Devoted to You

“I thought Jerry was happy?”

“He is,” Aidan assured her quickly. “Now. There was a period of time, though, when his life was incredibly difficult. He had been pushed by the dowager into marrying someone of her choice, all for the sake of connections. On paper, it all sounded just what aristocracy expect from a good union. Unfortunately, he didn’t want to marry the woman the dowager pushed upon him, though.”

When he lapsed into prolonged silence, she leaned backward to look up at him. “What happened?”

“He married her under duress. To say that the union was less than happy would be an understatement. I now believe that his wife was pressured into accepting the marriage by her father, and didn’t want to be married at all, let alone to Jerry. Theirs was a miserable union, and there was a significant period when Jerry was quite desolate.”

“

What happened?” She prompted when he lapsed into silence again.

“Jerry went away to see some friends. While he was away, Alice, his wife, fell down the stairs. Nobody knew how, or what went wrong.” He looked at her. “You know, whether she tripped on her skirts or something but they think she died instantly. Although he grieved, Jerry saw it more of a release than anything else and has been wracked with guilt ever since for feeling like that. He has vowed never to marry again.”

“That’s a shame,” she replied.

Aidan leaned back to look down at her. “Is it?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“Who knows whether the next person he meets will be the one who makes him happy? Just because he wasn’t at all happy in his first marriage doesn’t mean that he cannot find contentment with someone else.”

“She has to be someone of his choosing. It is far more important than any family connections,” Aidan assured her.

“I cannot say,” Petal sighed. “It isn’t so important around here.”

“I don’t intend to fall into the same trap.”

“Edwards has her sights set on you. I understand that she is well connected. The dowager likes her,” she whispered.

“Yes, but I don’t like her,” he countered.

Petal instinctively snorted and tried to ease away from him only to find that he wouldn’t release his hold on her. Instead, he followed her until she was effectively trapped beneath him.

“Believe me, when I tell you that I don’t like her.” His voice grew considerably harder.

She looked at the glint of warning in his eyes warily. It was the first time she had seen it directed at her. Still, she wasn’t about to be cowed by it, and glared back challengingly.

“Then what was this morning all about?”

“Scheming,” he replied bluntly. “I thought it was you.”

“Of course, you did,” she snorted.

This time, when she tried to ease away from him more forcefully, he merely used his weight to pin her down. He waited patiently until she had stopped wriggling and groaned when his body responded predictably to her writhing.

“Just stop for a minute and listen to me,” he gasped breathlessly when his body began to respond.

“Why?” she demanded.

“Who else should I expect to be in my bed at that time in the morning; Mrs Kempton? Edwards is a conniving witch, but I didn’t think even she would stoop so low as to crawl into my bed like that. I do know she wasn’t there all night, I promise you. She must have heard you get up, or just assumed it was the usual time for you light the fire. I don’t know. I just thought she was you. I turned over half asleep to find a woman’s body next to me. I slid my arm around you – her – thinking it was you, and went back to sleep. Nothing else happened.”

“It isn’t anything to do with me,” she whispered, heartbroken at having to relive the memory of that horrible moment when she had walked in on them.

“Sweetheart, I was wearing my nightgown,” he protested. “When we made love, I didn’t bother to put it back on, did I?”

Petal had to concede that he had a point. She could remember seeing the white of his nightgown this morning, and shook her head.