Aidan’s unbound hair flowed down her back; her ecru silk dressing gown brushed against her legs as she paced her bedroom floor, the sound of her barefoot tread losing itself in the thick wool carpet. Although the bright morning sunlight blazed through the lace curtains to bound off the cream-colored walls and set the giltwood furnishings aglitter, the cheery atmosphere did little to lighten Aidan’s troubled thoughts.
How could she possibly go through with her elopement? she wondered, her hands twisting anxiously. Especially when she was to be accompanied to Gretna Green by the dark-and-brooding “notorious” Duke of Westover! She remembered how his steely gaze had sliced into her while his powerful masculine form had trapped her against the balustrade, the deep timbre of his cold voice threatening her with instant reprisal should she hurt George. Aidan felt the abrupt lurch of her heart. Suddenly she went weak.
Certain her quaking legs would give way, she caught the bedpost and sank onto the down-filled mattress. What was she to do? she silently asked, possibly for the hundredth time in the past half-hour. Her bowed head shook in response to her indecision. Last night, when she’d fled the Quincys’ soiree, she’d been set on calling off her elopement with George. But when she’d returned to Atwood House, Eugenia and David at her heels, she’d come face-to-face with the Earl of Sedgewinn.
“Ah, my dearest child,” he’d said, stepping away from her father’s side, making Aidan freeze in her tracks as she crossed the marble foyer. His lust-filled beady brown eyes had examined her from head to toe as he moved indecently close to her. “His Grace and I had hit upon a snag in our negotiations. But as I look upon your considerable beauty, I feel compelled to yield on the particular issue which has set us apart. I want nothing to delay our marriage.”
Upon hearing his words, Aidan had felt the blood drain from her face; bitter bile surged into her throat as she’d stared at the galling man. He was large-boned and stocky; his ruddy complexion had stood in utter contrast to his thatch of white hair and bushy black eyebrows. His meaty hands grasped the silver knob of his walking cane as he’d leaned on it for support, relieving the pressure on his gout-riddled right foot. He was overindulgent in all he did, and she’d imagined his lovemaking leaned toward brutality, his own lustful needs coming first. Why else had he already outlived two wives and now sought a third?
Without a word, she’d yanked up a handful of skirt, brushed past the leering Earl of Sedgewinn, and fled across the foyer and up the white marble staircase, heading to her room, her father’s and Eugenia’s words climbing upward behind her.
“Daughter, come back here this instant!”
“Forgive her, Your Grace. Aidan suddenly took ill at the soiree. David and I brought her home as quickly as possible. She seeks her bed so she may rest. I’m certain she will be well on the morrow.”
Before Aidan had turned the corner, however, she’d heard Sedgewinn’s statement, proclaiming he hoped she was a “healthy broody.” Eugenia’s shocked gasp and David’s harsh admonishment on using such crude language in front of his wife followed, whereupon the duke apologized to Eugenia and David, said good night to Sedgewinn, and had Elsworth show the lot out. Secured behind her locked door, Aidan had listened in mutinous silence as her father pronounced heatedly, “He’s to be your husband, so I suggest you show him some courtesy. It will go better for you if you do!”
Having spent a sleepless night debating what she should do, Aidan found she was no closer to an answer than when she’d arrived home last evening. One thing was certain, though. She would not marry Sedgewinn! Even if it meant she’d have to sell all her clothing and jewels and use the proceeds to flee her homeland, no doubt to live a pauper’s life somewhere abroad, she’d do it! She’d do anything! So long as she could escape Sedgewinn’s odious clutches! She’d even be willing to endure Justin Warfield’s piercing stares and cutting remarks as the reproving duke ferried her overland to Gretna Green. Or would she?
A picture of the arrogantly handsome duke painted itself in her mind, creating a vivid portrait. Devilishly sophisticated, suavely urbane, he had the distinct ability to bewitch the feminine gender with his blatant masculine appeal. Was she any different from the scores of women who threw themselves at his feet?
Yes! she insisted, bounding from the side of her bed to pace the floor again. She disliked him—immensely! The arrogant boor!
A knock sounded on her door, and an agitated Aidan called sharply, “What is it!”
“Lady Manley has come callin’,” her maid, Penny, answered through the heavy wooden door. “Shall I tell her your ladyship is not acceptin’ visitors?”
Aidan traversed the carpet and opened the door with a jerk, startling her maid. “Show Lady Manley up.” The maid bobbed her head and curtsied, then quickly turned to do as bidden. “And, Penny …” Aidan said softly; the maid swiveled toward her. “I apologize for my abruptness.” She noted the maid’s accepting smile. “Some hot chocolate would be nice for Lady Manley and myself.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll fetch it quick.”
Moments later, Eugenia swept into Aidan’s bedroom to wrap her arms around her friend in a gentle hug. “I hardly slept last night worrying about you. Are you still feeling ill?” Eugenia released Aidan. “Come, let’s sit.” She pulled her friend toward the two chairs angled near the gold-veined white marble fireplace. “Tell me what happened after we left you.”
“Not much,” Aidan replied vapidly. “My father politely informed me, since Sedgewinn was to be my husband, I’d best show the earl some courtesy. It would go better for me if I did.”
“Why, the man’s nothing but a vulgar lecher,” Eugenia returned, incensed. “How can His Grace expect you to show the man anything except contempt?”
“A good question, Eugenia. I had always dreamed of finding my heart’s mate—to have a loving relationship like my parents had. But my father’s mind is set. I’m to marry Sedgewinn. I suppose he’s forgotten the importance of love,” she said of her sire.
“Oh, Aidan,” Eugenia said, sympathetic tears shimmering in her expressive blue eyes, “I can’t believe he’s truly forgotten. But just the same, we must find a way to get you out of this terrible fix. Even David said he’d be willing to intercede on your behalf. I’ve never seen him so enraged. He was ready to call Sedgewinn out for the earl’s sheer lack of manners. Since David is more a diplomat than a warrior, I’d never have expected him to react so heatedly. It took me an hour to calm him down.”
Surprised by Eugenia’s words, Aidan offered a grateful smile and some sound advice. “Tell David I appreciate his gallantry, but he’s not to be running off half-cocked, challenging Sedgewinn to a duel. Despite the earl’s age and girth, he’s purported to be an expert marksman. David should not take the chance, it’s true. Not for me, at least.”
“Nor for me,” Eugenia agreed, willing to forgive Sedgewinn’s crude words simply to keep her husband alive. Without David, she was nothing. “But we must find a way to keep you from that horrid man’s grasp.”
Aidan noted how Eugenia visibly shuddered, her face pinching up like she’d just swallowed a draft of castor oil, and she assumed her friend had envisioned herself, like Aidan had the day before, in the earl’s bed.
“How could any woman possibly allow that disgusting man to touch her?” Eugenia asked, her lovely face tormented by the thought.
“I imagine, Eugenia, it was not a matter of their allowing it,” she stated of his two previous wives.
“They were forced, you mean,” Eugenia said without emotion, and saw Aidan’s nod.
“If you’ll recall how the last Lady Sedgewinn’s frail arms were a multitude of colorful bruises, which she always explained away with a nervous laugh, relaying to all how utterly clumsy she was, I think you’ll see she was actually trying to hide the truth.”
“Yes. The way she’d suddenly stiffen when Sedgewinn was near. And her eyes had the look of pure fright in them. Until last night, when I… I saw for myself the raw look in his own eyes as he beheld you, like you were a tempting morsel he’d gladly devour in one gluttonous bite, I’d never have dreamed him to be so … so …”
“Barbarous?”
Eugenia nodded, her eyes wide with concern. “Oh, Aidan, I can’t allow this to happen to you!”
Aidan quickly slipped from her chair. It was her turn to comfort her friend, just as Eugenia had comforted her the day before. “Don’t fret over it,” she said, squatting beside Eugenia, her arm encasing the blond’s quaking shoulders. “I’ll talk with my father today and tell him what I suspect of Lord Sedgewinn. Once he’s apprised of the earl’s darker side, I’m certain he’ll change his mind.” Her words had come out steady and were said with much more bravado than she’d actually felt. “He’s still angry with me because I haven’t yet apologized for insulting him.”
“You insulted His Grace?” Eugenia questioned, then wondered why she had asked, for there was nary a time the two didn’t quarrel without Aidan upbraiding her sire. Or vice versa. Far and away they were too much alike, each seeing his or her own worst flaws in the other, neither willing to admit they possessed the exact same traits. “What on earth did you say this time?”
“I said the earl was nearly as old as he was.”
“That’s true enough.”
“I called Sedgewinn a doddering old man.”
“Aidan! How could you? Especially when your father’s so sensitive about his age. You’ve trampled his ego into the ground. Let’s hope there’s still a chance of resurrecting it.”
“If an apology doesn’t work, then what?”
Then I’ll elope with George Edmonds! But Aidan didn’t voice her thought, for if her planned tête-à-tête with her father should fail, then she didn’t wish to involve Eugenia and David. Once her father found she was missing, Lord and Lady Manley would be the first ones he’d question on her whereabouts. If they knew nothing, he couldn’t accuse them of being involved and they wouldn’t have to suffer his indignant wrath. But first, she had to make a concerted effort to appease her father’s wounded pride. Once that was done, surely he wouldn’t still wish to marry her off to a wife beater, would he?
“Then what?” Eugenia repeated.
“Then I’ll take myself off to a convent. Once I’ve cloistered myself for life, His Grace can’t very well find fault with me anymore.”
“I pity the poor sisters,” Eugenia said, laughing, her spirits rising. “Although patience is a virtue, of which I’m certain the good nuns have in abundance, they are still human. Within a month they will probably boot you through the gates and wash their hands of you.”
“You’re probably right,” Aidan said, her laughter joining Eugenia’s. Would she actually run off to a convent? she wondered, just now thinking of that escape route as a viable option. No, she decided, knowing piety belonged to the pious. Her own sins were far too many. She was too vain, too temperamental, too impetuous, too restless, too … too everything! to take the same vows as the good sisters had. To do so would be out-and-out hypocrisy! It would never work! “But in the interim,” Aidan continued, playing the game out, “I’ll have time to think of another way to avoid Sedgewinn’s clutches—that’s if my renouncement, in which I’ve shown I prefer the nunnery over a marriage to him, hasn’t chased him off. I suspect his ego exceeds my father’s.”
“For your sake, I hope it works.” Then Eugenia suddenly blurted, “I never did ask about Lord Edmonds. What transpired when David and I left you?”
“Nothing,” Aidan lied freely. “Nothing at all.”
Eugenia eyed her a long moment and was ready to question her friend further when Penny came into the room with their hot chocolate. While sharing their favorite drink together, Aidan proceeded to convince Eugenia that all would be well once she’d talked to her father. By the time Eugenia left, a scant half-hour later, Aidan was certain she’d managed to allay her closest friend’s fears. Unfortunately, all her soothing words, stated with the utmost confidence, had done little to ease her own.
After bathing and dressing, Aidan took the stairs, heading toward her father’s study. But as her feet hit the white marble floor, she was informed by Elsworth: “His Grace is out today. He will not be back until supper.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“No, Lady Prescott. Not a word.”
Aidan watched as the stoop-shouldered, white-haired man continued on down the hallway, heading toward the back of the house. Why, of all days, did her father have to choose this one to go out? she wondered fitfully. If she weren’t given the chance to speak with him, convince him she was willing to mend her ways, and beg his forgiveness for being such a disobedient daughter, she’d have no other choice but to elope with George.
As she stood alone in the foyer, sunlight glittered through the large glass cupola, two stories above her, and the area around her was filled with a mystical brilliance. A knowing silvery gaze suddenly leapt into her mind’s eye, and she remembered how it had raked her from head to toe. Chiseled, extremely masculine lips cracked into a wide, mocking grin, exposing even white teeth above a strong cleft chin; a small dimple appeared beside that masterful mouth. Deep, sensuous laughter seemed to fill her head as she felt a strong arm encircle her small waist to twirl her around the floor in an adept, fluid motion. Instantly hot fire raced the length of Aidan’s veins as she envisioned the Duke of Westover, handsome and sophisticated, looking down at her; her legs abruptly went all rubbery.
Shaking her head to clear it, she clasped the railing for support and pulled herself up the stairs, praying with all her might: Father, please come home! Please!
At half-past seven, Aidan sat in the small sitting room just off the foyer, waiting. Jumpy as a cat that had been tossed onto a bed of hot coals, she started at every sound. Five times she’d bounded from her chair, thinking she’d heard the front door open, certain her father had returned. But each time she did so proved to be a false alarm, for her overly sensitive ears had been playing tricks on her.
As she sat in the solitude of the room, she again practiced her apology, like she had all day. Father, forgive my transgressions— No! That’s not right! she admonished sharply, silently. She’d sound as though she were in a confessional, begging for the Lord’s forgiveness, and her father would never believe her penance was real. Not using those words.
Father, I know we’ve had many differences of opinion in the past, mainly because of my lack of forethought, my— The sound of the front door opening interrupted Aidan’s thoughts. Voices sounded in the entry, and she hopped from her chair, scurrying to the sitting-room doorway. Her legs abruptly stopped their hasty journey; her bright, smiling face froze into a brittle mask. Warm violet eyes turned cold as ice when they pinpointed her nemesis: Lord Sedgewinn!
“Ah, Aidan, dearest,” he said, smiling like a cat that was about to pounce upon a trapped canary, “you look lovely, my dear. Lovelier than I could ever have imagined.”
Aidan had bristled at the use of her given name and his familiar tone, for she’d not awarded him permission to call her such or speak to her so. And as far as she was concerned, she never would! Lecher, she thought, her stomach suddenly lurching, nausea overtaking her. Then her gaze hit her father’s and she caught his stern, unspoken message, which said: Courtesy, daughter! Remember it!
Masking the angry light in her eyes, she squared her shoulders, smoothed the skirt of the yellow silk dress she wore, and folded her hands together at her waist, presenting a ladylike stance. If she was expected to play the game, she’d play it well. And to the bitter end, she decided, lifting her smile higher. “Lord Sedgewinn,” she said, barely hiding the venom in her voice, “how nice to see you again.”
With his hat and gloves handed off to a silent and overly stiff Elsworth, he ambled toward Aidan with the use of his cane. “I trust you’ve recovered from your sudden illness?” he asked, his raw gaze assessing her from head to toe.
Her back held rod straight, Aidan refused to allow his lewd appraisal to shake her. Although his words seemed a genuine inquiry, filled with gentlemanly concern, his meaning was quite apparent to her. He wanted a strong, healthy body beneath him in his bed. One that would be able to withstand his brutal invasion whenever the urge struck him. Which, no doubt, was several times daily. She’d slit her wrists before she’d ever submit to the likes of him! she decided, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “I’m quite recovered, thank you,” she said airily. “It was overly warm last evening, and the press of several hundred people in one room at the Quincys’ made it unbearable.” It was a lie, she knew, for it had been Justin Warfield’s threats—and his overpowering masculinity—that had sent her packing. “The heat made me feel a bit light-headed, that’s all,” she finished, trying to erase the handsome young duke’s face from her mind. But the memory of it would not leave her.
“Good … good,” Sedgewinn answered, obviously pleased to hear her explanation. “I’d hoped it was little else.”
“Might I offer you a brandy?” Alastair Prescott asked, coming up beside the earl. His approving gaze settled on his daughter, telling her he was pleased with her actions.
“Supper will be served in five minutes, Your Grace,” Elsworth’s nasal tone interrupted. “Shall I set an extra place?”
No! Aidan thought wildly, then wondered if she’d actually shouted the word aloud. Realizing she hadn’t, she quickly said a round of prayers that the answer would be …
“Yes,” the duke pronounced, and Aidan’s hopes plummeted. If there truly was a God, she was certain his ears were closed to her. Had she been so terribly bad, so terribly wicked, that He wished to see her unduly punished for the rest of her natural life? she wondered. Hell could be no worse, she decided as she heard her father’s words: “Lord Sedgewinn will be joining us.”
In the dining room, framed portraits of her ancestors stared down at her from the mint-green walls as Aidan sat frozen in her seat. Violet eyes watched Lord Sedgewinn as he attacked his third plate, which was heaped to overflowing and covered completely with the rich sauces Cook had prepared. His weak, pudgy chin dripped with the same, for he never bothered to use his linen napkin once, and Aidan found she’d lost her appetite for the delicious fare set before her. With his mouth full, he talked incessantly and Aidan fought to swallow the bile which had, long ago, risen in her throat. It refused to go down.
“I’m certain Aidan will be an exceptional wife,” he said to the duke, taking another bite of his food. “She’s of sound breeding, good bloodlines, and has a solid frame. We should present you with many grandchildren, Your Grace—the first within a year of our nuptials.”
Aidan’s gaze bounced off the earl and attached itself to her father, hoping to see his reaction. His face was a blank mask. But she noted how his hand had curled into a tight fist, its knuckles mottled white, where it rested upon the table next to his empty plate.
“Yes,” Sedgewinn continued his monologue, bits of chewed food spewing unappetizingly from his loose lips to splash onto the once pristine white tablecloth, “we should have a large brood that will make you proud in no time at all.”
Valiantly Aidan fought the urge to shove herself from the table and run, screaming, from the room. Gritting her teeth, she settled her gaze on her own untouched plate. She breathed deeply, closed her eyes, and wondered if the obnoxious man would ever stop eating and talking. If she could only have a private word with her father, she thought, but he seemed content to sit and listen to the ceaseless ramblings of his future son-in-law. How, she could not fathom!
Her eyelids parted and she glanced at the clock on the sideboard. It was nearly ten past nine. In less than three hours Justin Warfield would be behind the walled gardens, waiting for her in the mews, the cobbled alleyway which led to the carriage houses and stables belonging to the grand houses in Grosvenor Square. She considered whether she’d be there herself, then prayed the answer would be no. If she could only speak to her father; apologize to him; swear she’d never disobey him again; fall at his feet and beg his forgiveness. If he would only listen; take her into his fatherly embrace; tell her she was excused, that he would not marry her off to Sedgewinn. Then she’d have no reason to flee with the Duke of Westover. None whatsoever!
Then suddenly another thought hit Aidan. If she could not persuade her father, and she had to follow through on her marriage to George, what would she do if her escort never showed? Given his derision on the elopement, he might very well change his mind. A promise or not, he might go back on his word, determined to save George from the conniving, manipulative little she-devil he believed her to be! Oh, heavens! What would she do then?
“Ah, excellent meal, Your Grace,” Sedgewinn said, leaning back and patting his engorged belly. “Excellent, indeed.”
Aidan watched as he finally took his splattered napkin from his lap to wipe his mouth, only to leave several unsightly smudges behind. Pig! she thought as she looked down to see his plate nearly as clean as when it had been set before him empty.
“Lord Sedgewinn and I will be retiring to the library to finish our negotiations,” her father said, eyeing her closely. “Having heard most of the terms, do you have any questions?”
Yes! her mind screamed. Why are you doing this to me? Instead, she leveled her subdued gaze on her sire and said, “I’m certain you have my best welfare in mind. I will accede to your wishes on the matter. I’m willing to marry” —she’d almost choked on the word—”Lord Sedgewinn. If that’s what you feel will give me the most happiness, I shall do as you ask.”
Alastair viewed his daughter a long, searching moment, one silvery brow arched. A pleased look suddenly entered his blue eyes, and he reached out and patted her cold hand as it rested on the table. “Daughter, I promise what transpires tonight will be done with only you in mind.” He turned to his guest. “Sedgewinn, shall we?”
The duke rose from his chair, his face a mask of utmost courtesy. For a moment—one brief moment—Aidan thought her father was going to relent, but with his next words, her hopes plunged anew.
“Let’s get on with it, Sedgewinn, and see if we can iron out the few remaining wrinkles in the contract.” He cast a bright smile on the man. “Since Aidan is so eager to please us both, I’m certain it won’t take long.”
“Quite. As you well know, Your Grace, I’m genuinely anxious to bed my new bride. The sooner we’re married, the better,” he said with a raspy laugh. Then he turned his leering gaze on his intended. “Good night, Aidan, my lovely little dove.”
It took every ounce of strength she possessed, but Aidan finally managed to breathe, “Good night, Lord Sedgewinn. It’s been a pleasure.” Then, as she watched, the duke motioned for Sedgewinn to proceed to the library. Allowing the man to go before him, Alastair followed the earl out of the room.
Cold blue eyes pierced the center of the earl’s back, pricking at the man like a sharp dagger, but Aidan had no way of seeing the murderous look in her father’s eye. If she had, she’d have realized her soft, pleading words hadn’t fallen on deaf ears like she had thought. As it was, though, she felt certain she’d gone down to defeat. Obviously her father cared nothing for her—felt no love at all.
Rising from her chair, Aidan slowly made her way upstairs, where behind a locked door she pulled a small case from the recesses of the oversize clothes press which stood against the far wall of her bedroom. Next, she caught the fine material of her favorite dress: a soft creation made of silk, off-white in color, a multitude of seed pearls beading the entire bodice and edging the hem and elbow-length sleeves. Despite her misgivings, her uncertainties—despite everything!—she planned to be a beautiful bride. George’s bride. She’d be a devoted wife to him as well, she vowed silently. Even if she didn’t love him.
A feeling of guilt surged through her, but she quickly tamped it down. Regardless of what Justin Warfield might think, she would never consciously hurt George. Never! It made no difference if she had to hide behind a false mask of devotion, concealing her true feelings from her husband—from all of England as well—she’d do it! He deserved no less.
No less? a deep baritone voice mocked her, Justin’s harsh, chastising laughter bursting forth inside her head. He deserves far more, you conniving little bitch! I’d say you’ve already betrayed him with your deceitful manipulations. All to save your own hide. As promised, you’ll now answer to me!
Aidan quickly shook her head to clear it; her wide eyes darted from corner to corner, making certain the Duke of Westover hadn’t, somehow, slipped into her room unseen. Realizing her mind had been playing tricks on her, no doubt resulting from her guilty conscience, she breathed easier. Yet her nerves were still taut, for she dreaded the night ahead. Dreaded seeing Justin Warfield again!
Having packed her small case and changed into a dress she’d filched from her maid Penny, Aidan extinguished the lamp beside her bed, then settled into a chair, waiting in the darkness until the house quieted for the night. With any luck, she’d escape with no one the wiser. Please, God, for once answer my prayers. Please!
Downstairs, a frustrated Alastair Prescott leaned back in his chair and wiped his hand over his face. He felt like a man nearly twice his age. With a sudden jerk, he sat upright, slipped the stopper from the crystal decanter on his desk, and poured himself a second healthy glass of brandy. Settling back, he swallowed a good portion of it and prayed the fiery liquid would soothe his nerves and cool his temper.
When he and Sedgewinn had entered the library over two hours ago, the duke had had his mind set. The problem was how he could make Sedgewinn bolt and, at the same time, preserve his honor. In his haste to marry his rebellious daughter off to the first man who would have her, he’d impetuously jumped into negotiations with Sedgewinn without any forethought. Granted, it was a terrible blunder on his part. Yet, once done, he’d misguidedly felt he couldn’t withdraw. But, as the three of them had sat in the dining room, Sedgewinn stuffing his flatulent face, Alastair had heard the soft pleading quality of Aidan’s voice and the underlying message she’d been trying so desperately to convey, and his hardened heart had melted. Sedgewinn be damned!
At first, the duke had tried to break off their negotiations by placing small obstacles in the earl’s path. But the man seemed willing to agree to anything, so Alastair had quickly switched tactics. His demands had become more outrageous as the minutes passed, even to the point of asking Sedgewinn for an annual allowance, to be paid directly to the duke. Then he’d stated a ludicrous sum that not even the Queen could afford! Hesitant at first, Sedgewinn tried to arrange a considerably lesser amount, reminding the duke of all the sturdy grandchildren he’d provide for Atwood’s enjoyment. When the duke had remained steadfast, certain Sedgewinn would balk, the man amazingly conceded. Like a drooling, rapacious hound, he’d practically forfeited his entire fortune. It was obvious that the earl’s acute desire to sink his long fangs into the tender succulent meat which had been dangled before him had overridden any common sense the man might have possessed!
Finally, unable to withstand another moment of Sedgewinn’s vile presence, the duke had bounded from his chair and thumped his desk with his balled fist. “You lascivious bastard!” he’d growled, glaring his distaste at the man. “If you think I’d ever give you permission to use my daughter to satiate your satyric lusts, you’re sadly mistaken. Get your overblown backside off my furniture and out of my house! And I suggest you move with haste, sir, before I boot you through the door myself.”
Taken aback, the earl had opened his beady eyes in shock; his turgid mouth worked itself like that of a fish. “But … but, Your Grace,” he’d blubbered, “I’ve gladly conceded everything!”
“You’ve conceded nothing,” Alastair had snapped back, “except that you’re a pompous fool! Now, filth, withdraw from my presence and never approach me or my daughter again.” Sedgewinn had pulled his considerable girth from the chair, and Alastair could have sworn he’d heard the leather cushion emit a sigh of relief. “And Sedgewinn,” the duke had said in afterthought, his thumb gingerly testing the pointed tip of the small bejeweled dagger, an ancestral keepsake that was now used as a letter opener, “should some unfortunate young woman consent to marry you and I hear you have abused her, like you did your previous wives, I’ll make certain you never mistreat another woman again—in any way.” He nodded toward Sedgewinn’s crotch. “Understood?”
The earl visibly blanched, then gulped. “Y-yes … quite.”
“Good. Now, get out!”
Remembering the look on Sedgewinn’s face, the duke chuckled, then tossed down the remainder of his brandy. He glanced at the gilded bronze French clock gracing the mantel. Ten minutes to twelve. Rising, he extinguished the lamp and headed for the stairs and his bedchamber. As he passed down the upstairs hallway, he came to Aidan’s door, where he stopped and listened. No sound came from within. Undoubtedly she was asleep. And if she weren’t? Either way, his news could wait until tomorrow. Another worrisome night might make her even more submissive and less willing to challenge his every word. A smile crossed his face. He was looking forward to having an obedient daughter. It would be a pleasant change, he decided gleefully. A damned pleasant change, indeed!
Aidan’s ear pressed itself to the wooden panel, her breath held tightly in her lungs. It had been five minutes—or was it only five seconds?—since her father’s footsteps had stopped outside her door. The house seemed quiet enough. Dared she chance her escape now? In far away tones, she heard the clock in the library begin to chime. Midnight! She had no choice. If she didn’t go now, Justin Warfield was certain to leave her behind.
Quietly she turned the key; the lock released, sounding like a cannon’s fire in the silent house. Nervously she twisted the handle, and again, to Aidan’s sensitive ears, the noise was loud enough to wake the dead. Yet, thankfully, no one stirred. With her case in hand, a lightweight cloak draped over her shoulders, she scurried down the hallway on silent feet to the back stairs. Once down them, she peered around the corner, checking the kitchen area, making certain no one was about.
For once, it seemed good fortune was with her. Yanking up a length of black skirt, she fled the house and, like a stealthy feline, bounded down the garden path toward the carriage house. An iron gate stood at the corner of the stone wall, rusting from disuse. Cautiously she lifted the pitted latch and prayed the thing wasn’t frozen on its corroded hinges. After several hard pulls, her door to freedom gave way, almost toppling her onto her backside as it did so. With case in hand, she crept down the musty-smelling tunnel, created by the carriage house bordering their own, and stepped through yet another gate and into the blackened, eerie stillness of the mews.
The Duke of Westover’s coach was nowhere to be seen. Gazing into the wide cobbled yard, which led from the mews out onto the street, she hoped to see it turning the corner any moment. After what seemed an eternity, Aidan’s hopes sank. She’d been only a few minutes late, but apparently he’d left without her. That was, if he’d come at all. Her shoulders drooping, she started to turn.
Suddenly Aidan felt certain she wasn’t alone. A dark shadow loomed up only a few feet from her. Its owner stepped from behind the open gate leading back into the tunnel. Aidan’s heart leapt to her throat. Garbed in black, the hulking male figure moved toward her, and a scream bubbled to her lips. Instantly a large hand sliced through the air, smothering her cries as he jerked her against his solid form.
“You’re lucky I waited, Lady Prescott,” Justin Warfield said, his low voice grating along her already trembling nerves. “But more’s the pity for you that I did.”