offer any form of companionship. He knew full well the only purpose of marriage was to get the heir. But he had figured the lady he chose would just quietly sit in the corner of a room somewhere and wait until the heir was born before he sent her off to another townhouse—or, preferably, another country—where he wouldn’t have anything to do with her again. Then he would be allowed to live the rest of his days in peace with his son.
That wasn’t too much to ask, was it? Every titled gentleman had to worry that he’d pass on his title to a child that wasn’t his. It was his right to make sure his wife gave him a son that was really his. He would have been careless if he hadn’t hired Miss Britcher to make sure Kitty wouldn’t run off to a lover. The moment he married Kitty, she became his investment. And what gentleman didn’t protect his investment?
One morning after he ate another meal in silence with Kitty and their chaperones, Aaron went to his library and poured himself a drink. This was the first time he ever had brandy before the afternoon. He had no idea the pressure to try for an heir would be so great. The longer he waited, the harder it was going to be, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, even if his body nagged at him to at least try.
He poured himself another glass of brandy. It wasn’t fair that Kitty was nice to look at. If her temperament would match her face, then they’d never argue. She’d just do what he wanted, and all would be well. She’d sit in the corner of a room and wait until she had his child like she was supposed to.
He carried his drink to the library, doing his best to ignore Mr. Stonewall, and browsed the titles of his books. What he needed was a distraction. He needed something other than the heir to think about, even if it was for a few hours.
He took a sip of the brandy while he searched for something—anything—that he was in the mood to read. After ten minutes, he groaned and plopped down in the chair behind his desk. Then, in an uncharacteristic fashion, he put his feet on the desk, leaned back in the chair, and closed his eyes.
“Are you feeling ill, my lord?” Mr. Stonewall asked.
Aaron opened one eye and saw that his chaperone was watching him from the window.
Aaron closed his eye. “I’m fine,” he mumbled.
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m not ill. I’m just irritated.”
“About what?”
Aaron let out a loud sigh and drank the rest of his brandy. “Do you really have to be in the same room with me when I’m in this townhouse? You can see there are no ladies hiding in here.”
Before Mr. Stonewall could answer, a knock came at the door. Since Aaron had left the door partly open, he looked over and saw that it was Miss Britcher.
Assuming Kitty was with her, he hesitated to tell her to come in, but if she had to tell him something, then he had a duty to let her. He gestured for her to enter and straightened up in the chair. He was surprised when he saw that she was alone.
“Where is my wife?” Aaron asked as he set the glass on the desk.
“She’s in the drawing room,” Miss Britcher replied as she approached his desk with the same grim expression on her face that she always had. “I have one of the maids watching her while I’m gone.”
Oh. In that case, she might have to tell him something that was serious. He glanced at Mr. Stonewall.
“I can’t leave, my lord,” Mr. Stonewall said. “It would be inappropriate for you to be with Miss Britcher.”
When he realized Mr. Stonewall was determined to stay in the room, he sat back in the chair. “All right, stay here.” He turned his attention to Miss Britcher. “What do you have to tell me?”
Miss Britcher opened her mouth to speak but then went to the door and shut it.
Aaron’s eyebrows furrowed. Why did he get the feeling he wasn’t going to like this?
She returned to him and straightened her shoulders. “Lady Northton doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Then it’s a good thing I stayed to protect Lord Northton’s virtue,” Mr. Stonewall said, not hiding his amusement.
Aaron thought he actually saw the lady’s lips curl up ever so slightly, but then she was frowning in the