Page 9 of Her Charming Duke (Regency Roses #3)

CHAPTER 9

“ E xcuse me, I believe this is my dance,” Lord Pembroke declared suddenly.

Aaron felt a rush of irritation, for he hadn’t even been aware the man had made his way over to them, so engrossed had he been in their chat. He looked at the man, wanting to admonish him for interrupting their conversation, but then he realized that this was exactly why they were there. For her to dance, not to stand in the corner, relaying travel stories.

“Of course,” he said and stepped back.

“Lord Pembroke, a pleasure to see you again.” Judith smiled broadly at the young man, who offered her his hand.

Aaron’s eyes followed her arm as it moved toward Lord Pembroke, who took it. As he placed a small kiss on the back of her hand, Aaron noted her moving slightly, as though she was uncomfortable with this. Something they would have to address later.

“Your Grace,” she said with a small nod, before Lord Pembroke walked her to the dance floor, where dancers were now lining up for the quadrille.

Aaron watched them, his bottom lip trembling.He had so enjoyed his conversation with her that he hadn’t realized how quickly the country dance had come and gone. Nor had he anticipated how much he would dislike the feeling of her dancing with another man. Yet, there she was, about to dance with Lord Pembroke.

What if the two of them truly liked one another? What if, by some strange twist of fate, she would indeed find herself in a courtship with the very first man Aaron had introduced her to? Well, the first man at this ball , for the first one had been Henry—but that would’ve been a disaster all around.

“Aaron,” a voice called suddenly.

Aaron felt a chill run down his spine. Indeed, it felt as though his entire skeleton had turned into ice with the snap of a finger. He turned to look at the source of that voice, sucking in a lungful of air as if he were about to dive into the deepest ocean.

“Amelia,” he uttered, once the all too familiar face appeared before him.

“No, I am now Lady Lundgren,” she replied coldly, her green eyes flashing with an anger he had long forgotten.

Lady Lundgren, of course. She had gotten married. When? Six months ago? A year? He couldn’t quite remember. Oliver had shared with him the news that his former fiancée had found a husband, but Aaron hadn’t paid much attention then, nor had he been terribly concerned about finding out more.

Why had she approached him? She had made it clear the last time they spoke that she never wanted to see him again. Knowing her, she likely had come to gloat and flaunt her newfound happiness and wealth in front of him, for the one thing he did remember was that her new husband was richer than him, despite being a marquess, not a duke.

“Lady Lundgren,” he corrected. “I am surprised to see you here. I thought that you no longer attended balls and such now that…”

“Now that I have finally been removed from the marriage mart?” she supplied in a tone as cold as the icy shivers that still ran through him.

“Indeed. I was always under the impression that young ladies only came out in order to set their cap at somebody. But I must have been wrong.”

“You were wrong about a great many things, Your Grace,” she said with a smile, though it didn’t escape his attention that she’d switched to using his title rather than his first name, which she’d used to get his attention. Like an opening salvo in a war, rather.

He felt a pearl of sweat bead on his brow, which was peculiar because it wasn’t particularly warm. True, the ballroom was teeming with people. Candles were burning, but it was January, and outside, it was frigid cold. Still, here he was, sweating as if it were a sunny day in August.

He remembered the last time he had met Amelia. The day he had told her that he did not wish to marry her. They had been courting for several months, and in fact, wedding preparations had been in progress.

Aaron had known he didn’t want to marry her from the first meeting, but it hadn’t been his choice but his father’s. The late Duke had been of the opinion that Aaron was old enough to wed. Only two-and-twenty at the time, he hadn’t agreed in the least. He’d wanted to explore the world and find his place in it before marrying, but the late Duke had been insistent. His mother, herself chained to her husband by way of an arranged marriage, had been more sympathetic, but she’d already been ill then and hadn’t had much strength to fight a battle not her own.

Thus, he’d been forced to meet Amelia. He had been so averse to the thought of marrying her that he’d fantasized about escaping. He and Oliver had made plans to vanish to India or Australia. How odd that he felt more comfortable with the idea of escaping to a place where prisoners were routinely sent rather than getting married.

Looking at Amelia now, he understood his younger self’s decision. True, she was beautiful, there was no denying that. She had porcelain skin, the complexion any young lady of the ton desired. Her green sparkling eyes and blonde hair made her a highly desirable beauty. And she came from one of the country’s wealthiest families.

If he had been a man who cared about his social standing, he might have been pleased with the match. But he wasn’t a man who cared about his standing. He wasn’t a man who cared about Society. He was a man who cared about his freedom and the right to make his own decisions.

“You cannot even pay attention to me for five minutes,” she sneered, her voice like a serrated knife through his flesh.

“I apologize. I was thinking about the last time we spoke.”

She curled her upper lip. “Yes, I think about that often myself. An unfortunate day. But I wanted you to know that I am content now. Happy, even. Charles—that is, Lord Lundgren—has a large estate in Devon. We have horses—Arabians. He has a vacation home in Bath and another outside Glasgow.”

“I am happy for you,” Aaron said.

And in a strange way, he was, because these were all things she had always wanted. Now she had them. After all, he wasn’t a monster. When he had ended things, he had seen how humiliated she was. Not because she had been so in love with him and had her heart broken, but because the title of Duchess had escaped her. Plus, having a broken engagement undoubtedly made it harder for her to find a match.

Whatever her reasons, she had been upset, and he wasn’t the kind of man who enjoyed seeing a woman in anguish.

“He is a marquess?” he asked politely.

Her eyes flashed with irritation. Clearly, she’d assumed he’d kept tabs on her.

“The fifth Marquess of Lundgren,” she enunciated stiffly. “And I hear you are still not married.”

“No, and I do not think I will ever be. You see, if I learned one thing from our courtship, it is that I wouldn’t make a good husband for anybody.”

She snickered. “I agree with you. A first,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Aaron’s strong dislike for her resurfaced. He recalled how unpleasant he had found her when they were courting.

“There’s a first for everything,” he replied tersely.

“I heard your father passed away. I was sorry to hear it, as he seemed a decent man,” she said, offering her condolences with a thin veneer of sincerity.

“Both my parents have passed,” he pointed out, though of course she had to know this. Anytime a duke or duchess passed, the scandal sheets wrote about it in detail.

“Ah, a shame,” she said, though she clearly didn’t mean it.

He wanted to excuse himself from this conversation but didn’t know how. It would be impolite to walk away, and thus far she hadn’t given him a chance to end the discussion elegantly. So instead, he changed the subject.

“What brings you to London?” he asked.

“My brother is in need of a wife, and I have come to town to help him find one,” she replied, nodding her head in the direction of a lanky, tall man who was talking to a woman.

Aaron vaguely remembered him as Amelia’s younger brother. The last time he had seen him, he was perhaps fifteen, but now he looked like a grown man. Time had indeed flown.

“I was always fond of your brother,” Aaron said sincerely.

She looked at him with a hint of bitterness. “At least you were fond of one person in the family.”

He opened his mouth, wanting to protest, but then realized he could not. Fortunately, she hadn’t expected a reply, as she pressed on.

“You did not tell me why you are here,” she reminded him, turning the conversation back to him. “Did your aunt press you to attend? I recall she is one of the Lady Patronesses.”

“No, although I am doing a favor to someone. I’m helping my friend’s sister find a husband,” he explained.

“Is that the lady I saw you talking to?” she asked.

Aaron felt uncomfortable that she had watched them. He felt oddly protective of the quiet moment he had shared with Judith yet saw no point in denying it, and thus he replied with a nod.

“I’m glad to hear you aren’t courting her, because that is what it looked like. I wouldn’t like to see another lady mistreated,” Amelia said.

Now Aaron lost his cool. “Amelia, please let us not pretend that I mistreated you. I think I did you a kindness, actually. I would have been an awful husband. And let us not forget you didn’t want to marry me any more than I wanted to marry you. We were forced into it by our parents.”

She drew her shoulders back and puffed out her chest. “That’s not entirely true. I would have honored the arrangement, as expected.”

“But you never loved me,” Aaron argued sharply. “You were more concerned with the title and the prestige.”

“And you were more concerned with your freedom,” she shot back, her eyes flashing with anger. “You never gave us a chance.”

“Perhaps,” Aaron conceded. “But it wouldn’t have worked, Amelia. We were never meant for each other. You never cared about the things I liked, and I could not have cared less about many of the things you did,” he accused, his voice rising with anger. “It is better for both of us that we never married.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Amelia retorted bitterly. “You’re a duke. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?” she asked, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper.

Aaron looked around nervously, checking if anyone could overhear their heated conversation.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice strained.

“You have no idea,” she said, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. “I’m married to a man thirty years older than me. Thirty years, Aaron. He’s rich, yes, but all he has are Waterloo teeth and hardly a hair on his head. He reeks of whiskey and sweat and tastes of tobacco. He pines for his first wife, and her portraits are everywhere in each of his homes. His adult children hate me. They make my life a living hell every single day.”

Aaron’s eyes widened in shock. “Amelia, I?—”

“Do you know what it’s like to live like that?” she continued, her voice rising. “I’m lucky if I can even have a child of my own—though the thought alone makes me sick. I wake up each day hoping my husband will die so I can be free, but I’m stuck. Trapped in this life because of you !”

“Amelia, please,” Aaron said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he glanced around again, afraid of drawing attention.

“And you,” she spat, “you stand there with your freedom, your life of ease, congratulating me on my ‘comfort.’ Congratulations, Aaron. Congratulations on your good fortune and your freedom. But remember this every day—I am in a prison of your making.”

Aaron felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. “I never meant for this to happen,” he said.

In the back of his head, he knew this wasn’t his fault, although of course, if he hadn’t become betrothed to her, maybe she’d have had another option?

“Meaning doesn’t change the outcome,” she hissed. “While you roam free, I am tied to a man I despise, in a life I loathe.”

“Amelia, I’m so?—”

“Save your apologies,” she cut him off, her eyes flashing with anger. “They mean nothing to me. Enjoy your life, Your Grace.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, but then stopped and turned back.

“I do hope for the sake of the young woman that you meant what you said, and you are merely interested in her for your friend’s sake, because as you said, you’d make a poor husband for anyone. I, for one, rue the day I met you.”

Then, she walked away, leaving Aaron standing there, utterly shaken. He stood motionless, the weight of her words crashing over him, the distant strains of the music now a haunting reminder of the lives they could have had but never did.