‘Allow me.’
To Connie’s complete consternation, Aaron reached up and manoeuvred the heavy fabric around her thighs so that he could cover the majority of her modesty. This operation took much longer than Connie felt was necessary and was made worse by the fact that she could feel the heat of his gloveless hands, all the way through the layers of skirt and petticoat, until an imprint of them was seared on to her very skin. Her ankles were still on full display to the world when he stepped back and grinned knowingly. At a loss of what else to do, and still feeling shaken by the effect of his touch, Connie thrust her nose in the air and stared out over the fields beyond.
Aaron mounted his horse quickly and the pair of them set off at a sedate pace out of the yard and up a well-worn path away from the house. Connie had to concede that even now, at the start of winter when all was at its bleakest, the woodland and meadow surrounding the estate was quite lovely. Aaron pointed out the occasional feature or entertained her with stories about scrapes he had got into as a boy. By the time they crested a small hill, Connie’s horse was sufficiently warmed up and she was aching to feel the wind on her face.
‘I will race you to that copse of trees.’ It might not be ladylike, but it was hardly as if her father was ever likely to get wind of it and, even if he did, it really was none of his business any longer. There were some benefits to the estrangement after all. That thought made her feel much better, so she crouched low over the horse’s neck and nudged him to go faster still. It felt marvellous.
Before Aaron was prepared, she had raced off ahead of him, a broad smile on her face and her body moving gracefully in the saddle as if she had been born to ride. He chivvied his own horse into a gallop, holding the beast back so that he could keep a short distance between them. In his mind he rationalised this behaviour as gentlemanly. It would make her happy to win. But in truth, from that position he could also enjoy the spectacular sight of her rounded bottom bouncing in the saddle, snugly encased in green velvet.
And he had thought that she looked splendid when he had first spied her in that outrageously bold riding habit. It had fitted her like a glove, highlighting the womanly curve of her trim waist where it met her hips. From there downwards was a slim column of green that went on and on until it hit the floor. The woman had legs that went on for ever. After catching an illicit glimpse of the shape of those magnificent legs last night, he had spent a great deal of time thinking about them. Before he had inevitably woken himself up screaming, he was certain that he had dreamt about them, too. He had certainly drifted off to sleep, wondering what it might feel like to run his fingers through all of that hair when he should have been thinking about how to salvage the estate. Connie had a way of permeating a great many of his thoughts since they had been thrust together. Even now. His morning rides had been a place to strategise about the future of Ardleigh Manor or contemplate his guilt—but there would be no strategising or guilt today. His new wife was too much of a distraction.
By the time they reached the trees they were both a little breathless. The ridiculously small hat that she had pinned on the top of her tightly bound hair was slightly askew, several copper tendrils had sprung free of their pins and were beginning to curl in the damp morning air. Combined with the victorious grin that lit up her eyes, the overall effect was simply stunning. It fair took his breath away.
What did not make any sense to Aaron was the fact that she had agreed to marry that wastrel Deal purely because he had asked her. That little snippet she had inadvertently let slip had occupied his thoughts a great deal last night and he still could not understand why she would sell herself so short this morning. Surely other men had asked? Connie had caused quite a stir when she had first come out, he remembered. Every young buck had been positively gushing about how glorious she was. One or two compared her poetically to a Titian painting but, he recalled with sudden clarity, when he had first seen her all those years ago he had thought that she was more like Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, rising proudly out of a giant clam shell, red hair tumbling carelessly over her milky-white shoulders and looking positively ripe for seducing.
How was is possible that five years later such a fine specimen of womanhood was still on the marriage mart? Unless she had frightened all potential suitors off with her feigned haughtiness and uninterest. And it was feigned, he now knew. Connie used it as a disguise in much the same way he used his charm. He had seen her reach for the emotion last night when she had realised that her betrothal to Deal had been nothing more than a way of perpetuating the feud. He had watched her transform her features from anguish into indifference and had wanted to go to her and hold her, and tell her that she did not have to wear her mask with him. Except if he did that then she might expect him to do the same—a preposterous thought that he could never entertain. He had left then, knowing that it would be simpler if they both played the characters that made them feel safest, and had regretted it instantly.
The smiling creature riding next to him appeared not to be wearing her mask at this moment. Connie looked relaxed and happy to be outside. Aaron let her gloat about her victory as they rode around the trees to the empty fields behind, secretly pleased that he had made her happy with such a simple act.
‘Why are your crops not planted?’ she asked after a minute, taking in the acres and acres of nothingness.
‘A very good question, Connie, and one that I cannot answer. I suspect my father’s estate manager is an idiot.’
‘I do not know a great deal about farming, but surely if the man is an idiot your father should dismiss him and hire someone more competent?’
Aaron gave her a wry smile. If only things were that simple. ‘Unfortunately, my father will not hear a bad word against the fellow. Mr Thomas is credited with orchestrating the purchase of land next to your father’s estate. Therefore, he is a genius according to my father.’
‘Because nothing is more important than the feud.’ She understood instantly and gazed off into the distance. ‘My own father is much the same. His main priority always has been the feud, too. Nothing else matters quite so much. Not peace or harmony and definitely not daughters.’
Her face had clouded a little and he realised that she was thinking about her betrothal again, only this morning she was inclined to be more reasonable about it. That was another thing he had noticed about her. Her temper burned hot, but quickly disappeared. She did not hold a grudge very well and faced her own shortcomings head on. He envied that.
‘I did think that you knew that Deal’s land borders ours. I wasn’t trying to be cruel last night, Connie.’
She brushed his apology away with a swat of her green-gloved hand. ‘I should have realised it myself. The signs were there. Why else would a man like Deal agree to marry me? I am quite annoyed that it never occurred to me sooner.’ But she had been so desperate to be a wife and a mother that she had ignored her better judgement, preferring to fool herself into believing he might miraculously grow to love her one day. As if a beautiful man like that would find something attractive in a gangly, ginger-haired giant. Connie doubted she would ever forget the look of disgust that had passed across her fiancé’s golden features when he had explained why he had agreed to the betrothal. If ever she had needed clarification of how unappealing she was as a woman, then that had been it. Yet Aaron’s words had also wounded. Perhaps more so. What sort of a man would willingly want to bed a shrew like you? She would spare him that ordeal because he had been honourable in marrying her. They rode in silence a little longer, side by side, neither looking at the other.
‘For what it’s worth,’ he suddenly blurted with an irritated expression on his handsome face, ‘I am glad that you never married Deal.’
Connie stared resolutely ahead because she did not want him to see how much talking about it hurt. ‘I am sure you are. It would have been very inconvenient if my father’s plan had succeeded. You would be sur
rounded by Stuarts and my father would have the upper hand once again.’
‘Stop being daft, Connie!’
She could feel herself bristle at his harsh tone and was about to give him a set down when he surprised her.
‘I do not give two farthings if this estate is positively ringed by Stuarts. I keep telling you that the silly feud needs to stop—and that I refuse to play any part of it. What I meant was Deal is a toad of a man. He’s a gambling, narcissistic lecher. The man brags about his many conquests at White’s and shows no regard or respect for the poor women he has seduced. I have always found him to be quite odious. You deserve better than that, Connie. And it irritates me to hear you sell yourself short by claiming you agreed to marry him simply because he asked.’
He looked irritated and that irritation on her behalf was very flattering. In case he saw that, she encouraged her horse to trot ahead of his before she allowed herself a little smile. She could not remember another man, save her brother, ever coming to her defence before. A little part of her heart rejoiced at that.
They rounded another copse of trees and the sight beyond brought Connie up short.
Redbridge House.
She could see it plainly in the distance, so near that she could just about make out the wisps of smoke coming out of the four large chimneys on its roof. If all of the fires were lit, then that could only mean one thing. Her family were in residence. The wave of longing was so swift and sudden that she could not hide it as he pulled his horse up alongside.
‘You miss your family.’
‘I miss my mother and my brother.’ There was no point denying that. She did not care one whit about her spiteful, critical father.
‘Perhaps you should write to them? I am sure that they would be glad to hear from you.’
It occurred to Connie then that Aaron was not keeping tabs on her, else he would have known that she had already tried. ‘Then you do not know my father. I sent a letter a few days ago. It came back unopened.’
‘Your brother and mother might think differently. Perhaps you should write to one of them.’
Connie turned her horse abruptly away from the painful view. ‘I am sure my father would ensure that any letters would be intercepted before they got to the rest of my family. You were there, Aaron, when he said that I was dead to him. The man never backs down.’ Once again she saw a flash of pity in his eyes and decided to nip it in the bud. ‘Let us not talk about it any more. Discussing it is pointless and will only serve to spoil my ride.’
They meandered slowly back towards Ardleigh Manor, the mood somewhat more sombre than he had been. Aaron said little, which she was grateful for, and was apparently deep in thought. Two stable lads intercepted them in the yard and led the horses away and Aaron offered her his arm as they walked back towards the house. In the spirit of their awkward truce, she took it, trying not to enjoy the solid feel of him beneath her hand or remember how that arm had once held her with such passion.
The sound of another horse arriving behind them had them both turning. ‘That is Mr Thomas,’ Aaron said with a mixture of urgency tinged with disgust. He abruptly disentangled her arm from his. ‘If you will excuse me, Connie, I really need to talk to him.’
He practically sprinted back towards the stable yard, leaving Connie rooted to the spot. Mr Thomas’s eyes met and locked with hers. For an instant he appeared startled, then he inclined his head politely before turning his full attention back to Aaron as if nothing untoward was going on at all.
Except it was. Connie had seen Mr Thomas before. Many times. The last time had been a little over a fortnight ago, in her father’s study.
Chapter Eleven
Connie had no idea how to react or what to do, so she went inside and quickly changed, wrapping herself in a warm shawl before heading back downstairs. Pretending to go out for a walk, Connie wandered nervously up and down the paths closet to the stables, looking for any sign of Mr Thomas and filled with an enormous sense of foreboding. There was more afoot here than she had been aware of and unexpectedly she found her loyalty torn. Eventually she saw him striding towards the building. Fortunately, he was alone.
‘Mr Thomas! Might I have a word?’
He spun around and then gave her a slow smile before walking towards her, then bowed politely. ‘Lady Constance, what an unexpected pleasure.’
‘I hardly think it should be unexpected, sir, not when we both know that you have dealings with my father. You must have realised I would seek you out and demand an explanation the moment I clapped eyes on you. Why are you here?’
‘Have you told all this to your husband?’ The man’s eyes were suddenly cold and his expression, although trying to remain bland, was also hostile. It made Connie feel uneasy.
‘Not yet.’
She watched his shoulders sag with relief before he pinned her with his gaze. ‘Good. Let us keep it that way. I dare say he would get quite the wrong impression. I am merely of an acquaintance of your father’s, though Viscount Ardleigh and his son might not be particularly forgiving of that relationship if they were to find out about it.’
‘You are more than a passing acquaintance, Mr Thomas. You have visited Redbridge House at least once a month for several years. I believe that you are working for my father. He is using you to sabotage the Wincantons in some way. That is why the fields still lay idle, isn’t it?’
The estate manager’s eyes narrowed and his voice became clipped. ‘I can assure you, madam, that I have no idea what you are talking about. I am simply an acquaintance of your father’s. That has nothing to do with my position here. Occasionally, I might tell your father snippets of what the Wincantons are up to, in passing conversation, but that is hardly a crime.’
‘Do you expect me to believe that your only purpose here is to keep my father informed of the latest gossip? I am not a fool, sir.’
His thin lips curled into a snarl as he watched her coldly. ‘Your father would be very disappointed in you if he heard that you had interfered in his personal business, Lady Constance.’
‘My father is already disappointed in me, Mr Thomas, as I am sure the whole world now knows, therefore I fail to see what difference my interference would make.’ Connie turned on her heel and began to march away. She had to find Aaron and tell him.
‘I should imagine that it is very painful to be estranged from one’s family, Lady Constance.’ Instantly, Connie’s footsteps slowed and she turned back to the estate manager suspiciously. Mr Thomas merely smiled. ‘You always did have such a strong bond with your mother. I have seen first-hand the strain this breach has put on her. I dare say she misses you as much as you miss her—and your father can be quite stubborn. However, I am certain that his poor opinion of you will change once he hears of your loyalty and discretion in this delicate matter.’
‘I doubt my father would bend, sir, in which case you are asking me to be disloyal to my husband for naught.’ Why did she suddenly feel the need to be loyal to Aaron Wincanton? It was not as if she had any affection for the man or owed him anything. Yet she felt it just the same.
Mr Thomas was all charm and subservience again. ‘Perhaps. And then again perhaps not. I was only with your father yesterday and he did specifically ask me to enquire about your health. He mentioned something in passing about how badly his wife was taking it all and he wanted to know if you were well cared for. I am to report back to him straight away if there is anything amiss.’ He paused briefly to let this news sink in and when he next spoke it was conspiratorially. ‘The Earl of Redbridge might be stubborn, but he is also still your father. His feelings for you are still there and his anger will pass in time. I know it will pass more quickly if you keep our little secret. Just for a little while. It might be just what is needed to heal the breach between you.’
Everything about what he was suggesting did not sit well with her
—yet still she was seduced by the possibility. The idea that her father had enquired about her gave her some hope. He would see it as disloyal if she interfered and that could only serve to make the gulf between them wider. And she was desperate to see her mother again. Once her marriage was dissolved, her father might see his way to allowing her to visit from time to time if she could prove to be an asset to him while she was here. It was not as if she had any loyalty to the Wincantons. But Aaron had been noble in marrying her and he was kind. Did he deserve such duplicitousness?
Mr Thomas sensed her dilemma and regarded her solemnly. ‘I give you my word, my lady, that nothing untoward is going on. I merely keep your father abreast of the Wincanton family and what they are doing.’
‘If I have any doubt about that, be advised, Mr Thomas, that the first person I shall speak to is my husband.’ Connie did not really believe the man. It was all too coincidental, but the prospect of seeing her mother and brother again was too tempting to risk offending her father further. For the time being she would maintain the status quo. If there was the slightest chance that she could heal the rift, then she had to give it a go. She would hold her tongue for as long as it took her to find proof that Mr Thomas was a liar and no longer. What difference did a few more weeks make?
Her Enemy At the Altar Page 9