Then her own laughter chimed forth, her eyes sparkling with merriment. Seeing her thus, he felt a strange sort of tenderness well up inside him. Never would he have imagined his spoiled, headstrong wife devoting her time to a passel of homeless waifs, assuming that’s what they were. Obviously there were a lot of things he didn’t know about Aidan. Nor about himself, he decided, remembering his fury upon hearing she’d met up with a man.
“Sir,” Dr. Brenner addressed his visitor frostily. “Mrs. Hampstead said you wanted to see me.”
His eyes still on Aidan, Justin responded, “I do, sir.” Another burst of laughter filled the air, and the young duke smiled again.
Noting Westover’s reaction, Dr. Brenner decided to take advantage of it. “Our Miss Prescott is very good with the children,” he stated, and Justin finally looked at him.
“Miss Prescott?” he asked.
“Yes. She’s been a godsend to us all. She’s given much of herself—her time, her money. She buys the children clothes, medicine, and whatever else is needed. In fact, they would be out on the streets now if she hadn’t intervened on my behalf and negotiated a six-month lease with your business agent. But six months will go very quickly, sir. By then we’ll be in the dead of winter. With your having doubled the rent, I doubt I can raise the funds again. Throwing children out into the cold is merciless, sir. Positively merciless.”
Justin frowned. “Dr. Brenner, I believe we have some very important business to discuss.”
“If you’ve come to withdraw the present contract, I shall resist your efforts in whatever way I can.”
“On the contrary, sir. I’ve come to make you an offer that will benefit us both,” Justin said, leading Dr. Brenner away from the door before Aidan overheard them. “First of all, my visit here must remain a guarded secret. No one is to know about it, except Mrs. Hampstead. Especially not your Miss Prescott. In return, I shall allow you to stay here rent-free for as long as you wish. The place is in extreme disrepair, so I want you to make a list of what needs the greatest attention. Obviously, the roof leaks,” he said, his eyes scanning the ceiling. “It shall be replaced immediately. The rest will be done in due time. Also, there’s a young lad by the name of Tim who lives somewhere on the streets near here. I’d like for you to take him in, making certain he receives a good education. My man will bring him to you shortly. If at all possible, keep the tyke away from Miss Prescott.” Justin slipped some bills from his wallet. “This should help with your funding,” he stated, handing them over to his tenant. “Now, are there any questions?”
Recovering from his shock, Dr. Brenner snapped his jaw shut. “Only one. Why is it so imperative that Miss Prescott not know all this?”
“Because, my good man, your Miss Prescott happens to me my duchess. She believes I’m the most ignoble beast she’s ever met in her life. I certainly wouldn’t want to change her viewpoint about my flawed character—at least, not yet,” Justin said, chuckling. “If you can give me your word she’ll never learn of my involvement in this and if you do what I’ve asked about Tim, then I’ll gladly fulfill my promises to you.”
Dr. Brenner weighed the request to keep Miss Prescott ignorant of the duke’s benevolence against the needs of his wards, and he decided very quickly there was no contest. “I’ll not say a word. Nor will Mrs. Hampstead. And Tim will be taken care of for as long as you like. But what should I tell Miss … uh, the duchess if she asks about the refurbishments that are taking place? She’s bound to notice.”
“Tell her the place has been sold to a kindhearted gentleman who has a great deal of compassion for any child who has lost his parents. Whatever the circumstance, the waif needs to feel secure. That’s all she need know.”
“I’ll do as you say.”
“Good. Then I shall be on my way.”
The men shook hands, and Justin descended the stairs. Within a short while, a petulant Tim, his pockets jangling with new coins, was handed over to Dr. Brenner’s care, with orders to behave himself. Knowing the duke would most likely whop him one should he disobey, Tim decided he’d play the part of a young gentleman—for a while, at least.
With the lad safely off the streets, Justin set a course for Mr. Dawson’s. But first he had Potts drive by several of his properties that were supposedly little more than vacant lots. When he discovered the buildings still stood, Justin’s eyes turned cold as slate.
Dawson turned the color of chalk the instant Justin confronted him. With the threat of prosecution if Dawson didn’t repay the skimmed monies immediately, Justin dismissed the man from his employ. His books in hand, the young duke headed back to Westover House, his thoughts on his violet-eyed wife once more.
An enigma, she was, and Justin found her perplexities to be extremely intriguing. Spoiled and headstrong, she flouted propriety, caring little what her peers might think. Yet, at the same time, she gave most benevolently to those who were less fortunate than herself. He knew of no woman like her.
Thinking of his crested ring, he chuckled. Upon discovering he was the owner of the old building, she’d probably been extremely delighted to pawn the thing and, with its proceeds, pay the rent. He was sort of like a fat greedy cat having been made to swallow his own tail, he thought, smiling to himself.
For now, he didn’t want her to know he’d been unaware of Dawson’s double-dealing. Praise and affection were not what he desired from her. And to paint his character in a color other than what it really was might make her believe him to be a different man. Because of her naiveté, her innocent heart might see his own as caring and loving, not the jaded piece of stone he knew it to be.
No, he didn’t desire her affection. But he did desire her body. Since there was no hope of ever dissolving their marriage, he was determined to have his wife where he wanted her—in his bed! She could continue her charity work, but her other antics would be made to stop. Again Alastair Prescott’s needling voice rebounded through his head, and Justin became even more determined to put a leash on his wife’s rebellious nature. And there was only one way he knew how to do it: seduce her.
11
Aidan stood at the open wardrobe, trying to decide what gown to wear, when a light knock sounded on her bedroom door. “Come in,” she called, believing it was Penny; the panel opened, then closed. “Which dress do you think will look best—the blue silk or the green satin?”
“I liked the one you wore the night we first met,” Justin said, and Aidan spun around, nearly colliding with him. “Here—this one.” He reached around her, his arm brushing her shoulder as he did so, and drew the ivory creation, with its black-lace embellishments, from the wardrobe. “You looked beautiful in it.”
“Wh-what are you doing here?” Aidan asked, just finding her voice, cautiously watching his every move.
“I knocked and you bade me enter.”
He’s too close, she thought, his clean masculine scent filling her nostrils. And why was he looking at her like that? “Well, now you can leave,” she snapped, moving back a step.
Noting her quick retreat, Justin grinned down at her. “I came to talk about the ball you said you wanted to give. But if you’re no longer interested”—he shrugged—”I’ll just let it drop.”
Frowning, Aidan watched as he turned and headed toward the door. “Wait!” Justin pivoted in her direction. “I thought you said it was too late in the season to plan one. What has made you change your mind?”
To seduce his wife, Justin realized he needed a viable reason to approach her without rousing her suspicions. Had she been any other woman, he knew he’d have her melting in his arms within a trice. But Aidan was different.
As wary as she was of him, she would never have fallen for his masculine attempts to lure her into his arms, no matter how seductively overpowering his advances might have been. Therefore, he needed a ruse; one that would throw them together so he might subtly break down her defenses without her suspecting he was doing so. Instantly their discussion on having a ball at Westover Hous
e had come to mind. If he could only get her interested in arranging the large affair, he felt certain it would be the needed catalyst to put his plan into motion and Aidan into his bed.
“You seem disappointed when I told you we couldn’t possibly have one. After some deliberation, I’ve reconsidered. Westover House has not seen a ball in years. I thought it might be nice to throw open its doors and give an elegant party.”
Suspicious of his explanation, Aidan viewed him with a calculating eye, only to discover his silvery gaze reflected what appeared to be complete sincerity. Yet, she remained cautious. “And what if I said I no longer desired to play hostess?” she probed, carefully examining his face.
Justin’s guarded expression did not change. “Then, madam, I shall accede to your wishes. Not having the thing will save me an enormous expense. The decision is yours.”
Not since she was a child had she participated in such a grand affair. When her mother was alive, Atwood House presented one of the finest balls of the season, and Aidan had been asked to help, though it was in the smallest of ways. But upon her mother’s death, the Duke of Atwood had closed his doors, and the ballroom had remained unused from that day to this, the haunting echoes of happier times the only reminders of the gaiety and the laughter it once housed.
Remembering the joy her mother had received from planning such a magnificent affair, sharing in it afterward, Aidan had always wanted to arrange one herself, one that would have made her mother proud. Instantly she realized this might be her only chance. Her next husband—if she ever remarried—might not have the resources for such a grandiose feat. Why not take advantage of it while she had the backing to do so? Besides, Justin had said he was willing to comply. “I shall think about it,” she said, suddenly fearing she would never be able to pull it off.
“When you’ve made your decision, let me know. I’ll be in my study,” he said, then turned and left the room.
Having paced her bedroom floor for an hour, first telling herself there was nothing to it—after all, balls were successfully given nearly every day of the week—then telling herself her efforts were bound to flop—she had absolutely no experience in such areas, other than folding napkins or polishing silver—Aidan had finally made her decision and gone in search of Justin.
The door to his study was slightly ajar, and Aidan sounded a light rap before stepping into the room. Justin glanced up to see her somewhat pensive look. “Have you decided what course you’d like to take?” When she didn’t answer immediately, he subtly searched her face for a clue. If she said no to the ball, he’d have to find another ploy so he could maneuver her into a willing surrender. Suddenly he envisioned her sweet body lying in his large bed, he beside her, his masterful hands exploring her silken flesh. “Well?” he asked, a husky crackle strangely altering his voice.
“I would like to give it a try,” Aidan said, “but I’m not quite certain how to go about it. There’s so much to do.”
The trapped breath in Justin’s lungs released itself on a chuckle. “Perhaps if I were to offer my assistance, we could both set ourselves to getting it done.”
“You’d help me with this?” she asked, surprised.
“Certainly, but only if that’s what you want. I have some free time ahead of me, and whatever it is you need, I’d be willing to do.” He noted her mildly confused look. “You seem a bit puzzled,” he said, smiling at her.
“I am,” she admitted. “For a man who has staunchly prided himself on his bachelorhood, you suddenly seem quite … domesticated.”
“Since it is my money, my home, and my name that are lending themselves to the proceedings, I want it to be the very best it can possibly be. I have no fears that you cannot make it into a work of perfection. I’m simply offering my time and energy to facilitate whatever it is you think needs to be done.”
Aidan wondered if she’d heard him correctly. Yet, nothing in his face revealed he was insincere. Quickly she decided she could not afford to turn down his offer. He was a man of impeccable taste, and Aidan thought his opinion might be of value.
“I accept your offer,” she said, and Justin held back a grin. “Now, I suppose we should decide upon a date.”
Feeling a heady sense of victory racing through his veins, Justin fought to contain his glee. “While you were upstairs, I sorted through all the invitations I—forgive me, madam— we have received for the various upcoming events. There appears to be one opening. It’s on a Friday, three weeks hence.”
“Three weeks!” Aidan cried. “That’s simply not enough time!”
“I don’t see why not.”
“But the caterers are most likely booked.”
“If they are, I’ll enlist some from France. English cuisine is far too bland anyway.”
“But there are the floral arrangements, and the table linens—do we have enough chairs?—the china and silver … the ballroom! The floors should be waxed and polished, the walls and windows cleaned—the chandeliers too! There’s so much to do!”
Justin chuckled. “Aidan, it shall be done. I’ll have part of my staff sent from Warfield Manor and hire competent help to assist them. Don’t get yourself into a dither. Everything will work out fine.”
“Do you think Aunt Patti might come along as well? She’s so knowledgeable on these matters. I know she’d be a great help to me.”
Justin frowned. He hadn’t counted on Aidan asking for his aunt’s assistance. Perhaps it was because he thought the two were still at odds with each other. Obviously, he’d been mistaken.
“I’ll invite her, but sometimes her health prevents her from traveling great distances. A quick jaunt around the countryside in the phaeton is usually all she can manage.”
“She’s really quite good at the reins,” Aidan said without thinking, then realized her mistake. She watched Justin for his reaction.
The chit has escaped!
The words rolled through his mind, and Justin felt like he’d been knocked in the head. Deuce! He’d been gulled by his own aunt, for he was suddenly certain the way of Aidan’s escape had been beneath Aunt Patti’s feet in the phaeton. And the note! Her message had been sent, not merely to inform him of his wife’s running off, but to make certain he’d gone after her! And he’d played right into the old dowager’s hands! Knowing it, Justin chuckled to himself.
He’d wanted to be alone with his wife so he could charm her, but if his aunt was trying to play matchmaker, like he thought she was, then perhaps the woman could give Aidan the needed shove, straight into his arms. With two Warfields working on her, she was bound to succumb.
“I think our first move,” he said, masking his features so Aidan wouldn’t know he’d come upon the truth about his aunt, “is to set the date, decide whom we shall invite, and then have the invitations engraved. We can both make out a list of what we think needs to be done. What one might miss, the other will hopefully catch. Is the date I mentioned acceptable?”
Aidan looked at him a long searching moment. “Do you think we shall still be together then?”
“If you are speaking of the divorce, I have no doubt we will,” he said after carefully choosing his words. “The legalities of such take time. I’ve warned you not to become overly anxious. Or to get your hopes up too high. Instead of fretting about it, I suggest you put your energies toward planning this ball. Being occupied, as you will be, time will go much faster. By then, we might know something.”
“Perhaps we can announce the dissolution of our marriage at our first ball,” she said, then giggled.
“Perhaps,” Justin said, wondering if he were truly that repulsive to her. “But I doubt it would be proper. One doesn’t normally create a scandal at one’s own party.”
“Well, if we were to do so, I’m certain it would not soon be forgotten.”
“Not likely, madam. It would be the talk of London for years to come.”
Her light laughter filled the air, as well as Justin’s ears; yet strangely, it stung his heart. “I suppos
e I should start making my lists,” she said, then turned and made her way toward the door. “Oh!” Justin watched as she twirled toward him, his eyes never having left her. “Thank you,” she breathed, smiling at him. “Let’s hope we can make this the grandest affair London has ever seen. We shall stun them all—a sort of coup, if you will.”
“Let’s hope so, madam,” he replied, returning her captivating smile with one of his own. “Success in this matter is quite important to me,” he said, but it was not the ball to which he referred.
As the days progressed, Justin watched his wife throw herself into the ball’s preparation, which greatly eased his nerves. At least she was no longer out among their peers, creating a stir with her coltish antics, thereby saving him the dissatisfaction of having to listen to the exaggerated accounts, which were immediately followed by mirthful chortles. Satisfied that one part of his plan was working, Justin set himself to the second part: seducing his wife.
True to his word, Justin transferred a large number of his staff from Warfield Manor to Westover House, then hired a small contingent of capable individuals to fill any need that remained. Aunt Patti had sent word she was suffering a minor flare-up with her arthritis, but planned to arrive a week before the event to help Aidan put the final touches on her work.
Upon inspecting the ballroom, Aidan found it simply needed a good cleaning. Having set a crew to doing so, she envisioned the enormous room on the night of the ball. With its three massive crystal chandeliers set aglow, flames dancing merrily on tapered white candles, the gold-and-white decor would glisten like a fairy kingdom. Regally, as though they were king and queen, Justin and she would welcome their guests. Unexpectedly, she discovered the thought excited her. Perhaps it was because she’d begun to enjoy her husband’s company.
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