A Heart So Innocent

by Charlene Cross

  Justin’s merriment settled into a deep rumble within his chest. “Forgive me,” he said, having regained his composure, then tried to make a formal introduction, a social amenity which he hated and paid little heed in doing correctly. “Aunt Patti, uh … Pattina Warfield Wadsworth, the dowager Marchioness of Falvey—Lady Falvey—may I present my new bride. Aidan holds the title that nearly all the single women in England have coveted. She is now known as Her Grace, the Duchess of Westover.”

  Aunt Patti’s chin dropped, then instantly snapped to. Recovering from her initial shock, she quickly found her voice. “Have you lost your mind, nephew? Whatever possessed your to marry a common maid?”

  Aidan had had enough. “Madam,” she addressed Justin’s aunt, “it may come as a surprise to you, but I am not a common maid, as it were. My father is Alastair Prescott, the Duke of Atwood. For the sake of argument, however, let’s say I were indeed the daughter of a lowly chimney sweep. I need not remind you, or any of the peerage, that as the Duchess of Westover, I deserve the respect my rank affords me.” Inwardly Aidan was surprised by her own words, and the haughtiness in which they were said, but she continued on. “With your rank being one mark lower than mine, I am now your superior. But since I do not hold much stock in the pretentiousness of our social structure, I shall not require you address me in the formal manner in which one might expect. Please call me Aidan.”

  Aunt Patti’s brow arched anew as she reassessed the newcomer into the Warfield fold. Frisky little baggage, she thought, her respect for the girl growing with each passing second. Yet she purposely held her admiration in check. Instead she emitted a self-righteous sniff. “Christian names are reserved only for those individuals who have gained my affection. You, madam, have yet to do so.”

  Again Justin laughed. “I can see the two of you will get along nicely. Knowing as much, I shall take my leave.”

  “Leave!” Aidan cried. “Where are you going?”

  “Back to London, of course, to resume the life I’ve always enjoyed.”

  Aidan watched as he turned on his heel, heading for the door. Suddenly she was certain he intended to desert her, allowing her to wither and die. Hiking her skirts, she quickly followed after him and snatched at his sleeve, catching it. “You don’t mean to abandon me here … alone?”

  “Sweet Aidan,” Justin said, a smile teasing his lips, “you won’t be alone. Aunt Patti shall be here to keep you company.” He removed her insistent fingers from his sleeve.

  “I won’t stay … you can’t make me!”

  “You will, dear wife. Orders shall be issued that the farthest point you may go is the boundary of this estate and no farther. As I promised your father, you will be fed and cared for in the manner to which you have been accustomed. As the Good Book says, ‘Ask and it shall be given.’ You can have anything you desire. All you need do is behave yourself and follow my rules.”

  “Which are?” Aidan asked.

  “You are to stay at Warfield Manor until I say you may leave.”

  “You act as though I’m some paltry criminal who’s been given a life sentence for some odious crime that was perpetrated against all mankind. I’ve done nothing wrong. You have no right to imprison me here.”

  “Don’t I?” Justin asked, his thumb and forefinger catching her defiant chin. He tilted her head up and Aidan’s eyes met his hard gaze. “You wanted to be the Duchess of Westover, and so you are.”

  “That’s not true! I didn’t want to be your wife. I had nothing to do with our being forced to marry. You must believe me. My father’s plans were of his own making. I had no part in it. I knew nothing about it.”

  “Such a pretty tale, sweet. But I fear I don’t believe a word you’ve said. As your husband, I have every right to say what you can and cannot do, where you will and will not live. Believe me when I say it won’t be in London. I don’t wish to be encumbered with an unwanted bride.” He dropped his hand. “But remember, sweet, when I have decided the time has come for me to sire an heir, you will see me again—not before. Until then, lovely Aidan, I bid you farewell.”

  Aidan would have started a new round of protests, denying she ever wanted to be his wife—an encumbrance, as he’d put it—but her husband snatched her small bag from Potts’s hands and shoved it into her own; the door slammed in her face. Justin was gone.

  Hopelessly she stared at the door; then her shoulders slumped in defeat. Turning, she noted Justin’s aunt was inspecting her closely. Too weary to listen to another Warfield’s slams, she headed toward the stairs. Rest and privacy were what she wanted, desperately needed, and she cared not where she found them, just as long as she did so.

  “Ridley,” Aunt Pattina called as Aidan placed her foot on the first step, leading to who-knew-where. “Show Her Grace to the suite next to the duke’s. Draw her a hot bath and have a tray sent up. Afterward, she is not to be disturbed by anyone.”

  Gratitude shone in Aidan’s eyes as she turned her gaze on Justin’s aunt, but the woman had already turned away and, with the aid of her cane, was headed back into the sitting room.

  As she followed Ridley up the stairs, Aidan caught sight of the ruby ring on her finger. The fire in the stone seemed to brand her hand. Justin had ordered her never to remove it, but defiantly she slipped it from her hand, vowing never to wear it again.

  Bright light filtered through the windows of the morning room making its blue decor glitter like sapphires. Its serenity did little to appease Aidan, who sat pretending interest in her embroidery. Angrily she jabbed the needle into the fabric and pulled the thread through, only to have it knot. She paid it no mind and continued the routine stitching through the cloth, until finally she thrust the needle into her thumb.

  Her silver brow arching, Aunt Patti watched as Aidan winced; then in a fit of temper the younger woman tossed her needlework across the room. “At least you are wise enough to admit when you have no talent for fine stitchery. Many young women would have continued with their task, believing they were creating a beautiful work of art. I admire your truthfulness.”

  As Aidan sucked the drop of blood from her thumb, fearing it would fall onto her off-white gown—her only gown for the time being—she turned a surprised look on the woman, for Aunt Patti had barely spoken a dozen words to her since she’d been abandoned at Warfield Manor by her husband four days ago. “I could outsew fifty women should I have a mind to do so,” Aidan answered. “Right now, my patience grows thin.”

  “I suppose that sampler was merely a facsimile of my nephew’s heart. The way you were plunging the needle into it, I’d say, if it were the real thing, Westover would be lying dead somewhere by now.”

  “I care not where he is,” Aidan lied, soothing her tender thumb. “Dead or alive, it makes little difference to me.”

  “Then why are you so restless? It would seem to me, if you cared little about your husband, you’d be quite content sitting in the lap of luxury, as you are now. But that doesn’t seem to be the case. Obviously, something is troubling you.”

  Aidan came out of her chair to pace the floor. “I’m being held prisoner. Every time I come within twenty paces of the main gate, someone pops from the bushes and sets me on a course back to the house. I’m not allowed near the stables for fear I’ll snatch a horse and bolt. I resent such treatment. I have no money, no transportation. So how do they expect me to escape this place? I’m being watched every moment of the day. No doubt my door and windows are guarded at night.”

  “They are,” Aunt Patti admitted, drawing a look of disbelief from Aidan. “I have no say in the matter, child. Westover left orders to have you watched. You are not to leave the grounds under any circumstances.”

  “But why?” Aidan asked, feeling confused and hurt over her confinement. “I’ve done nothing wrong. Why does he treat me so?”

  “You tell me,” Aunt Patti countered, then waited for an answer.

  Violet eyes surveyed Justin’s aunt. The woman was always watching her, as though she we
re looking for a flaw. Undoubtedly, Lady Falvey had found many, Aidan decided, for indeed Aidan had not been on her best behavior. Depressed and moody, she had withdrawn into her shell. Even the brisk walks she took daily did little to relieve the tension that was building inside her. Eyes were always following her, spying on her every move, and she was about to come unhinged from the continuous feeling of oppression which surrounded her. To be free, that’s all she wanted. Free of Warfield, both the estate and the man.

  “I have little information on what transpired between my nephew and yourself to know precisely how the two of you managed to be saddled with each other,” Aunt Patti said, drawing Aidan’s attention. “Would you like to elaborate? Perhaps then I can tell you why my nephew wants you kept out of his hair.”

  Aidan sighed. There was no reason why Justin’s aunt should not know of the events that had led up to their forced marriage. Taking her seat, she explained how it all came to pass. She started with the episode in Hyde Park and ended with the so-called marriage ceremony in the small cottage at Gretna Green, leaving nothing out. “So you see, for some ridiculous reason, he believes I was part of a conspiracy to trap him. I swear I had nothing to do with it. Why, I’d rather have joined a convent than to be strapped to the likes of him. He’s the last man I’d have chosen to marry!”

  Lady Falvey surveyed Aidan at length, just as she had over the last several days. In that time, she’d been able to read the girl and had discovered that Aidan was much like herself when Pattina was of the same age: intelligent, high-spirited, independent, restless, and stubborn. As stubborn as her nephew—obviously a Warfield trait.

  Pattina Warfield Wadsworth quite liked Aidan; however, she believed Aidan’s story only up to a point. The concluding part of her niece’s statement was definitely false. Aidan might believe Justin was the last man she’d have ever chosen to marry, but Pattina did not. The problem was how to make the chit realize it. Her nephew, as well.

  To Pattina, it was obvious that they were meant for each other. And there had to be a way to maneuver these two headstrong individuals into a position where, once they discovered the unmistakable truth themselves, they would willingly fall into each other’s arms. A deception, perhaps. Whatever it took, she had to get the newlyweds together. And the sooner, the better, she thought, knowing she’d enjoy welcoming yet another generation into the Warfield family.

  “What? Isn’t he handsome enough or rich enough for your tastes?” Aunt Patti baited.

  Aidan stared at Justin’s aunt. “It has nothing to do with his physical appearance or his wealth, Lady Falvey. Your nephew is extremely handsome—too much so—and by the looks of this place, I’m certain he holds a great fortune. It’s because we don’t love each other.”

  “Is love important to you?” the dowager asked, her gaze studying the girl carefully.

  “Yes … very,” Aidan said, her eyes misting over. “Ever since I was a small child, I had dreamed of having a marriage very much like my parents had. I remember the affection, the caring, the laughter. Even after my mother died, I held on to that dream. But apparently my father has forgotten what love means in a marriage, for he tried to pair me with that hideous Lord Sedgewinn. He didn’t even ask what I wanted.”

  “Was the secret alliance with my godson, Viscount Edmonds, what you wanted?”

  Aidan blanched. “George is your godson?”

  “Yes, he is. Undoubtedly, that’s how Westover became involved. My nephew knew I’d be displeased if he had turned George away.” She shrugged. “Well, it seems Westover’s desire to forgo a confrontation with me has gotten him into a bit of a spot—you too.” She sighed effectively. “Have you notified George of your marriage yet?”

  “No. I don’t know how to tell him,” Aidan said in a small voice, aware she hadn’t done so because she was a coward. “Or, for that matter, where he might be.”

  “Well, I doubt that he’s still at Gretna Green.”

  “I never intended to hurt George, Lady Falvey. And I never intended to marry your nephew. He’s the last man I would have chosen for a husband,” Aidan repeated, trying to convince herself it was so. “Why didn’t I save us all the worry by running off to a convent?”

  Pattina’s light chuckle erupted, startling her new niece. “A convent? I doubt that, sincerely. And most women would have named him their first choice in marriage. You are quite unusual, Aidan. Quite unusual, indeed.”

  Aidan had noted the use of her Christian name and realized Lady Falvey had apparently come to feel some form of affection for her. “What am I to do?” she asked of Justin’s aunt.

  “Sitting around moping certainly isn’t the answer. As I see it, my nephew wishes to keep you under wraps so he can continue his wandering ways. Out of sight, out of mind, so to speak. And you, my dear, are strapped to the rogue, whether you like it or not. For better or for worse, the bonds of matrimony shall hold the two of you together until at least one of you departs this life.”

  “Certainly you’re not suggesting I shoot the blackguard?” Aidan asked incredulously. “Though I’d gain a certain amount of satisfaction in doing so, I don’t relish the thought of leaving one prison, only to be cast into another.”

  “I was suggesting no such thing, dear. Although it may seem the only plausible route to travel at the moment, I think perhaps, if you take a hard look at the situation, you may discover that gaining your husband’s affection is the better way of dealing with it.”

  Aidan’s jaw dropped. “Gain his affection! Why, you must be insane! That’s the last thing I want from the man!”

  No sooner had the words left her mouth than Aidan wondered if they were true. Despite what she might state to his aunt, over these past several days Aidan had found her every waking thought to be of Justin Warfield. She couldn’t eradicate the insufferable rogue from her mind! Moreover, each night, he managed to steal his way into her dreams, his molten-silver eyes hotly traversing her body, his pliant masculine lips kissing her senseless, and Aidan would awaken with a start, her heart pounding wildly, her whole body aching for the unknown. Far or near, he tormented her constantly. Would he ever leave her alone?

  The sound of Lady Falvey’s voice snapped Aidan from her reverie. “Has he not stated, when he feels it is time to sire an heir, you will see him again?” Aunt Patti watched as Aidan blushed. A frown settled on the girl’s brow; then she nodded. “If there is affection between you,” Aunt Patti continued, “then the inevitable will be met with far less difficulty.”

  “You don’t think he’d use force, do you?”

  Pattina laughed lightly. “Force? He’ll have no need to use force, dear. He is known to be very persuasive. He’s charming, tender, intriguing, potent, and extremely handsome. He’s the best the male species has to offer. And from what I hear, no man is purported to be a better lover.” Pattina saw Aidan blush anew. Satisfied, she continued her onslaught. “And although, at first, you may vow to resist him, I’m quite certain, in the end, you will break that promise.” Pattina sighed. “Indeed, he will come for you, Aidan. And in view of my nephew’s lusty appetites, it will not be long before he reappears to take possession of what is rightfully his.”

  “Ridiculous!” Aidan scoffed with false bravado. “He has nearly all the women in London falling at his feet, offering themselves freely. Why should he come for me?”

  “That’s precisely why he’ll come for you. There is no challenge with the others. All men have the inborn desire to give chase and the need to conquer. History states as much, from the caveman on upward in time. Westover becomes bored easily, as is evidenced by his past affairs. As he makes his rounds in London, it won’t be long before he begins to think of the young beauty, his virginal bride, whom he’s left behind. From what you’ve told me, I gather you’ve made it quite clear that you despise him, that you don’t wish to be chained to him, that he’s the last man you’d willingly give yourself to. Once his temper has cooled over being caught, he’ll start thinking about those words of reject
ion. His ego won’t allow them to go unanswered. Take it as the truth. He’ll be back—soon.”

  Aidan blanched. Fear rippled through her. “But… but I don’t want him here. I… I don’t want anything to do with him! Isn’t there some way I can stop this from happening?”

  “Escape is all,” Aunt Patti said, her head shaking with mock hopelessness. “But I see little chance of your doing so.”

  The thought of Justin’s coming for her upset Aidan more than she would have liked to admit. He frightened her, for, just as Aunt Patti had said, he was far too masculine, far too magnetic. Indeed, he surrounded himself with an air of mystery which made most women want to break through the layers of secrecy and discover the man hidden beneath. Unfortunately, she was no different. Knowing she lacked the strength to fight him off for long, she realized she’d eventually succumb to his persuasive charms. But once she’d given herself to him, Aidan feared he’d cast her aside, the chase ended, his conquest made. She knew she’d be left wanting, desiring him, in a womanly way. She’d be lost to him forever. To allow Justin Warfield anywhere near her, Aidan knew, meant certain doom.

  “Aunt Patti, isn’t there some way you can help me?” Aidan asked as she sprang from her chair to settle at the dowager marchioness’s feet. Pleading violet eyes gazed upward, seeking an answer. “I won’t allow myself to be made his slave—like some concubine he can use at will. No woman should be made to submit to a man in that way. It’s degrading … wrong.”

  Aunt Patti noted the sudden sheen of tears in Aidan’s wide violet eyes and smiled to herself. “You speak of my nephew as though he were some sort of barbarian.”

  “Isn’t he?” Aidan countered. “What else would one call a man who has made his wife prisoner against her will? Please, there must be some way I can escape my fate. An annulment, perhaps. I can petition—”

  “Do you really think the Queen will allow it?” Lady Falvey asked, trying to dissuade Aidan from such thoughts. “I expect it highly unlikely Her Majesty will turn aside your marriage, especially when it was she who suggested you find yourself a husband.”