The Husband Campaign

by Regina Scott

  He frowned as if he wasn’t sure what she was about, but nodded. “As you wish.”

  Amelia nodded her thanks as well, and watched him head in that direction. She felt as if she and John had reached an understanding tonight, but if the next hour went as she hoped, her marriage would be on much sounder footing by morning.

  * * *

  John smiled to himself as he sat on an armchair by the fire. Then he paused to settle himself more firmly in the seat. This worn gold-threaded armchair, which had once been exiled to the attics, was far more comfortable than the leather-bound seats that had squatted here before Amelia had redecorated. He would have to compliment her on her choice.

  He could find any number of things for which to praise her tonight, most of all her courage. She was no more comfortable in groups than he was, yet she’d found a way to brighten the evening, entertain their guests. And even he looked forward to the morrow.

  At a cough, John turned to see Mr. Hennessy standing in the doorway. His butler advanced into the room, head down like a bull about to charge.

  “My lord,” he said, “this is highly unusual, and I want you to know that I do this under extreme duress.”

  What on earth? John rose to meet him. “What’s wrong, Mr. Hennessy?”

  His butler held out a folded note with a gloved hand that shook with indignation even John could not have missed. “I have been instructed to deliver this to you, and I have done so. And if you decide to answer it, I will tender my resignation this very moment.”

  John’s brows shot up, but he accepted the thing from his butler. Even as he opened it, the heady scent of roses drifted upward, and he knew who the author was before he read a single word.

  “My dearest John,” Caro had written.

  I can no longer hide my feelings for you, and I sense you feel the same. I realized you were singing to me tonight, and I want you to know that I have taken your words to heart. I have heard that lack of consummation is no reason to annul a marriage, but perhaps we can think of some way we can be together. Come to me tonight, and we can plan our escape.

  Ever yours,

  Caro

  John crumpled the note in his fist and tossed it toward the fire. “There will be no answer.”

  Hennessy snapped a nod. “Very good, my lord. Shall I request that her ladyship’s maid begin packing?”

  “Immediately,” John replied.

  Hennessy fought a grin, but lost. “Thank you, my lord. It would give me the greatest of pleasure. Will you need anything more tonight?”

  “No,” John told him. “I’ll see that the lights are put out before I go upstairs.”

  “Very good. Good night, my lord.” He bowed himself out.

  John shook his head. What had he done to make Caro think he would welcome such a note? After the way he had kissed Amelia, had the woman any doubt on his feelings?

  Did Amelia doubt him?

  He snorted, turning for the desk. Why even ask the question? Somehow his actions signaled something other than his intentions. He must give off a scent, turn his head to the right instead of the left.

  Lord, You must understand me. You made me. I thought I’d disgusted You, but I see now You never left me and You knew just what I needed to be the man You intended. You gave me Amelia.

  Thanksgiving rose up inside him at the thought. The feelings were strong, but they were pure, bright, banishing the darkness he’d struggled with for so long. He had to put those feelings into words. He went to the desk, sat behind it, picked up the waiting quill and began writing.

  He had filled a half page when a movement caught his eye. Looking up, he saw that Amelia had entered the room. She still wore the blue dress, the satin rippling like a river in the candlelight. But she’d brushed out her hair, and it flowed about her like moonlight as she walked toward him.

  His wife. The woman he loved. He couldn’t speak for the emotion rising inside him.

  “It’s all right,” she said with a smile, turning toward the chairs by the fire. “I can see you’ve started something. Finish what you’re doing, then join me.”

  He nodded in thanks. One or two more words, before he lost his courage. Then he’d hand the letter to her, and she would know exactly what she meant to him.

  Please, Father, give me the words. She is a greater gift than I will ever deserve. And she deserves to know it.

  A sharp intake of breath told him something was wrong. Looking up, a fist twisted in his gut.

  Caro’s note had apparently missed the hearth, for Amelia was standing, staring down at it in her hand.

  John jerked to his feet. “Amelia,” he started.

  Shaking her head, she turned, dropped the note and fled from the room.

  Chapter Twenty

  Amelia ran for the stairs, her hands pressed against her lips. What, did some part of her think that would hold in the pain?

  He didn’t love her. He loved Caro. Amelia had given him a home, helped with his work, tried to be someone else, done things that made her uncomfortable to spare him discomfort and still he preferred another.

  Hadn’t she learned by now that nothing she did was good enough? She never managed to earn love.

  She stumbled on the second flight and clutched the banister with both hands to keep from falling. Her emotions felt like a hive of bees inside her, all so furiously buzzing that it was hard to tell one from the other.

  Why did she keep trying? She had done everything to try to make first her parents, and then John love her. Until this moment, she’d never realized how wrong she’d been. Love, true love, wasn’t earned. It was a precious gift. A gift she’d hoped to offer John tonight.

  “Oh, Heavenly Father,” she murmured aloud. “What was I thinking?”

  “Amelia!”

  She heard John’s voice behind her even as his feet pounded on the stairs. But she couldn’t face him, not here, not now. She lifted her skirts and dashed up the last flight, then threw herself across the landing to the little bedchamber.

  Turner looked up as Amelia slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Then the maid’s eyes narrowed, and she advanced on the door, pushing up her sleeves as she came.

  “If Major Kensington is behind you,” she said, “you just leave him to me.”

  “Amelia!” John demanded from the other side of the door, and the handle rattled. Amelia stared at Turner. The maid’s determination melted into panic.

  “Oh, my word, it’s the master.” She took a step closer and lowered her voice. “Shouldn’t we let him in?”

  “Amelia, please!” John called. “Let me explain.”

  Amelia sucked in a breath. She couldn’t hide from the truth anymore, or from him. She raised her head and stepped away from the door. Then she turned to face it. “Come in, John.”

  Turner stood beside her, tugging down her sleeves. And Amelia hoped her own face was less fearful.

  She expected John to throw open the door and tell her immediately in his blunt way that he had no more use for her. Yet when he entered, it was slowly, cautiously, as if very unsure of his welcome. His gaze traveled from Amelia to the maid and back again. No one moved.

  “You wish to change our arrangement, I understand,” Amelia said, in a calm voice that was miles from what she was feeling.

  He frowned. “Yes, that is, no. Not the way I think you mean.”

  “And what do you think I mean?” she replied.

  He ran a hand back through his hair, and the locks she was so used to seeing tumbled down onto his forehead. “You read that note from Caro. I can understand why it might upset you. But I did not instigate it, nor will I respond. She will be leaving tomorrow.”

  Amelia stared at him. “Will you be leaving with her?”

  He took a step closer, brows knit, gaze s
earching hers as if he would see inside her. “Why would I do that? I don’t love her.”

  Her breath was hitching again. “Don’t you? You loved her once.”

  “I thought it love. Fate denied that opportunity.”

  “And yet she is still part of your life,” Amelia pointed out. She wanted to reach out to him and back away at the same time. “What about her rights to the property, your responsibilities to her as the head of the family?”

  “I will always bear some responsibility for her as her brother-in-law,” he said. “But she forfeited any right to my respect by her behavior.” He took another step closer. “I would never break faith with you, Amelia. You are my wife.”

  “In name only,” Amelia reminded him, and Turner shifted as if she did not like hearing it said any more than Amelia liked saying it. “I know that was our agreement,” Amelia added. “I should not fault you for keeping it.”

  “And if I should want to change our arrangement?”

  The tone was soft, wistful. After the past few moments she didn’t know whether he meant he wanted to deepen the relationship or throw it out entirely.

  But she knew what she wanted. Indeed, for once she had no doubt as to what the right response must be. She might never earn his love, but she could give him hers.

  “You must do as you see fit,” Amelia said. “But know this—I love you, John. I love the way you treat your horses as if they are people. I love your relentless candor. I’ve even come to love the way your hair falls into your face despite your best intentions. If my love is not what you want, I can accept that. I merely thought you should know before making your decision.”

  She waited, afraid to even breathe. If he walked out the door, she thought she would shatter like a porcelain figurine dropped on the hearth. But at least she would know she’d done her Father’s will.

  Help me, Lord, to survive the consequences!

  “Turner,” he said, “leave the room.”

  The maid glanced at Amelia, who nodded. The door snicked shut behind her.

  John took a deep breath. “I cannot always find the words to describe what’s in my heart,” he murmured. “And my actions seem to be easily misconstrued.” When still she waited, he leaned closer. “I don’t know what to do, Amelia. Show me how to tell you I love you.”

  Her heart soared. “Oh, John,” she said and opened her arms. He rushed into them, pulled her close, kissed her again and again, from her temple to her cheeks to her mouth and back again. And she returned his kisses, trembling in his arms, laughing with the joy of it.

  When at last he stopped, leaving her breathless, he pulled back. Those dark eyes were so deep.

  “We should get married,” he said.

  Amelia laughed again. Indeed, she felt as if she would burst if her happiness didn’t find expression. “What, have you compromised your own wife, my lord?”

  His smile was soft. “No, I mean really married.”

  Amelia cocked her head. “And what, sir, does being really married mean? I fear I will have those words from you yet.”

  He sighed. “And I fear they will not please you.” He took another deep breath. “I would like to be the husband and father you and our children deserve, Amelia. I don’t know if I have it in me, but I’d like to try.”

  Amelia laid her head against his. “Me, too.”

  His embrace tightened, as if even now he was afraid of losing her. “We’ll clear these people out of our house,” he promised against her temple. “Tomorrow. Then we can determine the best way forward.”

  Lips trembling too much for her to speak, Amelia nodded.

  He kissed her on the forehead in a seal of promise and stepped back. Then he frowned.

  “Why are you in this tiny room?”

  Now he noticed? Amelia shook her head. “Because I gave my father the larger room.”

  “The rules of being a hostess are ridiculous,” John pronounced. “Next time, put him up here.” With that happy thought, he left her.

  Amelia hugged herself, joy overflowing. He loved her! He wanted to make their marriage a true marriage, with all the blessings that entailed. She threw up her hands and a prayer of thanks at the same time. She had a real chance for a future, at last.

  Turner poked her head in the room. “Do you need me, madam?”

  “Yes, Turner,” Amelia said, lowering her arms with a smile. “I know I must change for bed, but I don’t think I shall sleep a wink.”

  The maid must have seen the happiness on Amelia’s face, for she, too, smiled as she came forward to do her duty.

  “I told you a new hairstyle would help,” she said as she assisted Amelia with her dress. And that made Amelia laugh all over again.

  She wasn’t sure how she slept that night, but she managed to be up and downstairs earlier than usual the next morning, hoping for a moment alone with her husband. Funny how that had gone from an effort to a delight, all in one night. She could imagine many mornings, taking tea together, planning their days, sharing their lives.

  John, however, had beaten her to it. Indeed, it appeared her husband had been busy, for when Amelia glanced out into the stable yard, she saw that Caro’s carriage and wagon were already being loaded. John and her father were just coming in from their ride, her father on the back of Magnum. The big stallion pranced as if he knew he was carrying someone of importance. That must have pleased her father a great deal.

  She waited for them by the door, knowing her smile was probably brighter than the rising sun. John’s smile was grimmer with determination.

  “One down, two to go,” he murmured as he approached. His lips brushed her temple as he passed, and her stomach fluttered. She knew it had nothing to do with hunger pangs.

  “A cup of tea would be appreciated,” her father greeted her, as if she was the maid.

  Though she heard the censure behind the words—she was obviously inconsiderate for not thinking of the matter herself—she refused to let it hurt her. John was right. Her father was fixated on position. She did not have to aid or encourage him.

  “Of course, Father,” she said, going ahead of him down the corridor and into the dining room, where Mr. Shanter had warm bread, freshly churned butter and apricot preserves waiting along with the tea. Reams, the footman, stood ready to pour, but Amelia didn’t mind doing that little service for her father. She poured him and herself cups of the steaming brew and brought them to the table while the footman prepared her a plate.

  “Did you enjoy your ride?” she asked from beside her father after he had taken his first sip.

  “Very much, as I suspect you know,” he replied. “Your husband raises fine horses, Amelia. A shame he doesn’t know how to use them to advantage.”

  Amelia smiled. “John prefers the company of his horses more than the admiration of the ton. I do not fault him for it.”

  “You should.” Her father set down his cup and leaned forward. “He has raised the expectations of the breed, Amelia. Some men will not rest until they have acquired a Hascot horse.”

  “Then they would do well to look to their own characters, sir,” Amelia replied. “If they are worthy, they will not be refused.”

  “Worthy.” He sneered the word. “A man’s worth in the eyes of the ton involves the breadth of his fortune and the height of his position. You make such men your enemies at your peril.”

  “And they make John an enemy at theirs,” Amelia countered.

  He shook his head. “You have become enamored with this wild man. I did not raise you to embrace sentimentality, girl.”

  Amelia raised her cup. “You did not raise me at all, sir. You left that entirely to others. So take heart. You bear no responsibility for the woman I have become.”

  He stared at her as she took a sip of her tea. She could see the calculation behind his eye
s, trying to determine how he could make her see things his way. “You have changed,” he said at last.

  She smiled as she lowered the cup. “Why, Father, I believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She thanked the footman as he set a slice of bread with butter and preserves before her. Her father watched her as she calmly took a bite.

  “You have a choice, Amelia,” he said, waving away the plate Reams offered him. “You can honor my wishes and convince your husband to sell to my acquaintances, or you can follow Hascot to your social ruin. Do not expect me to protect you from the consequences.”

  Expectations. Yes, he had a great many, and she had tried to fulfill every one. No more. She had her own expectations, for herself and her future, and his bullying had no place in them.

  “Thank you for your concern, Father,” Amelia said. “But I agree with my husband’s stance on this issue. I’m sure you will not wish to prolong your visit, given the circumstances.” She rose. “Safe travels back to London, and give Mother my regards.” She left him with his tea.

  Outside the door, she paused to take a deep breath. She felt lighter, as if the weight she’d carried all those years had lifted at last. She had been respectful, but she’d refused to bow to his demands, to compromise her ideals or her marriage. That was the woman she wanted to be.

  Whoever these men were who wanted John’s horses, she didn’t fear them. So long as she and John held fast to their convictions and each other, nothing could harm them.

  Down the corridor, she saw Major Kensington approaching.

  “It seems Caro is keen to return to London,” he said as he reached Amelia’s side. He was in his dress uniform again, his hair gleaming as brightly as the gold braid across his chest. “So of course I will escort her. I simply wished to bid you farewell, dear Amelia, and thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Goodbye, Major Kensington,” Amelia said, offering him her hand. “I wish you both a pleasant journey.”