Page 23 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars (Ton’s Beasts #1)
The woman was tall and lean, outfitted in a gown of pale pink silk. Her blonde hair was intricately braided, with pearls threaded through the long locks.
Theresa saw no reason why her husband should fear the woman.
Is this the woman he would have married if the Queen had not named me as his bride?
A pang of jealousy hit her squarely in the stomach at the thought of Aaron with someone else.
She tried to tune into Juliette’s banter and ignore her confusion over the sudden tension that had gripped her husband.
“Over there,” Juliette whispered in her ear, nodding her head toward the back of the garden. “The brown-haired woman wearing a cream gown and spectacles. That is Anon, whose painting you bought at the art gallery today.”
“She is not what I expected,” Theresa admitted.
In her mind, she had pictured Anon as someone more like herself. Someone who was not the picture of aristocracy. But she thought about what Juliette had told her, that a duchess is forgiven many things.
She wondered what she would be forgiven for in the years to come. Who could she be if she were allowed to explore, as Anon had been with her paints?
There had to be something more to her than simply her union with her husband.
She was still pondering this when she noticed Juliette trail off.
The blonde-haired woman from the carriage had made her way over to them, and now it was clear Aaron was tense.
His arm flexed beneath her hand, turning his muscles rock solid.
She squeezed his arm reassuringly to no great effect.
Juliette had also paused her own conversation to glare at the young woman.
Even the Dowager Duchess seemed uneasy.
The blonde-haired woman offered a sly smile to Theresa. “I believe congratulations are in order, Your Grace,” she said, bobbing a small curtsy. “We have not met yet. My name is Isabella Dawson. Your husband and I are well acquainted, though we do not socialize anymore.”
“Thank you,” Theresa said.
She was trying to decipher the hidden meaning in Lady Isabella’s words. Seeing Aaron and Juliette’s reaction, she was certain there was something she was missing.
“Not many women would be brave enough to marry a man… like that,” Lady Isabella added. She looked Aaron up and down, her gaze lingering on his mask before it dropped. “Certainly no one else could.”
“Perhaps no one else deserves him,” Theresa countered. “If you will excuse me, Lady Isabella. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
She had no idea what had just transpired, but she knew that she did not want to be in the middle of it.
Sensing that Lady Isabella would leave if she did, Theresa wandered off on her own, leaving Aaron and Juliette behind.
Now that she was alone, nobody stopped to introduce themselves to her or even batted an eye at her. She wandered around the garden, but she did not want to stray too far and entirely miss the reason for coming: the fireworks show.
“Your Grace,” Lady Sophia called to her from behind the fountain. “You will have the best view of the fireworks if you would be so kind as to join an old lady.”
Theresa picked her way through the crowd. She was quite sure that no one would bother her, so long as she remained close to a woman as powerful and influential as Lady Sophia.
When she drew closer, Lady Sophia reached for her arm and leaned in to whisper, “Stick with me, please.”
“I would not have it any other way,” Theresa said with a smile, grateful to have at least one ally among the guests.
“The show will start soon.”
Lady Sophia looked up at the sky, and Theresa followed, seeing a blanket of stars above them.
She could not fathom that she would be allowed out this late. That so many people were permitted the freedom to attend this party so late in the afternoon. This was the time she would need to do her chores and devote her time to prayer.
As she stood there and watched the twinkling stars above them, she was suddenly startled by the sound of an explosion.
She turned her head in the direction of the sound just in time to catch the second firework light.
Intense white light illuminated the sky as a hush fell over the garden, which only made the explosions sound louder.
Fabric grazed against her arm, letting her know that Aaron followed her through the crowd. He put a hand on her shoulder, but she did not feel the faint trace of desire she often did. Instead, tension filled her limbs and left her feeling the need to escape.
The strange exchange with Lady Isabella made her doubt what she thought she knew about the man she had married.
Theresa could not bring herself to look him in the eye.
Instead, they simply stood next to one another as they watched the fireworks. Theresa had never imagined that such a dazzling display could exist, especially during a private party like this one.
The colorful lights stole her attention, but she knew she must say something to her husband. The emotion that hovered at the tip of her tongue did not fancy being let out in so public a place. So she simply said, “It is quite beautiful. Thank you for bringing me, husband.”
When she did not turn to look at him, he grabbed her by the chin in an uncharacteristic display of force and leaned in. “You should look at me when you speak to me.”
“I do not feel like looking at you at this moment,” she whispered.
She felt Lady Sophia’s eyes on her and Aaron. Gossip would spread as fast as wildfire in London if she could not placate him in the garden.
“And why might that be?” Aaron crossed his arms over his chest, daring her to defy him in public.
“I do not wish to talk about it. Not here,” she said.
If she were to confront her husband about being in love with another woman, she would prefer to do so in the privacy of their home.
He has every right to love someone else. He had an entire life before I was foisted on him.
Still, she was surprised when he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from Lady Sophia and the other guests, who were now watching them, though Theresa was uncertain whether it was true or only her imagination.
“The show?—”
“I will throw a show on our estate for your eyes only,” Aaron said, as if that was the only logical thing to do.
He led her to the white gazebo in a secluded part of the garden. Theresa wrenched her arm free and went to sit on the bench within the latticed walls.
He stood in front of her with his arms crossed. “You did not wish to talk about it in front of Lady Sophia. But you will notice that there is no one else around. Now, talk. Why did you run from me?”
If he wished to do this here, where anyone could stumble upon them and interrupt their conversation at any moment, who was she to stop him or defy him?
“That woman,” she said, unsure of what she should say. “You knew her before.”
“Yes,” Aaron confirmed.
Seeing that she would have his total honesty, she added, “Intimately.”
“She was my betrothed.”
Theresa let out a frustrated sigh and rose from the wooden bench. She paced around the small gazebo. Frustration made her feel like a snake, coiled and ready to strike. Could he be so nonchalant about his past with another woman when she was his wife?
And yet, she had forced him to tell her the truth. This was a frustration of her own design.
“I know I shouldn’t care,” she began. “I know you met women before. That you did not grow up under the strict rules of the convent. Of course, other women would want you.”
Aaron watched her carefully as she paced back and forth in front of him. His gaze never left her, and she was grateful that he was not afraid of her emotions, whatever they were.
“I know you are married to me now, and it no longer matters, but?—”
Aaron took two steps forward and put her hand on her shoulder, effectively stopping her pacing. He lifted her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. She did so willingly for the first time since Lady Isabella introduced herself.
“But?”
“I hated the way she looked at you. It is irrational, but I felt like gouging her eyes out,” Theresa mumbled.
She felt the color rise in her cheeks and was grateful that the darkness would hide it from him.
The ensuing laughter surprised her so much that she turned around to see from which direction it came. Only then did she realize that the sound was coming from her husband.
“Are you making fun of me again?”
Aaron responded by lifting a gentle hand to her cheek. He brushed it with the back of his fingers, a tender touch that Theresa found herself leaning into more than she would like if he were making fun of her.
“That woman means nothing to me. Never did. But you…” He trailed off, leaning in.
Without hesitation, he pressed a kiss to her cheek where his hand had been a few moments ago.
His lips trailed down from her cheek to her jaw, to the sensitive skin of her neck.
Theresa felt her entire body light up at his touch, even though she was distressed by the idea of him with another woman. At that moment, the only thing that mattered was that he did not stop kissing her.
“You are my wife,” he murmured, walking her back to the bench.
When the back of her knees hit the edge, she plopped down.
“Let me show you what it means to be mine.”