The Marriage Contract (Marriage #3) - Cathy Maxwell Page 0,1

brought her back to the present.

It took all her courage to face this formidable woman.

“My brother is not mad.” It was an unequivocal statement.

“I only mention rumors,” Anne demurred.

“I know. I’ve heard gossip.” The dowager reached into her reticule lying in her lap and pulled out a silver framed miniature. She pushed the portrait across the desk toward Anne. It stopped at the edge of the marriage contract.

“Go ahead, pick it up,” Lady Waldo ordered. “It’s Aidan, painted during his last year at All Souls. See what you think for yourself.”

Aidan. Anne had never heard him referred to as anything other than Lord Tiebauld. In her fears and doubts, she had not asked after his Christian name. She lifted the miniature and caught her breath. The youth in the portrait was not some deformed monster. He had a poet’s beauty. Black curly hair, a strong jawline, intelligent blue eyes much like his sister’s but without the cold aloofness.

“He’s handsome,” Anne murmured.

“And no sign of idiocy or deformity,” Lady Waldo said dryly.

Anne raised her head. “I didn’t mean—”

Lady Waldo cut off any apology. “I know what you thought. Aidan was always considered out of step with his peers. There are those who have too much passion in them, Miss Burnett. Those who refuse to conform. My brother is one of their number. He always felt the world more keenly than the rest of us.”

She held out her hand for the picture. Her eyes softened as she traced the image with the tip of her finger. “He’s tall. A head taller than most men. His shoulders are broad, but he’s thin. Too thin, I think. A wife would be good for him…” For a moment, she seemed almost overcome by emotion.

“When did you see him last?” Anne asked softly.

A frown formed between Lady Waldo’s eyes. “Six, maybe seven years ago. He’s twenty-seven now.” She sighed. “A man full grown. There are seventeen years between us, but we were close at one time…before my marriage.”

“They say you sent him away.”

The icy eyes hardened. “He left England by his own choice, Miss Burnett. He is a loner and, yes, eccentric. He did not fit well into Society.”

Anne knew exactly how he must have felt.

“Do you know our family history, Miss Burnett?”

“Other than you have Scottish roots? No.”

“Then I must tell you.” Lady Waldo laid the miniature on the desk. “Our great-grandfather was executed for treason. They say he was the military mind behind the Scottish rebellion in ’45. Our family was disgraced, my grandfather brought to England as a hostage. There are those who fear we still hold rebel ideas…and those who pray we do.”

“Do you?”

“No.” The answer was swift, sure.

When Anne said nothing, she commented, “You have no reaction to such an infamous history?”

Anne shook her head, unwilling to volunteer information Lady Waldo might or might not know. “A good number of aristocratic families could make the same claim,” she said quietly. “English history is rife with power struggles. But is that a reason to marry a man to a woman he doesn’t know?” Or may not want?

“It is when the man is the sole heir to a great and respected title. Aidan has a heritage to uphold.”

“He is only twenty-seven, my lady. Let him choose his own wife.”

“I don’t have that kind of time, Miss Burnett.”

“Why not?”

“I’m dying.”

Her words sucked the air out of the room. Anne drew back in her chair and looked more closely at Lady Waldo. All the signs were there, the tightness around the mouth, the tired lines at the corners of the eyes, the thinness of the pale, delicate skin. Anne had seen mortal illness before. She was surprised she hadn’t noticed it earlier. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“For what?” Lady Waldo said. “Life has been good to me. I have one task left that it is my duty to see completed. With your help, I’ll see it done.” She lightly touched the miniature. “The title needs an heir, but Aidan is not coming to ground. I have been patient long enough. I want you to marry my brother and breed a healthy child as quickly as possible. In return, I will leave you my fortune. Do you understand what money means, Miss Burnett? It is freedom. No more will you be subject to overbearing fools like your uncle, or to boring, meaningless parties filled with petty people where you must pretend interest because it is expected of you.”

Anne straightened, shocked to hear her innermost thoughts spoken aloud.