Regency Rogues: Wicked Seduction: Her Enemy at the Altar / That Despicable Rogue. Virginia Heath
in the yard and led the horses away and Aaron offered her his arm as they walked back towards the house. In the spirit of their awkward truce, she took it, trying not to enjoy the solid feel of him beneath her hand or remember how that arm had once held her with such passion.
The sound of another horse arriving behind them had them both turning. ‘That is Mr Thomas,’ Aaron said with a mixture of urgency tinged with disgust. He abruptly disentangled her arm from his. ‘If you will excuse me, Connie, I really need to talk to him.’
He practically sprinted back towards the stable yard, leaving Connie rooted to the spot. Mr Thomas’s eyes met and locked with hers. For an instant he appeared startled, then he inclined his head politely before turning his full attention back to Aaron as if nothing untoward was going on at all.
Except it was. Connie had seen Mr Thomas before. Many times. The last time had been a little over a fortnight ago, in her father’s study.
Connie had no idea how to react or what to do, so she went inside and quickly changed, wrapping herself in a warm shawl before heading back downstairs. Pretending to go out for a walk, Connie wandered nervously up and down the paths closet to the stables, looking for any sign of Mr Thomas and filled with an enormous sense of foreboding. There was more afoot here than she had been aware of and unexpectedly she found her loyalty torn. Eventually she saw him striding towards the building. Fortunately, he was alone.
‘Mr Thomas! Might I have a word?’
He spun around and then gave her a slow smile before walking towards her, then bowed politely. ‘Lady Constance, what an unexpected pleasure.’
‘I hardly think it should be unexpected, sir, not when we both know that you have dealings with my father. You must have realised I would seek you out and demand an explanation the moment I clapped eyes on you. Why are you here?’
‘Have you told all this to your husband?’ The man’s eyes were suddenly cold and his expression, although trying to remain bland, was also hostile. It made Connie feel uneasy.
‘Not yet.’
She watched his shoulders sag with relief before he pinned her with his gaze. ‘Good. Let us keep it that way. I dare say he would get quite the wrong impression. I am merely of an acquaintance of your father’s, though Viscount Ardleigh and his son might not be particularly forgiving of that relationship if they were to find out about it.’
‘You are more than a passing acquaintance, Mr Thomas. You have visited Redbridge House at least once a month for several years. I believe that you are working for my father. He is using you to sabotage the Wincantons in some way. That is why the fields still lay idle, isn’t it?’
The estate manager’s eyes narrowed and his voice became clipped. ‘I can assure you, madam, that I have no idea what you are talking about. I am simply an acquaintance of your father’s. That has nothing to do with my position here. Occasionally, I might tell your father snippets of what the Wincantons are up to, in passing conversation, but that is hardly a crime.’
‘Do you expect me to believe that your only purpose here is to keep my father informed of the latest gossip? I am not a fool, sir.’
His thin lips curled into a snarl as he watched her coldly. ‘Your father would be very disappointed in you if he heard that you had interfered in his personal business, Lady Constance.’
‘My father is already disappointed in me, Mr Thomas, as I am sure the whole world now knows, therefore I fail to see what difference my interference would make.’ Connie turned on her heel and began to march away. She had to find Aaron and tell him.
‘I should imagine that it is very painful to be estranged from one’s family, Lady Constance.’ Instantly, Connie’s footsteps slowed and she turned back to the estate manager suspiciously. Mr Thomas merely smiled. ‘You always did have such a strong bond with your mother. I have seen first-hand the strain this breach has put on her. I dare say she misses you as much as you miss her—and your father can be quite stubborn. However, I am certain that his poor opinion of you will change once he hears of your loyalty and discretion in this delicate matter.’
‘I doubt my father would bend, sir, in which case you are asking me to be disloyal to my husband for naught.’ Why did she suddenly feel the need to be loyal to Aaron Wincanton? It was not as if she had any affection for the man or owed him anything. Yet she felt it just the same.
Mr Thomas was all charm and subservience again. ‘Perhaps. And then again perhaps not. I was only with your father yesterday and he did specifically ask me to enquire about your health. He mentioned something in passing about how badly his wife was taking it all and he wanted to know if you were well cared for. I am to report back to him straight away if there is anything amiss.’ He paused briefly to let this news sink in and when he next spoke it was conspiratorially. ‘The Earl of Redbridge might be stubborn, but he is also still your father. His feelings for you are still there and his anger will pass in time. I know it will pass more quickly if you keep our little secret. Just for a little while. It might be just what is needed to heal the breach between you.’
Everything about what he was suggesting did not sit well with her—yet still she was seduced by the possibility. The idea that her father had enquired about her gave her some hope. He would see it as disloyal if she interfered and that could only serve to make the gulf between them wider. And she was desperate to see her mother again. Once her marriage was dissolved, her father might see his way to allowing her to visit from time to time if she could prove to be an asset to him while she was here. It was not as if she had any loyalty to the Wincantons. But Aaron had been noble in marrying her and he was kind. Did he deserve such duplicitousness?
Mr Thomas sensed her dilemma and regarded her solemnly. ‘I give you my word, my lady, that nothing untoward is going on. I merely keep your father abreast of the Wincanton family and what they are doing.’
‘If I have any doubt about that, be advised, Mr Thomas, that the first person I shall speak to is my husband.’ Connie did not really believe the man. It was all too coincidental, but the prospect of seeing her mother and brother again was too tempting to risk offending her father further. For the time being she would maintain the status quo. If there was the slightest chance that she could heal the rift, then she had to give it a go. She would hold her tongue for as long as it took her to find proof that Mr Thomas was a liar and no longer. What difference did a few more weeks make?
Aaron arrived at the door of Connie’s sitting room a respectable hour after they had endured another awkward dinner with his father. The fraught atmosphere was made worse by the fact that Aaron and the old man had been arguing about the state of the fields for most of the afternoon. But his father would not listen to reason and Aaron was hesitant to push him too far in case it overtaxed his fragile heart. For the time being, they agreed to disagree. A situation that was beyond frustrating because with every passing day things were becoming less salvageable.
Unfortunately, Connie was not in her nightdress when she bid him to enter. In fact, she was as formally dressed as she had been at the dinner table and was sitting primly on her sofa, embroidering something. He would have much preferred to see her drying her splendid hair by the fire, although this way was probably for the best.
‘I brought port this time,’ he said, waving the decanter in front of her and she smiled stiffly in response, barely lifting her eyes from her sewing. Her guard was up again, he could tell, and Aaron decided he was fonder of her when she was being true to herself.
‘I have never tasted port.’
‘Then you are in for a treat. This is one of my father’s best bottles. I pilfered it from the cellar and he would be livid if he knew that I had taken it. He would be more livid if he knew that I was sharing it with a Stuart.’
‘Then