by Regina Scott
“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 searching 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 eyes, 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.”
He took her hand and pressed it against his chest. “I think you know my feelings toward the lady have changed since meeting you.”
Why did he persist? Having no battlefield on which to compete, must he now capture hearts instead of citadels?
“And I think you know, sir,” Amelia said firmly, “that I want nothing more than a friendship.”
He released her hand. “Alas, I feared as much. Will you do me the honor of walking with me to my horse? It would assure me that we part as friends.”
She could not count herself a good hostess and refuse. “Certainly, sir.” She accepted the arm he offered and allowed him to escort her out to the stable yard.
Grooms and footmen scurried about, lugging trunks, leading horses to training and pasture. Magnum tossed his head at her as he passed. Major Kensington paused on the steps as if savoring the view, then he turned to Amelia.
“Forgive me, Lady Hascot,” he said. “I am a man used to being under command, and I have orders to secure three of your husband’s horses. If reason won’t persuade him, perhaps the threat of scandal will.”
Before Amelia knew what he was about, he’d taken her in his arms and lowered his face toward hers. He was going to kiss her, right in front of everyone! They’d all think she’d betrayed John. And the major thought she’d be too meek to resist!
He thought wrong.
“Stop this instant!” she ordered, shoving him back and turning her face away.
Kensington hesitated, then his arms tightened. “Help me in this,” he murmured against her ear, “and you won’t be sorry.”
She was sorry already, that she’d ever laid eyes on the man! Worse, across the stable yard, she saw trouble coming. Magnum whipped his head about, yanking his lead out of the groom’s hand. Then he turned to thunder toward her, nostrils flared and eyes narrowed, as if he knew he had her at his mercy at last.
*
John strode through the stable, where he’d demanded that Major Kensington’s horse be made ready. He couldn’t believe the pleasure he’d felt a few moments ago at the sight of the equipages, both Caro’s and Lord Wesworth’s, being loaded. In less than an hour, he’d have his horses and his home to himself once more.
And he and Amelia could look to the future.
Her confession of love last night still humbled him. He had done nothing, in his mind, to merit it, yet he felt as if he’d do anything to keep it. He was bound to her in a dozen ways, yet he’d never felt more free.
He’d folded his carefully worded note from last night and left it on the desk in the library. He wasn’t certain when he would find the right opportunity to give it to her, but the thought of how she might respond left him feeling as if he’d walked through a patch of thorny thistle.
Caro was waiting just inside the main stable door. Her black travel dress and veiled top hat were severe, as if his refusal had plunged her once more into mourning. Seeing him, she advanced down the aisle, head high and beaded reticule swinging from one arm, bringing the cloying scent of roses with her.
“There,” she said, stopping him. “I am leaving, just as you asked.”
John inclined his head. “A wise choice.”
“So you insist.” She sighed. “Is this really necessary, John? Can we not be friends?”
“You are the one who cannot leave it be,” he replied. “If that changes someday, you will be welcomed back.”
Her smile trembled around the edges, as if he’d given her hope. “Please, tell me this visit hasn’t diminished your affections for me.” She tilted her face, once more offering her cheek for his kiss.
Would she never learn? “I have no affections for you, Caro,” John said. “You are my brother’s wife. I owe you only support.”
Her smile tightened as she straightened. “How kind. As a member of your family, allow me to support you in turn.” She leaned closer. “Watch out for Amelia, John. I have reason to believe she and her father are conspiring against you.”
She pulled back and eyed him, clearly waiting for his response.
“You are mistaken,” John said. “In a great many things. Goodbye, Caro.”
She raised her chin and marched out the door.
Why had he ever been enamored of her? She would do anything, say anything to achieve her own ends. Was it fear of privation, of losing her place on the ton, that drove her? Or was she merely so headstrong she could see no other way but her own? Regardless, he was thankful he’d never had a chance to propose.
Instead, he’d married Amelia. Sweet, kind, beautiful Amelia.
She made his life better, encouraged him to be the best, supported his convictions, shared his dreams. And because of her gift, there was nothing he would not do for her.
Thank You, Father. The prayer came easily this time. I didn’t know what to say to reach her heart, but You knew. You prepared the way for me, and I will be forever grateful.
John stepped out of the stables into t
he sunlight and had the oddest sensation that the world had frozen. The footmen were standing, trunk halfway into the baggage wagon. Grooms stared at the house rather than the horses.
On the steps leading to the rear door, Amelia was in Major Kensington’s embrace, and Magnum was rearing over her, hooves flashing.
John ran.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Magnum, down!” Amelia commanded, and the stallion’s hooves came crashing down on Major Kensington’s shoulder. The hero of Waterloo crumpled onto the steps, even as Magnum bowed over him, blowing a breath of warning in his face.
Amelia put out a hand and touched the black on the shoulder. “Easy, now. It’s all right. I’m safe.”
The groom who had been leading the stallion arrived at her side only a moment before John did. She expected her husband to reach for the horse first, but he leaped onto the steps and took her in his arms.
“Tell me you are unhurt,” he demanded.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just a little shaken. Major Kensington tried to kiss me, John, to cause a scandal, he said. And he might have succeeded against my best efforts if Magnum hadn’t defended me.”
John kept Amelia close with one arm while reaching out to pat the black with his other hand. “Well done, my lad. You finally realized where Amelia stands in the herd.” His embrace tightened. “At my side.” He nodded to the groom, who managed to lead the stallion away.
Below them, Major Kensington groaned even as Dr. Fletcher pushed his way through the waiting servants, Caro right behind him.
“What happened?” the veterinarian asked.
“Davy!” Caro cried, rushing to the major’s side and cradling his head against her. “That vicious brute of a horse! Speak to me! Are you injured?”
The cavalry officer’s uniform was torn across the shoulder, and his manly bearing had become decidedly crooked as one arm hung limp beside him. The dazed look on his face told Amelia he wasn’t sure what had just happened.
“See what you can do for him,” John told Dr. Fletcher. “And if it involves bleeding, so much the better.”
