Regency Rogues: Wicked Seduction: Her Enemy at the Altar / That Despicable Rogue. Virginia Heath
had never appreciated being interrupted at the best of times and now was definitely not that. His voice was curter and colder than usual. ‘Enter.’
‘You wished to see me, Father?’ Connie looked down at her hands rather than see the disappointment in his eyes. Even so, his next words were brutal.
‘Do not refer to me as that again. As far as I am concerned I have no daughter.’
Connie’s eyes snapped up and only then did she notice Aaron Wincanton standing stiffly in the furthest corner of the room. She could not work out what emotion was clouding his eyes as he walked towards her and neither did she care. Automatically, her hands curled into angry fists at her side. Were the Wincantons so callous that one of them had to witness her entire ruination? ‘What is he doing here?’
Her father did not look at him. ‘He has come to request your hand in marriage and, under the circumstances, I have granted it.’
‘I will not marry him. I hate him!’ Connie spat the last words directly in her despoiler’s face.
‘That is as may be,’ her father continued, sounding bored with the entire conversation, ‘but your mother prefers that I do not throw you on to the streets, so this solution suits us well enough. You made your bed, Constance, when you lifted yours skirts for him.’
‘I did not—’
Her father cut her off with a raised hand. ‘Half of the ballroom witnessed it. Whether you did, or did not, consummate the act makes no difference. That you would allow this...this...’ his head whipped towards Aaron for the first time and regarded him with absolute disgust ‘...this Wincanton to touch you when I had arranged the perfect union between you and Deal, it beggars belief. But you did and now you must live with the shame and the consequences. He has arranged a special licence and the pair of you will be married within the hour.’
Connie felt her legs give way and staggered backwards to steady herself on the arm of the sofa. ‘No! You cannot make me. I am past the age of majority. You cannot force me to marry anyone that I do not choose to.’
‘Yes, I can, Constance! The alternative is I throw you out on to the streets with nothing but the clothes that you stand up in.’
‘I would rather that than marry a Wincanton.’ Connie stalked to the door, refusing to look at either her father or him. Both men were vile.
‘Then do so on the understanding that I will toss your mother out alongside you. If she had done a better job of chaperoning you, then this would never have happened. You have always been as wilful and difficult as you are unattractive—and she has always given you far more credit than you were due. I have no intention of listening to her bleeding-heart pleas for your safety and I hold her equally as responsible for the disgrace that has been brought on to our family by your actions.’
Connie turned to her father in abject disbelief and met his stony stare with one of her own. Was the man truly serious? Surely he was bluffing? Was he truly callous enough to throw them both out in order to get his own way?
Bile rose in her throat when she realised that he was. The Earl of Redbridge’s word was always law and, in matters concerning the feud between the Stuarts and Wincantons, that law was cast iron. Both her mother and she were inconsequential. As long as he had an heir to pass it all on to her father would be content. Connie risked a glance at Aaron. He was still watching her intently, his jaw set and his dark eyes angry, but she did not know if that anger was directed at her or her father.
‘Then bring in the priest and let us get this travesty over with.’ Connie was beaten. He could see it in her eyes. It was as if all of the light had gone out of them. She might be brave and bold for herself, but her loyalty to her mother was too strong to ignore. Aaron wondered what that bond felt like. His own mother had died shortly after giving birth to him so he had never grown up with the unconditional love of at least one parent. His own father and the Earl of Redbridge had a great deal in common and both were apparently hard on their children. He had almost stepped in to defend Connie, but realised that her father would likely throw them both on to the street immediately and if that happened she would never marry him. He could not leave her to the harshness of such a life on her own.
Connie’s father marched to the door and spoke quietly with a footman, so Aaron took the opportunity to speak to her.
‘It will be all right, Connie. I promise,’ he whispered quietly as he gently clasped her hand with his own. She snatched it away as if she had been burned.
‘Do not touch me! I despise you, Aaron Wincanton. That will never change.’
Whilst the words hurt he could not blame her for them. This whole, sorry situation was all his fault. He should never have gone into the library in the first place. He had made her cry. And he had instigated the kiss that had ruined her. No wonder she hated him. He hated himself as well—but that was nothing new. He was supposed to have proposed marriage to Violet Garfield and saved the future of the Wincanton estate. Instead he had made another huge mess and ruined yet another innocent person’s life.
From the moment his father had patted him on the back in front of that room full of people, and congratulated him for getting one over on the Stuarts, Aaron had vowed to make amends for this latest transgression. But when he had seen Connie stumble out of that library with her life in ruins, the guilt he had felt had been so overpowering that he could barely stand in the same room as himself.
‘I knew my heir would not let me down,’ his father had crowed when they were finally left alone. ‘Now no man will want her.’
Aaron recognised the truth in those words. Society was fickle and the transgressions of a woman would never be overlooked. If he did not make it right, then Connie would be shunned and doomed to an empty life of spinsterhood. ‘I will marry her,’ he had suddenly declared.
‘You will not. I forbid it. I will not have my bloodline sullied with a Stuart!’
‘It cannot be helped. I ruined the girl. It is my responsibility to marry her.’ Aaron went to walk to the door.
‘It is not your responsibility. The world is full of ruined women who should have known better. Once the dust has settled you could still propose to Violet Garfield. You are too good a catch for her to ignore.’
For the briefest of moments Aaron seriously considered the wisdom of his father’s words. Violet Garfield’s money could save them. Just as quickly he discarded the thought. He might well be a Wincanton, but the army had taught him about his responsibilities. It was his duty to do right by Connie. He had wronged her and he would not let her pay the terrible price alone. Aaron had ruined enough peoples’ lives already, he did not need another on his conscience. The guilt from all of his previous sins was already too heavy to bear.
‘I will offer myself as Constance Stuart’s husband and let her decide.’ He sincerely hoped she would turn him down—despite her unfortunate family connections she deserved a better man than him, but it had to be her choice.
‘If you do, then I will...’
‘You will what, Father?’ It was a familiar threat that he had lost patience with long ago. ‘You cannot disinherit me. The estate is entailed. You can throw me out until you die, which we both know will happen sooner rather than later, and I will survive well enough until then.’ Aaron stalked towards his father and loomed over him. ‘Take comfort that I inadvertently ruined a Stuart, Father. It is the only satisfaction that I will allow you to take from this whole sorry mess.’ Aaron turned to leave.
‘You are soft, like your mother. She had no backbone either. But, as I have always said, bad bitch—bad pup. And now you would bring another bad bitch into our house.’
Aaron spun around and practically growled into his father’s face. ‘If Connie will have me, then she will be my wife by tomorrow and you will treat her with the respect that position deserves. I promised you a grandson within the year. What difference does