chose every opportunity to avoid him.
They had broken with propriety by marrying so soon, but his father had insisted they secure the heir Susan carried. It was not as if the babe would not hold his place in the line of succession; yet, Arlen Kimbolt had been adamant about the necessity of keeping both Susan and the child at Lexington Arms. The late viscount would not see Susan Kimbolt displaced by Aidan taking another as his wife. He had thought at the time that Susan would make the effort to become his wife, but she had punished Aidan for Andrew’s snub. “It had been a farce,” he growled.
Aidan’s steps carried him to the window. It seemed of late, he had spent many hours staring out on English countrysides. At least this evening, he held a memory separate from the tragedy of this house upon which to reflect.
After the meal, he and Miss Purefoy had played a highly contested game of chess over which they had discussed some of their favorite books. “You must have read the story of Caleb Williams,” she had insisted.
“I fear at the time of the book’s popularity, I was but a lad at school. I am certain my tutors would not have thought it proper for a viscount’s son to read a book which disparages the aristocracy,” he had teased.
“We must remedy this failing immediately,” Miss Purefoy had mimicked his earlier tone. Abandoning the chessboard, the girl had caught his hand and had tugged him along behind her until they had reached the library. When she finally had released Aidan’s hand, he had felt bereft of the girl’s warmth. She selected a paper roll to light several candles. “I saw that very book,” she said as she raised the candle to search the titles. Over her shoulder she chastised, “I have been unable to discover rhyme or reason in the organization of this library, my Lord.”
“I do not recall using the library for more than to meet with my friends,” he admitted. “I mean, I have read extensively from the selections, but customarily Mr. Hill or Mr. Poley chooses for me.”
She had smiled then, and Aidan had thought the shadows had faded. “Mayhap organizing these titles might prove a worthy task for a poor relation. What say you, my Lord?” The anticipation in her voice brought Aidan unexpected joy. He would take pleasure in making the girl happy.
And, in truth, Aidan had approved of the idea immensely. It was a face-saving task for the girl and for him. “Surely there must be similar duties, which would prove the lady’s usefulness, while providing me the pleasure of seeing her more appropriately dressed,” he said with memory of the conversation.
Miss Purefoy had quickly found the book in question and had presented it to him with a teasing curtsy. Their fingers had intertwined for a few brief seconds. The feeling remained long after their release.
“We should retire,” she had said breathily, and his own breath caught in his throat.
Disappointment had lodged in his chest, but Aidan had dutifully seen the lady to her door. Overall, the evening had been most satisfying. So satisfying he wished it were light so he might ride out across his estate to wear off the exhilaration skittering through his veins.
He rested his head against the cool pane and imagined the lady’s countenance. “I certainly pray Mr. Hill’s story proves a falsehood,” he murmured. A smile turned up his lips’ corners. “It certainly would not do to experience an attraction to my sister.”
Slowly, Aidan opened his eyes to look upon his world. For the first time in what seemed forever he felt the glimmer of hope. Thinking he might actually read some of the book Miss Purefoy had chosen for him, Aidan turned to where the leather bound volume rested on his bedside table, but before he could take a step a flash of color along the tree line caught his attention.
He quickly dimmed the lantern and stepped behind the drape for a closer examination. For a few seconds, he had thought the break in the
They had broken with propriety by marrying so soon, but his father had insisted they secure the heir Susan carried. It was not as if the babe would not hold his place in the line of succession; yet, Arlen Kimbolt had been adamant about the necessity of keeping both Susan and the child at Lexington Arms. The late viscount would not see Susan Kimbolt displaced by Aidan taking another as his wife. He had thought at the time that Susan would make the effort to become his wife, but she had punished Aidan for Andrew’s snub. “It had been a farce,” he growled.
Aidan’s steps carried him to the window. It seemed of late, he had spent many hours staring out on English countrysides. At least this evening, he held a memory separate from the tragedy of this house upon which to reflect.
After the meal, he and Miss Purefoy had played a highly contested game of chess over which they had discussed some of their favorite books. “You must have read the story of Caleb Williams,” she had insisted.
“I fear at the time of the book’s popularity, I was but a lad at school. I am certain my tutors would not have thought it proper for a viscount’s son to read a book which disparages the aristocracy,” he had teased.
“We must remedy this failing immediately,” Miss Purefoy had mimicked his earlier tone. Abandoning the chessboard, the girl had caught his hand and had tugged him along behind her until they had reached the library. When she finally had released Aidan’s hand, he had felt bereft of the girl’s warmth. She selected a paper roll to light several candles. “I saw that very book,” she said as she raised the candle to search the titles. Over her shoulder she chastised, “I have been unable to discover rhyme or reason in the organization of this library, my Lord.”
“I do not recall using the library for more than to meet with my friends,” he admitted. “I mean, I have read extensively from the selections, but customarily Mr. Hill or Mr. Poley chooses for me.”
She had smiled then, and Aidan had thought the shadows had faded. “Mayhap organizing these titles might prove a worthy task for a poor relation. What say you, my Lord?” The anticipation in her voice brought Aidan unexpected joy. He would take pleasure in making the girl happy.
And, in truth, Aidan had approved of the idea immensely. It was a face-saving task for the girl and for him. “Surely there must be similar duties, which would prove the lady’s usefulness, while providing me the pleasure of seeing her more appropriately dressed,” he said with memory of the conversation.
Miss Purefoy had quickly found the book in question and had presented it to him with a teasing curtsy. Their fingers had intertwined for a few brief seconds. The feeling remained long after their release.
“We should retire,” she had said breathily, and his own breath caught in his throat.
Disappointment had lodged in his chest, but Aidan had dutifully seen the lady to her door. Overall, the evening had been most satisfying. So satisfying he wished it were light so he might ride out across his estate to wear off the exhilaration skittering through his veins.
He rested his head against the cool pane and imagined the lady’s countenance. “I certainly pray Mr. Hill’s story proves a falsehood,” he murmured. A smile turned up his lips’ corners. “It certainly would not do to experience an attraction to my sister.”
Slowly, Aidan opened his eyes to look upon his world. For the first time in what seemed forever he felt the glimmer of hope. Thinking he might actually read some of the book Miss Purefoy had chosen for him, Aidan turned to where the leather bound volume rested on his bedside table, but before he could take a step a flash of color along the tree line caught his attention.
He quickly dimmed the lantern and stepped behind the drape for a closer examination. For a few seconds, he had thought the break in the
Similar Books
