of men and I had no desire to remain a spinster. Deal suited that purpose well enough.’
‘So your heart was not engaged?’
‘Not in the slightest.’ It was then that she remembered how he had seen her cry when her fiancé had made his ambivalent feelings towards her plain and knew that Aaron did not believe her blithe words at all. At his look of disbelief, she deflected. ‘Your father said that he was relieved when my betrothal was called off. Why would he care who I married?’ That odd comment had niggled her all day. Ardleigh had laughed because her father must be spitting feathers. An odd turn of phrase that suggested that she was missing something.
Aaron had been about to take another sip of his drink, but the glass paused midway. There was bemusement in his expression. ‘Did it not occur to you that your father had arranged your marriage to spite my father? You do know that the Marquis of Deal’s estate borders the Wincanton estate to the south. Or did you think that was simply a coincidence?’
The awful reality was that she had never even considered it. She had been so relieved to have received an offer of marriage from a handsome and titled gentleman that she had never considered that her father had arranged her future so strategically. That realisation was accompanied by an overwhelming sense of disappointment. Not just at her own pathetic stupidity in being so hopelessly flattered by it all, but also in the way her father had manipulated the situation to benefit himself. No wonder he had urged her to ignore Deal’s philandering. He had put his own desire to get one up on the Wincantons above the happiness of his only daughter. Once again, Connie had been made to look a fool in front of Aaron Wincanton, who had the nerve to be wearing an expression of pity. It suggested that he, too, knew that she was pathetic. She wanted to slap it off his face.
‘How much longer do you need to stay here? It has been a very long day and I am tired.’ The words came out without any real venom, but fortunately he took his cue and stood.
‘I did not mean to upset you again, Connie.’
‘The only thing upsetting me is your continued presence. Whilst I have agreed to your request to maintain this charade for the sake of your father, do not take that to mean that I think any better of you, Aaron Wincanton. I still dislike you and would prefer to spend as little time in your company as possible until this marriage is annulled.’
Connie turned and walked swiftly towards her bedchamber door without a backwards glance. Only once she was safely on the other side, her back pressed against the wood, did she allow the tears of shame to fall.
The maid woke Connie early with a breakfast tray. ‘Mr Aaron said that he will meet you in the stable yard at eight, Lady Constance.’
Connie considered sending the maid back with an excuse and then rapidly decided against it. She would not be cowardly and avoid him. At some point today she would have to face him so she might as well get it over with. Besides, she was desperate to get out in the fresh air again and did not want to squander the opportunity to go riding. He might never ask her again and she was not convinced that it was an activity that she would be allowed to do alone. She ate quickly, allowed the maid to pin her hair to within an inch of its life and then donned her favourite forest-green riding habit before she hurried outside.
Aaron was waiting for her in the stable yard as promised, a lively looking chestnut mare already saddled next to his horse. She watched his eyes scan the entire length of her body before he smiled lazily and wished her a good morning. He was probably thinking how gigantic she looked. The habit was cut to show off her willowy figure to its best advantage, but whilst she did like the way it made her appear to have curves, it also emphasised her extreme height. Her father had been most critical of the outfit, claiming that in it she appeared to be all legs and no bosom and that no man wants to be seen riding with a giraffe. Connie would not lower herself to crouching beneath the folds of the skirt in order to look more feminine. She already knew that he did not find her the least bit attractive, so why bother? Theirs was a temporary marriage, thank goodness. Nothing more. Defiant pride made her smile back with equal cheerfulness and Connie deliberately pulled herself up to her full height as she strode purposefully towards her horse.
He looked a little sheepish then, but fortunately made no mention of her former fiancé. ‘I thought that we might have a side saddle, but alas we do not. Ardleigh Manor has been a house of solely men for too many years.’
A robust and proper gentleman’s saddle was strapped on the mare’s back and Connie blinked at it covetously. She had always wanted to ride astride. It always appeared to be so much more fun. On a side saddle she could never truly gallop fast and always had to be conscious of her balance and her ladylike posture. Riding astride was more daring, and thus far more appealing, however, for appearance’s sake, she regarded the thing with distaste. ‘I am sure that I can manage well enough.’
A groom scrambled forward with a riding block, but Aaron shooed him away. With a smug grin he cupped his hands so that he could bolster her foot. Connie purposefully ignored it. At times, there was great benefit in being so tall. One of them was that she certainly did not need anyone’s help to get on a horse, especially his. Boldly, she placed one foot in the stirrup and then hoisted herself on to the back of the horse. Only once she was sat astride the saddle did the limitations of the tight riding habit present itself. The skirt had been designed to have as little bunched fabric as possible when she was perched on a side saddle. Therefore, there was precious little extra fabric to accommodate the width of her splayed legs on the top of the animal. The hem of the skirt had risen in protest, giving her new husband an excellent view of her calves, whilst the top of the skirt was stretched tight across her thighs and bottom. Desperately she tried to wiggle it down to no avail.
‘Allow me.’
To Connie’s complete consternation, Aaron reached up and manoeuvred the heavy fabric around her thighs so that he could cover the majority of her modesty. This operation took much longer than Connie felt was necessary and was made worse by the fact that she could feel the heat of his gloveless hands, all the way through the layers of skirt and petticoat, until an imprint of them was seared on to her very skin. Her ankles were still on full display to the world when he stepped back and grinned knowingly. At a loss of what else to do, and still feeling shaken by the effect of his touch, Connie thrust her nose in the air and stared out over the fields beyond.
Aaron mounted his horse quickly and the pair of them set off at a sedate pace out of the yard and up a well-worn path away from the house. Connie had to concede that even now, at the start of winter when all was at its bleakest, the woodland and meadow surrounding the estate was quite lovely. Aaron pointed out the occasional feature or entertained her with stories about scrapes he had got into as a boy. By the time they crested a small hill, Connie’s horse was sufficiently warmed up and she was aching to feel the wind on her face.
‘I will race you to that copse of trees.’ It might not be ladylike, but it was hardly as if her father was ever likely to get wind of it and, even if he did, it really was none of his business any longer. There were some benefits to the estrangement after all. That thought made her feel much better, so she crouched low over the horse’s neck and nudged him to go faster still. It felt marvellous.
Before Aaron was prepared, she had raced off ahead of him, a broad smile on her face and her body moving gracefully in the saddle as if she had been born to ride. He chivvied his own horse into a gallop, holding the beast back so that he could keep a short distance between them. In his mind he rationalised this behaviour as gentlemanly. It would make her happy to win. But in truth, from that position he could also enjoy the spectacular sight of her rounded bottom bouncing in the saddle, snugly encased in green velvet.
And he had thought that she looked splendid when he had first spied her in that outrageously bold riding habit. It had fitted her like a glove, highlighting the womanly curve of her trim waist where it met her hips. From there downwards was a slim column of green that went on and on until it hit the floor. The woman had legs that went on for ever. After catching an illicit glimpse