Page 48 of A Lady Igniting Wicked Passions
It was the dowry paid for Arabella. Blakehill took it, folding it and slipping it into a pocket. Aaron took his leave, striding from the room and going in search of his new wife.
Chapter 28
Arabella reached the top floor of the house and walked along a dusty hallway. Its furniture was covered in white sheets. Some doors were locked. Others opened onto bare rooms. The whole place was sad. As though it were despondent at being denied its full role as a home to someone. She could not imagine why so much of the house was closed off or covered up.
Aaron was a duke and with extensive estates. He could not be short of money, not to this degree. She remembered the conversation she had overheard between Aaron and his friend, on the night of the ball at Eversden Abbey. They had been talking of the dowry that Aaron was expecting to gain from his marriage to Helena.
She doubted that her own dowry would have come close to Helena’s. She stepped into a large room with windows set into two walls. Below she could see the expanse of Finsbury Square from one window, and a busy, tree-lined street from the other.
No buildings in the vicinity were as tall as this one and she could see across the myriad of rooftops and chimneys that was the London skyline.
A large bed was the room’s only furniture. It had a white canopy and a thick mattress topped with blankets, cushions, and pillows. It looked like a cloud and seemed quite the most comfortable thing she had ever laid eyes on.
Pulling aside the curtains on one side she saw that rose petals had been strewn across the bed, releasing a soft, sweet scent as they were disturbed. The contrast of the white linen and deep red roses was striking. The light from the tall windows and the uncluttered, high-ceilinged room gave a wonderful feeling of space. It was as though she stood outdoors while remaining indoors.
Turning, she saw, above the fireplace, a painting. It was a landscape with a large castle in the foreground. Hills rose in the distance behind it, misted and purple. Trees swathed the foreground, their myriad shades of green caught expertly by the artist.
Arabella found her eye drawn to a road that led from the gates of the castle and took the observer on an odyssey through the painting and into the mysterious distance.
She found herself entranced by it; the only spark of colour in the room apart from the red rose petals. Stepping closer, she peered up at it, standing on tip toes to look at the title that was engraved onto a brass plaque set into the frame.
“It is Ashenwood,” Aaron said from the doorway.
Arabella jumped and whirled.
“I didn’t hear you coming,” she said.
“That’s because I moved very quietly. I wanted to see what you made of it.”
He walked into the room, looking around it with a critical eye.
“It’s wonderful,” Arabella said. “Unfinished but I like that. It fires my imagination. Have you concluded your business?”
She put coolness into her voice as contrast to her enthusiasm about the room. It was intended to make that ice obvious to him. A punishment for his rudeness.
“I have. I did not want to put it before you but…”
“But you did anyway,” Arabella said, folding her arms beneath her breasts.
Aaron came to stand beside her, looking up at the picture.
“This is how the castle looked three hundred years or more ago. When it was a fortress. It was majestic then and…”
“And now?”
“Showing its age,” Aaron said.
“Why? And why is this house so…half empty?” Arabella asked.
Aaron shrugged, looking critically at the picture as it had once been. “My father was a good man but had little skill for managing the estates and the wealth which he inherited.”
Arabella felt that she was being told the truth, but at the same time sensed it was not the entire truth. As she was about to probe further, Aaron stepped closer. He still wore his wedding finery, as did she.
Suddenly, she was aware of his physical presence, looming over her. His cologne filled her head, making her stomach flutter and her heart race. Tentatively, she reached up and placed her hands upon his chest, then she looked up into his eyes. His strong hands closed over hers and held them tight.
“Finally, we do not need to worry about being interrupted. Or caught,” Aaron said in a low, husky voice.
That voice, tinged with barely controlled desire made Arabella’s breath catch.
