Chapter Four

Mrs. March had informed Aaron that they’d have a guest for dinner tonight, and Aaron could only agree. He knew enough about the elite to realize that they were big supporters of propriety. Kate Jones, the vicar’s daughter, would serve as companion to Lady Celia until she left Banfield Estate. Which was apparently in a few weeks’ time, he’d been informed by Mrs. March. For Lady Celia intended to stay through Christmas, then travel to her aunt’s home.

Aaron supposed he should feel guilty because he knew it was his inheritance, and his subsequent occupation of said inheritance, that was the reason for Lady Celia’s departure. Granted, the young woman had suffered much and the changes to her life were unfortunate. So Aaron would do his best to be kind and agreeable, apart from insisting that Stanley remain in the house.

Even so, Aaron requested that Lady Celia join him in the library so he could propose his idea to her before the evening was filled with another guest and resulting conversations.

Stanley perked up where he was sitting on the floor at Aaron’s feet. “Is she coming, old boy?”

Before Stanley could reply, the door to the library opened and in walked Lady Celia.

Her eyes were even more blue than he remembered, contrasting with the black gown she wore. Lady Celia’s hair had been artfully arranged atop her head and revealed the creamy expanse of her neck and sloping shoulders. Aaron knew he shouldn’t be noticing so many physical details about Lady Celia, but he could truthfully say that her coloring was the most unusual he’d ever encountered.

Yes, he’d seen red-haired women before, but Lady Celia was like a red posy on a bright summer day.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked, closing the door behind her as if she didn’t want anyone to hear their conversation.

Something niggled in the back of his mind. If a companion had to be sent for, wasn’t it suspect to be alone in the library with Lady Celia? Should she have left the door open?

Aaron rose to his feet. “Thank you for coming.”

“This is very unusual.” She folded her arms.

“Please, have a seat.” Aaron gestured to one of the wingback chairs. “Mrs. March said that you’d be leaving after Christmas, and I’d like to discuss the arrangements before your friend Kate Jones arrives.”

Lady Celia hesitated, and Aaron wouldn’t have been entirely surprised if she refused. Finally she sat, looking down as she smoothed her dress over her lap.

When she looked up again, he saw that her eyes were wet. Blast. She was upset.

“I am sorry,” he said, not sure what exactly he was apologizing for. His existence?

Her mouth opened, then shut. She looked toward one of the bookcases. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. I mean, my brother’s death wasn’t your fault.”

Ah. She was mourning her brother. “I am sorry just the same,” he said in a quiet voice. “I wish I had known your brother and your father. It’s strange coming into the home of someone I didn’t know.”

She remained silent.

“I don’t know what their daily routines were, their likes, dislikes.” He moved to the chair across from her and sat down.

She glanced at him, then quickly away.

“I’d love to know the history of your family, Lady Celia,” he said. “I’d love to hear about your brother. This is a fine estate that I’m sure you’re proud of. I can tell you love this home, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m running you out.”

He leaned forward in his chair when she didn’t respond. “This is still your home, Lady Celia. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you wish, until your own marriage or some other interest takes you away.”

A tear fell down her cheek, and Aaron’s first instinct was to reach out and blot the tear. Instead, he fished for a handkerchief, located one in the pocket of his vest, and handed it over.

For a moment, she didn’t react. Then she took the handkerchief and dabbed it at her face. When she next looked at him, she said in a trembling voice, “I’m sorry too.”

He waited for her to continue.

“I wished some terrible stuff upon you.” She twisted the handkerchief in her hands. It was just as well since he wasn’t expecting it back. “I guess it’s fortunate that I’m not a gypsy fortune teller, because none of it came true.”

Aaron leaned back in his chair, wondering if he should be amused or slightly terrified. “What sort of stuff did you wish?”

She lifted one of her delicate shoulders, keeping her gaze on that twisting handkerchief. “Carriage accident. Sudden heart attack. An accidental fall down the stairs. A rabid dog bite. The usual.”

Aaron laughed. “The usual?”

She looked up at him, surprise on her face. “Well, unusual would be things like drowning in your own soup or choking to death on the library dust.” She didn’t even crack a smile.

Aaron chuckled. “I suppose that would be unusual since there’s not a speck of dust in here. I checked.”

That earned him the smallest of smiles from Lady Celia, which in turn made something in his chest soften and warm.

“Aside from the death wishes, I am sincere in my desire to learn more about Banfield and to see it through your eyes.”

Lady Celia nodded, and Aaron took that as a positive step.

“Tomorrow morning we’ll start right after we break our fast,” Celia said, her voice more confident now. “If that’s all right with you?”

Her blue eyes connected with his, and Aaron thought of how her future husband would have trouble denying any of her requests. “Very well, I shall look forward to it. And I assume Miss Kate will accompany us?”

The faintest pink stained Lady Celia’s cheeks. “Yes.” She rose to her feet, the handkerchief still clutched in her hands. Aaron rose as well. She made no move to give the handkerchief back, and he made no move to retrieve it. “As to your offer of staying here past Christmas, until my marriage or some other event, I can assure you that I’ll never marry. So I will stick to my original plan of residing with Aunt Marianne. I cannot feel settled about living on your charity.”

Aaron opened his mouth to refute her answer as well as question her about why she was so convinced she would not marry, when a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Aaron said, for what other choice did he have?

Mrs. March opened the door. “Dinner is ready, my lord.” She looked over at Lady Celia. “My lady.”