by Regina Scott
John resigned himself to play opposite Caro. At least she would be across the table and not at his side. As it was, Kensington sat on his left and Amelia his right at the round parquet table. His bride had her hands set one atop the other, head high as she waited. She was a perfect contrast to Caro, who nearly squirmed in her seat with anticipation.
Kensington led, dealing the cards as if from long practice. His look was cool, assessing, as it moved from John, to Amelia, to Caro. John laid down a king of hearts to start. Amelia followed with a queen, setting it carefully on top of his. Caro threw down a lower heart with a wink to John that he ignored. Kensington chuckled.
“I can see we have our work cut out for us, Lady Hascot,” he said to Amelia as he set down a lower heart, as well. “It seems our opponents have agreed upon a set of signals. I saw that wink, Caro.”
Caro tossed her head as John took in the trick. “And may a lady not acknowledge the handsome gentleman who is partnering her, sir?”
Kensington winked broadly at Amelia. “Indeed. And the gentleman can acknowledge his charming partner, as well.”
Amelia colored, dropping her gaze to her cards and keeping it there for the rest of the hand.
The audacity of the man! John wanted nothing more than to tell the major to take his eye-winking face out of the house and never return. Amelia was a married woman. Kensington had no right to flirt with her.
The right to flirt with her was all John’s.
He grimaced and nearly misplayed his hand. Him, flirting? Amelia would likely laugh in his face. Certainly Caro had done so more than once when they’d been courting, though always with such charm that he couldn’t hold it against her. If the major was offering Amelia such fulsome compliments and attentions, shouldn’t John follow suit?
“Your hair is very fetching tonight, Amelia,” he said aloud as the play progressed to her.
She glanced up at him, blinking. “My hair?”
Perhaps it wasn’t any different than the way she’d worn it before, up at the back with one long curl brushing her shoulder. But with the candlelight gleaming down on the platinum strands, he had the oddest urge to stroke his hand along the silk.
“You remind me of the statue of Diana in Lady Brompton’s garden,” Major Kensington put in with a smile to Amelia as he played on Caro’s spade. “Such stirring lines, such an elegant countenance.”
Amelia immediately dropped her gaze again. “You are too kind, sir.”
John wanted to thump the fellow over his own elegant head with the remaining cards in his hand.
“Oh, Major Kensington is such a tease,” Caro proclaimed as the major drew in the trick. “You must watch yourself around him, Amelia. More than one lady has had her heart broken.”
“Alas, if only that were true,” Kensington lamented, setting down the king of clubs. “I fear I am more likely to have my own heart broken by the fickle fancy of the finest.”
Caro tittered at his wit. John could think of any number of body parts he would have liked to see broken on the major. He threw out a two of clubs and sat back in his seat, disgusted with himself.
“I’m certain Amelia would never break a heart,” Caro said as Amelia played a four. “She is too kind.” She laid down the ace of clubs and swept in the trick.
She made it sound as if kindness was a flaw. “Amelia’s kindness is one of her most sterling qualities,” John said as Caro threw out the queen of diamonds.
“Hear, hear,” Kensington said, playing the seven.
Caro’s smile seemed to be pasted to her face. “Do you hear them, Amelia? One moment you are elegance defined, and now you are merely kind. How is one to counter such faint praise?”
“I don’t find it faint,” Amelia said as John played on the trick. “I’m honored if my efforts are seen as kind.”
“Pshaw,” Caro replied with a wave of her cards that was not lost on the savvy Kensington. “I would far rather be known for my dash and daring.”
“I fear dash and daring are not my long suit,” Amelia said, but she set the king of diamonds down on top of the trick and gently pulled it in.
John smiled to himself. His Amelia might never be known for her daring, but he could only be thankful. A more daring miss would never have been willing to marry him.
They continued playing for another hour. If he had been a man set on winning, he might have been pleased with his partner. Despite her protests, Caro played brilliantly. She seemed to know which cards to lay down and which to save for greatest impact. And her steady stream of conversation probably masked her concentration to people who did not know her well.
Amelia, on the other hand, was more obvious in her efforts, studying her cards, biting her soft pink lips when she was unsure which to play. If she was pleased with her hand, her lovely face brightened. If dismayed, she frowned and scrunched her nose. Major Kensington did his best to make up for her gaffes and pronounced her the perfect partner even when they lost by a rubber.
Still, John could not go up to bed without having a word with his wife first. He managed to pull Amelia aside as Caro and the major made their excuses and headed upstairs.
“Thank you for managing things today,” he started. “Especially when this entire visit must be distressing to you.”
She glanced up the stairs as if to make sure their guests were out of earshot, then returned her clear gaze to his. “Do I appear distressed?”
Her face was flushed a pleasing pink, and she stood perfectly poised beside him. “Not in the slightest,” John assured her. “But you’d have reason to be. I did not invite her, Amelia, but as she is my sister-in-law, I can hardly deny her access to a family property.”
“Of course,” Amelia said. “Society decrees her family, and we should treat her as such. You need not concern yourself. I am quite capable of dealing with a fortnight’s house party.”
John grimaced. “Hardly a house party.”
Amelia spread her hands. “It appears to be why they came. I know she teased you that you would not have to entertain her, but that is generally what is expected of such a visit.”
“Heaven help us,” John murmured, feeling as if someone had forced a stone down his throat.
Amelia smiled at him. “Prayer would not be remiss, sir. However, I think we can keep them sufficiently busy. Tomorrow morning, we can show them the farm, perhaps take a ride afterward. I’ll write to Lady Bellington and see if we can arrange a visit for the next day.”
“That should frighten Caro out of the area,” John predicted.
Amelia shook her head, smile turning wry. “Such was not my intent. And we can tour the Rotherford mine, attempt fishing on the Bell, perhaps climb Calder Edge. There are many ways to keep them occupied, my lord. I shall try not to interrupt your routine overly much.”
* * *
John had every confidence in Amelia, but as it turned out, his normal routine was interrupted the very next morning. He’d thought he’d have a few moments alone when he came down to breakfast just after dawn. However, Major Kensington was waiting for him in the dining room, cup of tea in one large hand.
“Ah, another early riser,” he exclaimed as John poured himself a cup.
John cast him a glance. He had changed out of his dress uniform for the uniform of a London gentleman—navy coat and buff trousers. The more casual dress made him no less a figure of legend. Small wonder Caro claimed the ladies swooned over him.
“And had you a purpose for getting up so early?” John asked as he sat across the table from the man. “I thought this was a social visit.”
“Oh, it is,” Kensington assured him. “But I was in the habit of rising early on campaign. I never accustomed myself otherwise. Don’t allow me to inconvenience you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” John replied.
They sipped in
silence for a time.
“I did mean to say,” the major put in, “that I admire the way you supported Lady Hascot in her time of need.”
John frowned at him. Was he talking about Amelia? Had Amelia’s father broken his promise and shared the reason they had wed? Why?
“What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.
“A widow of a previous titleholder can have a rough time of it,” Kensington replied. “Your support allows her to maintain her place in Society.”
That Lady Hascot. Why had John forgotten that title was forever Caro’s?
“You are mistaken,” John told him. “No extra support was necessary. My brother had funds at his disposal, and he left his wife well provided for.”
The major lowered his gaze. “I’m sure that was a great comfort to Lady Hascot.”
By the smile John caught before the fellow lifted the cup to his lips, it seemed to be a great comfort to the major, as well. Had he been trying to determine the state of Caro’s finances? Was he a fortune hunter? It wasn’t unknown for a handsome man with empty pockets to prey upon a helpless widow.
John nearly snorted aloud. Caro? Helpless? If the major thought to hoodwink her, John pitied the man. Caro was perfectly capable of looking out for her own best interests. She’d proved that by choosing James over him.
Fletcher came in just then, and Major Kensington excused himself. The veterinarian watched him go, then sat beside John and leaned closer.
“I don’t like him,” he confided.
That was a strong statement for the soft-spoken veterinarian. “Why?” John challenged. “He seems to be going out of his way to be friendly.”
“Perhaps too friendly, by your leave.” Fletcher hitched himself closer to the table and reached for the pot of tea to pour himself a cup. “I do not approve of the way he treats your Lady Hascot.”
John shook his head. “Neither do I. But I understand some women appreciate compliments.”
“There’s nothing wrong with praising beauty or accomplishment,” Fletcher agreed. “Unless it is for the sole purpose of gaining favor. You asked for my opinion on his character, my lord, and I would say both your guests are here for some purpose other than making your wife’s acquaintance.”
John could not argue with him there. But he didn’t like his chances of ferreting out the true reason for their visit simply by watching them further. His best approach to surviving the next few days was to keep his attentions focused on his responsibilities: Amelia and his horses.
And he was a little surprised to realize it truly was in that order.
Chapter Fourteen
Amelia had plenty of time that morning to send a note to Lady Bellington and make other arrangements for their guests’ entertainment, for John and Major Kensington were already out in the stables when she came down to breakfast, and Caro was still abed.
“Fashionable ladies sleep late,” Turner advised Amelia as she tidied the bedchamber. “And Lady Hascot is terribly fashionable. She has an entire gown made from gold muslin. I saw it.”
Amelia had never purchased anything even trimmed with the costly material. “She goes about far more in Society than I do,” she told the maid.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t dress as well,” Turner countered. She peered at Amelia through the corners of her eyes as if unsure of her mistress’s reaction. “His lordship might like a bit more dash.”
“Then his lordship shouldn’t have married me,” Amelia replied.
Apparently her maid realized she’d spoken out of turn, for she said no more on the subject.
Amelia knew she should remain available for her guest, so she kept herself busy that morning, checking on Firenza, making suggestions on a change in training and debating with Dr. Fletcher if the mare might not be eating properly. Caro did not venture downstairs until noon. Amelia was certain that she personally would be pale and cross for having slept so late. Caro, of course, was all sparkling joy as she took tea with Amelia in the withdrawing room.
“However do you do it?” she asked Amelia, glancing about the room with a wrinkle of her nose as if she found the space lacking. “I think I would perish so far from London Society.”
“I like it here,” Amelia confessed, rearranging her muslin skirts on the polished wood chair. “John’s horses are surprisingly good company.”
Caro laughed. “Oh, you are perfect for him! I have never heard anyone but him speak so fondly about their animals.”
Amelia decided to take that as a compliment. “He has reason to be proud of them. He raises them from birth, watches them from the moment they take their first halting steps until they clear every obstacle in the field at a gallop.”
Caro raised her tea cup. “May he show as great an interest in your two-footed children.”
Amelia tried to hide her blush behind her cup, but Caro lowered hers and leaned closer. “My dear Amelia, have I discomposed you? It cannot be that you are increasing so soon. I know there was scandal when you wed John, but I never dreamed...”
“No!” Amelia’s head jerked up. “You are mistaken. John and I never, that is, we didn’t... What do you mean by scandal?”
Caro leaned back, brows arched. “Why, everyone in London knows you spent the night with him in his stable.”
Amelia felt ill. How had the story spread? She certainly had never told a soul about that night. It didn’t seem to matter that she was innocent, that John had been a gentleman. Everyone assumed the worst.
You know the truth, Father. That should be all that matters.
Her concerns must have been evident, however, for Caro set down her cup and reached out to pat Amelia’s hand.
“There now,” she said, face and voice commiserating. “You mustn’t mind the gossip. Why, I’ve grown quite used to such things by now. It is simply the way London works.” She trilled a laugh that Amelia could not find in the least comforting. “And when the heir arrives a good eleven months after the wedding, all rumors will be silenced.”
Amelia had always believed in facing adversity with a smile, but she could not force her lips to curve upward. Caro’s smile faded.
“Unless you meant... No, it cannot be.” She dropped her voice. “Amelia, haven’t you consummated the marriage?”
Amelia could not meet her gaze. “Forgive me, Lady Hascot, but I am unaccustomed to such frank conversation.”
She heard the rustle of Caro’s muslin gown as she must have straightened. “No, forgive me. Our friendship is much too new for me to so presume upon it. And what a sweet way to remind me of my manners. I’ve met your mother on occasion, and I’m sure she’d have told me to mind my own affairs and made the lecture an object lesson at the same time.”
At last her smile fought through. “Yes, she is quite good at that.”
“I imagine it must have been challenging growing up in such an environment,” Caro said, sobering. “I can understand. My own family life was not happy. My father drank a great deal, and we never seemed to have the funds to cover what was needed to maintain our places in Society. Happily, you will have no such problems with John.”
Indeed. Amelia could not imagine John losing control enough to allow himself to become inebriated. And despite their former butler’s allegations, her husband had been quite accommodating when it came to funding anything she suggested.
“I don’t expect to mix much in Society,” Amelia admitted. “My place is here, with my husband.”
Caro puffed out a sigh. “I fear your post will be a lonely one. You must know that when it comes to affection, John is not demonstrative. You may have to look elsewhere, in a friend, for example.” She smiled at Amelia. “I’d be happy to be your friend.”
She had never turned down an offer of friendship, rare as they were, yet she struggled to accept this one.
Y
ou say to love, Lord, but I cannot find it in me to trust this woman. Something is off, and I fear it’s my own worries.
“You are too kind,” she said aloud, taking up her cup once more.
“Well, of course.” Caro took up her cup as well, as if the two of them were discussing the weather at Gunter’s sweet shop in London. “We are both Lady Hascot after all. What would be more natural for us than to band together like the sisters the law has made us?”
Amelia had always wanted siblings—a brother to satisfy her father and a sister to satisfy her heart. She and Caro had both been raised to the expectations of Society, at least; yet she could not see her as a sister.
For when Caro had guessed Amelia and John had not consummated the marriage, Amelia had caught a look in her eyes before the woman had dropped her gaze. Their lack of closeness pleased Caro. True sisters, and friends, did not take pleasure from a loved one’s pain.
So Amelia merely offered to fill Caro’s cup again. Tea was such a helpful beverage that way. If her hands trembled a bit on the silver pot, it might be because of the weight and not that she was embarrassed beyond belief that Caro suspected Amelia and John’s marriage was not all it should be. And fussing with the sugar bowl and tongs gave her a moment to compose her face before carefully changing the subject.
She hoped John and the major might make an appearance—surely Caro would not be so frank in front of them! But Reams reported that they had ridden out to the far pasture. It took surprisingly little to convince Caro to go out after them, for all that she had said she wasn’t much of a rider.
The two women went to change into their riding habits, Amelia in her comfortable plum wool and Caro in a tailored black ensemble with a top hat wrapped in tulle. They then ventured out to the stables. Two of the grooms came running at the sight of Amelia in the doorway, and she requested that they saddle a horse for each of them.
“Why not ride Firenza?” Dr. Fletcher asked, coming out of a stall to greet them. Straw stuck to his wool coat, and she was not at all sure of the oily substance sticking to one of his red curls. Caro took one look at him and turned her smile on Amelia.
