Her Enemy At the Altar

by Virginia Heath

  And she could tell by the way his breathing was ragged and how his heart hammered against his ribs that he was as lost in the kiss as she was. The feelings and sensations created by this intense passion was so unexpected, so overwhelming, that she was transported by it all to a place that she had never been and never wanted to leave. Finally, she was attractive and desirable to someone. She felt beautiful and womanly and alive.

  She had not heard the library door open nor had she heard several people pile in until it was too late.

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’

  The angry voice of the Marquis of Deal had her sitting up and pushing Aaron unceremoniously to the floor while she did her best to put her skirts to rights. Her father stared at her coldly from her fiancé’s left and a very smug-looking Penelope Rothman stood at his right.

  ‘This is not what it looks like,’ Connie stuttered wide-eyed and frantically glanced at Aaron for support. His face was taut as he stood up, but he said nothing as he helped her to her feet.

  ‘Your daughter has been compromised.’ Deal turned to her father in disgust. ‘I will not have her now.’

  Her father turned back to her with something akin to hatred burning in his usually cold eyes. ‘You have disgraced our family, Constance!’

  Connie felt nauseous, dizzy, the floor having been completely ripped from beneath her feet, and totally stunned. How could this be happening to her? Several other guests began to spill into the room to watch the dreadful scene unfold and she could hear more outside, shouting for others to come, too. Among their number she recognised her younger brother, Henry, and her mother. Both of their faces were pale with shock. Her mother looked close to tears. Behind them came Aaron’s father, Viscount Ardleigh, the assembled crowd parting like the Red Sea as he entered the room.

  No doubt he saw his son’s dishevelled hair and the undone buttons of his coat. Connie did not want to think about how she appeared to their audience—but if it was anything like Aaron then she suspected she looked completely wanton and guilty of acting upon those urges with unbridled enthusiasm. One heavy lock of her shocking red hair hung guiltily against her cheek where he had removed the pins that held it. All around her, women were whispering behind their fans with outraged glee.

  The oldest Wincanton took in the scene slowly. After an age his eyes rested upon his eldest son. ‘Well played, Aaron,’ he said with a note of pride. ‘And I thought you did not have it in you.’ Then he threw back his head and began to laugh.

  Chapter Three

  Connie had a vague recollection of being ushered out of the ballroom. She remembered the carriage ride home with perfect clarity, though. It had been terrible. Her mother had sat in brittle, terrified silence, her brother Henry had been pale and stunned. Her father had been incandescent with rage, spitting out profanity after profanity as he railed against her with more force than usual. In the end, his rantings all boiled down to one thing: he thought her a stupid, ungrateful whore and she was dead to him. She was to pack her bags and leave in the morning and never darken his door again. Even now, several hours later, Connie still felt numb. One ridiculous and ill-conceived moment of weakness and her life was in ruins and she had absolutely no idea what she was going to do or where she was going to go.

  As soon as they had returned home, a maid had been sent up to her room to help pack her things and then left her to sleep. Two trunks and a bag were now stacked in the corner of her bedchamber, but Connie had not slept. She had spent most of the night relieving the awful events and could still not understand how it had all gone so horribly wrong. But she was very clear who was responsible.

  Aaron Wincanton.

  He had purposefully taken advantage of her when she had been vulnerable in some petty act of revenge. The man had clearly gone out of his way to ruin her.

  A maid knocked on the door timidly. ‘You are required in his lordship’s study, my lady. I am told to tell you not to dally.’

  It was barely past dawn and already her father wished her gone. With a heavy heart, Connie stood and made her way downstairs. The study door was closed so she tapped upon it before entering. Her father had never appreciated being interrupted at the best of times and now was definitely not that. His voice was curter and colder than usual. ‘Enter.’

  ‘You wished to see me, Father?’ Connie looked down at her hands rather than see the disappointment in his eyes. Even so, his next words were brutal.

  ‘Do not refer to me as that again. As far as I am concerned I have no daughter.’

  Connie’s eyes snapped up and only then did she notice Aaron Wincanton standing stiffly in the furthest corner of the room. She could not work out what emotion was clouding his eyes as he walked towards her and neither did she care. Automatically, her hands curled into angry fists at her side. Were the Wincantons so callous that one of them had to witness her entire ruination? ‘What is he doing here?’

  Her father did not look at him. ‘He has come to request your hand in marriage and, under the circumstances, I have granted it.’

  ‘I will not marry him. I hate him!’ Connie spat the last words directly in her despoiler’s face.

  ‘That is as may be,’ her father continued, sounding bored with the entire conversation, ‘but your mother prefers that I do not throw you on to the streets, so this solution suits us well enough. You made your bed, Constance, when you lifted yours skirts for him.’

  ‘I did not—’

  Her father cut her off with a raised hand. ‘Half of the ballroom witnessed it. Whether you did, or did not, consummate the act makes no difference. That you would allow this...this...’ his head whipped towards Aaron for the first time and regarded him with absolute disgust ‘...this Wincanton to touch you when I had arranged the perfect union between you and Deal, it beggars belief. But you did and now you must live with the shame and the consequences. He has arranged a special licence and the pair of you will be married within the hour.’

  Connie felt her legs give way and staggered backwards to steady herself on the arm of the sofa. ‘No! You cannot make me. I am past the age of majority. You cannot force me to marry anyone that I do not choose to.’

  ‘Yes, I can, Constance! The alternative is I throw you out on to the streets with nothing but the clothes that you stand up in.’

  ‘I would rather that than marry a Wincanton.’ Connie stalked to the door, refusing to look at either her father or him. Both men were vile.

  ‘Then do so on the understanding that I will toss your mother out alongside you. If she had done a better job of chaperoning you, then this would never have happened. You have always been as wilful and difficult as you are unattractive—and she has always given you far more credit than you were due. I have no intention of listening to her bleeding-heart pleas for your safety and I hold her equally as responsible for the disgrace that has been brought on to our family by your actions.’

  Connie turned to her father in abject disbelief and met his stony stare with one of her own. Was the man truly serious? Surely he was bluffing? Was he truly callous enough to throw them both out in order to get his own way?

  Bile rose in her throat when she realised that he was. The Earl of Redbridge’s word was always law and, in matters concerning the feud between the Stuarts and Wincantons, that law was cast iron. Both her mother and she were inconsequential. As long as he had an heir to pass it all on to her father would be content. Connie risked a glance at Aaron. He was still watching her intently, his jaw set and his dark eyes angry, but she did not know if that anger was directed at her or her father.

  * * *

  ‘Then bring in the priest and let us get this travesty over with.’ Connie was beaten. He could see it in her eyes. It was as if all of the light had gone out of them. She might be brave and bold for herself, but her loyalty to her mother was too strong to ignore. Aaron wondered what that bond
felt like. His own mother had died shortly after giving birth to him so he had never grown up with the unconditional love of at least one parent. His own father and the Earl of Redbridge had a great deal in common and both were apparently hard on their children. He had almost stepped in to defend Connie, but realised that her father would likely throw them both on to the street immediately and if that happened she would never marry him. He could not leave her to the harshness of such a life on her own.

  Connie’s father marched to the door and spoke quietly with a footman, so Aaron took the opportunity to speak to her.

  ‘It will be all right, Connie. I promise,’ he whispered quietly as he gently clasped her hand with his own. She snatched it away as if she had been burned.

  ‘Do not touch me! I despise you, Aaron Wincanton. That will never change.’

  Whilst the words hurt he could not blame her for them. This whole, sorry situation was all his fault. He should never have gone into the library in the first place. He had made her cry. And he had instigated the kiss that had ruined her. No wonder she hated him. He hated himself as well—but that was nothing new. He was supposed to have proposed marriage to Violet Garfield and saved the future of the Wincanton estate. Instead he had made another huge mess and ruined yet another innocent person’s life.

  From the moment his father had patted him on the back in front of that room full of people, and congratulated him for getting one over on the Stuarts, Aaron had vowed to make amends for this latest transgression. But when he had seen Connie stumble out of that library with her life in ruins, the guilt he had felt had been so overpowering that he could barely stand in the same room as himself.

  ‘I knew my heir would not let me down,’ his father had crowed when they were finally left alone. ‘Now no man will want her.’

  Aaron recognised the truth in those words. Society was fickle and the transgressions of a woman would never be overlooked. If he did not make it right, then Connie would be shunned and doomed to an empty life of spinsterhood. ‘I will marry her,’ he had suddenly declared.

  ‘You will not. I forbid it. I will not have my bloodline sullied with a Stuart!’

  ‘It cannot be helped. I ruined the girl. It is my responsibility to marry her.’ Aaron went to walk to the door.

  ‘It is not your responsibility. The world is full of ruined women who should have known better. Once the dust has settled you could still propose to Violet Garfield. You are too good a catch for her to ignore.’

  For the briefest of moments Aaron seriously considered the wisdom of his father’s words. Violet Garfield’s money could save them. Just as quickly he discarded the thought. He might well be a Wincanton, but the army had taught him about his responsibilities. It was his duty to do right by Connie. He had wronged her and he would not let her pay the terrible price alone. Aaron had ruined enough peoples’ lives already, he did not need another on his conscience. The guilt from all of his previous sins was already too heavy to bear.

  ‘I will offer myself as Constance Stuart’s husband and let her decide.’ He sincerely hoped she would turn him down—despite her unfortunate family connections she deserved a better man than him, but it had to be her choice.

  ‘If you do, then I will...’

  ‘You will what, Father?’ It was a familiar threat that he had lost patience with long ago. ‘You cannot disinherit me. The estate is entailed. You can throw me out until you die, which we both know will happen sooner rather than later, and I will survive well enough until then.’ Aaron stalked towards his father and loomed over him. ‘Take comfort that I inadvertently ruined a Stuart, Father. It is the only satisfaction that I will allow you to take from this whole sorry mess.’ Aaron turned to leave.

  ‘You are soft, like your mother. She had no backbone either. But, as I have always said, bad bitch—bad pup. And now you would bring another bad bitch into our house.’

  Aaron spun around and practically growled into his father’s face. ‘If Connie will have me, then she will be my wife by tomorrow and you will treat her with the respect that position deserves. I promised you a grandson within the year. What difference does it make whose belly he comes from?’

  He had stepped away then, frightened by his own need to cause the man who had sired him physical pain, and had stalked out into the street in search of a cleric senior enough to issue him with a special licence. Only then did he seek out her father. He had been surprised that the man had so readily agreed—but now, seeing the way the earl treated his only daughter, he was not surprised at all. The earl was determined to make Connie pay for the shame she had brought down upon their family. To add insult to injury, the Earl of Redbridge only agreed to the match if Aaron agreed to take her without a penny—which of course he had. He might desperately need the money, but that was hardly Connie’s fault. What better way to make her pay than to make her marry the enemy and disown her completely? Like his own father, the Earl of Redbridge was so fuelled with bitterness and hatred from the feud that he could not see past his own nose. Both men were tyrants. Both men made his flesh crawl.

  Connie was now sat hunched on the sofa, looking defeated and disgusted in equal measure. Aaron had no idea what to say to her, so he sat in a chair close by and waited. Neither spoke. What was there to say? They were doomed to be stuck with one another now and neither one of them wanted to be with the other. Fortunately, they did not have to wait long. A very nervous-looking vicar arrived. He blinked awkwardly at the pair of them through the lenses of his thick spectacles. ‘May I see the licence?’

  Aaron handed it over and the man scanned it quickly. ‘Everything appears to be in order. However, I cannot help but notice that the two of you do not look quite so keen.’ He was peering kindly at Connie, but it was her father who answered him.

  ‘That is simply natural bridal nerves. My daughter is as keen as I am to begin the wedding formalities.’

  The priest did not look convinced and was still looking from Aaron to Connie with concern. ‘We will need some witnesses.’

  ‘They are waiting in the next room,’ the Earl of Redbridge said curtly. ‘I shall fetch them and you can get it over with.’ He walked towards the door and then slowly turned back and spoke to Aaron directly as if his daughter was not there at all. ‘I shall not be returning. Once the ceremony is over with, get that girl out of my house. I wash my hands of her. She is your problem now. And she will be a problem. She always has been.’ And with that he left.

  ‘It might be prudent to wait a bit.’ The priest rested his hand gently on the back of Connie’s. ‘Perhaps in a few days all will seem clearer. This marriage is particularly fast.’

  She shook her head without looking at the man and then retreated back into herself. Several ashen-faced servants filed in and stood uncomfortably in the room. Connie stood next to Aaron stiffly, staring off into space and struggling not to cry.

  ‘Do you, Constance Elizabeth Mary Stuart, take this man, Aaron Phillip Arthur George Wincanton, to be your lawfully wedded husband?’

  Aaron held his breathe until Connie nodded once.

  ‘I need you to say the words, Lady Constance.’

  There was a long pause. Aaron watched her hands fist at her sides and a myriad of emotions cross her face. After an age she turned to him with an expression of complete hatred.

  ‘I do.’

  She mumbled the rest of her vows as if in a trance. In his haste, Aaron had forgotten to buy a ring and was forced to use his own signet ring as a wedding band. It swamped her delicate fingers and looked completely wrong on her hand, as he supposed he did too. Everything about this marriage was wrong. At best they were strangers, at worst sworn enemies.

  As the first rays of the sun filtered into the study the vicar declared them man and wife. He did not suggest that Aaron should kiss his bride. Even the vicar realised that Connie would rather kill him than kiss him. But it was
done. What had possessed him to follow her into that library last night he could not say, only now they both had an entire lifetime to regret his impulsive decision.

  ‘Come, Connie,’ he said with a sigh of resignation, ‘it is time to go.’

  Chapter Four

  Aaron did not sit in the carriage with her as they travelled directly to Ardleigh Manor, instead he rode his horse alongside. While she was grateful that he had the good sense to realise that she really had nothing whatsoever to say to him, and probably never would have, it meant that she was left alone with her own thoughts and fears for hours on end.

  Ardleigh Manor.

  Whilst she had seen it almost every day of her life from her bedchamber window, the Wincanton estate was completely unfamiliar to her. It might well neighbour her father’s land, but that might as well be the moon now, it was so far away. She was completely and irrefutably estranged from her family. Her father had made that quite clear. Never again would she while away the hours chatting to her brother, Henry, or her mother, nor would she ride her own beloved horse again, nor would she experience the comfort, smells and cosiness of her childhood home. Although she doubted that she would miss her father—she had been a disappointment to him from the moment she had been born—each of those losses was a cruel blow. Connie felt as if her heart had been ripped from her chest and shredded, and there was not a thing she could do about it. She felt raw and broken, wronged and ashamed.

  And so very angry that she felt as if she might burst from the way it boiled and curdled in her gut. She had let her mask slip in front of Aaron Wincanton, of all people. The man who had cursed her with that dreadful nickname, had seen how much it had hurt her, how it continued to hurt her because she had never been the kind of woman that men fancied, and that the only husband she could get was either bought or trapped into marriage.

  Connie heard the sound of gravel under the wheels of the carriage and forced herself to look out of the window at her new home. Up close, Ardleigh Manor was larger than she had realised. The symmetrical, classically designed front appeared stark white against the night sky, the windows glowing warmly with candlelight. If it had belonged to any other family than the vile Wincantons, she might have considered the house pleasing to look at, rather than menacing, but as the carriage came to slow stop outside Connie physically steeled herself to go inside.