He offered her an approximation of a smile. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly so she responded in kind, noticing that his did have a bit of a blue tinge to them. ‘Aaron went out over an hour ago, I believe. Am I to guess, judging by your attire, that you expected to go with him?’
A cup of tea appeared miraculously at her right elbow, giving Connie a prop to hide behind if she needed it. She picked it up and used it to cover her disappointment. ‘Perhaps he forgot. It is of no matter.’
‘It is not like my son to be absent-minded. More likely he was avoiding trouble. He does that a great deal. Did the two of you have another fight?’ It was obvious, by the knowing glint in his dark eyes, that he was regularly appraised about her and his son’s relationship. The servants must have seen Aaron storm out of her rooms last night and assumed that he had done so because he was angry at her. But they had not fought and, since her illuminating conversation with Mrs Poole, Connie was even more convinced that it had been something more sinister that had sent him running away.
‘Things were cordial between us last night.’
At the viscount’s immediate smug smile, she realised that he had just misinterpreted what she had said. ‘Well, that is splendid! I am glad to know that the pair of you are using your evenings properly.’
Connie gave him a brittle stare and took a sip of her tea. Aaron wanted the old man to think that they were going to provide him with a grandchild. She could hardly correct him in that belief, no matter how much she wanted to. The man was dying.
‘With any luck you will have some news in the next few weeks.’ She was not going to discuss their non-existent attempts to create a child. The very idea was as preposterous as it was improper. ‘These things take time. It might even take many months. We all have to be patient.’ She said the last quite pointedly in the hope that he would get the message. Unfortunately, the viscount simply laughed.
‘Nonsense! We Wincanton males are very vigorous. Why, my wife was carrying Aaron within a month of our marriage.’ He said this so proudly that Connie almost missed his eyes flick to a portrait of a woman over the fireplace.
‘Is that Aaron’s mother?’ His good humour was suddenly a little subdued when he nodded. ‘She was very beautiful.’
‘Indeed she was. I think Aaron has also inherited a great deal of her personality. Elizabeth was always more affable. She died when he was a year old, but I think she would have been proud to know the man he has become.’
Something about the way he said this made Connie wonder if he was actually capable of something akin to genuine affection. He had never remarried, which was unusual for men with titles. It would have been expected that he produced another son in case the unthinkable had happened. Her own father would have, she knew. Had the roles been reversed, he would have got over the death of his wife quickly in order to cement the succession. Hadn’t he repeatedly complained of his disappointment at having been given a daughter first? Especially such an outspoken and ungainly one. Perhaps, underneath all of that bluster, Viscount Ardleigh would soften towards her in time. Already, he had invited her to break her fast in his company. Surely that was something?
Connie stood and began to help herself to the covered breakfast dishes. If her father-in-law wished to have a convivial breakfast with her she might as well eat. It was not as if she had anywhere else to go, seeing as Aaron had disappeared without her. ‘Aaron told me that you were unhappy with his decision to go into the army.’
‘Of course I was. It was a reckless decision that could have killed him. But he is stubborn and went anyway. I am eternally grateful that he came back in one piece.’
‘And by all accounts he came back a hero, although he is very closed lipped about it. What did he win his medals for?’
Connie had expected to see pride shining in the old man’s face, but instead the viscount appeared irritated. ‘He won them for putting himself at risk! Officers should lead from the rear, not the front. But, of course, Aaron has no regard for proper rules so he was always in the thick of it as far as I can tell. He won one of them at Badajoz, where he apparently went after a few of his men who had been taken by the French and took them back, single-handed. Like a blasted fool. He should have left them there. The second was at Ciudad Rodrigo, for another foolhardy act of selfless bravery. I cannot say how he came by it because he refuses to talk about it. Those damn medals do not seem to bring him any pleasure at all.’
Connie remembered his glib answer to her question, claiming that he had been commended simply for surviving. ‘Maybe he is just being self-effacing and does not want a fuss.’
His father regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Self-effacing? Aaron? I suppose there is a slim chance that might be the case.’
Good gracious! Had he just agreed with something she had said? Obviously the viscount wanted to improve relations between them and this conversation was a very positive step forward. Connie relaxed and took a bite of her breakfast. She had not swallowed when he spoke again. ‘By the way, I have invited a few people over for dinner tomorrow. I thought you might enjoy the opportunity to play the hostess in your new home.’
She really did not, but tried to look enthusiastic. He was making a bit of an effort—besides, how hard could one small dinner be? ‘That’s nice. How many people should I inform the cook to expect?’
The viscount looked up as he mentally calculated, then pierced her with a gaze filled with mischief. ‘Including the three of us—twenty.’
Constance almost choked on her food. That was in no way ‘a few’ and less than twenty-four hours’ notice was outrageous. By the smug expression on his face the old goat knew it, too. ‘Do you think you can manage, Constance?’
It was a test. Defiantly, she speared another piece of sausage with her fork, imagining that the meat was his face, and then gave him her most saccharine smile. ‘I am looking forward to it, my lord. I do enjoy a challenge.’
One positive step forward, two huge strides backwards.
Chapter Thirteen
As he had suspected, no seed was delivered to any of the tenants that day. It was already getting dark and Aaron was completely at his wits’ end—but the very last place he wanted to be was home. Home meant having to do battle with his father over the estate manager again. It also meant facing Connie after his spectacular emotional collapse last night. Even now, all these hours later, that peculiar reaction still left him more shaken than all of his previous nightmares combined. He had barely slept a wink all night because he was so terrified of the new tricks his mind was playing on him. Now he was so exhausted he could actually feel his body wilting in the saddle.
He should have gone home hours ago, but instead he had ridden aimlessly, desperately trying to sort out all of the problems that had started queueing up for him to have to deal with. The estate, his father’s health, his own mental health and now Connie. Her reaction to seeing Redbridge House yesterday morning had bothered him, as did her confession that her letter had been heartlessly returned unanswered. It was obvious the girl was desperately worried about her family and understandably homesick. If he thought that it would make a difference, Aaron was quite prepared to ride over there and give her vindictive father a piece of his mind. At least that was a more constructive way of spending the day than avoiding going home. But such interference would only make things worse. If he spoke to the Earl of Redbridge or called him on his behaviour, the only person who would pay was Connie and she had paid enough already.
Feeling dissatisfied with everything, Aaron wearily made his way into the house, intent on spending at least an hour in the bath to soak away the aches of all the riding. He abandoned any hope of that luxury when he stepped into the hallway and met chaos.
Every servant was apparently engaged in something, whether that be fetching, carrying or generally rushing about in a purposeful manner, and all of them had a
fraught look about them.
Deaks hastily put down the vase of winter greenery he was carrying and relieved Aaron of his coat. ‘Good evening, Mr Aaron. Lady Constance has asked me to tell you that a cold supper has been laid out in the family dining room and that you should help yourself to it at your convenience. I believe your father is already in there.’
‘A cold supper? But it is freezing outside.’ They never had a cold supper in winter. Not in living memory at least. Deaks offered him an awkward nod, then scurried back to his vase and disappeared down the hallway. At a loss, he went to see his father, who was indeed sat in the informal dining room behind a plate full of food and looking far too pleased with himself for Aaron’s liking. ‘What’s going on?’
The viscount feigned innocence, but ruined it by grinning. ‘I informed your wife that we were having one or two guests tomorrow for dinner and it has put her in a quite a tizzy.’
‘Why did you invite guests when you know full well that Connie and I would prefer to avoid society at the moment? In case it has escaped your notice, we have been at the centre of a rather large scandal of late. I brought her here so that she could avoid public scrutiny for a while. There will be no dinner, Father. You will cancel the invitations immediately.’
‘It is just one or two close friends, Aaron. Merely a chance for her to cut her teeth as a hostess. The girl has responded to the challenge admirably thus far. Besides, it is far too late to cancel now. Many of them would have already set out from London, I’ll wager, and will overnight at an inn en route. I doubt I would be able to get word to them this late in the day and the preparations are well under way. Your Constance has been very busy since this morning. She will be disappointed if you cancel.’
Aaron decide to hold on to his temper until he had spoken to Connie. If there was a slight chance that his father was correct, and that she was perfectly comfortable with the idea, then he would not interfere. If his father was lying, and he would put nothing past the wily old buzzard, then he would feel the full force of Aaron’s temper. Poor Connie had suffered enough in such a short time already; Aaron was not going to let his father make it intentionally worse for her. He shot the old man a warning glance and then stalked from the room in search of her.
It did not take a great deal of effort to track her down. Aaron simply followed the line of panicked servants towards the rarely used formal dining room, a room that was far too large for one or two close friends. The long table had been extended to its full length and was already swathed in crisp white linen. Footmen were busy polishing the silverware and, by the looks of things, every knife fork and spoon that they possessed was being arranged in front of a plethora of chairs. At the furthest end of the room, her back turned to him as she stood issuing rapid orders to a stunned-looking maid, was Connie. Her hairstyle was well into the process of collapse—Aaron could see one thick coil of vibrant copper had already made a valiant escape and was currently bouncing next to her cheek as she moved. He felt the urge to take out all of her hairpins, one by one, and watch every curl bounce to her waist and then shook himself. Now was not the time for lustful thoughts. His wife was clearly in the midst of a crisis.
It was the maid who noticed him first, just before Connie spun around and gaped at him. Then her lovely eyes narrowed and her hands came up and planted themselves on her hips.
‘There you are!’ she spat accusingly, ‘How convenient that you should disappear for the whole day and leave me with this!’
There was no other way to interpret her mood as other than livid. Her delicate, pointed chin was jutting outward and she was definitely looking down her nose at him. The servants closest to her began to back away, their heads bent but their ears, no doubt, wide open to hear him receive a thorough set down. Aaron immediately raised his hands in surrender and slowly began to walk towards her.
‘I swear to you, this is as much of a surprise to me as I can see it is to you. I had no idea my father had invited guests and, judging by the sea of chairs around this table, he has also lied to me about the number. I take it we are not expecting one or two?’
‘One or two!’ She stalked towards him, her green eyes practically glowing with indignation, and prodded him in the centre of his chest with one angry, pointed finger. ‘Try twenty!’ Prod. ‘And with barely any notice.’ Prod. Prod. ‘The wretch has done it on purpose to vex me!’
And had definitely succeeded if Aaron was any judge. Absently he rubbed his breastbone before she prodded him there again. ‘We will cancel it, Connie. There is no way that I would allow you to go through all this because my father is making mischief. I shall go and put a stop to it immediately.’
This offer did not placate her in the slightest. Connie gripped the top of his sleeve with enough force to pull him back from whence he might have gone. ‘Stay right where you are! You will not come to my rescue as if I am some pathetic dolt who needs a husband to fight her battles for her. I would not give him the satisfaction!’ She let go of his sleeve and raised her pointed finger heavenward, her small bosom heaving with indignation. ‘He wants me to fail. Your father would like nothing better than to have me cower away and hide from the world. He wants to beat me. It is a battle of wills in which he wants to emerge the victor. Well, I will not let him!’ She had started to pace now, her expressive arms waving while she flounced around the room like an actress in a poorly acted Greek tragedy. ‘I am a Stuart! And I will go to my grave before I allow that vile Wincanton to intimidate me! This—’ she pointed at the table with a shaking finger ‘—will be the best dinner party this house has ever seen!’
Aaron wanted to clap his hands together in applause. It truly had been a magnificent performance and he was strangely proud of her stubbornness. In the face of adversity, Constance Stuart met the threat head on and looked every bit like an ancient warrior queen. She stood stock still, like a statue. Her copper hair was crackling in the candlelight and her plump lips were pushed out in the most delectable pout he had ever seen. A pout that he suddenly had the most all-encompassing, overwhelming urge to kiss.
For a moment, the surge of raw need left Aaron feeling off balance. His world was crashing down all around him, he might well be on the cusp of insanity and he still wanted to kiss her? And not just kiss her, he realised as his breeches began to feel a little uncomfortable. He wanted to take her upstairs and give her a very different outlet to divert all of that fire and passion towards. He might be half-mad, and well on the road to being penniless, but all of that apparently paled into insignificance when he thought about Connie. Or perhaps this unfamiliar sensation was further proof that he was going mad, because surely only a madman would want a woman so desperately when she had made it quite plain that she could never want him back. It was simply another way that his broken mind had found to torture him and send him plummeting into the abyss of total lunacy.
The silence between them hung until he realised she was expecting some form of response from him. A response that plainly did not involve him tossing her over his shoulder, running her upstairs and making love to her until neither of them could think straight. Automatically he tugged on his jacket to ensure that any evidence of his ardour was properly covered.
‘Is there anything that you would like me to do to help?’ To his own ears, his voice sounded a trifle gravelly as he forced the words out. But really, she did look quite beautiful.
Something between a sniff and a snort escaped her and she flounced off again. ‘You could look at my seating plan and let me know if I have put anybody next to somebody I shouldn’t. They are Wincanton friends after all. Not mine.’
Clearly she expected him to follow so he did and found himself smiling in her wake. When she flounced, those hips of hers swayed in the most mesmerising fashion that, he was certain, she was blissfully unaware of. Connie stopped sharply at the sideboard and he almost went into the back of her because he was still staring at her delightful
bottom. She snatched up a piece of paper impatiently and thrust in his direction. Typically, the print was too small for him to see properly.
Connie watched as Aaron reached inside his jacket and pulled out the wire-rimmed spectacles she had seen in his bedchamber. He spread the seating plan out on the sideboard and then carelessly put the glasses on as he studied it. Although Connie was, rightly, still furious at the man for disappearing for the entire day and driving her to complete distraction with worry for him, the sight of him in those glasses did funny things to her. Instantly, her body warmed in the most improper places and her heartbeat felt irregular. Damn him for being so effortlessly gorgeous! If she had been cursed with poor vision—alongside her ghastly carrot-coloured hair, extreme height and washboard figure—she had no doubt that spectacles would be the final nail in the coffin of her attractiveness. She would look like a pinched, pale spinster. Typically, the wire frames only served to enhance Aaron’s strong features. His slightly magnified russet eyes were more hypnotic as he peered down his perfectly straight, perfectly proportioned nose at her handiwork. The fact that his dark hair was all windswept from a day’s riding only added to his appeal. He smelled deliciously of fresh air and fresh man, making Connie wonder what it would feel like to bury her nose under the collar of his jacket and just inhale him. She would not mind sliding her hands beneath that jacket as well, so that she could learn the shape of his shoulders and arms.
His chest.
His back.
Good gracious, what had got into her?
‘This is quite an eclectic bunch,’ he said, scanning the names and startling her out of her unladylike and vastly improper musings, ‘but most of them are all right when you get to know them. This arrangement appears to be in perfectly good order, but for your own sanity I would swap these two.’ He pointed to Sir Gerald Pimm, whom she had purposely placed opposite her, and Sarah, the Countess of Erith. ‘Sir Gerald can be a dreadful bore when he gets going and you might fall asleep, face down in your dinner. You will find Sarah amusing.’
Her Enemy At the Altar Page 11
