could make you his bride as he has longed to do for so long! There was not even a hint of impropriety! He swore it to me!” Her aunt looked a bit ill at the prospect. “He is…”
“A good man?” Aria finished for her icily. “Like Felton?” She shook her head. “I have the letters Farrington wrote to me over the years upstairs to prove my claims, auntie. I took them and several other documents with me when I fled Millstone in case proving my claims ever became necessary, though I never imagined I might have to prove them to you. Why my parents thought him a good match for me, I shall never know, but it makes me ill to think they would have wed me to him.”
Her aunt shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “He has admired you since you were a child, my dear. Remember those months each year when he visited you and your parents in the West Indies? He has told me on numerous occasions that he was captivated by you even then, but was duty bound to his wife. Still, he waited until she had passed on to pursue you.”
“As evidenced by those love letters he wrote me over the years? The ones that disgusted me so much that I could not even imagine being with a man, let alone marrying one?” Aria was so furious she nearly shook with rage. “I think you know the truth of this entire affair, Aunt Tilly, but for whatever reason, you will not admit to it. That is your choice. But know this much. Even with his temper, Michael is a far better man than my reprobate cousin or Lord Farrington will ever be.”
Her aunt blanched white. “He threatened to murder Felton!”
Aria threw up her hands in exasperation. “Felton threatened me, he wished to sell me like a whore, and implied that a man would pay to bed me for my innocence! It is among the worst insults possible toward a lady! How else would you expect Michael to react? He is my husband!”
“He is a beast!” Her aunt retorted, her earlier conviction regarding Felton’s innocence swiftly returning.
“He is a war hero who saved my life!” Aria snorted in disgust, well aware that many on Michael’s staff had crowded at the edges of the doorway, eager to hear their new mistress confront her aunt. “Felton sent men after me when I ran! Did you know that, aunti
e?”
The other woman shook her head, once again refusing to believe the truth. “I had no idea. Nor do I particularly believe you. Perhaps you are a candidate for Bedlam after all.”
“I do not believe this! Their instructions were to return me in ‘mostly unharmed’ condition, Aunt Tilly.” Aria yanked up her skirts so that her aunt could see her still-bandaged leg from the knife wound. “Felton’s men did this to me. I could have died of infection or fever. That is how little my life matters to him. All that he cared about was preserving my innocence so he could sell it! Because of that, I spent weeks in the woods, doing my best to make my way to Bath where I hoped and prayed that you would offer me safety. I nearly died out there!”
“I no longer live in Bath.” It was an inane comment but her aunt seemed to have nothing else to offer just then.
“Yes, well I did not know that! I became lost and nearly starved to death. In fact, I very nearly froze to death first, at least until I stumbled upon Michael’s stables. He found me and saved my life. If he was the monster you claim him to be, would he have done any of that?”
Her aunt swallowed hard, though it was obvious she still refused to budge from her position regarding Felton Bowles. “Then I am certain this Dr. Longford merely wanted your fortune. That must be the reason he wed you so quickly.”
“He didn’t even know I had a fortune! Or a sugar plantation or anything!” Aria snapped angrily. “He had no idea who I was, only that I was dying and he needed to save my life! And yes, I was grateful and yes, I owe him my life but that is not why I wed him. Nor did I wed him to escape Felton’s grasp, at least not completely. I wed Michael because I wished to, because I care for him! And because I hope and pray that one day, he will come to care for me as well. If that does not suit your purposes or desires, aunt, then I am sorry but I will also not change my mind. It is not as if I could anyway, for the marriage was already consummated. Many times over! In fact, I would not be surprised if I am increasing already!”
Her tirade finished, Aria drew in a sharp breath, not surprised when the action hurt a bit. She was still not fully recovered, something that Michael reminded her of almost daily. For a moment, she wondered if she would ever be completely healed. She hoped so. More than anything, she wanted to be the wife Michael both needed and deserved. Not to mention, hopefully wanted.
“I see.” Matilda Gravesend was quiet for a long moment that seemed to stretch out into what seemed like an eternity. However, Aria refused to be the one who quit the room first. After all, this was her home now. She was no longer the intruder here; her aunt was. “Very well, Arabella. Your choice has been made, my girl, and while I cannot reconcile myself to the idea that Felton is nearly as wretched as you claim, I will allow that he has, perhaps, not made the best choices where you are concerned.”
That was not precisely what Aria wished to hear, but it would have to do for now. Maybe in time, her aunt could come to understand what a complete blackguard Felton Bowles was, but that day would not be today. Not when the man had plied her with so much drink that her brain was like too muzzy to think clearly.
“I have made my choice, Aunt Tilly, and I choose Michael. I would choose him every time, no matter what. I care for him.”
“You love him,” her aunt corrected almost frostily. “No woman would tolerate such behavior from a man unless she was utterly besotted with him. I certainly wouldn’t.”
Aria closed her eyes. Maybe she was in love with Michael. Perhaps this burning need to be with him was part of what constituted love. Was the fear of a future without him, without her body being worshiped by him, love as well? Was her desire to hear his laugh and enjoy his quick wit, to hear him call her “pet” part of being in love? Perhaps love wasn’t simply one event or feeling or need but rather a combination of them. Maybe that was love. If all that was true? Then yes, she was in love with her husband.
Was it possible that one could fall in love in such a short period of time? But had it been that short, truly? For even when she had lain in the dark, murky area between life and death, Aria had known Michael was there. She might not have known his name, but she had known someone who cared for her was there. Perhaps that was the beginning of love. And was she alone in that feeling? She would never know until she spoke with Michael, she supposed.
“Perhaps I do love him,” Aria relented, knowing that the staff was still listening. “But that is between my husband and me. Not you.” She gestured to the room where the wedding breakfast was still laid out. “Stay if you wish. Leave if you do not care to remain under our roof. Either way, ask Markham, our butler, to make the appropriate arrangements.” Then she turned and began to walk away.
“Where are you going?” her aunt demanded. “We are not done here. There is still more to say.”
Aria turned back. “No, aunt, there is nothing more to say. At least not to you. But to my husband?” She inclined her head. “Then yes, there is a great deal more to say.”
Then, with the sort of powerful, grand gesture she had always hoped to make, Aria swept out of the room, leaving her sputtering, protesting aunt in the extremely capable hands of Thornfield Grange’s staff.
At present, Aria had more important things to worry about than her aunt’s comfort. She had a husband to find. Quickly. Before it was too late.
Chapter Seventeen
Michael was ready to murder someone, preferably Felton Bowels. The thought of wrapping his hands around the other man’s neck and squeezing the very life from his miserable body was a very tempting one. He had not felt this much unchecked rage since his days in Spain. In fact, he had hoped never to feel this sort of rage ever again. That he felt it today only proved that he was not as much the changed man he hoped he was.
In the end, Michael was still Satan’s Physician. Nothing had changed. He was still full of the same black anger he had lived with since he had been set upon by the pack of Frenchies while tending to his dying commander. He had thought coming home to England, hiding out at Thornfield and pretending to the trappings of a gentleman farmer would be enough to curb the poison that still spread through his body when those he cared for were threatened.
In the last few days, he had even started to believe that Aria’s care and concern for him had changed him, or was beginning to, and that perhaps if she could come to care for him, he might leave the darkness behind forever. That her love, should she ever be kind enough to grant it to him, would finally cure him of this rage.
In short, Michael had started to believe that Aria might be his salvation. That for once in his life, he might receive one of the “Christmas miracles” his mother had always spoken about in years past.
He had been wrong.
This was why he had never planned to take a wife, for what woman would want to be saddled with the likes of him? A man prone to anger and rage, one who was not so far gone as to kill indiscriminately but one who tended to violence just the same.
Oh, Lord. What had he done to Aria? Would she ever forgive him? Michael knew she held no love for her cousin, but still, he had threatened to cut the man into little pieces and grind him into dust. Even for him, that was going too far.
Michael also hadn’t been entirely convinced that he wouldn’t kill the man anyway. That was why he had taken himself off to the far corner of the east wing of the house. Here was the room where he had worked out his frustrations and battled his mental demons when he had first purchased Thornfield Grange. Here was where he had fashioned a smaller version of Gentleman Jackson’s infamous boxing club so that he might pound inanimate objects into a pulp without endangering others. Here was where he beat a bag of sand into submission on a regular basis before collapsing onto the nearby bed to prevent himself from coming into contact with a hapless servant before he was ready to face the civilized world once more.
He hadn’t visited this room in some time. At least not since Aria had arrived.
But when he was here? His staff knew better than to bother him.
&nbs
p; His staff knew. But apparently, Aria did not, for she was standing in the doorway, still in her wedding finery.
Then again, Michael had not explicitly told her to stay away so he could not truly blame her. In fact, there was much he had never said to her. Perhaps he should start now.
“Go away, Aria. I’ve no wish for you to see me like this. I shall return to you when I can be civil.”
He heard the light tap of her slippers on the hard floor. Damn the minx, she would not listen! Then again, this was Aria. Had he expected anything different?
“You are merely upset, Michael. That is all.” Her voice was so bloody calm that it infuriated him. “I will wait.”
“You will go,” he snarled angrily, still afraid that he might lash out at her physically. “I am not fit company.”
“For my cousin and my aunt? Yes, I agree.” Another step. Another tap of her spangled slippers. The same ones he had gazed at not so long ago as she stood before him, a glorious vision in scarlet red that was all his for the taking. “But I am your wife now, and if you think I am suddenly afraid of you when I have never been before, then you are sorely mistaken.”
Turning, Michael glanced back at Aria over his shoulder. She didn’t seem to be afraid. If anything, she seemed to be…waiting.
That was unusual. Typically, at the first sign of his temper, women made certain to get as far away from him as they possibly could.
“This is who I am, pet,” he tried again. “Satan’s Physician. This is the man you married. You should be afraid of me. Very afraid.”
“Because you have a temper?” she scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “We are all capable of great anger and violence, Michael. You are not unique in that regard. Even I could kill a man if provoked enough, I suspect.”
“I can kill a man and dispose of the body so he is never found.” Why was she not listening to him? Why was she not like other women?
Christmas With a Scoundrel Page 19
