Love Inspired Historical April 2014 Bundle: The Husband Campaign\The Preacher's Bride Claim\The Soldier's Secrets\Wyoming Promises (17 page)

“Ah, but I am.” She took out her handkerchief again. “I like attention. If you cannot use your beauty, I advise you to find a reliable disease or two. The device has worked wonders for me.” She raised her voice. “Mother, I think all this light is affecting a bilious extrusion upon my chin. Would you come look for me?”

The duchess immediately turned from Caro and trotted back to her daughter with a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, let me see. No, no, dear girl, you are fine. Come up with Lady Hascot and me. She was just relating a most interesting story about the Count of Kurion and a certain Russian princess.”

With an arched look to Amelia, Lady Prudence moved to the front of the cavalcade with her mother.

Amelia shook her head. Pretending to fictitious diseases might serve to win Lady Prudence a moment of attention, but it had helped alienate the pair from the rest of society. It was also manipulative, a fault she quite agreed with John to be abhorrent. And what if one of Lady Prudence's physicians actually attempted to cure a fancied ill? The treatment might kill the woman!

Yet Amelia could not fault Lady Prudence's skill. Within short order, the young lady had switched places with John, putting herself at the major's side. Whatever conversation she initiated soon had Major Kensington's handsome face turning red. Amelia detoured around a bush to avoid intervention.

Unfortunately, she found herself requiring intervention instead.

John had stopped, Caro and the duchess before him. He positively scowled, hands fisted at his sides, while Caro's perky smile faded into concern and Lady Bellington glowed with delight.

And Amelia knew something was very wrong, indeed.

* * *

It had been a miserable morning. First, John had had to endure a quarter hour of Kensington's egregious flirting with Amelia while John had tried to discourage Caro. Then he'd had to pretend civility with two women who, in his opinion, should be locked in their rooms until they could behave sensibly. The garden was lovely, but he would far have preferred to visit the stables.

Especially now that Lady Bellington knew his secret.

“Well?” the duchess demanded. “What have you to say for yourself, sir? Surely you know that every gentleman owes it to his name to sire an heir.”

“The situation between a wife and husband is not for common conversation, madam,” he managed.

“Indeed.” Amelia glided around a flowering bush to join them. “How kind of you to take an interest in us, Your Grace. And when might we wish your son happy?”

How well she did things like that, turning the conversation from difficulty to pleasantness. He could only admire her skill, for it was one he utterly lacked.

Now Lady Bellington turned her bright eyes on Amelia. “He is to return within the week. You can be sure you'll be invited to tea, Lady Hascot. And you as well, Lady Hascot,” she said to Caro. “If you are still in the area.”

“I have no plans to leave anytime soon, Your Grace,” Caro said with a smile to John. “I'm enjoying myself far too much.”

“How gratifying,” Amelia said. “Perhaps you should spread some of that enjoyment to Lady Prudence. She seems to be having trouble with Major Kensington.”

“Oh, perhaps he has trifled with her!” Lady Bellington seized Caro's arm with a grin that suggested she'd be pleased to have her suspicions confirmed. “We must find out.”

Either Caro was as interested in the answer or she couldn't protest fast enough, for the duchess bore her off.

Amelia immediately turned to John. “I said nothing, John, I promise you. I don't know how people keep surmising the issue!”

John thought he knew. Caro was in such a mood to attract attention that she could well have told the duchess her theory. He simply couldn't understand how Caro had guessed. Oh, he'd seen couples who smelled of April and May, hands clasped, gazes locked so tightly it was a wonder they didn't trip over each other. However, plenty of lords and ladies wed without such obvious devotion, and they managed an heir within a year. Why didn't people assume he and Amelia would be among their number?

“Lady Bellington could find scandal in a nursery,” John replied. “Do not encourage her, and it will all blow over.”

She bit her lip a moment before answering. “I wish I could believe that. But I fear the only way to stop the rumors is for me to produce an heir, and we both know that isn't likely unless something changes.”

Something,
she said, as if she was the one at fault. He knew what had to change. It wasn't Amelia's temperament or her character. Both, he was committed to believing, were exemplary. Nor were her attempts to fix his clothing or hair a solution. What needed to change was his heart.

The realization had been coming on slowly, but he knew it for the truth. The day his brother had betrayed him, he'd considered violence, and the blackness inside him had disturbed and disgusted him. He never wanted to feel that strongly again. Certainly he didn't dare expose a child to such feelings. Since then, he had blamed God for abandoning him, but John had been the one to flee, away from the light that showed his inner darkness.

He wasn't sure he was ready to let another see his true self, even Amelia.

Still, he tried to do his duty the rest of the visit. He stayed at Amelia's side, nodded when appropriate, answered questions put to him. He escorted his wife to the carriage and sat next to Kensington across from her so she could meet his gaze instead of the major's. He had as little to do with Caro as his role of host allowed, which seemed to annoy the Dowager Lady Hascot, if her barbed comments were any indication.

He was congratulating himself on getting through another afternoon when they pulled into the stable yard behind the house, and Amelia turned white.

“Oh, look,” Caro said, glancing out the window. “You have more company.”

John twisted to see out the window, as well. A massive travel coach sat on the gravel, with a set of white horses at the front, each exactly fifteen hands high by his estimation. They had good lines and were likely prime goers, but he'd never seen them before. “I don't recognize the team.”

“I do.” Amelia's voice was as faint as an echo.

John turned to her in surprise. In the shadows of the coach, her face was a beacon of white, her eyes huge. Caro and Major Kensington were both staring at her, as well.

“It's my father,” she said.

Chapter Seventeen

O
h, could this day get any worse? First, Lady Bellington had complained about their marriage, and Amelia was fairly certain the comment had grown out of the duchess's conversation with Caro and would likely feature largely in any future discussions with Amelia. Now her father had come. Who would blame her for refusing to climb from the carriage?

Oh, everyone.

So Amelia allowed John to help her down and walked with him toward the waiting coach, with Major Kensington and Caro behind them. Each step felt as if she was drawing closer to the gallows. John's arm under her hand was as stiff as a stair rail and as unyielding.

Her father had deigned to alight and stood beside the door of his carriage. Though he had to have traveled far that day, his top hat, dove-gray coat and black pantaloons were crisp, as if giving no quarter even to inconvenience.

“Amelia,” he said with an inclination of his head. “Hascot. I expected to find you home.”

“I would have been waiting,” Amelia assured him, “had I known you were coming.” She glanced inside the carriage, only to find it empty. “Isn't Mother with you?”

“She insisted on remaining in London,” he said.

She found it difficult to believe her mother preferred the miasma that hugged the capital in August, but she supposed the marchioness might have been hoping for a better invitation than to Hollyoak Farm.

“A shame,” she said. “I believe you know one of our other guests, Lady Hascot.”

Caro and the major stepped forward. “My lord,” she said with a curtsy.

“Lady Hascot,” he greeted her. “Kensington.”

So he knew the major, too. Amelia glanced at the cavalry officer to find that he had paled. Apparently he also had few good memories of her father.

“And what brings you to our door?” John asked her father.

The quirk of his mouth was the closest Amelia had seen of a smile. “Does a father require a reason to visit his daughter?”

Hers did. He had rarely bothered to climb the extra flight of stairs from the chamber story to the schoolroom to check on her progress when she was a girl, had only occasionally accompanied her and her mother on their social rounds after she had been presented. She would have guessed he'd come for his colt, only she knew John had no young ones ready to leave.

“You are welcome in our home, regardless,” John said. “I will leave the arrangements to Amelia. She manages the house exceedingly well.”

Though John meant it as praise, he made it sound as if she was no more than his housekeeper. She could only pray that she would not blush for once and confirm the matter.

“Of course,” Amelia said aloud. “This way, Father.”

She managed to settle him in the withdrawing room with Caro and Major Kensington, then retreated to the corridor for a hurried conversation with Mr. Hennessy.

“There's only one bedchamber left, your ladyship,” he explained as if she hadn't taken inventory herself, “and it's by far the smallest and on the schoolroom story. I'll have to double up the beds in the attics for all the servants as it is.”

“Give my father my room,” Amelia instructed. “Have Turner move my clothing and personal items to the smaller room.”

“Yes, your ladyship,” the butler said, but the look on his long face told Amelia he wasn't pleased with the arrangements.

Neither was she, but she knew her duty. She returned to the withdrawing room with a smile for all her guests, only to find that John had disappeared. Indeed, Major Kensington and her father were in close conversation, the major's face flushed, and Caro was rubbing her hands over each other as she watched. Amelia slipped out before anyone noticed her.

This was the outside of enough! She understood the house was her domain according to the agreement John had proposed. She could sympathize with his discomfort dealing with people. But he'd promised her he'd keep a closer eye on Caro and the major, and she simply couldn't manage her father and them, too.

As she had expected, she found John in the stable, discussing something with a groom before Magnum's stall. As usual, the stallion stepped forward at the sight of Amelia, lowering his head and baring his teeth.

Amelia narrowed her eyes at him. “Listen, you. I am in no mood for your posturing. You back up and behave, or I shall move
you
to a smaller stall!”

Magnum shuffled back and sank his head into his water trough as if she didn't exist. One look from Amelia, and the groom excused himself, as well.

John raised a brow. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” Amelia put her hands on her hips. “Shall I enumerate? My father, who has never had a kind word for me, has come to visit. Major Kensington will not leave off pestering me. Dear Caro seems bent on reestablishing herself in your affections, and you run away. I quite understand why, John. I'd like nothing better myself. However, neither of us has the luxury.”

“Why not?” He leaned against the wall of the stall. “I'm ready to pay for rooms at the inn, just to be shed of Caro and her major. If you wish it, I'll send them all packing.”

Amelia dropped her arms. “Really?”

He straightened. “Say the word.”

Could she be so bold? Major Kensington would be no social loss, and she had no wish to pursue a friendship. Nothing Caro could say would affect Amelia's true friends in London. But to evict her own father?

“No,” Amelia said. “That isn't the sort of person I wish to be. Caro is family, and so is my father. I should be pleased he is determined to visit. However, I will need your help to entertain him.”

“Nonsense,” he said, reaching for a pitchfork to add straw to Magnum's stall, even though he had staff aplenty to see to the work. “You'll do fine.”

Amelia threw up her hands. “How can I reach you, sir? Shall I leap ditches in the pasture? Beg for a pail of oats? Would you then pay attention to my needs instead of your horses!”

Magnum's head came up, ears pricking, tail stiffening. In the other stalls, other heads came up, from both horses and grooms.

“Lower your voice,” John said quietly, straightening slowly.

“Why?” Amelia challenged, fighting for calm. “Everyone already knows how little use you have for me.”

John stepped up to her, gaze drilling into hers. “Lower your voice. By your posture and your tone, you are telling the horses there is danger here. And you are putting yourself at risk from their reactions.”

She felt it, as well. It was as if a thundercloud had shadowed the stable, threatening lightning. Heavy bodies shifted, muttered fear. She took a deep breath, forced her shoulders to relax, calmed her face. But though she might no longer look frustrated, she felt it nonetheless. She turned and walked slowly from the building, out toward the pasture, away from the house. As the sun bathed her face, she drew to a stop and closed her eyes.

Forgive me, Father. I don't know who I am. I don't know what John wants of me. I don't know what You want of me.

“Amelia.”

She opened her eyes to find John standing in front of her. The planes of his face had tightened, his dark brows drawn down.

“What have I done to make you think I have no use for you?” he asked. “How could anyone so much as dislike you?”

She sucked in a breath. “I don't know. I try, John, I truly try to be kind and accommodating.”

He met her gaze, intent. “I have never met anyone kinder than you. Always you find the good in the situation. Kensington was right—you are a ray of sunlight.”

“But still you care more for your horses than your wife.” Oh, why had she been given this gentle voice, this quiet heart? She wanted to rail, to shake her fists, to shout at someone. To change the world.

He took a breath, as well. “I can understand why you would think that. I spend a great deal of time with the horses.”

“You spend all your time with the horses,” Amelia corrected him. “Admit it. You wanted to bolt for the stables even when we visited Bellweather Hall today.”

“I will not deny the attraction,” he admitted. “But I will deny that it has anything to do with you. I am comfortable with my horses, Amelia. I understand what they're thinking.”

Amelia shook her head. “How can a person possibly understand the mind of a horse?”

“Here, I'll show you.” He took her hand and led her back to the door of the stable. Inside, her rivals for his affections were being brushed, given water and boxed in for the night.

“There,” he said, nodding to Argentia. “You see how she's bobbing her head to the groom? Very likely she's done something to offend him and is letting him know she's sorry.”

“Really?” Amelia watched as the groom stroked the horse's neck.

“It's all right, Argentia,” she heard him say. “I know you didn't mean to step on my foot.”

“And there,” John said, turning her attention to the mare Providence. “Listen, and you'll hear her nicker. She's anticipating her dinner.”

A low rumbling sound came from the mare, her nostrils twitching along in time as a groom approached with hay. John drew Amelia back out into the sunlight.

“I have learned to understand how horses think,” he said. “But no matter how hard I try, I cannot understand people in the same way. They smile and say kind words, then lie and cheat. What kind of father mistreats his only daughter? Why would a man steal the woman his brother loved?”

She felt as if her heart was breaking anew, and this time for him. “Oh, John, I don't know. I've asked myself the same sorts of questions. Is it something I've said, something I've done, something I lack?”

He caught her face in both hands. “There is nothing, nothing lacking in you, Amelia. The fault lies entirely with your father, I am certain of it.” He let his hands fall. “I only wish I could say the same of myself. I could not find the words to tell Caro how I felt once. Those feelings have gone. Now I have others, and still I struggle to say them aloud.”

He had feelings? For her? Her heart seemed to fly up into the blue of the sky and dance from sheer joy. “I am listening.”

“And here I stand, tongue-tied, staring at you like a horse at his oats. That is why I hide in the stables, Amelia. If I cannot speak my thoughts to you, how can I communicate with people far more complicated, like your father and our guests? Believe me when I say that you are better off without me. I would only shame you.”

His head was bowed, his tone subdued. Even though they stood in the sunlight, the shadows crept upon him. Had he been one of his horses, she would have thought him sickening.

This was wrong. He was a fine man, an honorable man, for all it had taken time and proximity for her to appreciate that. Amelia felt her spine stiffening, her head coming up.

“John,” she said, “you could never shame me. You are honest, loyal, dedicated to those you care for. If our guests cannot appreciate that, they are the ones who should be ashamed, and I am very tempted to tell them that this very instant!”

* * *

John had rarely seen Amelia so sure of herself. Her head was up, her eyes shining with righteous indignation. She might have been leading a charge across a field of battle, so firm were her convictions. He only wished he shared them.

“And are you certain you won't care if one of my blunt sayings insults your father?” he challenged.

Those petal-pink lips curved. “If you insult my father, most likely it will be because he deserved it.”

He could not deny that. “It still won't reflect well on you.”

“On the contrary. He might actually come to respect our strength.” She must have noticed she wasn't convincing him, for she put a hand on his arm, the touch soft. “Not everyone will be so sensitive, John. I have seen you be blunt with Dr. Fletcher. Does he take offense?”

“He can't,” John said. “He values his position.”

“And apparently my father values yours,” Amelia replied. “Otherwise he wouldn't have agreed to our marriage.”

John snorted. “It wasn't me but the horses he valued, and I think we both know that.”

She was turning pink again. “Still, if you hadn't been so insistent, I'm sure he would have refused you.”

John regarded her. “Is that what they told you? That I rode up and demanded your hand in marriage? Small wonder you find me a brute. I assure you, Amelia, I came to London to tell your father in no uncertain terms that nothing had happened between us which would require us to wed.”

Her golden brows knit. “Didn't he believe you?”

“I don't think he cared,” John replied, remembering the cool, assessing conversation. “He was intent on a horse from the first. I think he smarted that I'd refused to sell to him before.”

She threw up her hands. “Of course! Even my father prefers horses to my company! Perhaps I should learn to nicker!”

John chuckled. “You have no need to nicker, Amelia. Men are only too happy to draw closer to you.”

“If that was true, I wouldn't be living at Hollyoak Farm,” she retorted. Immediately she flamed. “Oh, John, I'm so sorry! That sounded as if I'd prefer to be elsewhere.” She stomped her foot in a good imitation of Firenza in a pet. “See! This entire business has me so rattled I forget my manners!”

For her, there could be no greater failing. “I understand,” John assured her. “We are quite a pair at the moment. You forget your manners, and I had none to begin with.”

“Nonsense,” she said, and he thought she was recovering herself by the way her chin lifted. “Please, come back to the house with me. The thought of facing my father alone makes me want to jump on Firenza's back and ride until we both collapse.”

Which was how they had arrived at their marriage, John realized. Amelia had quarreled with her mother, she'd said, ridden away and cried herself to sleep in his stable. Now she was facing her father the same way. John wasn't sure which was worse, that the man had schemed behind her back, or that he might be unkind to her face.