Chapter Ten

The shocked look on Lady Celia’s face probably didn’t bode well. Aaron had never proposed to a woman before, but he didn’t think this was how it was supposed to go. Lady Celia gasped, then jerked her hand away. And . . . her eyes filled with tears after said shock melted away.

“Is my offer really so distasteful?” he asked, trying . . . hoping to lessen whatever intense emotion Lady Celia was going through. Marriage to Lady Celia made sense. She was most certainly marriageable age, she loved Banfield Estate, she watched Aaron when she thought he wasn’t noticing—which he hoped indicated her interest in him—and she was . . . intriguing. Her physical features were pleasant, and as the days passed, he found himself drawn to her even more.

And he didn’t want passion to make this decision for him. So he didn’t let his mind wander in that direction, and instead he focused on the practicalities. Which he thought she’d at least consider.

“I cannot accept your offer, Lord Banfield,” she said in a trembling whisper. “I cannot let you marry me out of pity.”

Before he could answer or refute her accusation, she spurred her horse down the hill, heading away from him as fast as possible. As he watched her go, he wondered if in fact he had asked her out of pity. He had felt the guilt of his survival over her brother’s, and he’d seen the changes in her life happening firsthand.

There was nothing to do but return to the estate and set about his obligations. Whoever had penned the idea that women were a mystery had never met Lady Celia. Not only was she a mystery, but she was an enigma.

But as he rode toward the estate, he wondered at her point of view, or more accurately, her viewpoint of him. Had he misinterpreted the sidelong glances from Lady Celia? Had he been so off the mark that she wouldn’t even consider a proposal by asking for time to think about it?

Surely she could see the wisdom in the arrangement. Men and women had married for far less, yet here was the opportunity for her to remain at Banfield Estate the rest of her life and raise her children here. As for Aaron . . . he would feel the weight of guilt lift. He’d be able to wholeheartedly throw himself into managing and running the estate. This time next year, they’d host the Christmas banquet at the estate that Lady Celia had so fondly spoken about. Together.

And then Aaron would be able to dispel the sorrow from her countenance. Once and for all.

He arrived at the stables, and Lady Celia was nowhere in sight. She’d ridden at a fairly fast pace, and he’d taken his time. Once he’d dismounted, he left the horse for the stable master to care for, and he strode to the front doors. Candles had already been lit against the disappearing light that a bank of storm clouds had darkened.

He strode into the hallway and Mr. Garner met him there to remove his coat. Then Aaron made his way to the kitchen, where Lady Celia and Miss Kate worked to fill each gift basket with preserves, bottles of oil, loaves of bread, and pulled candy.

“You’ve made it ahead of the storm,” Miss Kate said when he came in.

He didn’t look at Miss Kate when he replied, “Yes, I survived. I hope the weather will be agreeable tomorrow for delivery.”

Lady Celia didn’t look up from her task, but her cheeks pinked.

Miss Kate smiled. “It will all keep an extra day if needed. What I’m really worried about is the travel to the ball tomorrow night. What if the storm turns to snow?”

Again, Lady Celia said nothing.

“We shall have to bring rugs to fight off the cold.”

“That would be wonderful,” Miss Kate said. “As long as we don’t miss it.”

“We’ve plenty of rugs,” Lady Celia said in a quiet voice. “You can use as many as you like.”

“Oh, thank you,” Miss Kate gushed. “But won’t you change your mind about coming to the ball? Having you along will make all the difference.”

Lady Celia gave her friend a quick smile. “It will make no difference,” she corrected. “My mind is made up. I will hear all about it when you return.” Without any acknowledgement in Aaron’s direction, she returned to her task.

“But everyone will want to see you,” Miss Kate persisted. “And to wish you well on your move.” She turned her gaze to Aaron. “You must convince her. I don’t like to think of her alone in this house while we are dancing the night away.”

Aaron swallowed, but before he could reply, Lady Celia said, “Lord Banfield will be busy dancing with every lady in the county.” Her gaze focused on Miss Kate. “And I don’t doubt you’ll be so busy fending off suitors that the time will speed by. You’ll be back here before you know it. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll wait up for you to return so you can tell me everything immediately.”

This seemed to mollify Miss Kate.

It did nothing to ease the knot of unease in Aaron’s stomach. Miss Kate was right. Surely the neighbors would want to give their good wishes to Lady Celia.

“You must help Lord Banfield in my stead,” Lady Celia said, lifting her head at last and meeting Aaron’s gaze. “He’s decided to take your father’s advice and find himself a wife. The ball will be the perfect place for him to meet such a person.”

Miss Kate clapped her hands together, and Aaron couldn’t move.

He’d never felt so insulted in his life.

* * *

The next day proved to be fairer weather, and the basket delivery went smoothly. The carriage got stuck only once, and with the help of the groom, Aaron was able to get it free. He didn’t see any sign of Lady Celia upon his return at the appointed hour of departure for the ball; Miss Kate was the only one who came down the stairs.

They’d be stopping at the vicarage to collect the sister just younger than she. Mrs. March accompanied them, and Aaron wondered what she’d do all night.

Aaron barely survived the chatter on the way to the ball, and once there, his first assignment was to procure a glass of wine. Once he’d drunk that, he was ready to find a wife. Well . . . he didn’t expect it to happen in one night. Especially not with any of the ladies he danced with. One thing was made very clear right from the beginning. Not one of them had the same shade of blue eyes as Lady Celia.

None of them had a stray freckle on her collarbone.

The only redhead he danced with had a laugh that sounded more like a cackle. He danced with blonde women, brunettes, women with green eyes, brown eyes, two with blue eyes. He danced with women who smelled of roses, of oranges, and of something sharper. But no one smelled of lilacs.

And he realized as the final dance was announced and he knew his feet would be sore for days . . . there was not one woman he’d wanted to kiss.

Not that he’d considered kissing Lady Celia. Well, he might have considered it, but he hadn’t let his imagination get past the first brush of his lips against hers. Or what it might feel like to press his body against hers. Or to have her delicate fingers thread their way through his hair.

No.

“Lord Banfield,” a man said. Aaron recognized Vicar Jones’s voice before he turned. “Everyone is speculating on which lady you might call upon tomorrow.”

Aaron held back a yawn. Perhaps everyone should just sleep tomorrow. “I have not decided,” he said at last because it was true in part. He had decided, but the woman wouldn’t have him.

The vicar nodded. “You do understand the urgency, do you not?”

“I understand,” Aaron said. “And I cannot argue against the idea that the decision of a lifetime is most important.”

The vicar looked pleased. “Very well, then. I hope to hear good news soon.”

On the carriage ride back to the manor, Aaron let the conversation around him drift away. He had no interest in recounting the events of the night where he was introduced over and over—assessed as if he were a sheep or horse at a town fair—or in speaking of any of the dozen women he’d danced with.

No, he could only think of one thing—or one person. And what he needed to say to her. Mostly an apology, but also an explanation.