“I’ve noticed,” she grumbled, continuing to massage her head. “Everyone and everything seems to conspire against me.”
Gazing down on her, Justin let loose his rumbling laughter, and Aidan cringed. “At last there’s a truth we both can agree upon, for I’ve felt the same of late.” Taking pity on her, he moved behind her. “Here, let’s see if I can offer you some relief.”
She stiffened at his touch. “What are you doing?”
“Relax,” he commanded softly, his hands working gently along her shoulders, then up her neck. “I’m merely going to loosen the tension and hopefully relieve the pain.”
Aidan opened her mouth in protest, but the wizardry he performed—his soothing hands expertly kneading her tight muscles, fingers splayed upward from the nape of her neck, into her hair, tenderly massaging away the pain—was tantamount to heaven. Of that, she was certain. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she breathed deeply, letting the strain, knotted inside her, flow outward as she exhaled.
No man ever possessed such wondrous hands, she thought, giving herself up to their mastery, wanting the magic to continue. Then Justin eased her head back, to support it against his taut stomach, and his fingers lightly circled her temples. Bewitched, Aidan moaned softly, then whispered, “More.”
As his hands ministered to her, Justin’s eyes devoured the sight of her. Once again he was struck by her alluring beauty. Blue-veined eyelids lay closed, their long dark lashes brushing the delicate skin above her cheeks. Softly parted lips enticed him, and he remembered their sweet taste from the night before. He was falling deeper under her womanly spell; he wanted her, but this time the need was far greater than ever before. Swallowing the groan of longing which had suddenly welled up inside him, he quickly dropped his hands and stepped to his chair. “Hopefully, your ills have been eased. We have some things to discuss,” he said tautly, seating himself.
Aidan’s eyes came open. Miraculously, the sunlight no longer intruded on her senses to cause her misery; however, the tone of Justin’s voice did. “Thank you,” she stated in a husky whisper. A strange feeling of abandonment had overcome her the instant he’d moved away. “I, too, wish to discuss some important matters, mainly, how to dissolve this ridiculous marriage in which we’ve found ourselves trapped,” she stated abruptly. Desperately, she tried to fight off the wild array of emotions spinning inside her. “If Victoria refuses to support us in getting an annulment, I presume we should seek a divorce.”
Justin’s lips cracked into a wicked grin; his brow rose ever so slightly. “What? You don’t hold to the vow which said ‘until death do us part’?”
Viewing his handsome face, Aidan wondered how he could affect her so. “I certainly do not—at least not with you, I don’t,” she snapped, her anger rising. But her anger was aimed at herself, not Justin.
“And what happens if we’re also denied a divorce?”
“Then I suppose we’re stuck with one another, as unappealing as it may seem.”
His pride suffered the effects of her priggish slam, for she’d sounded as though no woman with a modicum of intelligence would want to be saddled with the likes of him; Justin smiled coldly. “Unappealing?” he asked. “Are you certain about that, Aidan?”
Catching his look, which stated she hadn’t thought so last night, Aidan instantly dropped her gaze from his. He didn’t have to remind her of it! she fumed silently, embarrassed by the memory.
“I’m afraid stuck is exactly what we’ll be, dear wife,” he said harshly, his ego not yet recovered. “If our Queen said she would not support an annulment, do you think she’d turn around and support a divorce and the resulting scandal? I sincerely doubt it. Since Victoria frowns upon the dissolution of our vows, neither the church nor the courts are likely to go against her wishes, no matter what form our personal requests may take. However, I shall try my damnedest to see what can be done to rid ourselves of each other.”
Still unable to look at him, she asked, “What happens if we can’t find a way out of this?”
“There is always a way out, sweet Aidan. But I doubt either of us has the nerve to choose it.”
Aidan’s gaze snapped to his face. “Surely you’re not suggesting … You must be insane!”
“I’ve not yet come to the limits of my sanity. However, if we find we cannot abide one another, we can always agree to a duel. Pistols at ten paces, perhaps?”
Aidan glared at him. Having fired a pistol only twice, she certainly didn’t consider herself an expert marksman. Yet, he was. “That would still be tantamount to murder.”
“Yours or mine, love?” he questioned, chuckling, knowing precisely who the victor would be.
“You’d best watch your step, sir,” she said haughtily. “You may be far better with a pistol than I, but a woman has been instructed on the usage of certain leaves and berries. Of course, their application is intended for medicinal purposes in order to cure whatever ails the members of her family. If they are mixed incorrectly or if a dash of something extra is added, however, the concoction could prove quite lethal.”
He found himself intrigued with their game of wits. Where he was straightforward, she was equally so. Unlike other women, there seemed to be no need to deny her true feelings, masking them with false-hearted modesty, and he admired her for it. “Then shall we call a truce?” he asked, eyeing her with a new respect.
Aidan smiled. “A truce is welcome, sir. But I believe it shall be better served if you were to allow me to return to Lord and Lady Manley’s. That way, if we were to break our agreement, we would be less likely to commit the act to which you’ve alluded. As you have said, neither of us has the courage to follow through on it now. However, given time, we may gladly use any means available to us to divest ourselves of the other.”
Dancing silver eyes appraised her. “Although I may agree with your assessment of the situation, I will have to deny your request.” He noted her instant look of rebellion. “There has already been enough talk among our peers. To quiet the gossips, I think it is best we reside under the same roof. At least the rumblings on that particular issue will be laid to rest. As a result, we’ll be able to put our energies toward more important things, like securing our liberation, instead of wasting our time fending off the bevy of questions that are certain to greet us.”
Aidan wondered why he wasn’t bent on sending her back to Warfield Manor. “Then I assume you want me to stay in London.”
“I do,” Justin stated, “merely because I don’t want to be bothered with the whispered speculations as to why you are at Warfield Manor and not at Westover House.”
Relieved to hear he was against imprisoning her at his estate, Aidan still hoped she could negotiate as much freedom for herself as possible. “I will do as you’ve asked, on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“That I am allowed to lead a separate life, free from your edicts. I have my own circle of friends, as you have yours. I’m certain neither of us wishes to be encumbered with the other when we have the opportunity to attend a dinner party or the like, especially if one of us is not particularly fond of the company we shall be made to keep.”
Justin perused her a long moment. “I will allow you to have your freedom in that respect, but only up to a certain point.”
“What point?”
“The point where your actions might start the tongues to wagging again. If you’ll agree to conduct yourself in such a manner that won’t cause me any embarrassment, I shall allow you to travel in whatever social circle you wish. But remember, Aidan, should you manage to generate a stir of any kind, I will be forced to call off our agreement. Understood?” He saw her nod. “And should our request for a divorce be denied, remember, love, one day I shall want an heir. It’s best you realize we may not be separated forever. If and when that time comes, I shall expect my bride to be unsoiled. Any relationships you might entertain with the male gender had best be strictly platonic. I won’t be very understanding if I discover ot
herwise.”
An incensed Aidan gaped at him. How dare he imply she was a woman of loose moral character! Before he started casting stones, perhaps he should first look to himself. If anyone were inclined to be unfaithful in this farce of a marriage, she was certain it would be Justin, not her.
Noting her accusing look, Justin chuckled. “Although I’ve been tempted, I’ve not yet broken my vows, sweet.”
“I care little what you do or with whom you do it!” she retorted, then wondered if she spoke the truth.
“But I care a great deal about what you do,” he responded, the tone of his voice sounding ominous. “I’ll not be made a laughingstock by you or any woman. Least of all do I want to hear the gossips spreading the news that the notorious Duke of Westover has been cuckolded by some limp-kneed milquetoast like George Edmonds. So, love, be careful you don’t do anything that might be considered the least bit improper. You’ll regret it if you do.” Justin rose from his chair and tossed his newspaper on top of his untouched plate of food. His eyes caught sight of her left hand, which lay upon the table. “Where, madam, is your wedding ring?” he asked, having just noticed it was missing from her finger.
Aidan felt her stomach jump; her heart leapt into her throat. Dear God, the ring! she thought. Her mind raced, wondering what she should say. “I’ve put it in a safe place,” she countered quickly, praying her lie would not be exposed. With luck, she’d be able to visit the jeweler and buy the thing back, Justin none the wiser. But without funds, Aidan thought the prospect of doing so looked dim.
“I thought, my dear bride,” Justin said, regaining her attention, “I told you never to take it off.”
Was he going to force her to wear it? Quickly Aidan hoped to dissuade him of any such thought. “I may have many faults, sir, but hypocrisy is not one of them. The significance of a wedding ring means far more to me than some bauble to display on my hand. It was given in anger, not love, so I will not wear it.”
Justin gazed at her a long, assessing moment. “The ring is to do with as you wish. But, remember, Aidan, your body is not. Disobey me on that accord and you’ll pay dearly.” He shoved his chair against the table, rattling the tableware. “I now bid you good day.”
Aidan stared after him as his long strides carried him from the room. For a man who’d stated he had no desire to be saddled with her, she thought he’d certainly acted unduly possessive. She ruminated over Justin’s words and finally decided he cared nothing for her, personally. It was her untarnished reputation, as well as her unsullied body that held itself uppermost in his mind.
The memory of her parents’ shared joy filled her, and she lamented anew over not being blessed with a loving mate. Pushing herself away from the table, she rose and walked through the open French doors onto the terrace, above the perfectly manicured gardens. A profusion of sunlight danced off the velvet-soft rosebushes lining the pathways that wound themselves toward a high stone wall. Whereas once she would have enjoyed such a display, she now felt immune to its glory.
Dark thoughts suddenly crossed her mind as her anger rose anew. If she weren’t such a coward, she’d throw his words back into his face. Cuckold, indeed! she seethed inwardly, wishing she were the type of woman who could easily and readily have an affair behind her husband’s back. But Aidan realized she wasn’t that sort of woman. Not because she feared Justin’s wrath. No, it was her moral values, those which her father—and her mother—had instilled in her from birth, and they prevented such decadent behavior.
Yet, if she were to remain trapped in a loveless marriage, she considered whether she’d be any different from the scores of women who, under similar circumstances, were engaged in adulterous affairs. Although, at this point in time, she still was unable to condone such liaisons, she thought she understood how they had come about. Loneliness and despair could make even the most pious fall from grace. Of that she was certain.
Knowing she was far from godly, especially when her father had implied she possessed a streak of the devil in her, Aidan sighed. If only she hadn’t been so impetuous, so headstrong, so rebellious … No, she had to stop worrying over the past and learn to put her faith in Justin, believing somehow he could find a way to absolve them of their marriage vows. Yet she found she couldn’t help wonder what would happen if they remained trapped.
She thought about her new husband and had to admit he was indeed a fine catch. He was wealthy, extremely good-looking, held a lofty title, and when he wanted to be, was quite charming. Plus, he was vitally masculine and sensual, she conceded.
A sudden feeling of breathlessness overtook her as an image of last night’s encounter between Justin and herself clearly etched itself in her mind; Aidan blushed profusely, embarrassed by her remembered wantonness. She could easily blame her lack of inhibition on the drink, but she wondered if she would have actually held back, even without the brandy.
In truth, Justin intrigued her, while at the same time, he frightened her. Never before had she lost her sense of self, her ability to control her emotions with a man—not until Justin Warfield had come into her life. And despite his many sins—especially his unfeeling treatment of Dr. Brenner’s orphans—she held an unexplainable fascination for him. It was, she imagined, the same dizzying sort of attraction most women suffered when he was near. But she realized she had to somehow break his spell. Otherwise, she’d be lost.
Separate lives, she thought, encouraged by the concept, certain the greater the distance kept between them, the better for all concerned. Fortunately he’d granted her that one request: he’d go his way; she, hers. But the agreement was conditional. To keep herself as far from him as possible, she needed to be very careful in what she said and did. By being on her best behavior, she could become the epitome of what London society deemed a true lady. Without censure from her peers, surely her husband would find no fault with her. At least, she hoped not.
Resolved to the fact that her fate lay upon her own shoulders, Aidan turned and made her way back into the morning room, where she sat at the table. Surprisingly, she discovered she was famished. Her mood had lightened considerably, and amazingly, her headache was cured. With luck, she would soon be a divorced woman, no longer under anyone’s control. Praying it would be so, Aidan smiled at the prospect. Then, strangely, an odd little ache centered itself near her heart. Denying its meaning, she quickly attributed it to the aftereffects of last night’s brandy.
By eight o’clock that evening, Aidan found herself comfortably situated in her new room, which was decorated in soft blues and light cream colors. By choice, it was located far down the hallway from Justin’s. If she could have picked a more distant place, she would have. But her next option had been the window ledge. Since she didn’t particularly relish perching like a pigeon on the sill, she’d opted for the last bedroom in a line of ten which ran along the third-floor corridor.
With her possessions having arrived earlier in the day, her maid along with them, Aidan now sat at the dressing table while Penny carefully wove the wealth of coppery locks into an intricate style atop her mistress’s head, adorning it with deep pink rosebuds.
“I’ve missed having your help,” Aidan said, viewing Penny through the mirror, smiling. “You have such magical hands.”
The moment the words left her mouth, Aidan wished she hadn’t said them. Reminders of this morning and last night flashed through her mind—Justin’s gentle fingers working their sorcery on her, his masterful lips taking possession of hers—and an unbearable heat instantly rose throughout her body.
“Are you feelin’ all right?” Penny asked, her eyes surveying her mistress in the mirror. “You look like you got a ragin’ fever.”
“I’m fine,” Aidan snapped, angered by her lack of control. She rose from the small stool where she sat in front of the mirror. “Help me into my dress, Penny. I’m late.”
“If you be comin’ down with somethin’, you shouldn’t be goin’ out,” Penny said, assisting her mistress into the rose-colored sat
in gown trimmed with black Brussels lace. “His Grace wouldn’t be too happy if you were to up and die on him.”
Aidan laughed. “At this point, Penny, I believe he’d be ecstatic if I did.” She noted her maid’s surprised look. “Never mind. Just do me up so I can be on my way.”
With the last tiny button slipped through its hole, Aidan turned in front of the mirror, surveying herself. Satisfied with her appearance, she draped a black lace shawl over her arms and, with her fan in hand, headed for the door. “Don’t wait up for me,” she said to her maid. “I’ll be out until the early hours.”
As she traversed the hall, striking out toward the stairs, Aidan prayed she wouldn’t meet up with Justin, but her hopes were quickly dashed.
With his hip edged onto the marble balustrade, his shoulder leaning against a marble column, his arms crossed over his solid chest, he’d obviously been awaiting her. “Ah, you are ready at last.” He rose to his feet. “Shall we go?”
Surprisingly, Aidan’s step hadn’t faltered. “Go?” she questioned, watching as he extended his arm, offering to escort her. “Perhaps I missed something, but I hadn’t realized we were going anywhere, least of all together.”
“Unless you had originally planned to walk to your destination, I thought I might offer to drop you off wherever it is you’re headed. Potts and the carriage are awaiting us. Of course, the choice is yours.” When she did not move, he shrugged and his arm fell to his side. “It’ll be your feet that suffer, not mine,” he called over his shoulder as he descended the stairs, heading toward the foyer and the door.
Aidan watched his retreating back. She’d never once considered how she might get herself to the Staffords’, where she intended to meet David and Eugenia. If she’d thought of it earlier, she could have asked them to stop by for her. As she now saw it, she had a choice. It was either walk or ride with Justin.
“Wait!” she called, hiking her skirts and rushing down the stairs after him, for she didn’t particularly like the thought of trekking across London alone at night.
A Heart So Innocent Page 18