the next attack. He had had a gutful of war and did not want to continue to fight one on his own doorstep. The only thing that came out of war was death and destruction. It was a pointless and futile state to be in. And expensive. Very expensive when the estate was practically broke.
He had harboured the ridiculous notion that by befriending Constance, and then in turn her brother, the silly feud would be done with once their fathers died. Meanwhile, he could use Violet’s dowry to bring the estate back into profit, so that future Wincantons could live happily ever after even if he had to sabotage his own happiness to do it. Not that his happiness really mattered. Once he might have considered it important, before he had the ruined lives and shattered the dreams of his men and their families, now he had to make amends as best as he could wherever he could. And right now that meant protecting the livelihoods of all of the people that relied on the Wincanton estate. If that meant he had to marry for money and spending a lifetime married to a woman he was incapable of loving, then he had been prepared to do it.
But that lofty plan had backfired spectacularly. Violet and her dowry were lost to him for ever. Worse still, Connie’s father would unleash fire and brimstone now that his only daughter had been ruined by Wincanton. Instead of healing the rift between their families he had created an even greater chasm, yet had no way of clawing his way out of debt. Aaron had taken Constance without a penny. No, indeed, there was nothing convenient about this marriage. Everything was considerably worse because of it. The very least she could do was muster up a bit of contrition.
Aaron found himself glaring at his new wife. Her pale face was pinched and her lips were so pursed they were almost non-existent. And she thought that he would be disappointed not to be invited to her bed! That he might resort to forcing her to consummate the marriage! Quite frankly she would have to drag him there kicking and screaming, no matter how much his father wanted a grandson.
‘Be under no illusion, madam, I am thoroughly appalled to be your husband. To think that I am now doomed for all eternity to spend my days shackled to you till death do us part—God help me, Connie!’ Aaron marched to the door before striding back again to issue his parting salvo. ‘And as for not wanting me in your bed? Pah! What sort of a man would willingly want to bed a shrew like you? I would sooner go into battle again!’ He was glaring down at her, but still she refused to be cowed. When her hands planted themselves on her hips again it was like a red rag to a bull. How dare she? His index finger began to jab the air. ‘You are my wife now and you will do your duty if I decree it. And if I can bring myself to touch you, Lady Constance, you will provide an heir!’
Aaron slammed the door with such force that the windows shook and stalked towards his own bedchamber. Unsurprisingly he did not sleep well. But for once his sleep was disturbed, not by the usual incessant nightmares filled with blood and body parts, but by dreams involving a statuesque redhead who made his blood boil and his loins ache.
A maid brought her breakfast on a tray the next morning. ‘Mr Aaron has told me to inform you that he has gone out for the day. If you need anything, Mr Deaks will see to it.’
Connie smiled at the girl politely and accepted the tray while her stomach growled in protest. The hot bacon smelled delicious, despite the fact that it came from the Wincanton kitchen, and reminded her that she had not eaten in over twenty-four hours. Perhaps once fortified she might be able to sort out all of her tangled and mangled thoughts and emotions. At least she was rid of him for a few hours.
Their fight yesterday had bothered her more than she wanted to acknowledge. Some of the things he had said rang uncomfortably of the truth, as galling as it was to have to face the reality she had never resorted to lying to herself. She had kissed him back. And enjoyed it. She could have slapped his face, she could have run screaming from the room, she could have left it the very moment that he had arrived. There were so many things that she could have done to have avoided her current predicament—but she hadn’t. She had stayed, cried like a baby and confessed all of her deepest darkest fears about her lack of attractiveness to the man who had given her that awful nickname. She had let Aaron Wincanton put his arms about her and she had revelled in the security of his warm embrace.
She had been so needy then, so pathetically vulnerable, that it made her want to scream just thinking about it. Then she had surrendered to his lips greedily the moment they had touched hers and practically melted. Whether that surrender was because she had been feeling unsettled and off kilter after hearing the Marquis of Deal reduce their betrothal to merely a financial settlement or whether it was because she had been so grateful to imagine that a man might actually find her attractive, she could not accurately say. Whichever it was, it did not excuse the fact that she had kissed him back and therefore had to take a small portion of the blame for the situation that she now found herself in.
But she would only take a small portion of the blame. Aaron Wincanton still held the lion’s share. He had instigated the kiss. Although, in the cold light of day she was forced to acknowledge he really had gained nothing but grief in marrying her. Marriage was such an extreme thing to do for revenge that it seemed highly unlikely that he had gone to such a length to upset her family. If that was the case, he had been noble and to think otherwise was simply being petty.
And she still hated him for what had happened and how pathetic he had made her feel.
Now she was married to him and living in his house. As staggering and distasteful as Connie found that, there was no getting around it. The realist in her knew that continued outright rebellion was futile. She was his wife. The law dictated that she must abide by his rules. Despite all of his bluster last night, she knew in her heart he would never force himself on her, no matter what the law said about it. His behaviour had, in the main, been more than decent. He was so decent that he might even let her leave, but she really had nowhere else to go.
Her father would never allow her back so there was no point fleeing there. Her father also had a cruel streak that meant that she would not put it past him to punish her mother or younger brother if they offered her sympathy. Connie was not prepared to take the risk.
She had friends. Most of them were long since married and it was unlikely that any of their husbands would condone harbouring the runaway daughter-in-law of Viscount Ardleigh. She had no money, so leaving was out of the question until she could afford to do so. She supposed that she could steal something of value and leave in the dead of night, however then she would be a fugitive and the consequences of that were too terrible to seriously contemplate. That left her with two options. Stay and make the best of it, knowing that she would never be the woman he truly wanted, or stay and continue to fight. Neither appealed.
There was one potential light at the end of the tunnel. An annulment. But for that she would need Aaron’s consent. Granted, she would still be a scandal and an outcast from her family. Her father was unlikely ever to consider taking her back—but he could hardly put her mother on to the streets if Aaron dissolved the marriage. It would simply be another vile thing that the Wincantons had done—as long as her father believed that the situation was not her fault. If her father still refused to mend the breach, she supposed that she could earn a living somewhere. Perhaps she could teach in a school for ladies or become a governess? If she changed her name and went very far away, she could manage.
Connie had only married Aaron because she had been forced to do so and he had only married her out of a sense of duty after he had compromised her. If that alone was not grounds enough for an annulment, then failing to consummate the marriage would guarantee it. And she would be free of seeing the disgust and disappointment on his handsome face at being tied to such an unattractive, giant of a woman—if she could convince her new husband to start the process.
The most sensible course of action
