Page 18 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars
“Better than you and that coven of witches she has endured for years,” Aaron retorted.
Lord Wyndham reeled back again as if he had been struck physically. All of a sudden, he seemed much diminished, as if all the air and bravado had left him.
At that moment, Aaron saw his bride coming out of the house with her mother holding onto her arm a little too forcefully. He was very much relieved to find that she had changed out of her wedding dress and was attired more appropriately for travel, as she had promised.
“Can I… hug you?” He heard the Marchioness ask tearfully.
He met Theresa’s gaze and nodded subtly. “Do not take too long,” he warned. “The carriage awaits you.”
She nodded at her mother.
Lady Wyndham did not hesitate to throw her arms around her. She clutched Theresa to her as if she might never let go.
Aaron did not miss the slight grimace of pain that crossed her features.
“Oh! I am so sorry!” The Marchioness apologized. “I should not have?—”
Theresa smiled, although it did not quite reach her eyes. “It is all right, Mother. I… hope you find your daughter.”
The Marchioness burst into a fresh wave of sobs as Theresa gently extricated herself from her embrace to step into the carriage her father had prepared for her. She did not so much as look back when Aaron closed the door after her.
With his bride safely ensconced in the carriage, he stared at the Marquess and his wife coldly. He did not know their reasons for sending their daughter to the nunnery, but he was most certainly going to judge them for it.
He had fought in the war. He had given his youth and his body for the country. But then that washisdecision to make.
Theresa did not ask to be thrown at a bunch of abusive hags who pretended to preach about the Lord while beating young girls under their roof.
With a final scathing glare at his in-laws, he mounted his steed and barked, “Let us be off to Blackwell Manor.”
He had had enough for one day.
CHAPTER 7
Ihave never seen so many people in my entire life!
Theresa grinned as she leaned out of the window, feeling the breeze and sunlight on her face.
She had not seen much of London because it was already getting dark when they had arrived in the city. This time, she relished the opportunity to take in all the sights and sounds as the carriage wound down the busy streets on its way to Blackwell Manor.
My new home.
Her heart rate quickened at the thought. In the space of two days, she had lived intwohomes—neither of which she felt was welcoming enough.
The nuns in St. Agatha’s had viewed her as a burden, except for Sister Edith and Margaret. Her parents had foisted her on a veritable stranger the first chance they got.
Perhaps the third one truly is the charm.
She peered up at the Duke from the window. He was sitting astride his steed, his back straight, his chin slightly raised. He had the air of a man who owned the path he walked on—or rather, rode his horse on—although she was fairly certain that England still belonged to King George, albeit under the Regency of his son…
“See anything you like?”
Theresa shook off her musings and smiled at the Duke. “I’ve never been to London before. The city looks incredibly lively.”
“Pah. It is full of miscreants and cutpurses, that is what it is,” he snorted disdainfully. “And if you are not careful, they could snatch your earrings off of you if you poke your head out of the carriage long enough, bleeding ears or not.”
Her eyes widened. “That sounds…”
“Terrifying?”
