She also couldn’t believe that he would leave their marriage bed for whores, and his favorite mistress, who seemed to pop up out of nowhere. And the maids who worked for their estate.
She didn’t know what to do with his hatred of her, and the family they had been so excited about. The family, he took his anger out on more often than not. Taking it out on her flesh, so she often bore the scars of his anger, to this day and then when he finished with her, he took it out on their twins.
Those beautiful boys didn’t deserve their fathers hate. To her, they were a product of their unsullied love, of their perfect life she thought they would lead together. To him, it seemed like she had betrayed him and slept with the lowest stable hand she could have, to conceive them.
Which wasn’t true as the twins were a carbon copy of their father. Except that Aidan had her eyes, and Cole had his.
It was painful to dredge up old memories. The man didn’t deserve his thoughts, but he seemed to rule over them, even in death. It seemed Aidan would never escape it.
Aidan rubbed his bearded jaw and sighed. His mother had told him all of this one night during his long recovery after the fight. It haunted him, his father, the memory of him. He was trying to move on, but it seemed to hinder him and hold him back.
He was scarred, shy and lonely. He had tried to talk to people a few times, but he had always been afraid of the way they stared at him, the way they whispered, in not so low tones, that he was the devil, that he was cursed, that he was evil, that he was a beast.
People shied away from him when he came to town, and Aidan never tried to fix it. He didn’t know how. He didn’t want to chase people down to try to talk to them. To explain that he wasn't like his father. But that would simply frighten them more. So he just left it alone. And, he wasn’t sure he could fix what his father had broken so long ago.
It hurt Aidan because he tried to do what he could to help the people. To give what he could to help their village thrive. But it didn’t matter. They didn't see him as the man who helped their village, who gave them all he was able to and made certain they lived happy lives.
People wouldn’t change, no matter that he was the Duke or not. Owned the land they lived on, or not. He sent Cole to town for him to do business, and sit on his seat in Parliament, as Aidan thought he would not be welcomed.
He knew what people said about him, had heard nothing but horrible things for years. He knew that they thought he would prey on the people of the town, and that anytime someone got sick, injured, or had bad luck of any kind, Aidan, was instantly blamed.
Which Aidan thought was completely ridiculous since he had barely even spoken to anyone outside of his household, let alone prey on people, or give them bad luck.
If he was giving anyone luck, it would have been good luck to himself. He and his family deserved a bit of good luck after all the hell they had gone through.
He laughed a sardonic laugh and got up out of bed. He walked to the fireplace and started a new fire, and went to look at the bank of windows.
He opened the curtains and looked outside. It wasn’t quite dawn, but looking at the sky, he knew it would be a cold and rainy day.
It didn’t damper things, he would do what he needed to do, including ride the fence line to check on the livestock, and he had to ride to the village to get a few things for his sisters. As well as what was needed to be done for the godforsaken ball.
It was a most dreaded trip, but his sisters needed a few precious things, as did his mother and they were too afraid of the villagers to go to town. So, it was left to Aidan.
He knew they never asked for much, and he wanted to try to spoil them a little. So, even though every single one of the villagers was frightened of him, and hated him. He would go. For them.
He loved his sisters, and hated that they were so isolated here. Wished they could go to London. Live their life. Find good men, but they hadn't had the best experience with men and Aidan knew it was hard on them. He also knew his mother wanted him to find love, but Aidan knew it wasn’t in the cards for him.
No one could love his face, his scars, or his past. He had the weight of his past on his shoulders and no one wanted to listen to his side of things. Didn't hear his story of anger and pain. So, he didn’t try. He would be the doting uncle someday and have to be all right with it.
He wasn’t all right with it, but he had to make peace with it. Had to be all right with never knowing the love of a woman, her touch, her kindness. It bothered him, but he let it go a long time ago. He knew no one would want to be saddled with the scarred beast that wandered the lands.
It hurt. More than he let on, but he let his dreams go. Knew it wasn’t worth dwelling on. He had too much work to do to dwell on something that would never happen.
Aidan turned from the window and walked to the small walk in closet he had, and pulled on black breeches, a white shirt and a grey waistcoat. He never wore a cravat, he never needed or wanted one.
Cole wore them often, since he was around polite society more, but since Aidan never saw anyone who actually cared about such things, he never saw the reason for it.
He sat and pulled on his Hessians and ran a hand through his shoulder length dark brown hair. He grabbed a leather tie and pulled his hair back into a queue.
He knew they weren’t fashionable, but he didn’t care. His hair helped hide some of the scars on his face.
Looking into the mirror that sat on his dresser, Aidan looked at his reflection. He had green eyes, his nose was straight, but he had a bump on the bridge from a break years ago, his skin was tan, and he had some smile lines around his eyes and mouth. Those were covered a lot by his short beard though. It also seemed to hide the scars there.
Even though some of his beard didn't fully come in where the biggest scar ended on his cheek, he was grateful for the added protection.
What always caught his eye were the scars. The hated reminders of his past.
The long one running from his forehead down the side of his face, and the ones from the whip that his father had only been too happy to place there.
Aidan grimaced, and looked away. He knew the women of the world looked on his scarred face and they didn’t like what they saw.
He was handsome, but no one looked past the scars to his face to actually see him. They only focused on the scars. He had almost gotten up the courage to talk to one of the pretty maids in the village once, and she had looked at him with revulsion and horror.
Since then, Aidan kept his distance. He didn't need the daily reminder that he was hideous to them. To anyone. He grew his hair long to help hide the scars and now sported a short beard.
He hated that look on her face. He would never act on anything, or even speak to another woman again, because seeing her face, the look in her eyes, he knew she wasn’t the only one who felt that way. He was certain that a lot more women looked at him with revulsion and terror.
He knew deep inside that it wasn’t him they were scared of, just the reputation of his father. But, when they looked at him so terrified, it made Aidan wish his life had been different.
He shook his head at the thoughts and walked out of the room and down the stairs.
He had to help Mr. Owens in the stable today before he could start his ride, so he made his way there, hoping against hope that one day, he could finally forget the past, move on to the present, and be able to focus on the future.
He went down to the kitchens and smiled when he saw the old cook, making him a big breakfast like she usually did.
He told her time and time again that he could make it himself, that she didn’t need to worry so much, but she did.
So, he walked to where she was cooking, gave her a kiss on her lined cheek and sat down in his normal place. “Good morning dear Ida. How did you sleep?”
She turned to face him and smiled. “You charming boy you. I slept most well. My old bones give me an ache when it starts to get cold, but I was just fine in my toasty bed. Thank y
ou.”
He laughed. “Why Ida, you can’t be a day older than five and twenty.”
She laughed and turned back to the oven, where she pulled out some freshly baked bread and put it on a plate. She then put two of everything she had prepared and set it on the table in front of him. “Oh, get on with you. Find a girl your own age.”
She winked at him as she said this and he laughed again. The two of them ate quietly and when Aidan was finished, brought his dirty dishes to the sink.
He may be a Duke, but he knew that Ida would box his ears if he didn’t put his dishes away.
He loved that she didn’t treat him like nobility. He certainly never felt like he was better than anyone else. Not living here, and doing chores day in and day out.
Loved that here, he was Aidan. Not the Duke of Ablewood. He was part of the family here, the small one made up of their tiny staff and his own family. He was beyond grateful for it.
She brushed his arm as he went to walk out, “Aidan, you do need to find yourself a girl.”
He laughed, not a happy sound this time, “And who would take this face? I don’t see girls lining up around the corners to talk to me, let alone one who would marry me. It’s not like girls drop from the sky at my feet.”
Ida grimaced. “Dear boy, you are a handsome man, scars and all, and you are the kindest, most generous man around. Find someone to see you for who you are.”
He scowled. “I wish I could Ida, truly. I just don’t think it is in the cards for me. Cole will be the one to marry, and have children. I will be the doting uncle and one day, I will pass the title to his children, or him, whoever comes first.”
Ida sighed and squeezed his hand. “You shouldn’t give up yet dear one. You will find your love. I don’t doubt that for a minute.”
He smiled softly at her. “Thank you, Ida. I hope you are right.” He turned and walked out the door to the stables. He truly hoped there was a woman out there who could love him.
Chapter Two
Rhiannon
London, England Sept, 1812
Rhiannon Forester woke to a dark room. It was barely dawn, and she had no clue why she would be awake so early, but she figured she had a nightmare, since she couldn’t think of what had woken her.
She had a feeling it was because her entire life was changing today. It was both scary, and exhilarating at the same time.
She was nervous about what her life would be like after today. Nothing had been normal since her mother had died, and she had adjusted just fine. She would today as well.
She sat up slowly and pushed the coverlet and blankets off her legs. Her damaged leg was fine for the moment, and she was grateful for the small respite.
Normally, her leg gave her fits of pain all throughout the day, so it was nice to start one like a person normally would.
She lifted her nightgown up to see the scar that ran down her left thigh, to the large one at her knee, and grimaced. She hated that scar and all that it represented.
The pain, the harrowing ordeal they had endured, and how she had lost her parents, one dead from the crash, and one never the same again. She hated that scar.
Every day she missed her mother, missed that she would never hear her voice again, smell her perfume, or feel her arms circling her in a hug. She missed her father and his gentle teasing, his smell of old books, and leather.
Missed what her life would have been like. Didn’t realize how much her life would have changed because of one storm.
Thinking about how she got the scar always hurt, but it was pretty much an everyday occurrence. And today was no different. So, against her will and wishes, the memories came flooding in.
She was 17 years old when her parents wanted to go back to Scotland to visit some of her relatives that lived there, namely her grandmother, aunt, uncle and cousins.
Rhia was excited to see her grandmother. Always was. Her grandmother helped her learn to sew, to cook and to be a lady.
She was a wonderful woman, Emilia Campbell. Rhia couldn’t wait for the journey to be over, so she could eat some of the treats she knew without a doubt, her grandmother had made for them.
Emilia would always make them food, and when they thought they were done eating, there would be sweets and biscuits and other goodies. Rhia always loved her grandmother's food.
She was always happy to be in her grandmother’s kitchen, at her feet learning what she could. Loving that she had that time with her grandmother. Their talks they had and the love they shared.
They made this journey at least once a year, and Rhia could make it in her sleep. This year, they set out a little later in the year than they normally would because her mother had been ill, so they had postponed it.
Rhia had been mad that they had to postpone their journey, longing to get out of the city and away from regular life for a while. She had needed that time with her grandmother, but when mother got sick, Rhia had pushed her anger away, helping tend to her, and not letting the disappointment show on her face.
The journey had begun with happiness, joking and laughing with one another, but by the time they were close to the border, everyone was upset and snapping at each other. Which was unusual. They never fought or got upset with each other.
Her mother was upset with one of the business deals her father had made, and her father was upset her mother wasn’t more supportive. They were also upset that Rhia seemed disinterested in the view outside and more interested in the book she had brought.
She had just wanted to get the journey over with, so bringing a book helped the long hours pass. She snapped back at her parents to let her be. She had wasted enough time that she could have spent with her aging grandmother, and she didn’t want to waste more.
Her mother had been taken aback, and Rhia had felt horrid about what she had said. She knew that everyone was on edge, and she had apologized to her mother for her comments.
Everyone had gone silent after that, each person looking out a different window and contemplating their anger, and the fights they had. Her mother had looked at her father and apologized as well, and Rhia was grateful the unusual fighting was done.
The weather was awful this time around, and by the time they set out on the second day of traveling, it seemed like the rain would never stop pouring from the sky.
The roads were slick and the going was slow and treacherous. The carriage had gotten stuck once in a deep rut, and the women had to get out of the carriage while her father, two of their footmen, and the driver had gotten it free from where it had been stuck fast.
That should have been their first clue to turn around, and wait until the skies stopped dumping the water down in sheets. But they hadn't stopped. Hadn't turned back.
They had gotten past a small village that Rhia couldn’t even name, when a fork of lightning came out of the clouds, and struck a tree on the hill a short way away from their carriage. It lit up the darkness with a vibrant glow and it made Rhia jump, startled that it had been so close to their carriage.
With the wind whipping the trees and bushes around, the lightning flashing in the sky and thunder booming through clouds, the horses, who were struggling with nervousness as it was, spooked. Making the carriage tilt and sway. Back and forth, the wetness from the rain not letting the wheels gain any purchase.
Rhia was terrified, screaming and trying hard to not let go of her mother’s hand.
Inside the carriage, it bounced and surged hard to the left, and then hard to the right, throwing her across the seat into her mother, cracking her head hard against the corner of the window on the next pass, and she felt wet warmth sliding down her cheek.
The pain in her head was intense, and Rhia groaned trying to hold a shaking hand to her bleeding head. Screaming again when the carriage bumped and swayed.
Her parents held onto each other, her mother had blood running down from her nose, and her father had a large goose egg forming on his head. They were trying valiantly to find something to hold onto, to give
them purchase in the crash, but nothing was working for any of them. Rhia tried wedging herself in a corner, she didn’t want to get hurt again. It didn’t seem to help. She felt as if she was a rag doll, her body not under her control as she was thrown this way and that across the seats.
She remembered her mother’s screams, her father yelling, trying to hold on to anything that would keep them stable. The coachman yelling at the team of horses, and then him yelling in pain as the harnessed horses broke away from the carriage. She saw two shapes as the footmen her father hired, jumped off the coach and landed on the road behind them.
The carriage slid in the mud down an incline and gained speed, and a wheel broke against a rock and flipped it on its side. It hit a huge tree at the bottom of the incline with a resounding crash.
The carriage broke in two, and Rhia tumbled out of her side onto a sharp branch from the tree, that pierced completely through her thigh, near her knee and held her fast to the ground. She heard a sickening crunch, and she felt white hot pain.
She screamed in agony. Her head was still bleeding, the blood running into her eyes, and she finally looked down to see the branch covered in blood and gore, sticking all the way through her leg. The end was pointed and sharper than it looked, seeing as it slid through her leg like a hot knife would with butter.
Seeing her leg with the bloody branch sticking all the way through it, and the way her leg was twisted strangely, was too much, and the world went black around her.
When she woke, she was in a strange house, with people crowding all around her.
She was terrified of all the strange men and women staring down at her, and hated feeling so small. She was in so much pain and scared of what was going to happen to her.
The Duke Who Loved Me Page 4