Kitabı oku: «Regency Rogues: Wicked Seduction», sayfa 7

Chapter Ten

The maid woke Connie early with a breakfast tray. ‘Mr Aaron said that he will meet you in the stable yard at eight, Lady Constance.’

Connie considered sending the maid back with an excuse and then rapidly decided against it. She would not be cowardly and avoid him. At some point today she would have to face him so she might as well get it over with. Besides, she was desperate to get out in the fresh air again and did not want to squander the opportunity to go riding. He might never ask her again and she was not convinced that it was an activity that she would be allowed to do alone. She ate quickly, allowed the maid to pin her hair to within an inch of its life and then donned her favourite forest-green riding habit before she hurried outside.

Aaron was waiting for her in the stable yard as promised, a lively looking chestnut mare already saddled next to his horse. She watched his eyes scan the entire length of her body before he smiled lazily and wished her a good morning. He was probably thinking how gigantic she looked. The habit was cut to show off her willowy figure to its best advantage, but whilst she did like the way it made her appear to have curves, it also emphasised her extreme height. Her father had been most critical of the outfit, claiming that in it she appeared to be all legs and no bosom and that no man wants to be seen riding with a giraffe. Connie would not lower herself to crouching beneath the folds of the skirt in order to look more feminine. She already knew that he did not find her the least bit attractive, so why bother? Theirs was a temporary marriage, thank goodness. Nothing more. Defiant pride made her smile back with equal cheerfulness and Connie deliberately pulled herself up to her full height as she strode purposefully towards her horse.

He looked a little sheepish then, but fortunately made no mention of her former fiancé. ‘I thought that we might have a side saddle, but alas we do not. Ardleigh Manor has been a house of solely men for too many years.’

A robust and proper gentleman’s saddle was strapped on the mare’s back and Connie blinked at it covetously. She had always wanted to ride astride. It always appeared to be so much more fun. On a side saddle she could never truly gallop fast and always had to be conscious of her balance and her ladylike posture. Riding astride was more daring, and thus far more appealing, however, for appearance’s sake, she regarded the thing with distaste. ‘I am sure that I can manage well enough.’

A groom scrambled forward with a riding block, but Aaron shooed him away. With a smug grin he cupped his hands so that he could bolster her foot. Connie purposefully ignored it. At times, there was great benefit in being so tall. One of them was that she certainly did not need anyone’s help to get on a horse, especially his. Boldly, she placed one foot in the stirrup and then hoisted herself on to the back of the horse. Only once she was sat astride the saddle did the limitations of the tight riding habit present itself. The skirt had been designed to have as little bunched fabric as possible when she was perched on a side saddle. Therefore, there was precious little extra fabric to accommodate the width of her splayed legs on the top of the animal. The hem of the skirt had risen in protest, giving her new husband an excellent view of her calves, whilst the top of the skirt was stretched tight across her thighs and bottom. Desperately she tried to wiggle it down to no avail.

‘Allow me.’

To Connie’s complete consternation, Aaron reached up and manoeuvred the heavy fabric around her thighs so that he could cover the majority of her modesty. This operation took much longer than Connie felt was necessary and was made worse by the fact that she could feel the heat of his gloveless hands, all the way through the layers of skirt and petticoat, until an imprint of them was seared on to her very skin. Her ankles were still on full display to the world when he stepped back and grinned knowingly. At a loss of what else to do, and still feeling shaken by the effect of his touch, Connie thrust her nose in the air and stared out over the fields beyond.

Aaron mounted his horse quickly and the pair of them set off at a sedate pace out of the yard and up a well-worn path away from the house. Connie had to concede that even now, at the start of winter when all was at its bleakest, the woodland and meadow surrounding the estate was quite lovely. Aaron pointed out the occasional feature or entertained her with stories about scrapes he had got into as a boy. By the time they crested a small hill, Connie’s horse was sufficiently warmed up and she was aching to feel the wind on her face.

‘I will race you to that copse of trees.’ It might not be ladylike, but it was hardly as if her father was ever likely to get wind of it and, even if he did, it really was none of his business any longer. There were some benefits to the estrangement after all. That thought made her feel much better, so she crouched low over the horse’s neck and nudged him to go faster still. It felt marvellous.

Before Aaron was prepared, she had raced off ahead of him, a broad smile on her face and her body moving gracefully in the saddle as if she had been born to ride. He chivvied his own horse into a gallop, holding the beast back so that he could keep a short distance between them. In his mind he rationalised this behaviour as gentlemanly. It would make her happy to win. But in truth, from that position he could also enjoy the spectacular sight of her rounded bottom bouncing in the saddle, snugly encased in green velvet.

And he had thought that she looked splendid when he had first spied her in that outrageously bold riding habit. It had fitted her like a glove, highlighting the womanly curve of her trim waist where it met her hips. From there downwards was a slim column of green that went on and on until it hit the floor. The woman had legs that went on for ever. After catching an illicit glimpse of the shape of those magnificent legs last night, he had spent a great deal of time thinking about them. Before he had inevitably woken himself up screaming, he was certain that he had dreamt about them, too. He had certainly drifted off to sleep, wondering what it might feel like to run his fingers through all of that hair when he should have been thinking about how to salvage the estate. Connie had a way of permeating a great many of his thoughts since they had been thrust together. Even now. His morning rides had been a place to strategise about the future of Ardleigh Manor or contemplate his guilt—but there would be no strategising or guilt today. His new wife was too much of a distraction.

By the time they reached the trees they were both a little breathless. The ridiculously small hat that she had pinned on the top of her tightly bound hair was slightly askew, several copper tendrils had sprung free of their pins and were beginning to curl in the damp morning air. Combined with the victorious grin that lit up her eyes, the overall effect was simply stunning. It fair took his breath away.

What did not make any sense to Aaron was the fact that she had agreed to marry that wastrel Deal purely because he had asked her. That little snippet she had inadvertently let slip had occupied his thoughts a great deal last night and he still could not understand why she would sell herself so short this morning. Surely other men had asked? Connie had caused quite a stir when she had first come out, he remembered. Every young buck had been positively gushing about how glorious she was. One or two compared her poetically to a Titian painting but, he recalled with sudden clarity, when he had first seen her all those years ago he had thought that she was more like Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, rising proudly out of a giant clam shell, red hair tumbling carelessly over her milky-white shoulders and looking positively ripe for seducing.

How was is possible that five years later such a fine specimen of womanhood was still on the marriage mart? Unless she had frightened all potential suitors off with her feigned haughtiness and uninterest. And it was feigned, he now knew. Connie used it as a disguise in much the same way he used his charm. He had seen her reach for the emotion last night when she had realised that her betrothal to Deal had been nothing more than a way of perpetuating the feud. He had watched her transform her features from anguish into indifference and had wanted to go to her and hold her, and tell her that she did not have to wear her mask with him. Except if he did that then she might expect him to do the same—a preposterous thought that he could never entertain. He had left then, knowing that it would be simpler if they both played the characters that made them feel safest, and had regretted it instantly.

The smiling creature riding next to him appeared not to be wearing her mask at this moment. Connie looked relaxed and happy to be outside. Aaron let her gloat about her victory as they rode around the trees to the empty fields behind, secretly pleased that he had made her happy with such a simple act.

‘Why are your crops not planted?’ she asked after a minute, taking in the acres and acres of nothingness.

‘A very good question, Connie, and one that I cannot answer. I suspect my father’s estate manager is an idiot.’

‘I do not know a great deal about farming, but surely if the man is an idiot your father should dismiss him and hire someone more competent?’

Aaron gave her a wry smile. If only things were that simple. ‘Unfortunately, my father will not hear a bad word against the fellow. Mr Thomas is credited with orchestrating the purchase of land next to your father’s estate. Therefore, he is a genius according to my father.’

‘Because nothing is more important than the feud.’ She understood instantly and gazed off into the distance. ‘My own father is much the same. His main priority always has been the feud, too. Nothing else matters quite so much. Not peace or harmony and definitely not daughters.’

Her face had clouded a little and he realised that she was thinking about her betrothal again, only this morning she was inclined to be more reasonable about it. That was another thing he had noticed about her. Her temper burned hot, but quickly disappeared. She did not hold a grudge very well and faced her own shortcomings head on. He envied that.

‘I did think that you knew that Deal’s land borders ours. I wasn’t trying to be cruel last night, Connie.’

She brushed his apology away with a swat of her green-gloved hand. ‘I should have realised it myself. The signs were there. Why else would a man like Deal agree to marry me? I am quite annoyed that it never occurred to me sooner.’ But she had been so desperate to be a wife and a mother that she had ignored her better judgement, preferring to fool herself into believing he might miraculously grow to love her one day. As if a beautiful man like that would find something attractive in a gangly, ginger-haired giant. Connie doubted she would ever forget the look of disgust that had passed across her fiancé’s golden features when he had explained why he had agreed to the betrothal. If ever she had needed clarification of how unappealing she was as a woman, then that had been it. Yet Aaron’s words had also wounded. Perhaps more so. What sort of a man would willingly want to bed a shrew like you? She would spare him that ordeal because he had been honourable in marrying her. They rode in silence a little longer, side by side, neither looking at the other.

‘For what it’s worth,’ he suddenly blurted with an irritated expression on his handsome face, ‘I am glad that you never married Deal.’

Connie stared resolutely ahead because she did not want him to see how much talking about it hurt. ‘I am sure you are. It would have been very inconvenient if my father’s plan had succeeded. You would be surrounded by Stuarts and my father would have the upper hand once again.’

‘Stop being daft, Connie!’

She could feel herself bristle at his harsh tone and was about to give him a set down when he surprised her.

‘I do not give two farthings if this estate is positively ringed by Stuarts. I keep telling you that the silly feud needs to stop—and that I refuse to play any part of it. What I meant was Deal is a toad of a man. He’s a gambling, narcissistic lecher. The man brags about his many conquests at White’s and shows no regard or respect for the poor women he has seduced. I have always found him to be quite odious. You deserve better than that, Connie. And it irritates me to hear you sell yourself short by claiming you agreed to marry him simply because he asked.’

He looked irritated and that irritation on her behalf was very flattering. In case he saw that, she encouraged her horse to trot ahead of his before she allowed herself a little smile. She could not remember another man, save her brother, ever coming to her defence before. A little part of her heart rejoiced at that.

They rounded another copse of trees and the sight beyond brought Connie up short.

Redbridge House.

She could see it plainly in the distance, so near that she could just about make out the wisps of smoke coming out of the four large chimneys on its roof. If all of the fires were lit, then that could only mean one thing. Her family were in residence. The wave of longing was so swift and sudden that she could not hide it as he pulled his horse up alongside.

‘You miss your family.’

‘I miss my mother and my brother.’ There was no point denying that. She did not care one whit about her spiteful, critical father.

‘Perhaps you should write to them? I am sure that they would be glad to hear from you.’

It occurred to Connie then that Aaron was not keeping tabs on her, else he would have known that she had already tried. ‘Then you do not know my father. I sent a letter a few days ago. It came back unopened.’

‘Your brother and mother might think differently. Perhaps you should write to one of them.’

Connie turned her horse abruptly away from the painful view. ‘I am sure my father would ensure that any letters would be intercepted before they got to the rest of my family. You were there, Aaron, when he said that I was dead to him. The man never backs down.’ Once again she saw a flash of pity in his eyes and decided to nip it in the bud. ‘Let us not talk about it any more. Discussing it is pointless and will only serve to spoil my ride.’

They meandered slowly back towards Ardleigh Manor, the mood somewhat more sombre than he had been. Aaron said little, which she was grateful for, and was apparently deep in thought. Two stable lads intercepted them in the yard and led the horses away and Aaron offered her his arm as they walked back towards the house. In the spirit of their awkward truce, she took it, trying not to enjoy the solid feel of him beneath her hand or remember how that arm had once held her with such passion.

The sound of another horse arriving behind them had them both turning. ‘That is Mr Thomas,’ Aaron said with a mixture of urgency tinged with disgust. He abruptly disentangled her arm from his. ‘If you will excuse me, Connie, I really need to talk to him.’

He practically sprinted back towards the stable yard, leaving Connie rooted to the spot. Mr Thomas’s eyes met and locked with hers. For an instant he appeared startled, then he inclined his head politely before turning his full attention back to Aaron as if nothing untoward was going on at all.

Except it was. Connie had seen Mr Thomas before. Many times. The last time had been a little over a fortnight ago, in her father’s study.

Chapter Eleven

Connie had no idea how to react or what to do, so she went inside and quickly changed, wrapping herself in a warm shawl before heading back downstairs. Pretending to go out for a walk, Connie wandered nervously up and down the paths closet to the stables, looking for any sign of Mr Thomas and filled with an enormous sense of foreboding. There was more afoot here than she had been aware of and unexpectedly she found her loyalty torn. Eventually she saw him striding towards the building. Fortunately, he was alone.

‘Mr Thomas! Might I have a word?’

He spun around and then gave her a slow smile before walking towards her, then bowed politely. ‘Lady Constance, what an unexpected pleasure.’

‘I hardly think it should be unexpected, sir, not when we both know that you have dealings with my father. You must have realised I would seek you out and demand an explanation the moment I clapped eyes on you. Why are you here?’

‘Have you told all this to your husband?’ The man’s eyes were suddenly cold and his expression, although trying to remain bland, was also hostile. It made Connie feel uneasy.

‘Not yet.’

She watched his shoulders sag with relief before he pinned her with his gaze. ‘Good. Let us keep it that way. I dare say he would get quite the wrong impression. I am merely of an acquaintance of your father’s, though Viscount Ardleigh and his son might not be particularly forgiving of that relationship if they were to find out about it.’

‘You are more than a passing acquaintance, Mr Thomas. You have visited Redbridge House at least once a month for several years. I believe that you are working for my father. He is using you to sabotage the Wincantons in some way. That is why the fields still lay idle, isn’t it?’

The estate manager’s eyes narrowed and his voice became clipped. ‘I can assure you, madam, that I have no idea what you are talking about. I am simply an acquaintance of your father’s. That has nothing to do with my position here. Occasionally, I might tell your father snippets of what the Wincantons are up to, in passing conversation, but that is hardly a crime.’

‘Do you expect me to believe that your only purpose here is to keep my father informed of the latest gossip? I am not a fool, sir.’

His thin lips curled into a snarl as he watched her coldly. ‘Your father would be very disappointed in you if he heard that you had interfered in his personal business, Lady Constance.’

‘My father is already disappointed in me, Mr Thomas, as I am sure the whole world now knows, therefore I fail to see what difference my interference would make.’ Connie turned on her heel and began to march away. She had to find Aaron and tell him.

‘I should imagine that it is very painful to be estranged from one’s family, Lady Constance.’ Instantly, Connie’s footsteps slowed and she turned back to the estate manager suspiciously. Mr Thomas merely smiled. ‘You always did have such a strong bond with your mother. I have seen first-hand the strain this breach has put on her. I dare say she misses you as much as you miss her—and your father can be quite stubborn. However, I am certain that his poor opinion of you will change once he hears of your loyalty and discretion in this delicate matter.’

‘I doubt my father would bend, sir, in which case you are asking me to be disloyal to my husband for naught.’ Why did she suddenly feel the need to be loyal to Aaron Wincanton? It was not as if she had any affection for the man or owed him anything. Yet she felt it just the same.

Mr Thomas was all charm and subservience again. ‘Perhaps. And then again perhaps not. I was only with your father yesterday and he did specifically ask me to enquire about your health. He mentioned something in passing about how badly his wife was taking it all and he wanted to know if you were well cared for. I am to report back to him straight away if there is anything amiss.’ He paused briefly to let this news sink in and when he next spoke it was conspiratorially. ‘The Earl of Redbridge might be stubborn, but he is also still your father. His feelings for you are still there and his anger will pass in time. I know it will pass more quickly if you keep our little secret. Just for a little while. It might be just what is needed to heal the breach between you.’

Everything about what he was suggesting did not sit well with her—yet still she was seduced by the possibility. The idea that her father had enquired about her gave her some hope. He would see it as disloyal if she interfered and that could only serve to make the gulf between them wider. And she was desperate to see her mother again. Once her marriage was dissolved, her father might see his way to allowing her to visit from time to time if she could prove to be an asset to him while she was here. It was not as if she had any loyalty to the Wincantons. But Aaron had been noble in marrying her and he was kind. Did he deserve such duplicitousness?

Mr Thomas sensed her dilemma and regarded her solemnly. ‘I give you my word, my lady, that nothing untoward is going on. I merely keep your father abreast of the Wincanton family and what they are doing.’

‘If I have any doubt about that, be advised, Mr Thomas, that the first person I shall speak to is my husband.’ Connie did not really believe the man. It was all too coincidental, but the prospect of seeing her mother and brother again was too tempting to risk offending her father further. For the time being she would maintain the status quo. If there was the slightest chance that she could heal the rift, then she had to give it a go. She would hold her tongue for as long as it took her to find proof that Mr Thomas was a liar and no longer. What difference did a few more weeks make?

Aaron arrived at the door of Connie’s sitting room a respectable hour after they had endured another awkward dinner with his father. The fraught atmosphere was made worse by the fact that Aaron and the old man had been arguing about the state of the fields for most of the afternoon. But his father would not listen to reason and Aaron was hesitant to push him too far in case it overtaxed his fragile heart. For the time being, they agreed to disagree. A situation that was beyond frustrating because with every passing day things were becoming less salvageable.

Unfortunately, Connie was not in her nightdress when she bid him to enter. In fact, she was as formally dressed as she had been at the dinner table and was sitting primly on her sofa, embroidering something. He would have much preferred to see her drying her splendid hair by the fire, although this way was probably for the best.

‘I brought port this time,’ he said, waving the decanter in front of her and she smiled stiffly in response, barely lifting her eyes from her sewing. Her guard was up again, he could tell, and Aaron decided he was fonder of her when she was being true to herself.

‘I have never tasted port.’

‘Then you are in for a treat. This is one of my father’s best bottles. I pilfered it from the cellar and he would be livid if he knew that I had taken it. He would be more livid if he knew that I was sharing it with a Stuart.’

‘Then I shall enjoy the taste of it even more.’

He saw a brief flash of her humour then. Her green eyes had lit up with mischief and wiped away the mask for a moment. Aaron poured them both a glass and sat down on the armchair opposite. ‘I am going to visit some of the tenants tomorrow if you would like to come with me? There are a lot of them so I will give you fair warning that you might be stuck in the saddle for a couple of hours.’ Aaron also wanted to check up on Mr Thomas. The man had claimed that the seed would be delivered to all of the tenants on the morrow and Aaron wanted to catch him out on that blatant lie. Perhaps then his father would listen to reason and dismiss the wastrel. Of course, there was no real reason for dragging Connie around while he did this, except for the fact that he had found her presence today soothing.

Most mornings since his return, he rode around aimlessly for hours, trying to banish the horrifying images of his dreams from his mind. To his complete surprise, he had found that process much easier to do with Connie in tow. He had forgotten today’s nightmare at almost the exact moment she had brazenly marched up to him in that magnificent riding habit. Lustful feelings aside, he had also thoroughly enjoyed her company. It had been nice to have somebody intelligent and witty to talk to rather than moping around on his own, stewing in his own pessimistic juices. Being with Connie made him feel more normal.

She positively beamed at him, forgetting to be haughty and uninterested, or regally benevolent. ‘I would like that immensely! Do you think we might find the time to squeeze in another race? I thoroughly enjoyed thrashing you this morning.’

Aaron had enjoyed it, too, but for very different reasons. ‘We can race from cottage to cottage if you want to.’

‘Oh, I want to! I have not had so much fun in ages. My father forbade me from racing years ago. He said it was not ladylike.’ She lowered her embroidery frame and the corners of her pink lips curved slightly, although her eyes clouded at the mention of her father. ‘That has always been his most common criticism of me. Racing is not ladylike, arguing is not ladylike and having such strong opinions, and daring to voice them, are certainly not ladylike. Do you know he once told me that my red hair was not proper at all and that towering over everyone was not ladylike either? I think I have been a tremendous disappointment to him, aside from the fact that I went and got myself ruined, of course, because I have been quite unable to stop doing all of those things that he most dislikes about me. I do not think I have been a very good daughter.’

Bizarrely, she was smiling wistfully at the memory so Aaron held back what he wanted to say. He did not want to sour the mood by telling her that he thought her father was a nasty piece of work. He rather liked her height, her eyes and lips came level with his, and as for her hair? How the devil could hair be unladylike when it was quite the most beautiful head of hair he had ever seen? It was simply further proof to him that the Earl of Redbridge was a tyrant and a fool. Much like his own stubborn sire.

‘Pay it no mind, Connie. As a fellow disappointment to a parent I can assure you that you will never truly be able to please him, no matter how hard you try.’

She lowered her embroidery again and gazed at him intently. ‘How have you disappointed your father? Aside from marrying me, of course.’

Where to start? ‘My father has always enjoyed hunting and I do not. When I was younger he used to force me to accompany him in the hope that it would toughen me up. He used to get very frustrated when I refused to kill anything.’

‘Then I am to assume that you are not responsible for any of those ghastly stuffed heads?’

Aaron pulled a face that made her smile. ‘They are awful, aren’t they? But to answer your question, I am not responsible for even one of them. I could never understand what pleasure there was in chasing a frightened, senseless animal through the woods unless you needed to eat them. That disappointed my father a great deal. He was also dead against me joining the army. I had to wait until I reached the age of majority and then I had to purchase my own commission. My father thought he would stop me by reducing my allowance to such a paltry sum that I could barely afford to go out.’

‘How did you manage to purchase a commission and a uniform? Those things are expensive.’

Now it was his turn to smile at a memory. ‘I took all of the money I received religiously to a gaming hell and gambled until I had won enough to buy it all for myself. My father was livid when I came home in my new regimentals. He threatened to disinherit me.’

‘But he did not?’

‘This house, the estate and the title are all hereditary. The worst he could do was banish me until he died. The law states that it would still all come to me regardless of his wishes. Once I realised that, I knew all of his threats were empty ones. My father likes to control things. He could hardly attempt to control me if he had disowned me. It was all bluster and I called his bluff, the stubborn old fool.’ She watched him take a sip of his port to cover his sudden agitation. ‘He is still being stubborn. I tried to talk to him about the estate again today and refused to leave his study when he met with Mr Thomas.’

Inadvertently, he had given her an opening that she was not prepared to squander. Connie peered at Aaron over the top of her embroidery frame, suddenly nervous. Subtlety had never really been her strong suit and she would need to be very subtle now if she was going to find out what Mr Thomas was truly up to without tipping Aaron off. ‘Did you find out why your estate manager has not yet planted the fields?’ She pretended to focus on her sewing as if she were merely making polite conversation.

Connie could hear the frustration in his voice. ‘That man is a weasel. He came up with some convoluted explanation about a new farming method he had been researching, that doubled the yield of a wheat crop by delaying it. It is apparently all the rage in Holland and the landowners there have seen a dramatic rise in their profits. My father was utterly convinced by it.’

‘But you were not?’

He leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees, and shook his dark head in exasperation. ‘I just know that he is lying through his teeth. Unfortunately, I still do not know enough about farming to be able to argue back. I never paid attention growing up and now I am trying to cram in a lifetime’s worth of knowledge in just a few weeks. I am beyond confused by it all. I just hope that it does not do more irreparable damage until I can take over.’

Connie jabbed her needle into the frame to cover up her own unease. ‘Surely one bad harvest does not constitute irreparable damage?’