Page 51 of A Lady Igniting Wicked Passions
“Are they?”
“Most men would say getting married to a beautiful lady is cause for congratulations. You are looking quite wan this morning, I’d say. Kept you up late, did she?”
Rivers leered and Aaron fought the desire to grab the man by the throat. Instead, he looked out of the window, attempting nonchalance.
“I thank you for the congratulations. A week then,” he said.
“A week. I’ll be back.”
Aaron opened the door and was about to step down from the carriage when Rivers spoke again.
“By the way. Rose petals on the bed. Quite the romantic, aren’t you?”
He laughed. Aaron walked away, almost blind with frustrated anger. Rivers must have paid off a servant. There was no other way of knowing how he had chosen to decorate the room for Arabella. The remark was calculated to let him know that he and his wife were not safe, even within their own home.
Chapter 30
Arabella awoke from a dream that put the night’s activities to shame. She found herself stretched out on the bed, bedclothes kicked aside and the morning air cool on her naked skin. Without opening her eyes, she reached out for her husband, still marvelling at the concept of having a husband. She did not find him. Opening her eyes, she frowned as she saw that not only the bed, but the room was empty.
“Aaron?” she called, but no answer came.
There was no clock in the room to tell her the time but the height of the sun, visible through the window, told her that it was well into the morning. She swung her feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, wondering why her husband was not there to greet her.
And to possibly even do with her those things that husbands and wives did. They were free to do as they pleased now. In fact, the circumstances of their engagement were such that the usual rules of propriety did not apply.
They had thumbed their noses to the mores of the ton by displaying their feelings for each other publicly, and in defiance of the engagements already in place. She smiled at the memory of Edgeworth’s delirious happiness when he had confronted her, affecting anger but with a wink. It had given him the perfect excuse to break off their engagement.
Sadly, she could not help Harlton out of his. Those two would have to work that one out by themselves. Standing, she stretched and looked around the room for something to wear. A dressing gown hung behind a screen but there were no other clothes. Leaving the bedchamber and exploring the other rooms along the hallway, she found a dressing room.
It had a table with three tall mirrors attached to it, two angled to give a view in the round. Three wardrobes stood against the opposite wall, and she found her clothes, as well as those of others. Nothing of Aaron’s though, she assumed he had a dressing room of his own.
Summoning a lady’s maid to help her dress did not occur to Arabella. She chose a white and blue dress and a pair of white slippers. As she stood, admiring herself in the mirror, her eye was drawn to the window.
Looking out she caught a glimpse of what looked like Aaron, striding down the street, away from the house. He was quickly obscured by a carriage, and she had only glimpsed him for a moment. But she was sure it was her husband and wondered where he could be going. It was peculiar behaviour on his first day of married life.
But perhaps Aaron simply wished to get on with his normal daily business. Or perhaps he had woken to the realization that he was now trapped in a marriage that would not bring him the money he had hoped for. The conversation she had overheard returned to her mind.
She also thought of his secretive meeting with his uncle and the ledger book that Blakehill had so quickly put away when she and Aaron had entered the room the previous day. Then there was the sparse state of the house. The absence of paintings and the closing of some rooms.
Was Aaron in difficulty, financially? It had never occurred to her that a duke would be so. Her own father was extremely wealthy, and she had, naively, assumed that a gentleman of even greater rank and prestige would be even wealthier. But, she supposed, it did not have to be the case. Resolving to discover the truth, she left the room and headed downstairs.
She found a cold breakfast waiting for her in the morning room, cold meat and fruit protected by silver cloches with hot food being kept warm in metal trays positioned over small, blue-flamed candles. There were no servants to be seen, which also seemed strange.
In her father’s house, a servant would remain on duty in the dining room until the breakfast things were cleared away, so that any member of the family coming in late would be attended to. She saw a silk bellpull and tugged it sharply before taking a seat.
A footman appeared almost before she had sat.
“Good morning, Your Grace. A visitor to see you. A Mrs. Victoria Waverley,” he said, presenting a silver tray to her bearing a card.
Arabella momentarily forgot her worries as she took the card, beaming.
“Please send her in. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“It is Jenkins, Your Grace.”
“Please send her in, Jenkins. And could you tell me where His Grace, the duke is?”
“I’m afraid I do not know where His Grace may be found. But I did see him earlier, in the hall on his way out. Do you wish me to consult Mr. Travers, Your Grace?”
