Chapter 13

“Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.”

Aristotle

When Aidan hurried back to the Smythe home, riding his mount around to the mews in the back, he found that a carriage was being prepared. As he had hoped, Smythe was on his way out. This might be the opportunity he needed to learn more about what Smythe had been doing.

Waving off the groom, Aidan turned to ride back out.

Finding a discreet position out on the main road passing the front of the house, he waited. Anticipation sang through his veins that finally he could take some sort of action. Where was Smythe heading to?

What if he is merely visiting his clubs?

Aidan hoped not. The frustration of not doing anything to move this investigation forward was driving him quietly mad.

Valor snorted, pawing the earth with a heavy hoof.

“Easy.” Aidan stroked the gelding’s withers, composing himself to reduce his internal tension. It would not do to distress the beast with his own calamity when he needed to remain hidden.

Soon Smythe hurried from the front door, dressed in a dark and disheveled overcoat and his blue eyes flashing in the sunlight.

Aidan frowned, noticing for the first time that the black carriage had no markings. There was no reason to expect them because Smythe did not currently possess a rank, but along with the skirted coat he wore, it was practically impossible to recognize who was being driven.

Scanning the driver and footman, Aidan realized that they were not dressed in their usual livery. They, too, were incognito.

What fresh intrigue was this?

Aidan’s spirits lifted, the thrill of the chase racing through his body. Finally, he had something to pursue. A tangible clue. He knew in his very bones that Smythe was on the move, ready to engage in some sort of dubious activity. This was not to be a routine errand to his solicitor or man of business. Smythe was hiding his identity to pursue his dark ends.

As the carriage drew off, Aidan carefully tightened his calf. Valor immediately broke into a trot, and they kept pace with the carriage as it moved down quiet streets. After a while they joined Strand Street, which was bustling with carriages, mounted riders, and pedestrians going about their business. St. James’s Park was well behind them, and Aidan was careful to keep Smythe’s carriage in sight, noting that they were heading east as the traffic grew more congested.

Turning off Fleet Street, Aidan followed the carriage which turned onto Thames Street, near the river, and the carriage kept heading west. Smythe appeared to be heading toward the London Docks, but who knew if they would just keep moving west beyond that point?

The closer they came to the docks, the more difficult it grew for Aidan to keep the carriage in sight. Merchants and dock workers mingled in congregation on the roadside, while wagons piled high with crates and barrels clogged the streets. Aidan pressed his mount forward, and just as he turned a corner, another rider came flying through a gap in the traffic.

Valor was startled by the sudden motion and proximity, rearing up and bellowing out a loud whinny. Aidan was caught off guard, attempting to keep Smythe’s carriage in view, and next he knew, he had been bucked from Valor’s back. As the earth flew toward him, Aidan hit the road with a roll, barely missing the large wheels of a passing wagon.

Bruised and shaken, he sprang to his feet and grabbed hold of the panicking Valor’s reins, quickly tugging the gelding’s head down and walking him back several steps to disengage his hindquarters. Valor acquiesced, panting in quieting agitation but relaxing his panicked stance.

Once his horse was secured, Aidan threw a glance over his shoulder and cursed loudly. Several passersby flinched and tossed him glances of reproval, but he paid them no mind.

Smythe’s carriage was gone.

Leading Valor, Aidan limped to the side of the busy street and discovered his buckskins were torn above one knee. Inspecting his coat, he found several tears. Feeling about carefully, he perceived that he had badly bruised his upper arm and shoulder, but it seemed he had not broken anything. What he had done was lose his quarry and nearly gotten himself killed.

Disappointment burned through him, as hot as the passion he had shared with his bride the night before. Brushing the dirt off his clothes and swiping at his face, Aidan seethed with a fury he had never experienced before as he spat out the dust in his mouth.

Once he had fully caught his breath, he remounted Valor, who was now calm. They made their way gingerly down the street as Aidan searched for the vanished carriage.

People, horses, and vehicles were milling in every direction and he knew it was a pointless task, but he spent the next hour riding the cross streets and searching for Smythe, even dismounting to peer into the dim interiors of shops and taverns.

Eventually he gave in and turned Valor’s head to return home.

He had failed. They knew nothing new about what Smythe was up to. All he had achieved was to acquire himself numerous abrasions and wreck his favorite breeches. Meanwhile Lily had been chased out of her new home by a thug, and he would need to hide these bruises from Gwen to avoid questions.

The low growl he emitted was drowned by the sounds of the street, but he did not give a damn if someone overheard him. This entire matter was out of hand. The best he could hope for was that Smythe would return to the vicinity, which meant that Aidan would have to follow him again.

It took some time to reach the Smythe home where Aidan left Valor with a groom in the mews. Ordinarily he would have taken the time to rub the gelding down, but during the ride home, his muscles had made their protests known along with the contusions on his knee, upper arm, and shoulder, which had hit the street first and taken the brunt of his weight. He wanted to get out of his ruined clothes and bathe away the nameless grime that had become embedded under his fingernails.

Crossing the back garden, he entered the house and prayed he would not encounter Gwen. Once he was in his room, he would summon his valet and get some assistance to clean up. Perhaps his man had some sort of ointment to alleviate the accumulating pains. Climbing the steps to the next floor, Aidan kneaded his neck, which he must have wrenched in the fall.

Bloody hell! I could have been killed.

Aidan was thankful he had had enough presence of mind to drop into a roll as he had. Fortunately, because of the traffic, he and Valor had been traveling at a slower speed, or he might not have avoided tragedy—it did not pay to be distracted when riding.

Finally reaching his room, Aidan slipped in. He rang the bell, which he hoped would result in his valet showing up. Then he proceeded to tug the clothes off his body impatiently. Once he was naked, he walked over to the mirror by the wardrobe to inspect his leg, arm, and shoulder. Livid bruises were already discoloring his skin in dramatic hues, as if to testify just how dangerous the fall had been.

Aidan rubbed his hands over his cheek, which was thankfully unmarred except for the grime that came off under his fingertips.

As he had suspected, he would need to avoid Gwen catching sight of these. He did not wish to lie to her any more than necessary because he had their future marriage to consider. It would be better if she did not know.

The thought of his bride, now that he had not the distraction of Smythe to worry about until the man reappeared, had Aidan shiver with hot memories of their night together.

He was afraid the concerns weighing down on him this morning had made him act in an aloof manner when they had last seen each other at the breakfast table.

It was time for him to make amends to her once he was bathed and dressed once more, for he suspected it would be many hours before Smythe made a reappearance.

Gwen was writingin her notebook in the library. She was working on a translation of Propertius, the Latin poet. It was a project that her mother had wanted to do before she had become ill, and Gwen had taken it up recently after a scare of her own had made her realize how short life could be.

Following her dreams while she had her health and youth was a lesson she was eager to engage with. It was important to pursue one’s goals and to live free of regrets.

It was why she had planned to convince her father to allow her to bring a foundling into their home, but now a babe of her own was an imminent possibility—if she could recapture her husband’s attentions.

Which was why, when Aidan finally returned home, she was going to take their marriage in hand and find out what burden Aidan might be bearing. It was time to forge a true partnership.

In the meantime, she needed to remain busy. Waiting for Aidan to return home, or for her new life to begin, she would keep herself occupied.

Pausing her quill, she ran her finger over the poem.

Cynthia prima suis miserum me cepit ocellis,

contactum nullis ante cupidinibus.

She returned to the notebook, tapping the quill on her lips as she considered how to capture the essence of the elegant words.

“Cynthia first captivated wretched me with her eyes, I who had never before been touched by Cupid.”

In her chest, Gwen’s heart swelled, and she smiled with the sheer joy of shared appreciation.

“Cuncta tuus sepelivit amor, nec femina post te ulla dedit collo dulcia vincla meo,” she responded, holding her breath to hear what would come next.

Aidan chuckled. “Thy love has buried all others, nor has any woman after thee put sweet fetters upon my neck.”

Gwen sighed in raptured awe. “You put me to shame, husband. What need is there for my efforts if you translate with such poetic skill?”

He had been peering over her shoulder, and it was with such sweet loss that Gwen watched him move away to take the seat next to her. Her gentle lover from the night before had returned, and her heart was too tight to contain the happiness at his arrival. It threatened to burst with the overflowing feelings it must contain.

“I am naught but an ordinary man with a muse of great grace to lift my voice.” His gaze drew lovingly over her face, leaving no doubt to whom he referred.

Gwen blushed even as her smile spread wider to make the muscles of her cheeks ache. “You are home.”

His lips spread into a broad smile. “I am home.”

Gwen noted his coat was a different color from breakfast, and his white linen was pristine. He should smell like horse if he had been about Town on his mount, but he was fresh. He smelled like clean laundry and leather. “You changed?”

His smile slowly dissipated. “I thought it would be dinner soon, so I scrubbed Valor’s sweat from my skin so I may find you.”

Gwen leaned back in her chair and twisted her neck to peer at the casement clock in the corner. “I shall have to prepare for dinner myself, I suppose.”

“Or we can have a tray brought to your room?” His tone was suggestive, purred at a low volume as he reached out to gently caress the back of her hand, which was bare for writing.

“Truly?”

His eyes grazed over her appreciatively, lingering on the swell of her breasts. “Oh, yes.”

Gwen grinned, pushing her chair back and rising with enthusiasm. “Yes!”

Aidan made to rise, but then Gwen remembered the conversation she had planned.

“Oh, wait!” She plopped back down in her chair.

Aidan settled back, a quizzical expression crossing his face.

“Your mother paid me a visit.”

He blinked in surprise, not saying anything at her announcement.

“She informed me what happened with Lily.”

Aidan cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. “Lily?”

“She thought that as a new member of the family I should be aware of the attack on Lily by the footman.”

“Indeed?” His face did not alter, but Gwen sensed tension in the air.

“I was utterly horrified to hear that anyone could try to harm your sister. She is such a sweet and tiny thing. What kind of monster would attempt to hurt her?”

Aidan’s lips flickered into a smile, but it seemed forced somehow. “Lily is stronger than she looks. I am proud of how well she has handled herself.”

“Of course. When I met her, I would not have guessed that something so distressing had occurred recently. Still, it was a shock to learn of it.”

Her husband nodded, but an echo of the distraction he had displayed that morning had returned to his features. “Was there any more to the conversation?”

“Well … she seemed to believe that you blamed yourself for the scandal with Lily. The fact that she was forced to marry Lord Filminster, and she told me how Lily lied to provide him with an alibi.”

Aidan straightened in his chair. “Huh! That is quite a bit of family secrets to reveal in one afternoon.” He raked a hand through his hair, appearing quite unhappy. “You do understand that word cannot get out that Lily lied? Filminster was under tremendous suspicion, but he could not have done it. My sister witnessed his arrival and departure, so she did not exactly … lie. She simply … altered some of the specifics to ensure she was believed. I would hate for Filminster to be unfairly accused if word got out about what she had done. And if Lily were to be punished for perjuring herself … I dare not contemplate such horrors.”

“Her secret is safe with me. I do not like to gossip and I do not have anyone to tell, even if I wanted to. But was your mother correct? Do you blame yourself for Lily’s scandal?”

Aidan’s brown eyes stared at her, and he was obviously disconcerted by such a direct question, but Gwen truly did not know how to raise the subject other than directly.

“I have felt remorseful that I chose to go out that night to carouse with my friends. If I had been there, perhaps I could have stood as his alibi instead.”

“So Lily does not want to be married to Filminster?”

A grimace was the only reply for several seconds. He appeared to be debating his answer. “Lily and Filminster are deeply in love. She assured me she has no regrets just this afternoon.”

Gwen smiled. “Oh, I am glad to hear that. I was not sure what to think. Is it why you insisted on marrying me?”

Aidan blinked, astonishment chasing across his features before he shook his head. “No! You and I have naught to do with Lily and Filminster. You are my Venus. My very own Cynthia. The fetters upon my neck are sweet, Gwen Abbott.”

Gwen held her breath in wonder. The words were too melodious to process. It was almost as if he were saying … that perhaps he loved her?

She wanted to ask, but it was too forthright, and she had suffered too many disappointments in her past. The words were stuck on her tongue, and she had not the confidence to voice them. Instead, she clung to the sentiments he had stated and assured herself that was what he would say if he were to speak plainly.

Do not push him.

Gwen remembered how she had declared her feelings in a moment of drowsy weakness, only to regret it this morning. She did not want to ruin their developing affinity with neediness, as she had suspected she had done earlier, so instead … she smiled. “Thank you.”

Aidan raised his eyebrows, his expression hopeful. “Now to bed?”

She nodded, standing up.

They left the library to run up the stairs, hand in hand, and Gwen felt the bittersweet love for Aidan cascading from her heart into every inch of her body. Would he still be here when she awoke tomorrow and not vanish into his thoughts as he had done that morning?

Tonight, he seemed almost carefree.

When they reached her room, she fumbled with the door and they stumbled into the room with their lips fused together.

“Uh …”

Gwen yanked her head away. “Octavia!”

The lady’s maid was standing by the wardrobe, her eyes averted to the floor as she fiddled with her skirts. She dropped into a curtsy, her face ruddy. “I shall … just …” She pointed awkwardly at the closed door behind Gwen and Aidan.

Gwen felt her ears warming in embarrassment. She resolutely stared at the wall beyond the other woman’s shoulder. “Could you arrange a dinner tray?”

Octavia nodded, sidling closer as she tried to reach the door. Aidan relinquished his hold on Gwen, stepping aside with a bow of his head. Octavia leapt for the door, hurriedly pulling it open to depart the room.

The decisive shutting of the door was all the cue needed for Aidan and Gwen to burst into nervous laughter.

When Aidan had recovered his composure, he swept around the room, closing the curtains. Gwen blinked as the room fell into deep shadows. What strange turn of events was this? Was Aidan shy?

He returned to her side, placing his hands on her hips to tug her forward against him. She could barely make him out in the dark, but he was staring down at her and he was breathing hard.

Gwen reached up to curl her arms around his neck, reveling in the sensation of her breasts pressed to his chest.

“I have been thinking about last night.” He had leaned forward so his lips brushed against her temple, tickling her skin with the delicious promise of more to come. “How you felt beneath me … around me.”

Gwen exhaled, desire slowly flickering to life in her lower belly as she pressed ever closer. “I … have thought about it, too.”

His hands were caressing up and down her waist. At her confession, he groaned, reaching lower to cup her buttocks and tug her against his groin. Feeling his rigid length in his falls caused her intimate muscles to tighten in instinctual response. Evidence of his arousal was … so arousing.

Aidan lowered his face to capture her lips, and their mouths came together as if they were one. Her passion flamed up as he explored her with hungry abandon, his tongue and hands moving in tandem to ratchet up the blaze in her belly until she was certain that there must be actual smoke enveloping their entwined bodies.

She gyrated her hips against him, attempting to alleviate the building tension between her legs, and moaned in relief as his fingers found the buttons of her bodice and began to release her from the constriction of her gown.

It was strange making love in almost complete darkness, with no lamps to light the room, but she had no time to worry about it. Her hands swept down to dig into his shoulders and upper arms with clawing passion.

Aidan flinched, gasping as if he were in pain, which Gwen could only commiserate with. The sensations he raised in her body were a sweet agony, building up and up at the feeling of his lips and his hard body against hers.

He reached up to tug her hands down to his chest, which she willingly rediscovered with her fingertips.