A Heart So Innocent

by Charlene Cross

  Reserving a chuckle, Justin stopped and slowly turned toward her. “I presume you’ve decided sharing a carriage with me is somewhat less of a hazard than the perils which might greet you if you went afoot.”

  “I imagine the dangers are equal, sir. However, by accepting your offer, I shall reach my destination much faster than if I were to walk. In truth, I don’t relish the idea of being stalked through the streets by some unknown felon. At least with you I have a fair idea of what to expect.”

  Justin’s laughter filled the air. “Madam, with me, you should then know to always expect the unexpected.”

  As he took her arm in his, escorting her down the stairs, Aidan perused him with a feminine eye. His black evening coat spread itself across his broad shoulders and clung to his narrow waist, emphasizing his masculine proportions. Long legs were encased in matching black trousers, hiding what she imagined was hard sinew beneath, while his stark white shirt, cravat, and waistcoat set off his sun-bronzed complexion and silvery eyes. No woman could ever deny wanting to be seen with him, not even herself. He was positively magnificent!

  “Do I pass inspection?” Justin asked, grinning down at her; Aidan’s gaze jumped to his face. “A woman’s opinion is always welcome, sweet.”

  “You’ll do,” she said, trying to hide her embarrassment over being caught ogling him. She saw his raised brow. “But it’s not my opinion which matters. You have a legion of admirers all over London. Ask one of them.”

  “Dear wife,” Justin teased, chuckling, “it’s your opinion I value most. The others see only my title and wealth. You could give a fig for either one. The truth, now.”

  Aidan couldn’t help but smile; Justin felt his heart skip. “You are extremely handsome, sir,” she said, then noticed they’d come down the entire length of stairs without incident. “But I believe you already know that to be fact.”

  “I do,” he admitted a bit conceitedly. “And might I say you are extremely beautiful.”

  Aidan gazed up at him as Pitkin opened the door. Then, as Justin led her out to the awaiting carriage, she thought his sudden teasing manner rather … strange. “You certainly seem to be in a good mood tonight,” she commented.

  “Do I?” he countered, settling next to her on the seat, surprising Aidan. “Let’s hope I remain such by night’s end.”

  Aidan wondered what he’d meant by his statement; then she heard his voice.

  “Where shall I drop you?”

  “The Staffords’ on Park Lane.”

  As the carriage made its way west across London, Aidan and Justin entertained themselves with small talk, coupled with light banter, which set Aidan’s nerves at ease. Finally Potts slowly maneuvered their conveyance through the iron gates and up the short circular drive, stopping at the lighted entry.

  Excited voices streamed through the open doorway of Stafford House, a conclave of boisterous activity beyond. Men in formal evening attire and women in colorful but elegant dresses, fashioned of expensive silks and satins, formed a line outside the brightly lit place. Each couple paused momentarily as they were inspected by a liveried footman, then allowed to join the throng inside.

  For a brief moment Aidan wondered what sort of greeting she might receive tonight; then she watched Justin rise and step from the carriage. “Thank you,” she said as he offered her his strong hand, helping her alight. “I shall find a ride back with Lord and Lady Manley.”

  “No need,” he said, looping her arm through his, leading her up the steps toward the front door.

  Aidan frowned, then tried to remove her hand, but Justin held it tight against his sleeve. “I believe I’m capable of seeing myself through the door,” she whispered heatedly, not wanting anyone to overhear.

  “I’m certain you can. But since we are both going inside, I merely thought to escort you. I have no reservations about playing the part of attentive husband—at least for the time being.”

  Aidan’s feet came to an abrupt halt, which stopped Justin’s forward motion as well. While the Duke of Westover smiled and nodded to several couples, motioning them around his wife and himself, Aidan glared up at him. “You had intended to come to the Staffords’ all along, hadn’t you?”

  “I did,” he admitted, pulling Aidan over to the side, for a line had formed behind them.

  “You’d agreed to separate lives, but you’ve already gone back on your word,” she accused hotly.

  “I have an invitation to this party.” He retrieved an envelope from his inside coat pocket. “You can’t exactly say I’m an unwelcome guest. By the way, where’s yours?”

  “I don’t have it with me. I imagine it’s at Atwood House.” She saw Justin’s dubious look. “I’ve always been invited to the Staffords’ parties.” His brow arched higher. “I’m telling the truth.”

  “Tsk, tsk, Aidan. You should know that no one gets through the front door at the Staffords’ without one of their specially engraved invitations. How, might I ask, did you propose to do so?”

  “I had planned to explain I’d left it behind by mistake.”

  Just then a man’s voice rose in anger. “I tell you we’ve been invited,” he insisted, frantically searching his pockets again. “I must have left the blasted thing at home.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the towering footman said as he looked down his long nose while blocking the doorway. “Without an invitation, I cannot allow you in. Now, please move aside. You’re holding up the invited guests.”

  “Forgive me, dearest,” the man said in a defeated tone as he escorted a disappointed-looking young woman back down the steps. “I suppose we should return home and have a look for it.”

  “Sir James!” a man cried, running up the drive, waving an envelope. “You left this behind on the seat.”

  A smiling Sir James patted his coachman’s shoulder, then escorted his wife back up the steps and handed the footman their invitation.

  “You’d never have made it over the threshold,” Justin whispered near Aidan’s ear. “Of course, if you have a mind to, you may share my invitation.” He dangled the envelope in front of her. “Care to join me?”

  Aidan looked at the lone name on the front of the envelope. “You know as well as I do, both our names have to be on it.”

  “Aren’t they?” he asked, looking surprised, then checked the envelope himself. “My mistake.” He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a second envelope. “Ah, I believe we’re in luck,” he said, handing it over to Aidan.

  Looking at the invitation, she noted it was addressed to the Most Noble Duke and Duchess of Westover. She glanced at Justin, weighing whether or not she should trust him.

  He sighed. “Of course, I could always go it alone.” His thumb and forefinger slipped around the envelope, but Aidan held on to it.

  “You’ll not leave me out here by myself,” she stated, then marched toward the door, a grinning Justin close on her heels. “We are together,” she announced curtly, handing the surprised footman their invitation.

  As they stepped through the doorway of Stafford House, Justin quickly wiped the smile from his face before Aidan noticed it, but a humorous glint remained in his eyes. Then he whisked her up the stairs to the grand ballroom.

  While they waited to be announced, Aidan silently fretted over the questions and innuendo that were certain to come her way. Gazing out over the glittering crowd, she felt her knees start to quake; the sudden urge to run bubbled up inside her. Had Justin not retained a firm grip on her hand, where it rested along his sleeve, she would have hiked her skirts and fled down the steps, out into the night.

  “Smile, sweet,” he whispered close to her ear as the footman stepped forward to make known their presence. “This is being done for your benefit. Head high. That’s right.”

  “I wish I were anywhere but here,” she said through smiling lips.

  “You had your chance to escape at the front door.” He felt the slight tremor of her body as she stood close to him, and he instantly took pity on her.
“Perhaps it would help, sweet, if you were to imagine the entire lot naked,” he said, smiling down at her while gently squeezing her hand. “That way, they’ll seem less formidable.”

  Aidan looked out at her peers, and in her mind’s eye, their clothing fell away. A giggle escaped her throat as dancing violet eyes climbed to Justin’s laughing silver gaze. “It works,” she said, a genuine smile lighting her face.

  Strangely, Justin felt his breath catch somewhere in his chest. Beautiful, he thought. “We’re on,” he said, realizing the footman had already announced them. “Ready?”

  Aidan nodded; then, with a regal tilt of her head and a squaring of her slim shoulders, she walked beside her husband into the ballroom. As before, the crowd seemed to come to a standstill, all eyes centering themselves on the handsome couple. Unexpectedly, a smattering of applause erupted, then spread throughout the room. Confused, Aidan looked to Justin.

  “They’re congratulating us on our marriage,” he said, then inclined his head toward the crowd, acknowledging their salute; Aidan followed suit.

  “A bit hypocritical of us, don’t you think, to be putting on an act like this,” she said, trying to keep her smile in place. “Especially when we’re hoping for a speedy divorce.”

  “Until one is granted, madam, we shall play the part of the happy couple. Doing so will keep the tongues from wagging. We can then lead our separate lives without fear of censure.”

  “Live a lie, you mean,” Aidan said, her smile fading slightly.

  “If that is what it takes to keep the speculation down, we shall do so, and it will be done as convincingly as possible.”

  Aidan looked up at Justin while he guided her deeper into the crowd. A slight frown marred her brow as she wondered if she could play the charade. What difference it made, she did not know, for they were already living a lie. But to pretend to be blissfully married, she doubted she could do it.

  Suddenly the orchestra struck the chords of a waltz, and like the Red Sea, the crowd parted, forming a circle around the large dance floor. Again Aidan heard her peers applaud.

  “I believe they wish for us to begin this dance,” Justin said, and Aidan glanced at the group to see their smiles and nods.

  Then Lord Stafford’s voice came from behind them. “Go on. They’ve been waiting all evening for the two of you to show. Now give them what they want.”

  Like the night at the Rothschilds’, Aidan felt tempted to flee. Sensing her mood, Justin quickly slipped his arm around her waist and whirled her into the open area, expertly gliding her around the floor. “Smile, sweet. They’re watching us.”

  “I don’t feel like smiling,” she snapped while keeping perfect time with his step.

  “You’re defeating the purpose,” he stated, pulling her closer, for her rebellion nettled him. He’d staged this farce for her benefit, and hers alone. He cared little what anyone thought or said about him. But he knew Aidan felt differently. “I’d heard what had happened at the Rothschilds’,” he told her, his head bending close to her ear. To those looking on, the duke and duchess seemed absorbed in an intimate conversation. Several young women, tears glistening in their eyes, fought their way from the crowd, heading in opposite directions, their hopes dashed that they’d ever capture Justin Warfield’s heart, for it obviously belonged to his wife. “If you don’t wish to suffer the bite of their tongues while you go about leading your so-called separate life, then I suggest you play the game!”

  “And what shall they say when we’ve gotten our divorce?” she questioned, mutinous eyes pinpointing him.

  “They may say nothing at all, madam, for we may never be granted our wish.”

  Suddenly the crowd seemed to close in on them, and Aidan noticed their peers had joined them. With a false smile pasted across her face, she viewed the towering man who held her. If she’d only had the good sense to run off to a nunnery, like she’d planned to do in the first place, instead of relying on one man to help her escape the clutches of another, she wouldn’t be trapped in Justin Warfield’s now!

  The music ended, and Justin sailed Aidan off the floor to lead her to a quiet corner, where he deposited her into a vacant chair. “I’ll find us some refreshments,” he stated, then strode off without asking her what she would like.

  Startled by his abruptness, Aidan watched as Justin made his way around the room, stopping several times to speak to someone who’d drawn his attention. From all that had been said and done, he’d seemed as though he genuinely wanted to protect her. Yet she wondered whether his insistence on portraying the happy couple was actually for her benefit. He would certainly be made a laughingstock if the lot were to learn how he’d been “tricked” into marriage, especially when he’d prided his state of bachelorhood as he had. Thinking it was his vanity he was protecting, she viewed him through distrustful eyes until he disappeared into the colorfully dressed gathering; then she decided perhaps she was making too much of it all.

  “Is everything all right?” Eugenia asked, startling Aidan from her dark thoughts.

  A weak smile claimed Aidan’s lips. “As well as can be expected.”

  Eugenia lowered herself into the chair next to Aidan’s. “Where’s Westover? He hasn’t harmed you in any way, has he?”

  “He’s off to get us some refreshments. And no, he hasn’t harmed me. Other than verbal sparring, we’ve managed to keep from each other’s throats. I only wish—”

  Aidan felt a presence and looked up to see a pair of melancholy brown eyes gazing down at her. Instantly she wished she could disappear into the ether, but no magician’s trick could save her, she knew. Their inevitable encounter, which she’d secretly dreaded, had finally come to pass.

  10

  “Why, Aidan?” George Edmonds questioned. “I waited for you—waited two long days at the inn—but you never showed. You and Westover—I don’t understand. I—”

  Abruptly George fell silent, and Aidan realized the man was embarrassed, for they were not alone. As she viewed the forlorn-looking man, she couldn’t help but feel pity for him, especially when she’d assisted in the destruction of his hopes, his dreams. Knowing she had to somehow make amends, she looked to Eugenia. “Lord Edmonds and I need a private moment together,” she said, her eyes pleading with her friend to make up an excuse for her should Justin return and find her gone. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  “I understand,” Eugenia replied, placing her hand on Aidan’s and giving it a light squeeze, wishing Aidan luck.

  Aidan acknowledged her friend’s show of concern with a gentle squeeze in return, then rose from her chair. “If you will allow me a moment, George, I’d like to explain how all this happened.”

  “I think that would be appropriate,” he said formally, offering his arm, and the two made their way through the open French doors, out onto the wide balcony, which stretched the length of the ballroom, and into the moonless night.

  Leading George to a quiet corner where they would not be disturbed, and hopefully not overheard, Aidan wondered what she might say, do, to assuage the man’s hurt pride. Tell the truth and apologize was all that anyone could do, she knew. With gentle words, she planned to explain what had happened and beg his forgiveness for involving him. With luck, he would understand.

  “Do you love him?” George asked the instant they’d found a secluded spot.

  “No, I don’t. George—”

  “Then why did you marry him? Was it his title? His money? Did you find me lacking in those areas?”

  “No, George. I—”

  “Why did you do it, then?”

  “George, please give me a chance to explain,” Aidan pleaded, but he seemed not to hear her.

  “Aidan, you were to be mine—mine,” he said, his arms awkwardly going round her, pulling her close. His chin rested atop her head as he held her to his slim chest; Aidan felt as though she were suffocating. “From the moment I left London, I dreamed of the hour when you would finally become my bride. It seemed to consume my every
waking thought. I couldn’t sleep at night because I was anxious to have you with me. I needed you, Aidan. I need you now. Why did you betray me?”

  Frightened by the intensity of his words, his crushing embrace, Aidan frantically pushed away from George’s chest. “Listen to me,” she whispered harshly, trying without success to break free of his hold. “George, I didn’t betray you. I was forced into marrying Justin.” His arms slackened, and Aidan was able to escape his grasp. Quickly she stepped back.

  “Westover stole you away from me?” George questioned. “I should call him out for his treachery!”

  Realizing the man had not only misunderstood, but was bent on getting himself killed as well, Aidan placed both hands on the sides of George’s face so she might have his undivided attention. “George, hear me out. Justin had nothing to do with our being forced to marry. It was my father.”

  “Your father!”

  “Yes, my father.” She dropped her hands, but George caught them, pressing them to his chest. Aidan paid no attention to their placement, for she felt the information that she had to impart was far more important. “My father had somehow discovered our plan to elope, and enlisted some men to help him stop the marriage. He caught up with Justin and me near the Scottish border. For some perverse reason, he refused to listen to either of us. Perhaps it was because he felt my reputation was at stake,” she offered in way of explanation, not wishing to tell George that she believed Alastair Prescott thought the Duke of Westover to be a far better catch than a mere viscount. “All I know is that he closed his ears to both Justin’s and my pleas and had his men escort us to the nearest marriage agent, forcing us to say our vows.”

  “Couldn’t Westover have stopped it?” George asked accusingly.

  “With at least a half-dozen pistols aimed at my head,” Justin said through the darkness, startling both George and Aidan apart, “I found it rather difficult to do anything at all—except to repeat the words which have linked Aidan and myself as man and wife.” He moved closer to the couple; Aidan felt overpowered by him. “Had there been any way for me to have stopped it, George, I would have,” Justin said, knowing he owed the man an explanation. “I apologize for what happened. But you have to realize that, for better or for worse, Aidan and I are now married. And it would go better for you if you’d simply accept it.”