The Husband Campaign. Regina Scott
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СКАЧАТЬ again, he wasn’t ready to consummate the marriage, either. He would have to be six feet under not to find those platinum tresses, that lithe figure attractive. But people were not as simple as horses, and it took more than attraction to make a good marriage, the kind that nurtured children.

      His father might have questioned John’s attachment to his horses, but John thought a proper father would take an interest in his offspring, show them how to get on in the world, introduce them to important things like prayer and riding. Right now he stumbled over the former and would probably be too critical of the latter. And he would certainly never condone raising a hand to his child.

      “Never fear, your ladyship,” he said as he left her at her room, the scent of orange blossoms hanging tantalizingly in the air. “I do not intend to claim my matrimonial rights until we are both satisfied it is the best course.”

      If he was not the man he was, he might have taken exception with how happy that seemed to make her.

      Still, he could not fault her that evening. Now that she was no longer concerned about how they would spend the night, she was pleasing company.

      She presided over the meal; he could think of no other word for it. She folded her elegant hands once more and recited the grace with bowed head. As if she was honoring him as a guest in her own house, she served him from the ragout of beef the innkeeper brought, offered him seconds when he gulped it down and made sure he was given the largest piece of the peach tart that accompanied the meal. Through it all, she kept up a steady stream of polite conversation that required no more than a nod from him unless he wished otherwise.

      Indeed, the evening and the next day passed in such undemanding comfort that he was surprised to hear the rumble of the wheels as they crossed the River Bell, which marked the edge of his property.

      He had purchased Hollyoak Farm on his twenty-fifth birthday with monies left him by his mother and immediately set about improving it. Now solid stable wings stretched parallel to each other out behind the house, pasture and planted grain waving away in all directions. He could see Contessa dashing across the nearest field with the odd gait the old lady had conceived to compensate for her injury. The very air smelled sweeter as he opened the carriage door in the yard behind the house.

      Across the back of the building, his staff had lined up to welcome him and his new bride in the glow of a setting sun. John walked beside her, told her names and positions, nodded his appreciation for their gesture. Amelia smiled graciously, greeted each person by name after John had introduced him and made an appropriate remark about their positions.

      By the time they reached the end of the line, he couldn’t help noticing that half his men were grinning like idiots and another third were blushing like debutantes at their first ball. A few, however, frowned, clearly skeptical of the success of this newcomer in their ranks.

      He was not nearly so skeptical. In fact, he had a feeling that, unless he was very careful, Amelia was going to be entirely too successful—at managing his life.

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