In the Wake of the Wind (12 page)

“I’m really not interested,” Aiden replied, cutting her off.
“Serafina
had a difficult day and I’m sure she was entitled to whatever she did say.”

“I think not,” Charlotte said sharply. “She was
most
unchristian in her words. The girl is—is a spoiled, badly mannered hussy, and I am horrified that you are defending her. She is not fit to be countess of Aubrey, and you for one should know it.”

“That’s enough!” Aiden roared, his temper snapping. “I don’t give two pins what you think, Charlotte.
Serafina
is my wife, and I won’t have you malign her.”

Charlotte raised her chin. “I—I see,” she said coldly. “Yesterday you were prepared to think all those things of her and more, and yet today, now that she has actually shown her face, you have reversed yourself, simply because that face is not as hideous as you were anticipating? I should have known that you’d be led astray by lust, Aiden Delaware, for hasn’t it always been the way with you?” Her mouth tightened into a thin line, censure written all over her face. “Don’t think I haven’t been told by the housemaids about your request to move your wife’s belongings out of our mother’s old bedroom and into your own.”

Aiden stood, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk. “If you think to start in on one of your morality lectures now, Lottie, think again. There is nothing immoral about wishing to share a bedroom with my wife. And yes, although it is true that
Serafina
is an attractive woman, that has little to do with my annoyance with you or my desire to see my wife treated with kindness.” He released a sharp breath. “And furthermore, I deeply resent your assumptions about her character and mine, for that matter, simply because you are displeased with our sleeping arrangements.”

Charlotte’s hands flew to her cheeks where two spots of red burned. “Oh, you are cruel,” she cried. “Here I am, looking after your best interests as I have always done, and all you can do is malign me, when none of this is my fault! I did not bring that scheming, deceitful woman into this house, you did—you and Father both. And now I am to be subjected to your scorn when I have done nothing to deserve it?”

“All I have subjected you to is a simple request to keep your tongue and your opinions to yourself,” Aiden said more quietly, feeling guilty that he’d upset her so badly. “As for scorn, that is exactly what you have subjected
Serafina
to without even giving her a chance. I’m only asking you not to judge her until you’ve had an opportunity to know her a little better. Is that really so difficult for you?”

Charlotte tore her gaze away. “Very well,” she said, staring down at her lap. “Since I can see that you refuse to hear me and my company is clearly repugnant to you, I will take myself away. Since both Father and that Miss Beaton have already retired for the evening, you and your—bride—can dine alone, without me to distract you from your amorous thoughts.”

“Don’t be a little fool,” Aiden said impatiently. “It’s no good flying up into the boughs over a small disagreement between us.”

“A small disagreement?” she said tightly. “You cast me aside in favor of a new wife, and you call it a small disagreement?” Tears flooded her eyes and she dabbed at them with her handkerchief. “I never thought you would turn on me, Aiden, never in a hundred years.”

Aiden moved over to her side and took her free hand, overcome with remorse that he’d lost his temper with her, something he rarely did. Lottie deserved better than the sharp edge of his tongue, and he knew better than to upset her when her health was so fragile. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I’m not casting you aside, I promise you. I’m merely trying to ensure that we all get along, and a little charity on your part will go a long way toward making that happen.”

“I have never been accused of being uncharitable,” Charlotte sniffed. “Have I not always seen to the welfare of the villagers, even in my condition? Have I not sent baskets of food to those in need, since I could not go myself? Have I not seen to the religious education of the staff, concerned myself with keeping them on a godly path?”

“Yes, of course you have,” he said, privately wishing that she’d concern herself a little less with the state of people’s souls. “That’s not what I meant. I just ask that you try to make
Serafina
comfortable in her new home, since her change of circumstances is overwhelming to her at the moment.”

“I will naturally do what I can since I would hate for you to think me lacking in charity,” Charlotte said, dabbing at her eyes again. “Please excuse me. I feel one of my migraines coming on and I would like to retire to my bedchamber.”

“Of course,” Aiden said, feeling guiltier than ever. He knew how Charlotte suffered from her headaches, and it was all his fault she was having one now.

He bent over and kissed her cheek. “Sleep well. I hope you feel better in the morning.”

“I will do my best,” Charlotte said. She turned her chair and wheeled herself out of the room.

Aiden swore softly as the door closed behind her. He crossed the room and poured himself a large glass of wine from the decanter, calling himself every kind of fool he could think of.

Serafina
changed into her Sunday dress, Janie fussing over her as she did up the buttons on the back. “There you are, miss—my lady, that is,” she said as she finished. “Probably as hard for you to get used to the title as it is for me. But you look just like a countess, sure you do.”

“Thank you,”
Serafina
said shyly. “That’s very kind of you. I don’t think the Delawares or their friends would agree with you, though. They look at me as if I was something the cat dragged in.”

“I don’t know why you’d be thinking that,” Janie said with astonishment. “Lord Aubrey certainly doesn’t look at you that way, not if the way I saw him smiling at you earlier is anything to go by.”

“He was smiling at me? When?”
Serafina
asked.

“When you were on your way upstairs with your poor, indisposed auntie. He was standing in the door of his study.”

“He did—I mean, he was?”
Serafina
said. She hadn’t stopped to think how Aiden might actually view her—not the real Aiden, anyway. It wasn’t that he’d made any secret of his desire to throw her into his bed and ravish her, but she assumed that was because he was a rogue, and from the sound of it, rogues would bed just about anyone.

She glanced around the room again, Aiden’s room, where he’d wasted no time in depositing her, her gaze falling on the dressing table where his silver-backed hairbrushes sat, on the writing desk by the window where a pile of books was stacked haphazardly, on the wardrobe where his clothes hung, finally lingering on the huge canopied bed where she would sleep that night. With him.

Her stomach churned sickly. She had no way of knowing if he’d keep his word not to touch her. Aiden was a mystery to her, one minute saying one thing, the next doing something else entirely. And yet he seemed sincere about his promise. But then, he’d seemed sincere in the woods too, and look what had come of that.

She tore her gaze away from the bed back to Janie, not wanting to think about Aiden’s true intentions a moment longer. It was bad enough that she had to spend the rest of her life with him without working herself into a state over the next few hours.

“Are you ready to go downstairs?” Janie asked, standing back, her hands resting on her plump hips. “Mr. Plum said dinner at eight and it’s already five to.”

The last thing
Serafina
wanted to do was descend the stairs to face Aiden and his family again, but she knew she had no choice. She’d already behaved badly enough for one day. “I suppose so,” she said despondently. “Although I’d far rather hide away in here and never come out again.”

“Pshaw,” Janie said. “You’re experiencing bridal nerves, that’s all. My mum says it’s natural when you’ve just been married. She told me you might be in a bit of a state tonight, that she did, this very morning when I left home to come look after you.”

Serafina
forced a smile to her lips. “It was very kind of you to do so. I have to confess, I’m not accustomed to being looked after, Janie.”

“Well then, and I’m not accustomed to looking after ladyships, either, so we’re in the same boat. The last job I had was doing for nice Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland, until Mr. Kirkland was carried off by a bad heart. His poor wife died just last month, so when word went out that they were looking for a lady’s maid for the new countess, I brought myself straight up here, thinking there was no reason I couldn’t look after a countess as well as I could a plain missus.”

She grinned. “Better, maybe, since I don’t have to do all the cooking and cleaning and carrying on my own, and that’s a blessing to be sure, even though I do have to live up here now.”

“Won’t you miss your family?”
Serafina
asked.

“Sure enough I will, but I’ll see them on my half-day off, won’t I, and they can do with the extra money in their pockets. The only thing that troubles me is that I’m used to having laughter about me, and the servants’ hall is fairly glum, miss. My lady, I mean.”

“Oh …”
Serafina
said, glad someone else had the same impression. “I noticed that last night. Nobody seems to smile.”

“No indeed, they’re all stifflike and shut up like corpses in a coffin, except for that Mr. Tinkerby of yours. I like him, I do. We had a jolly chuckle over supper when we discovered we have relatives in common over Leicestershire-way—distantlike, but still …” She clapped her hands over her mouth. “But here I am prattling on when his lordship is expecting you downstairs. My mum always said I did run on at the mouth, and I reckon she’s right.”

“Oh, Janie, I’m awfully glad you do prattle on,”
Serafina
said sincerely. “I’m feeling most alone at the moment, and it’s nice to know someone is willing to talk to me.”

“I’ll talk at you all you want, my lady. You’ll probably want to shut me up soon enough. But you’d better run along and make your first appearance as lady of the house.”

Serafina
drew in a deep, shaky breath. “Oh, Janie, I don’t know the first thing about being lady of the house, let alone a countess! I’m sure I won’t be any good at it.”

“You’ll do well enough, you’ll see. Nothing’s so bad as it first seems, and that’s the truth right enough. I had a case of the butterflies myself this morning when I left home, wondering if I wasn’t going to be out of place with you, but I think we’re going to march along nicely together, so it only goes to show, doesn’t it?”

Serafina
laughed. “I think we’re going to march along nicely indeed, Janie, and I’ll take your words to heart.”

“There you go, my lady,” she said. “Now off with you, and try to enjoy yourself.”

Serafina
nodded. She left the room, squaring her shoulders, and started down the stairs.

C
harlotte sat in her chair next to her bedroom window, staring sightlessly out into the dark night, her thoughts turned inward.

She still stung from Aiden’s harsh words. He’d never talked to her so before, so cruelly, so brutally insensitive to her feelings. She’d known the night before that there was going to be trouble—oh, yes, she’d known it from the moment Miss
Serafina
Segrave had appeared in the drawing room—not the unsightly monster that Aiden had described, but a beautiful girl with a comely figure and sweet voice.

Charlotte had been stricken with shock, for the first thought that occurred was that her brother might not be so adverse to his bride after all. That had proved out sure enough at the altar, sudden delight written all over Aiden’s face as if he was actually pleased to see her, even when she had behaved in such a disgraceful fashion.

And then at the wedding breakfast he’d hardly taken his eyes off her. Oh, he might have pretended his attention was elsewhere, but Charlotte knew. She’d seen lust before.

She remembered well the time that Peter the footman had been smitten by Martha the parlor maid, his eyes following her everywhere with undisguised craving. And hadn’t Charlotte taken care of that? She had indeed, catching them together in a disgusting embrace, pawing at each other in the pantry when they thought no one would be about, Martha’s dress hitched up about her hips, Peter’s breeches undone, his male organ exposed to Charlotte’s view.

Charlotte shuddered in memory, the sinful, loathsome image ingrained on her brain for all time. But had she dismissed them? No. She, Christian that she was, had instead given them both a double load of work, never taking her eyes off them, reading tracts from the Old Testament while they labored side by side, not allowed to look upon each other.

God had seen to the rest, giving Martha her just desserts for her wicked wantonness when she died from influenza two months later. And the lascivious footman who had been led astray consigned himself to eternal hell two weeks after that, taking his life in the stables at the end of a rope.

Now her beloved brother was caught in the same web of lust, blinded to his wife’s true nature. He hadn’t even cared to hear the dreadful things
Serafina
said about him, had turned a deaf ear to Charlotte’s pleas to be heard. And he had even gone so far as to change the sleeping arrangements without even consulting her, all because he knew what she’d have to say about his motives.

Aiden, sleeping with that woman, not because he had to do his duty, but because he wanted to—to…

Charlotte squeezed her eyes closed, her fist pressed to her mouth, trying to stifle a rush of nausea. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know that Aiden had long indulged his male appetites. She’d overheard the stories of his philandering when he and Raphael spoke in the evenings, not aware that she could hear every word through the knot in the library paneling.

She’d learned a great deal over the years, her ear pressed carefully against the wall in her bedroom next door. She’d prayed long and hard that Aiden would outgrow his lamentable habits. But to have him now carnally indulging himself under her own roof with a woman Charlotte was convinced was Satan’s handmaiden was more than she could bear.

She’d always dreaded the prospect of Aiden’s marriage, knowing that another woman would move into her house, but she had hoped that he would at least marry someone biddable, someone who would sit in the evenings with her, appropriately submissive as Charlotte instructed her in the ways of the Lord.

She had even gone so far as to hope that the dreadful woman Aiden was forced to marry would be trainable, that by virtue of Aiden’s disgust of her, she would turn to Charlotte for advice. And Charlotte had planned that advice carefully, had worked out exactly what to do and say to keep the woman under firm control.

But all of her planning had gone astray, simply because Aiden could see nothing in front of him but a desirable body. Why else would he have so quickly turned against his own sister? He didn’t even know what the woman really thought of him. But Charlotte did, and her heart broke for her misguided brother.

Everything she had ever done she’d done for Aiden. She’d kept the house going, ensured that even when their fortune fell everything was cared for as it should be. She’d looked after their pathetic father, seen to the servants, the tenants, the villagers, all in Aiden’s name. And he had no gratitude, cared nothing for her labors. Cared nothing for her.

Charlotte turned her chair away from the window, her head bowed in despair. At least she still had Raphael, she thought, wiping tears away from her eyes. He saw straight through her brother’s wife, his eyes unclouded by lust. Raphael loved her, loved her deeply, even though a marriage between them was impossible. Raphael needed an heir that Charlotte could never give him, but if it hadn’t been for her crippled condition, they would have been married years before.

She sniffed into her handkerchief. Poor Raphael, consigned to a hopeless love, never marrying, solely out of loyalty to her. He was so devoted, visiting her every chance he had, and although they could never speak of their love for each other, it was there, a pure, chaste, beautiful thing that sustained her lonely days and nights.

Raphael understood how devastated she was by Aiden’s marriage. He was devastated himself, on Aiden’s behalf as well as her own. Hadn’t he told her just today to be brave, to be of strong heart?

Well. She wouldn’t let him down. She would make the best of a terrible situation. She would see to it that Aiden wasn’t led too far astray by that witch of his. It might take a little time and patience, but Aiden would surely soon realize what his bride really was beneath that pretty surface.

And Charlotte would be there, waiting to pick up the pieces of his broken heart. All she had to do was to find a way to speed the process along.

Charlotte lifted her head, stiffening her resolve. This was no time for self-pity. If she was to set the situation right, she would have to put all of her energy and intelligence to the matter.

All she had to do was to find a way to catch
Serafina
out, prove to Aiden that she was not worthy of his compassion or his attentions.

She wheeled herself to her desk and began to prepare a list of how she might go about just such an important task.

Aiden impatiently waited in the drawing room for
Serafina,
watching the clock on the mantelpiece tick away the minutes. He was going to give her five more and then go upstairs and bring her down himself. The only cause he could think for her delay was a strong desire not to appear at all, and he couldn’t say he blamed her. If the situation had been reversed, he’d be hiding in his bedchamber too. But then, he was the party who had made out well in this arrangement.
Serafina
hadn’t been so fortunate.

He felt like an utter fraud. He’d as good-as stolen her at the altar against her will, dragged her into a marriage she wanted nothing to do with, and why? Because he was a selfish bastard who had seen something he wanted and taken it. He didn’t regret what he’d done for a moment, but he’d been searching his conscience for the last hour and he didn’t like what he’d found there. For if he was truly to be honest with himself, he was every bit the cad
Serafina
had called him.

Oh, he needed her money, and badly, but he didn’t want her because of that. He wanted her because she was everything he’d never thought to find in a woman—sweetness and innocence and artlessness. He could have let her walk away from him today, given her freedom and the chance to find someone who could love her the way she wanted. But he hadn’t. In the one split second at the altar that he could have changed everything for her, he’d decided that he’d never wanted anyone more in his life.

And now
Serafina
was paying the price.

Aiden rubbed his forehead. The only thing he could do now was to try to find a way to make it up to her. If he couldn’t be the fairy-tale prince she wanted—and that was a joke in itself—he could at least give her a decent life. A happy home. Children to fill it, if he could ever persuade her into his arms, that was.

He had no idea how to go about the process of seducing
Serafina.
She obviously wasn’t interested in what he had to offer her as a husband, and she was sure proof against the charm that had never failed him in amorous pursuits. The problem was that he’d never really cared before whether he succeeded. The pursuit had always been a game, the prize a night or a week or even a month with a woman who knew the game as well as he. No tears and recriminations—or at least nothing that couldn’t be handled with a parting gift of expensive jewelry and a few well-chosen words.

Serafina
was entirely a different matter. Not only was she his wife and therefore a permanent proposition, he also desired her as he’d never desired before. But this was a different kind of hunger, born not just from strong physical attraction but also from some nameless longing that struck a chord deep in his being, as if it had always been there, but he had never known it.

That alone was enough to scare him out of his wits, but apparently not enough to stop him.

He cared about what she thought of him, a dangerous thing in itself. He wanted her to like him as much as he liked her, a fool’s mission. He wanted her to smile at him again, that sweet, wide, gamine smile, to hear her bright laughter, to see her eyes light up with amusement at some ridiculous comment he made.

And he, idiot that he was, had gone and ruined it all in one careless encounter in the woods, spoken words that couldn’t be unspoken, given her a scoundrel’s kiss that couldn’t be unmade. He was probably going to spend the next twenty years or so making up for that alone.

He glanced up at the clock again. Another five minutes gone by and still no sign of her. He marched over to the double doors and pulled them open. Only to find his wife standing at the bottom of the stairs, chatting away to one of the footmen.

“Really,” she was saying, “seven children? How marvelous for you, William! Your wife must be very happy with her good fortune.”

“Happy indeed, my lady, although she says she’ll beat me over the head with a broomstick if I give her one more. She has enough on her plate and washing that never ends. The youngest is only two and that’s enough trouble, although the older ones are good about looking after their little brothers and sisters.”

Aiden leaned against the door, listening to the exchange with fascination.

“Oh, that is help indeed,”
Serafina
said. “I’d always hoped to have a houseful of children. They make life so cheerful, even if they are a lot of work.”

“Yes, my lady, and we’re truly grateful for every last one. But sometimes I think it’s just as well that I only have one evening out a week and one day a month or we’d probably have a handful more.”

Aiden felt unreasonably jealous that not only did the footman have a wife in his bed who was obviously welcoming, but
Serafina
was bestowing on him that sunny smile he pined to have turned on himself.

But her smile faded. “That is all the time you’re allowed off?” she said, her brow puckering.

“That and a half-day on Sunday when her ladyship takes us all to church, but I’m not complaining, mind you. I’m lucky to have the position here at all, since married servants aren’t encouraged.”

“I can’t see why not,”
Serafina
said. “That doesn’t seem fair at all.”

“Too many distractions from doing their work,” Aiden said straightening and coming forward, intending to claim his wife.

The footman looked up with alarm and turned white as a sheet. “Begging your pardon, my lord, I—I … I wasn’t meaning to step out of place.”

“No need to beg my pardon, William. You are very kind to entertain my wife. I imagine the subject of your children is of the deepest interest to her.”

He didn’t bother to add that he’d never known that William had any children at all, let alone that his name was William to begin with, although the man had been at Townsend for a good ten years.
Serafina,
naturally, had availed herself of this information at the first opportunity, and he strongly suspected she’d soon dig out the deepest secrets of the laundry woman as well.

“Are you planning on joining me at any point this evening,
Serafina,
or were you going to leave me to dine alone?”

“I hadn’t realized you were so anxious for my company,”
Serafina
retorted. She shot a parting smile at William as he swiftly bowed and disappeared. “I’m sorry if you felt I was ignoring you. I am merely trying to acquaint myself with the household. Or is speaking in a friendly fashion to members of the staff not done in your elevated circles?”

“You may speak to whomever you please in any manner you wish,” Aiden said, seeing by her chilly expression that he’d gotten off on the wrong foot once again. “I was merely lonely.”

“Lonely? Oh, dear. And I thought you found yourself the best of companions.”

Aiden couldn’t help grinning at her prickly attitude. “I’m a far better companion when I have someone to share myself with.”

One finely etched eyebrow shot up. “That comes as no surprise at all.”