Page 20
He’d felt like an untried lad that day, certainly not a man of five and twenty. Each moment he waited for her, his anticipation grew. Until it began to turn to dread.
Because she never came.
Never sent word, neither at the tournament nor any time afterward. He had learned by chance, nearly a year later, that she was married. He and Graeme had stopped at The Wild Boar, the only inn that managed to thrive despite the increasing tension along the border, and he’d heard her name mentioned above the din in the common room. At first, Aidan assumed he’d imagined it. But the black eye he received later that eve was anything but imagined. After defending her honor to a pair of Englishmen who thought it amusing to discuss Lord Stanley’s quest for an heir in detail, Aidan was dragged from the inn by his brother.
Hell.
He didn’t know what to think now. There were still so many unanswered questions.
“Were you betrothed when we met?”
The way she stiffened beneath his arms told him she had not fallen back asleep.
“No.”
When she turned to face him, he instinctively tightened his grip to hold her more securely.
“When we returned home, he told me I’d be married immediately. He did not care that I’d met someone else. He did not even care to learn your name.”
Softening toward her despite himself—his anger had been his only shield, and a faulty one at that—Aidan turned away. But he found himself glancing at her again as she blinked at him, expecting a response.
She was telling the truth.
In the short time he’d known her, Aidan had learned much about the only daughter of the Earl of Theffield. He’d been most impressed with her sentimentality and idealism, despite the treatment she’d received from the man who was supposed to love and protect her. Theffield had done neither of those things, but he had somehow managed to raise an extraordinary daughter. Though they had spent barely a sennight together, he’d learned his first instincts had been correct. Amidst turbulence and turmoil, divided allegiances and endless battles, Clarissa represented all that was good in the world.
She was good. Her heart, pure.
“How did you come to be here?”
When she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, Aidan tried not to notice. Or stare.
Tried, and failed.
“As I said, Stanley appealed for our marriage to be annulled—”
“Why would he do such a thing?”
Again, that damn lip.
“I would prefer not to discuss it.”
No matter, he could guess the reason. Stanley had married Clarissa for one reason alone, and if Aidan’s suspicions were correct, the old man could take wife after wife and still fail to beget an heir.
“You misunderstand.” He needed to soften his tone. It was certainly not her fault he was plagued by visions of the aging lord in a bed with her. “How did you come to be here, or back at Theffield? And why do we travel now to Sutworth?”
He had vowed not to ask questions. To provide the lady escort, drop her off, and then be gone. Now, it seemed he couldn’t stop the questions from coming.
She met his eyes with a bravado he could tell she did not feel.
“When he received word that the annulment would be granted . . .”
She turned then, giving him her back. It was an infinitely less interesting view, if one did not account for silky locks that his hands ached to touch now that her hood was down . . .
The pain she’d endured was evident. He could feel the anger seeping from him, little by little, if indeed any remained at all.
How could I have been so foolish?
“My husband bade me leave.”
