Page 13 of Love with a Notorious Rake

Aidan was grateful for the happy reception. “As have I, Sabrina.” His brother’s wife was attractive, and warm kindness reflected in her eyes.

“And this is Mary Tuttle. Mary, my brother, Aidan.” The older woman’s eyes twinkled, and she looped her arms through his and his brother’s. A handsome woman with threads of gray at her temples, she gave him a friendly smile.

“Sabrina, have you ever seen such a fine pair of bookends? Not a matched set, as such, but enough alike to warrant admiration.”

Everyone laughed, and Aidan already felt at ease, the last of his apprehension slipping away.

He had been welcomed—pulled into his family’s loving embrace.

Never had he felt so humbled. And grateful. Well, except for his care at the clinic—more specifically, from Cristyn. Aidan had managed not to think of her during his long journey, but experiencing this warm affection and acceptance had him thinking he’d made a grave error in saying goodbye to his bold and beautiful angel.

Chapter 4

Dinner was an agreeable affair, and Aidan managed to eat three quarters of the food placed before him. When offered wine, he acquiesced, and sipped it slowly. Three quarters of the glass remained when the meal concluded.

“Mary made lovely ginger scones. Would you care for them now, or perhaps later this evening, with a cup of tea? Or do you prefer coffee? We have both.” Sabrina smiled.

“I do prefer coffee, and will attempt a scone later this evening.”

“Are you sure you’ve had enough to eat?” Mary asked, a worried look on her face. Her concern warmed him, which again made him think of Cristyn. God, would she haunt him forever? He gave his head a shake to banish the thoughts.

He agreed with Riordan; Mary was exactly what his grandfather needed. Hell, what the whole family needed: a caring and loving matriarch.

“Believe me, this is the most I’ve eaten in months. And I actually enjoyed it. I am still recovering, as it were.” The first mention of his decline and fall in front of the ladies. Aidan waited for awkward looks and silence.

Instead, Mary squeezed his hand gently. “I cannot tell you how glad we are you’re here. I’ve heard much about you, not only from Riordan, but also from your grandfather. You are loved, Aidan; never doubt it. I hope I’m not being too forward.”

He laid his hand on top of Mary’s. “Not at all. I’ve always wished for a grandmother. Looks as if I’m to have one, and I could not be more pleased.”

Mary blushed. “You’re a teasing imp, like your grandfather said.”

Everyone laughed.

“Riordan, why not take your brother to your study? I believe after we see the dishes are cleared away, I will take a nap,” Sabrina suggested.

Riordan brushed the back of his fingers along Sabrina’s cheek, causing pink spots to color it. “Rest well.”

The men headed toward the study, and as Aidan entered the room, he smiled at the books crammed into several bookcases. Riordan had always been a voracious reader, whereas Aidan read in fits and starts. He only rediscovered the joy of reading when Garrett had sent books along with his trunk.

The room was small in comparison to the various libraries and studies at Wollstonecraft Hall, but a fire blazed in the hearth, giving it a consoling, flickering glow.

“Not my books, though I’m pleased they are included with the residence. This house belongs to a magistrate who is away for a year, visiting his daughter and her family in Spain. I considered buying Sabrina’s former home, Durning House, from her destitute baron father, but she said it held no warm memories and would rather it be sold. Did I mention in one of my letters that Baron Durning was sent to debtor’s prison this past January?”

“Yes. Well deserved for the part he played in Sutherhorne’s dastardly schemes.”

“The baron will be released as soon as the royal verdict comes through on Sutherhorne. The Wollstonecrafts will pay his debt, in exchange for his testimony toward the prosecution of the marquess, and Durning’s agreed to leave the country. What he will do and where is still up for discussion.” Riordan chuckled as he observed Aidan checking his pocket watch. “You still have it.”

His brother pulled out the identical one; they were given to them by their father when they had turned sixteen. It was inlayed with gold, with the Wollstonecraft family crest on the cover: a howling wolf standing on a large stone. Diamond chips decorated the face. Inside, the engraving read: Brothers by blood, friends by choice. July 29th, 1818. Their birth date.

“I had left it behind at the hall last September. Garrett sent it along with the trunk.” Aidan ran the pad of his thumb along the etchings. “I would never sell this. At least I had the foresight to leave it,” he murmured. Snapping it shut, he slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.

Riordan moved to the sideboard. “Drink? I have Mackinnon single malt. Or is it thoughtless of me to ask?”

Damn it, he was sorely tempted. His hand trembled slightly, for the scotch reminded him of his descent. Though still shaken at how close he’d come to succumbing to the temptation of opium at the brothel, he was proud he’d fought it. Perhaps he should avoid spirits of all sorts. “No, not thoughtless. But I’d better not. I will stick with wine.”

“Would you like your glass from dinner? It’s still full, or I can pour you a fresh one.”

“The one from dinner is fine.”