Page 61 of A Lady Igniting Wicked Passions
“They have. An excellent meal and they were most attentive. To my great discomfort. I really am not used to being waited on by others. It discomfits me so.”
Aaron strode to a sideboard, opening the doors and taking out a series of bottles and decanters, with accompanying glasses.
“Would you care for a post-prandial tipple?” he asked.
“Scotch. Single malt. Island,” Victoria replied without hesitation.
Aaron barked a laugh, going back to his bottles and producing a dusty and antique bottle originating from the Isle of Jura.
“Yes, I saw that one in there earlier. That will do nicely,” Victoria replied.
Arabella laughed, taking a seat next to her aunt. “You should not be allowed out in public, Aunt Victoria.”
“Nonsense. It is refreshing to be spoken to as a human being for once. Not a duke. Or an officer for that matter. Do you know, I think I have spent most of my adult life being bowed to or saluted.”
“Nothing so much becomes a man as modest stillness and humility,” Arabella quoted.
“But when the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger; stiffen the sinews, summon the blood, disguise fair nature with hard-favor’d rage.”Aaron completed the quotation fromHenry V.
He handed a tumbler of amber liquid to Victoria and offered one to Arabella. To his surprise, she took it. To his greater surprise, she then took a healthy swallow.
“My niece and I have had a conversation about the traits of our savage Celtic ancestry emerging. Certainly in me, and I believe in Arabella too,” Victoria said, wafting her tumbler under her nose and savouring the aroma.
“I shall watch my step,” Aaron said, sitting opposite the pair.
An idea was forming in his head which had precipitated his hospitality towards Victoria Waverley. His instinct had been to place himself somewhere in the castle where he would not be disturbed, in order to think through the plans that had begun to germinate in his mind. But he realized he already knew how Victoria could help.
“I am intrigued by your quotation though, Your Grace…” Victoria said, then she threw up her hands. “I am sorry. It just does not sit well with me. Is there something else I can address you as. We are now family after all.”
“My given name is Aaron. I should like you to use it,” Aaron replied. “You were intrigued by my quotingHenry V?”
“A quotation which is all about preparing for battle.Cry havoc for Harry, England, and St Georgeif you’ll forgive me mixing up my history plays. Now, Arabella has been extremely upset thus far about you, specifically…”
Aaron looked at his wife, who gazed back directly. He looked away first, staring down at his glass before tossing its contents into his mouth and nodding.
“I have behaved abominably but, I can assure you, from the noblest of intent. To protect Arabella. However, there are no more secrets between us now.”
“Capital. I should not like to take a disliking to you after deciding you are just as odd a member of the gentry as I am,” Victoria replied. “So, shall we talk about what battle you two are preparing to fight and how I may aid you?”
Aaron grinned broadly, feeling a surge of excitement and hope. It was the first hope that he had felt in a long time. Even before he had burned his bridges with Eversden, the prospect of marrying a spiteful, shallow, disagreeable woman like Helena made him feel as though he were being shackled.
“I have put Arabella in danger,” he said simply.
“No, Aaron. That is not true…” Arabella protested.
He put up a hand. “It is true, and I will not hide from that fact. It was not entirely my doing but I do not evade my duty.”
Victoria raised her glass. “Hear, hear.”
Aaron smiled bitterly. “I need Arabella to be protected. Hidden is a better word. Somewhere my enemies will not find her or even think to look for her.”
Arabella looked from Victoria to Aaron, clearly realizing what he was planning. “No! I refuse. I will not go away and leave you to face danger.”
“It is the only way,” Aaron replied. “My understanding of your estrangement from your family is that your brother has cut all ties with you and your husband,” he said to Victoria.
“That is true. Julian is a commoner and my father cut me off dead when I eloped. I am also not welcome in the home of my sister and could only visit with my niece in secret. I imagine that after all these years there are not many who even know that the Waverleys of Hove are related to the Eversdens of Cambridgeshire.
Or that the landscape artist Julian Waverley, famously self-taught and the son of a fisherman, is married to a member of the aristocracy.”
