Page 10 of A Lady Igniting Wicked Passions
Chapter 6
Aaron jetted smoke from his nostrils, flicking ash from the black cheroot onto the paving. He leaned against a weathered stone balustrade, staring out into the night. The evening had been tedious in the extreme except for one moment in the company of Helena’s younger sister.
She had seemed interesting and was certainly beautiful. Far more so than her sister, whom Aaron had been told was the prize of the county. For him, her looks were skin deep only, shallow, and barely concealing a cold, disparaging demeanour.
He felt trapped by his need for a handsome dowry and the opportunity to earn more once he was married. The motivation was purely mercenary and, now that he was personally involved with Helena and her family, he was beginning to feel guilty.
That led to resentment and anger. Ethan Fitzroy, Earl of Bredwardine also smoked, holding his cheroot in the corner of his mouth, and flipping a coin with his right hand. It made a ringing sound each time he flipped it into the air.
“We could be in London by the early hours. In time to catch a few games at the Lustrous Beggar or the Damnation,” he said, referring to two gaming houses in London that he frequented and, once upon a time, so had Aaron.
“I will not shirk my responsibilities and fritter away money I do not have,” he said.
“You may win. It has happened before,” Bredwardine said with a shrug.
Aaron glared at him. He had tousled fair hair around a boyish face that was easy with a smile. He wore the uniform of the Hussars, identical to Aaron, having served under his command in the recent unpleasantness with the French.
“You agreed to accompany me to lend me moral support,” Aaron said accusingly. “But I perceive a divided duty in you. Between me and your desire to be entertained.”
“Don’t quote the Bard at me, old man. You know I don’t know a thing about it,” Bredwardine complained.
“Oh thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by let us call the Devil,” Aaron replied hotly. “I thank you for accompanying me, but my duty keeps me here. If it does not please you, then take yourself away to London and lose yourself in debauchery.”
Bredwardine caught the coin in mid-air and dropped the cheroot, grinding it under his boot.
“I should like nothing better. But I would not abandon you in this den of mild-mannered, tedious people. Lord knows how you will come out of it. I shall retire inside to find a pretty young thing who appreciates a dashing cavalryman. Come find me when you are in a sweeter mood.”
Bredwardine clapped him heartily on the shoulder and took his leave. As he sauntered away across the veranda a gaggle of society matrons appeared from the ballroom, moving like geese across the paving. They fanned themselves and gabbled to each other. Not wishing to be observed and gossiped about, Aaron spied a narrow stair leading down into the shadows and promptly took it.
He skipped down the steps and stood below the veranda and hidden by its shadows. He too ground out his cheroot underfoot, lest its smoke gave him away. As he leaned back against the wall, he became aware that he was not alone.
“How dare you!” Arabella hissed.
Aaron jerked upright, peering into the shadows to his right. Arabella seemed to materialize out of the darkness. Aaron realized there was a small alcove into which she has pressed herself, probably when she heard him descending the steps.
“I beg your pardon?” He spluttered.
“To treat Helena so. To treat my mother and father so. It is nothing short of despicable,” Arabella said, accusingly.
“You obviously eavesdropped on my conversation,” Aaron said, turning to face her.
He could not understand how he had not been aware of her from the very beginning. Her perfume was distinctive and lovely. It filled his head and made him wish he had not smoked that evening, it would disguise his own cologne.
“When your conversation reveals you to be such a rogue, then it is well that I did,” Arabella shot back.
She was speaking in a whisper but only just. There was such heat in his voice that Aaron had to resist the urge to step back. Instead, he stood his ground, facing her from barely a few inches away.
“I am doing nothing that has not been done before, since time immemorial. Our own Kings have married for the same reasons, have they not?”
Arabella opened her mouth, then closed it again. She folded her arms across her chest which served only to uplift her bosom. Even in the shadow cast by the veranda, Aaron was acutely aware of her delicately rounded figure.
“That is royalty. They are bound to a different set of rules.”
“I disagree,” Aaron replied. “But I do not see how my business is any concern of yours.”
“She is my sister!” Arabella replied, raising her voice.
“You clearly do not have much love for each other. I have seen the way she lifts her chin in your presence. And the way you roll your eyes at her.”
