Page 34 of A Lady Igniting Wicked Passions
Aaron had enough self-control not to start guiltily at the voice that came from behind them. He cursed himself, though, for not being aware of her approach. She had walked directly across the paving, ignoring the circuit being walked by everyone else. Isabella had made an arrow-straight line for himself and Arabella.
“Lady Isabella, how nice to meet you again,” he said with a tight smile.
“You are a terrible liar, Your Grace,” Isabella replied with a sharp look in her eye. “Did you recover your medal? The St James?”
Aaron’s face hardened. He felt as though Arabella were pulling on his arm, as though trying to restrain him.
“My sister found it where it must have come loose during the course of the ball,” Arabella replied.
“Thank you for your concern in the matter,” Aaron replied.
“I know how much such things must mean to a man like you. For whom honour is so important. May we speak, you and I?” Isabella said with a sweet smile that did not fool Aaron for an instance.
“It is time we were returning to our fiancées anyway, do you not think, Your Grace?” Arabella asked.
“Yes, I hope my company has not been too onerous for you, Lady Arabella. I did so want to see the gardens,” Aaron replied, formally.
“As did I. Thank you for escorting me,” Arabella replied.
She dropped into a curtsy which Aaron replied to with a bow. Isabella laughed softly, drawing a few eyes from those nearby. As Aaron began to walk back to the house with Arabella, she fell into step alongside. Presently, they walked alone, leaving behind those who remained outside for the music or the recital.
“I will make this brief so that you may be free to enjoy the rest of the evening,” Isabella said. “My husband has put forward a bill in the House and requires a strong voice in the Lords to see it passed.”
“I play no part in politics,” Aaron replied with a frown of distaste.
“Yet, your peerage entitles you to a seat in the Lords. I am aware that you shun Westminster. I should like you to change that.”
“Why should I?” Aaron replied with a laugh.
“Because, if you do not, I will make it known that you and the Lady Arabella have been having an affair. That you were together on the night of the Eversden ball and that you gave her your precious St James medal as a love token. Lady Helena will support my story.
By this time next week, the scandal will be all over the country. It will hurt you not a jot in the public eye, Ashenwood. But it will destroy Lady Arabella. She will be despised as the scarlet woman who betrayed her own sister.”
Chapter 20
The remainder of the evening passed in a blur for Arabella. A sick feeling of horror filled her. Aaron had said little after being given his ultimatum. He had merely nodded and said:
“Very well. It will be done.”
Upon re-entering the Great Hall, they had found Helena waiting expectantly. From the look which Aaron gave her, Arabella feared for Helena’s life. For Helena, the look that was equally shared between Aaron and her sister was one of gloating, savage triumph. Arabella had wanted to slap her sister’s face.
Or fling a glass of wine at her. Instead, she had accepted the duke’s cordial farewell and lost herself in the crowd. She was not seeking her own husband to be, knowing where he would have gone. Namely, in search of Charles Cavendish. Arabella did not care. She fought to hold back tears and wished that she was already at the evening’s end and could return to her rooms at Portman Square.
Because of her, Aaron was under the control of Lady Isabella and her husband. Arabella did not follow politics, she did not know which side of the House Isabella’s husband sat on, nor what his bill was about. If it needed honourable men like Aaron to be blackmailed then it could not be a thing of honour itself.
She thought of the simple beauty she had felt outside, holding Aaron’s arm, and enjoying the music. And then the sheer joy of Sussex’s satirical joke at his guest’s expense. More than any physical intimacy they had shared, the knowledge that they too were probably two of the only people present, besides their host, to understand the joke, made her feel close to Aaron.
Now, that had been stripped away. She had tried to tell herself that the blackmail might turn out pointless, if Aaron found that he would have supported the Bill anyway. But that was not the point. Why would Isabella end it with one request.
She had used the lust which Arabella and Aaron felt for each other. She and Helena had engineered the circumstances where Arabella and Aaron would be seen together in public.
Without their respective fiancées. And such was the wanton desire of the couple, they had walked blindly into it. She had even wondered what Helena might be up to. And had still gone, like a lamb to the slaughter.
What would be next? What instruction would Aaron be given with the threat of harm to Arabella’s reputation as the club held over his head. How long before he began to resent her, blaming her for his loss of freedom?
Eventually, she had found Edgeworth. He was in a sheltered alcove of the Great Hall which was lined with oil paintings. He was engaged in a heated conversation with her good friend Lord Harlton. Both men looked up as she approached. Harlton’s eyes made her stop. She frowned. There was pain and anguish in her friend’s face such as she was not used to seeing.
“There you are, dear,” Edgeworth said, putting jollity in his voice that was not matched in his face.
