could see that her question surprised him because there was laughter in his eyes. Laughter in his eyes? What on earth was the matter with her to suddenly be so poetic? It was probably the brandy scrambling her wits. Just in case, she put down the glass.
‘I mean everything that I say. Usually. As I am sure you do to.’
‘Touché. Perhaps it is better if we ask questions about more practical topics. What did you win your medals for?’
For the briefest of moments his face clouded and then the clouds dispersed. ‘Surviving.’
He did not elaborate and quickly changed the subject. ‘What do you enjoy doing, Connie, when you are not railing at me, of course?’
‘I like to read. Not the sort of learned tomes you do, but I enjoy novels. I also love to ride.’
A devastating smile split his face. ‘You do? That is splendid. So do I. Perhaps we should ride together tomorrow?’
The suggestion pleased Connie immensely and she forgot to behave in a uninterested and haughty manner. It would feel so wonderful to get out and enjoy the fresh air. She felt herself grinning in return. ‘I would love that! I am curious to see the Wincanton estate.’
He told her then of all of the best places to ride on his land and of his great love of horses. She told him about how she had learnt to ride and described her favourite parts of her father’s estate next door. In doing so, Connie felt suddenly homesick and desperately floundered for something else to talk about that was not as personal or as sensitive to her.
‘Do you love Violet Garfield?’
He actually laughed at that. Amusement crinkled his eyes as he poured the last of his brandy down his throat. ‘No, Connie. I tried to care about her and I actually find her sweet but, no, I do not love Violet.’
‘Then why were you going to propose to her?’
There was an over-long pause before he answered and Connie noticed that he did not meet her eyes. ‘My father wants a grandson and therefore I needed to marry someone quickly to ensure that it happened in time. Speed was of the essence and Violet appeared to be open to the idea. Why did you agree to marry the Marquis of Deal?’
‘He asked me.’ As soon as she uttered the words she regretted them. The brandy was loosening her tongue. Aaron sat forward in his chair, his dark eyebrows drawn together as he regarded her with undisguised interest.
‘Really? That was the only reason?’
She had just admitted her desperation and her lack of suitors to Aaron Wincanton. Connie felt incredibly stupid and gauche, but tried to cover it with her usual haughty disdain. ‘My father chose him. He thought it would be a good match. I am a pragmatist. I know that I am not the sort of woman who appeals to the majority of men and I had no desire to remain a spinster. Deal suited that purpose well enough.’
‘So your heart was not engaged?’
‘Not in the slightest.’ It was then that she remembered how he had seen her cry when her fiancé had made his ambivalent feelings towards her plain and knew that Aaron did not believe her blithe words at all. At his look of disbelief, she deflected. ‘Your father said that he was relieved when my betrothal was called off. Why would he care who I married?’ That odd comment had niggled her all day. Ardleigh had laughed because her father must be spitting feathers. An odd turn of phrase that suggested that she was missing something.
Aaron had been about to take another sip of his drink, but the glass paused midway. There was bemusement in his expression. ‘Did it not occur to you that your father had arranged your marriage to spite my father? You do know that the Marquis of Deal’s estate borders the Wincanton estate to the south. Or did you think that was simply a coincidence?’
The awful reality was that she had never even considered it. She had been so relieved to have received an offer of marriage from a handsome and titled gentleman that she had never considered that her father had arranged her future so strategically. That realisation was accompanied by an overwhelming sense of disappointment. Not just at her own pathetic stupidity in being so hopelessly flattered by it all, but also in the way her father had manipulated the situation to benefit himself. No wonder he had urged her to ignore Deal’s philandering. He had put his own desire to get one up on the Wincantons above the happiness of his only daughter. Once again, Connie had been made to look a fool in front of Aaron Wincanton, who had the nerve to be wearing an expression of pity. It suggested that he, too, knew that she was pathetic. She wanted to slap it off his face.
‘How much longer do you need to stay here? It has been a very long day and I am tired.’ The words came out without any real venom, but fortunately he took his cue and stood.
‘I did not mean to upset you again, Connie.’
‘The only thing upsetting me is your continued presence. Whilst I have agreed to your request to maintain this charade for the sake of your father, do not take that to mean that I think any better of you, Aaron Wincanton. I still dislike you and would prefer to spend as little time in your company as possible until this marriage is annulled.’
Connie turned and walked swiftly towards her bedchamber door without a backwards glance. Only once she was safely on the other side, her back pressed against the wood, did she allow the tears of shame to fall.
The maid woke Connie early with a breakfast tray. ‘Mr Aaron said that he will meet you in the stable yard at eight, Lady Constance.’
Connie considered sending the maid back with an excuse and then rapidly decided against it. She would not be cowardly and avoid him. At some point today she would have to face him so she might as well get it over with. Besides, she was desperate to get out in the fresh air again and did not want to squander the opportunity to go riding. He might never ask her again and she was not convinced that it was an activity that she would be allowed to do alone. She ate quickly, allowed the maid to pin her hair to within an inch of its life and then donned her favourite forest-green riding habit before she hurried outside.
Aaron was waiting for her in the stable yard as promised, a lively looking chestnut mare already saddled next to his horse. She watched his eyes scan the entire length of her body before he smiled lazily and wished her a good morning. He was probably thinking how gigantic she looked. The habit was cut to show off her willowy figure to its best advantage, but whilst she did like the way it made her appear to have curves, it also emphasised her extreme height. Her father had been most critical of the outfit, claiming that in it she appeared to be all legs and no bosom and that no man wants to be seen riding with a giraffe. Connie would not lower herself to crouching beneath the folds of the skirt in order to look more feminine. She already knew that he did not find her the least bit attractive, so why bother? Theirs was a temporary marriage, thank goodness. Nothing more. Defiant pride made her smile back with equal cheerfulness and Connie deliberately pulled herself up to her full height as she strode purposefully towards her horse.
He looked a little sheepish then, but fortunately made no mention of her former fiancé. ‘I thought that we might have a side saddle, but alas we do not. Ardleigh Manor has been a house of solely men for too many years.’
A robust and proper gentleman’s saddle was strapped on the mare’s back and Connie blinked at it covetously. She had always wanted
