Her Enemy At the Altar

by Virginia Heath

  Connie gripped her glass so tightly that she was surprised that it did not shatter into a thousand pieces. Of all of the lame excuses or apologies she had expected Aaron to make, that one caught her off guard. In front of all of their guests his eyes lazily sought hers out and locked on her with such heat that she felt a blush stain her cheeks. It was a very clever way of putting Spiteful Sarah in her place, she had to give him that. Fortunately, the blush and the way she automatically looked away made the whole exchange appear believable to everyone else. A few of the guests were smiling at the apparent romance of it all. But the easy lie made Connie yearn for it to be true.

  Sarah, of course, snorted her disbelief. Immediately, Aaron turned to her, looking completely sincere and completely gorgeous. ‘I remember seeing her for the first time at Almack’s. I thought she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. But, as you all know, we Wincantons have always been at war with the Stuarts so I feigned indifference, even though my heart was already lost. I thought our situation was hopeless. It was only after I returned from the war and heard that she was betrothed that I decided to do something about it. I could not stand the thought of her married to another man.’

  Connie thought he was laying it on a bit thick now, but the other guests, with the notable exception of Lady Erith, all appeared to be quite enthralled by the tale.

  ‘What did you do?’ asked Sir Gerald’s plump wife.

  Her question was rewarded by the most wicked smile Connie had ever seen. Aaron turned towards the woman conspiratorially.

  ‘You all know what I did.’ Scandalised laughter erupted from almost everyone while Aaron sauntered towards Connie and threaded his arm through hers, staking a claim on her in front of everyone. ‘And I am not the slightest bit sorry for it.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Crisis averted, the rest of the evening was almost a resounding success. It would have been a complete success in Connie’s eyes had it not been for the fact that Aaron had been completely correct in his summation of Sir Gerald Pimm. The man really was the most crushing of bores. With the final course still to go, he was waffling on about his lime kilns, of all things. Pasting an interested expression on her face, and purposefully ignoring her smug husband’s knowing looks every time their eyes met down the long table, Connie prepared herself for the next never-ending lecture from her dinner companion on a subject she could not care less about.

  ‘I spent years trying to turn a profit from growing crops. Then I realised I didn’t need to. My land is all chalk, you see, and chalk is a commodity.’ Sir Gerald said this with such an air of authority that Connie instinctively nodded sagely although she was slowly losing the will to live. ‘If it is burned you get quicklime and quicklime is one of the best fertilisers around. My tenants now quarry the chalk and we burn it all in my kilns. I have ten now and plans for at least ten more. It has become a most profitable venture. There is far more profit in chalk than there is in wheat. Chalk is the crop that keeps on giving.’ He laughed at his own joke so Connie did the same. She could feel Aaron’s obvious amusement at her predicament so she purposefully did not look at the wretch. ‘The biggest problem is I cannot get my workers to dig enough of it for the demand. If I had twice as much land, I could make twice as much profit. Except nobody wants to sell their land because they are all so wedded to growing wheat.’

  ‘Yes, indeed. What a fortuitous situation you have found yourself in, Sir Gerald. This conversation has been most enlightening.’

  Connie had meant that comment as a signal to talk about something else, but Sir Gerald was only just warming up to the topic. ‘Of course, sometimes we find hidden jewels in the chalk.’

  ‘Like diamonds or rubies, sir?’ Please let it be something interesting. Anything to relieve the interminable boredom of his words.

  ‘Better! Flint!’ His pale eyes were positively glowing with what could best be described as religious fervour and her spirit was instantly crushed again. ‘Flint is highly sought after at the moment because it is used in guns, you see. No rifle or pistol can fire without a piece of flint to first make the spark.’

  How Connie wished she had a pistol now. She was not entirely sure whether she would use it on herself or Sir Gerald. If she chose herself, it would put an end to her current misery—but if she used it on Sir Gerald she would be saving all future dinner party guests from of the misery of being left with him. It would almost be a public service. If she had a pair of pistols she could shoot Spiteful Sarah as well. The woman was still sulking and had barely said a thing since Aaron had put her, so wonderfully, in her place.

  Instinctively, she flicked her eyes in his direction. He was being his usual charming self, telling some tall tale that had his own dinner partners squealing with laughter. When he was like this, all easy smiles and affability and looking far more handsome than any man had a right to, if was difficult to imagine the terrified and troubled man she had held last night. There was much more to Aaron than all of these people could possibly realise. Beneath that social façade was a man who carried a great deal on his magnificently broad shoulders.

  He must have sensed her watching him because his eyes suddenly found hers and locked. He winked at her—not in a cheeky way—telling her in that tiny gesture that she had done well tonight and that he was proud of her. In that instant, the rest of the noisy table disappeared and for the briefest of moments it was just the two of them. Connie looked away, secretly pleased that he had noticed, and slightly discomfited by the cosy intimacy they had just shared in one simple, wordless gaze.

  ‘Of course, chalk is also used in whiting...’ Reluctantly Connie allowed Sir Gerald’s monotone to permeate her thoughts and felt her eyes glaze over almost instantly.

  * * *

  Aaron joined the gentleman for their after-dinner port, but still found himself thinking about his wife. She had been a confident and charming hostess so far, even though she did not really have to be. His father had set her up to disappoint and it would have been completely natural for her to live up to his low expectation. But Constance being Constance, she hadn’t. Even his father had begrudgingly admitted as much by acknowledging her efforts to the guests who had complimented him so far. She really was a remarkable woman.

  Formidable.

  And then again not. There were so many layers to Connie, so many conflicting and contrasting elements to her personality that she reminded him of a rainbow. At one end of the spectrum she was indomitable, sharp-tongued and aloof. He had been on the receiving end of that with alarming frequency and they had only been together for such a short time. But then she was kind-hearted. Hadn’t she insisted that he go to bed yesterday because he looked tired and had to come him in the night to soothe his nightmares? Finally, buried beneath all of that, was a seam of vulnerability that she worked hard to hide—but he knew that it was there. Her reaction to hearing that awful nickname he had saddled her with, all those years ago, was testament to that. She had been braced for the censure and vitriol of Lady Erith as if she had expected it, and had been so obviously grateful to him for saving her that he had wanted to drag her outside, hug her close and kiss away the distress swirling in her lovely eyes.

  By the time they re-joined the ladies he was looking forward to seeing her again. Odd that he had missed her reassuring presence in such a short space of time, but a fact regardless. Her eyes flicked to his briefly and they were filled with warmth and mirth. Connie was obviously enjoying herself. Aaron wandered to the brandy decanter to fill his glass, although really he was using it as an excuse to watch her more, enjoy the languid way she moved and the way that the chandelier picked out all of the many shades of copper in her hair.

  After a moment, something about her did not ring true and for a little while Aaron’s brain scrambled to work out what it was. Then she glanced at him again and all at once it struck him. For some inexplicable reason, although clearly s
tanding, Connie was several inches shorter than usual.

  Curious, and more than a little amused by this strange phenomenon, Aaron positioned himself closer so that he could see what she was about. After a few minutes, it became obvious to him that she was standing in a crouch which the long crimson skirt disguised perfectly. The silly woman’s legs must be aching by now, he thought as he edged alongside, and as soon as the conversation was briefly diverted away from her he reached out his arm and hoisted her upwards. She gazed at him a little startled, then coloured slightly at being caught out, but did not say anything because Lady Erith and her husband were coming towards them. Aaron could feel Connie tense next to him although her face was a serene mask of conviviality.

  ‘My, my. It always staggers me how very tall you are, Constance, when we are stood so close. I do not think I have ever come across another lady who is quite as statuesque as you. Or as thin. In places there is nothing of you.’

  Another spiteful barb from Lady Erith that Aaron was not going to let slide. He opened his mouth to speak.

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ his wife said politely before he could intercede. ‘One can only hope that I will follow in your footsteps, Sarah, and put on some weight now that I am married.’

  Aaron barely managed to stifle the laughter that threatened. Sarah smiled tightly, looking every inch the brittle, nasty piece of work that he now knew her to be. ‘It has been a pleasant evening, but, alas, my husband and I must now bid you goodnight.’

  The exit of the Earl and Countess of Erith signalled the end of the evening, and soon all of the guests were departing. Aaron’s father, looking very grey around the gills, excused himself to go to bed, leaving Connie and Aaron to see people safely into their carriages. Sir Gerald and his wife were the last two to go and he could not have been more effusive in his praise.

  ‘My dear Lady Constance, it has been quite lovely to meet you. I thoroughly enjoyed our long chat over dinner and I hope that I shall be fortuitous enough be seated next to you when we next meet.’

  She accepted his compliment graciously and stood waving next to Aaron as their carriage finally pulled out of the drive.

  ‘I told you he was a crushing bore,’ he whispered out of the side of his mouth. ‘Perhaps next time you will listen to me.’ The very idea of a next time, and of playing the role of his wife, made her feel all warm inside. The evening had been a triumph and she had enjoyed playing the mistress of the house for once, instead of the disappointing daughter or the aloof wallflower.

  ‘If I had listened to you, I would have been stuck next to Lady Erith. I think I would take Sir Gerald over her any day.’

  ‘You might have a valid point there. I had not realised that she was so vindictive before tonight. She used to be much more agreeable company.’

  Connie snorted her disbelief. ‘I have always found her to be completely obnoxious and malicious. The woman has never liked me. Thank you for sticking up for me before. Your convenient lie saved me from a great deal of embarrassment.’

  He looked at her oddly, then smiled. ‘Would you like to take a little stroll before we go back inside? I need a little fresh air before bedtime.’

  Connie snuggled inside her heavy shawl and gazed up at the sky. Despite the cold, it was a perfect winter’s night. Clear black skies, an almost full moon and a smattering of twinkling stars. ‘I should like that.’ Aaron had spent the entire evening in the company of others and he still wished to spend some time with her alone. The prospect made Connie feel special. And excited.

  The pair of them walked in companionable silence along the drive for a little way, his hand resting warm on hers, as her arm was threaded through his.

  ‘It wasn’t a complete lie,’ he suddenly said, staring out into the darkness.

  A tiny bubble of something—hope or anticipation—bloomed in her chest, but she still groped for her mask of indifference. ‘Do enlighten me.’

  They were still strolling slowly down the drive, the only sound was the gravel crunching under their feet and he was still looking out towards the stars with an odd expression on his face. Nerves?

  Surely not.

  Then he let out a sigh. His breathe wafted in the frigid air like a white cloud and she realised that he must have been holding that breath in while he decided how to answer her.

  ‘I remember the very first time that I saw you. It was at Almack’s. There was a sea of debutantes that night, all decked out in frothy white dresses with their ringlets bouncing and you were all being introduced together. I was with a group of friends and we were exchanging comments about the new crop of young ladies, as young men are prone to do. We were all looking at one girl, she was very pretty, I recall, and daring each other to ask her to dance. Then I saw you. You were stood alone at the edge of the ballroom, all dressed in white, with your hair done in a similar style as it is tonight, except there were more curls about your face. But I do remember thinking that you were quite the loveliest thing I had ever seen. I had no idea who you were, but I kept staring at you as you walked across the floor. You were so graceful. So unique. You stood out from all of the others. I smiled at you, I’m not sure if you remember? You did not smile back. In fact, you looked at me as if I were some kind of snake or insect or something.’

  Connie could not quite believe her ears. Was he trying to charm her in the same way that he tried to charm everybody? Maybe he was trying to make up for the way Sarah had behaved tonight. Or he was simply being kind. Although she dimly recalled him smiling at her that night. At the time, she had been well aware of who he was. Her mother had pointed him out straight away. She had thought that the smile was to goad her, or make her feel uncomfortable, because he was Aaron Wincanton. If he was telling the truth, which Connie sincerely doubted, and he had not been aware of who she was, then that smile had been genuine. And maybe he had thought her lovely. Her throat began to tighten at the thought.

  ‘Of course, my friends saw the exchange,’ he continued a little shyly, ‘and teased me mercilessly. It was only then that I learnt your identity. So being young—and feeling very foolish—I lied to them. I claimed that I had been staring at another girl, not you, and that I would never, ever find anything appealing in a Stuart, especially one who looked like a ginger Amazonian.’

  He stopped walking then and turned towards her. She saw genuine regret and shame on his handsome face. ‘I wish I had never said that, Connie. It was a silly, flippant remark and I never meant for you to ever hear it. It galls me to think that my crass stupidity that night gave a catty, vindictive woman like Sarah a weapon to use against you.’

  Out of habit she dismissed it breezily. ‘It is of no matter. That silly nickname has never bothered me.’

  ‘Don’t lie, Connie. I saw the way you stiffened when she said it. I also saw you attempting to be shorter with my own eyes tonight.’

  Oh, good gracious! The man always managed to make her feel like an idiot. Even in this chilly air she could feel the start of the blush begin to burn. ‘I loom over people!’ she said defensively, turning her head back towards the house to hint that it was time to return.

  ‘You don’t loom over me.’

  His hand touched her cheek and turned her face back towards him. Where Connie was sure she would see amusement, she saw something she could not quite decipher. His eyes were even darker than usual and they were looking directly at hers in a way no man had ever looked at her eyes. It was intense and intimate, almost as if he could see past all of the barricades she used to protect her wounded heart, and it set her pulse racing. There was desire there, she was almost certain, and the sight of it made her heart rejoice even though everything sensible in her mind told her not to believe it could be true. An attractive man like Aaron surely did not really find her appealing—did he? Yet he had just said that she was the loveliest thing that he had ever seen. He had appeared sincere, almost shy, when he had sai
d it, too. Would it be foolhardy and impetuous to want to believe him? Or was she being pathetic and needy, so desperate for it all to be real that she would ignore the nagging doubts and throw caution to the wind?

  She wanted to look away—but couldn’t.

  Something about him was so mesmerising that all she could do was gaze back at him longingly. When his eyes slowly drifted down to her lips and lingered there, Connie’s heart began to race. His palm was still cupping her cheek, making her skin prickle with an awareness that was both quite alien and intoxicating at the same time. Her lips began to tingle and she licked them nervously, regretting it instantly as his own began to curve upwards in a knowing smile. He probably thought she wanted him to kiss her.

  Which, of course, she did.

  More than anything.

  He let his body tilt forward until his face was inches away from hers, then closer still until their foreheads were touching. The hand on her cheek brushed over her skin in search of her hair. He let his fingers trail the entire length of one of the tendrils that framed her face and Connie forgot to breathe.

  The moment was so magical, so unexpected and so perfect that she lost herself in it. Time stood still. She had no idea how long they stood there like that, skin touching skin and mouths a whisper apart, his warm fingers twining in her hair. But she could feel that his breathing was as erratic as hers; sensed the trepidation that he was also feeling at that exact same moment.

  The air crackled with promise; carnal need warred with common sense. Connie was suddenly desperate for that need to win the battle. She wanted his lips on hers, wanted to feel his hands on her body again and lose herself in the glorious sensations of passion—but she was too frightened to make the first move. His body shifted slightly, and with wonderful impatience, so that he could be closer still until not only their heads were touching. She could feel his shoulders, hips and thighs so close to her own, his nose gently rested against hers, his warm breath heating her lips. He was gauging her reaction to his intrusion to see if his advances were welcome and Connie was not inclined to either push him away or close the distance between them. She would not be the first one to retreat or the first one to surrender to her desires. To do either would be to sacrifice her pride.