by Regina Scott
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?”
&
nbsp; 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.
“Of course I’ll come back with you,” he replied. “But I can’t promise to be civil. If he takes you to task in front of me, he’ll find himself sleeping at the village inn.”
She slipped her hand into his. “I’d like to see that.”
Her touch buoyed him, and they turned for the house together, hands clasped, orange-blossom perfume floating about him. He could feel her determination, drew strength from it. He was so focused on Amelia he nearly missed the fellow leading his horse toward the other stable block. The cob had caved sides and a swayback.
John drew to a halt. “I know that horse,” he said, even as Amelia said, “I know that man.”
John met her gaze, saw her blue eyes widen. “I saw him on the road north and later on the road to Dovecote. He must work for my father. Oh, John, Father’s been spying on us!”
John couldn’t fault her logic. But he did wonder why Lord Wesworth felt it necessary to keep an eye on them. Could the marquess have been more concerned for his daughter than he’d originally let on?
“Let’s locate your father,” John said. “I suddenly find myself eager for conversation.”
* * *
Unfortunately, when they returned to the house, they first met Mr. Hennessy, who reported a change in plans.
“His lordship has already donned his riding coat,” the butler explained. “I believe he is expecting a tour, my lord. Lady Hascot has agreed to join him. And Major Kensington has gone down to the inn, something about posting a letter.”
Once, John would have used just such an excuse to escape. Now he wanted more to confront Lord Wesworth.
“I’ll see to your father and Caro,” he promised Amelia. “Take the next hour or so for yourself.”
“Oh, John,” she said, as if he’d given her a priceless jewel. He was surprised to feel rather pleased with himself as he went to find his guests.
They were in the stables, where his lordship was ordering the disposition of the animals he’d brought with him while Caro stood nearby posing prettily. Much as he wanted to speak to the marquess, John interceded on the arrangements first. Most of his more mature horses knew how to get along with newcomers, but the mares and foals would require time apart. He was directing his staff to take the carriage horses to the other stable block when he noticed that Caro had led the marquess closer to Magnum’s stall.
“And this is John’s pride and joy,” she was telling Amelia’s father. “I give you Magnum Opus, the magnificent.”
Magnum eyed them as if unsure they warranted his time.
“And is not your greatest composition wasted here in Derby, sir?” Lord Wesworth challenged John as he drew up to the pair. “I could more easily see this fellow leading the charge at Waterloo.”
“That is something I would not see,” John replied. “I understand you wanted a tour, my lord.”
“All in good time,” Amelia’s father said, turning to stroll along the aisle as if he owned the space. He glanced at this horse and that, paused with head cocked as if to estimate size and strength.
Caro nudged John. “An eager buyer, I think.”
John didn’t answer. He’d originally thought something about the man spoke of cruelty and greed. The marquess’s subsequent actions and Amelia’s reactions had confirmed the traits. Lord Wesworth had been promised a colt if he could prove himself to John. He owed Amelia’s father nothing more.
But now Caro was frowning at him as if she didn’t u
nderstand his attitude. “Honestly, John,” she said. “Do you never intend to sell your darlings? I understand you even refused Major Kensington. The fellow is a hero! I would think that cause for commendation, not reproach.”
John shook his head as Lord Wesworth ordered the chestnut mare Providence saddled for his use, despite the fact that the horse had just eaten and was being made ready for the evening.
“Amelia was right,” he said to Caro. “You’re trying to change my mind about selling to Kensington.”
She drew herself up. “She spoke ill of me behind my back? I would not have thought her so devious.”
“Devious is not a word I would use to describe Amelia. Dedicated, delicate, perhaps, but not devious.” He signaled to a groom to fetch Magnum’s saddle, as well.
“And I suppose I am devious?” Her lower lip trembled. “Oh, John, can’t you see? She’s trying to come between us. She doesn’t understand the special bond we share, forged by sorrow and tragedy.” She put her hand on his arm and gazed up at him, brown eyes swimming.
The touch should have been sweet, imploring. Instead, he found it controlling, possessive. As if she sensed his feelings, she pulled back.
“I told Lord Wesworth I would accompany you,” she said, “but I cannot like your mood, sir. And I believe you are making a great mistake in valuing your wife’s opinion over one from a lady who has known you for years. Allow me to prove it to you.”
She turned and swept toward Magnum’s stall.
John darted in front of her. “Stand back,” he ordered. “He’s been temperamental lately, particularly around women.”
“Around Amelia, you mean,” she said. She stood at the stall’s entrance and watched as the groom saddled the stallion and led him out for John to mount. To John’s surprise, however, she started forward, and the black lowered his neck to nudge her hand.
“There now, big fellow,” Caro crooned. “Aren’t you a fine figure of a horse? I can see why your master is so fond of you.”
Magnum bobbed his head as if he quite agreed.
John raised a brow.