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 would be to ask him. There was the slight chance that he would be quite open to the suggestion. He had called their union ‘a marriage of great inconvenience’ so she seriously doubted he would want to remain married to her for ever, any more than she did him. Especially as he had had his sights set elsewhere. But an annulment would bring about another dreadful scandal and he might be reluctant to weather another. And he was hardly going to agree to anything sensible that she suggested whilst they were at loggerheads. He would dismiss it out of hand just to vex her.
Neither was she prepared to apologise for her behaviour towards him last night. The only thing that she had left was her pride and he had said some very hurtful things, too. He might not have called her unattractive, but his angry words had confirmed how unappealing he also found her. Hadn’t he stated that he had no desire to bed her and he had called her a shrew? Even more humiliating was the fact that while he was shouting at her she found herself quite excited by his temper. Nobody ever stood up to her and most men avoided her. Aaron had gone toe to toe with her, his face mere inches from hers, so close that she could feel the heat of his body. The intensity and passion whirling in those dark eyes lit a fire within her that burned slowly, causing her body to hum with awareness and her mind to recall how wonderful it had felt when all of his passion had been directed at her in another way.
Her lips even tingled at the thought of touching his again even though she was outraged by everything that came spewing out of his mouth—until he had demanded that she would have to do her duty by him. Then she had been suffused with a heat that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room and everything to do with the way that the sheer presence of this man was making her feel. Had he kissed her right then, her traitorous body would have happily let him. Perhaps her needy heart would have, too?
But he left then, abandoned her to her own devices in a strange house surrounded by strange people consumed with equally strange thoughts. What if she did have his baby? Would that be so terrible? A family of her own to love and care for?
Of course it would, because he had already made it quite clear that he didn’t actually want her. He was stuck with her. She was a burden to him, too, just as she had been to her father and to her indifferent fiancé. Nobody, it seemed, really wanted her at all. Like the Marquis of Deal, Aaron had reminded her that she was not the sort of woman that roused a man’s passions and Connie was not prepared to let him see that she desperately wanted to be that woman for someone—even if that someone was him. The longer she was forced to stay here, the harder it would be to hide that need from him.
That meant that the only course of action left to her which left her with her pride intact while freeing him of his terrible burden was a mutually agreed annulment. Maybe later, when all was calmer and less fraught between them, could Connie bring up the subject?
By the time the maid brought her a lunch tray, Connie’s small private sitting room was beginning to feel like a dungeon. Her new husband had failed to materialise all morning and Connie had had enough of waiting for him. Despite their fight, she would have thought that basic good manners dictate that he should show her around the house and introduce her to the staff. Seeing as he had failed in even that simple chore, she decided to acquaint herself with her surroundings in spite of him.
There was nobody on the landing when she finally plucked up the courage to leave the room. Connie allowed herself a brisk snoop around upstairs, quickly opening doors and poking her head inside. There were a great many bedrooms, although the majority were not in use. At the furthest end of the east wing there was a monstrosity of a bedchamber that smelled of acrid tobacco smoke. The enormous four-poster bed was draped in a gaudy tartan fabric. Staring out from every angle around the walls were the stuffed heads of many animals. Stags, boar, badgers and even a lone wolf’s head watched her with their glassy, lifeless eyes and Connie shuddered involuntarily. This was a not a room where a decent person could get a good night’s sleep and she sincerely hoped it was not her new husband’s room.
She dashed back down the hallway to the other side of her suite of rooms and began to look into the rest of the rooms. Just two doors down from her was another bedchamber that was obviously in use. Next to the neatly made bed was a pile of books. The one on the top had been laid face down, open. A pair of wire-rimmed spectacles were discarded next to it. Thrown over the washstand was the very coat she had seen Aaron wear yesterday. Realising that this must be his room and burning with curiosity, Connie stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind her.
This room smelled pleasantly of bay rum and fresh air. Despite the wet cold of autumn, one of the windows was cracked open, but a fire burned in the grate. His personal items were stood in a tidy row on a tall chest of drawers. Idly she ran her fingers over a comb and picked up a pair of cufflinks. They were plain gold and unfussy. Aaron Wincanton was no dandy. She slid open the top drawer. The first thing that struck her was how organised it all was. Small, open boxes were filled with an array of items. One held tie pins, again, plain and not ostentatious, another more cufflinks. The drawer beneath was filled with plain, white cravats. All lightly starched, suggesting that he had no time or patience for some of the complicated and frothy knots that were currently all the rage.
The enormous oak wardrobe beckoned and, without considering whether she should or shouldn’t, Connie pulled open the doors. A pristine line of snowy white shirts sat on one side. Stark black and navy coats on the other. He was always immaculately turned out and his austere clothing tended to make the more adventurous outfits of other gentlemen look a tad foppish. She might dislike a great many things about Aaron, but she could not fault his dress sense or the way he filled out his clothes.
Connie wandered towards the stack of books and read the title of the one he had been reading: The Complete Farmer or General Dictionary of Agriculture and Husbandry: Comprehending the Most Improved Methods of Cultivation... It hardly promised to be a riveting read. She picked it up and scanned the open page. As the title suggested it was indeed a dictionary, although the definitions of each term covered several pages and were accompanied with diagrams. The open pages were explaining, in great and laborious detail, the concept of ploughing. The spectacles were a surprise and she could not help wondering what he looked like in them. Knowing Aaron Wincanton, he no doubt looked quite splendid in them. He had a tendency to look splendid in everything. The wretch.
As she went to put the book down she noticed the name of the book beneath. The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. There was a bookmark slotted between some pages so Connie opened them. Then her eyes narrowed. The words ‘For I am born to tame you, Kate!’ stared mockingly up at her from the top of the page. The rogue was reading The Taming of the Shrew!
Aaron ignored the light rain and slowly rode around the furthest perimeter of the estate. Feeling cold and damp was preferable to marching back into battle with his new wife. His father often accused him of avoiding confrontation or adversity—and perhaps that was true—but in this case it seemed the prudent thing to do. Besides, Connie was only one of his mounting problems.
The estate was another one. The fields were all empty of crops, something that did not really surprise him seeing as it was the middle of November, but they were also choked with weeds and something about that really did not seem right. Surely they should be ploughed like the tenant farms already were?
Not for the first time, he wished he had paid more attention when his grandfather had tried to teach him about estate management. The old man might
