The Husband Campaign

Respect. Not love, not devotion. It was less than what she’d prayed for, but the new woman who was emerging seemed drawn to it. It was something she’d never had after all. And if he intended to honor his vows, then someday she might hope for children.

Something fierce and strong rose up inside her. She would have children to love, to dote upon as surely as if she had wished it for herself. That would be the good to come from this marriage, that would be God’s blessing for her trials.

“Very well, my lord,” she said. “I accept your offer. We will marry in the morning. And may God smile upon our union.”

Chapter Five

And so she was married. She stood before the rector, her parents and a few friends among the dark wood paneling and soaring stained glass windows of St. George’s Hanover Square. She repeated her vows and listened to John repeat his in that gruff voice. It wasn’t until she said, “Till death do us part,” that a tremor ran through her. She could only hope no one else noticed.

She continued smiling as they returned to her parents’ home and the receiving line down the corridor as guests progressed to the wedding breakfast at tables her mother had had erected in the withdrawing room. She accepted congratulations, thanked the noble guests for their good wishes. She counted three dukes, two marquesses and an earl who was related to the king. And all of them seemed far more interested in making her husband’s acquaintance than in wishing her well.

John did not appear the least bit humbled by the attentions paid him. He stood beside her, nodding, exchanging few words. His sharp features and hooded gaze reminded her of a falcon she’d seen once. That bird had been wary, gaze sweeping the grassy lands for prey. She didn’t like the thought that perhaps this time she was the mouse.

“Well done,” Lord Danning said, next in line to congratulate them. A tall man with golden hair, his ready smile to her and John eased her tension. But it was the sight of Ruby beside him that truly raised her spirits.

Marriage obviously agreed with her friend, for Ruby’s green eyes positively sparkled, and her mouth was stretched wide in a grin. Her red hair was tamed under a fashionable chip hat, an ostrich plume curling down around her ear to tease her cheek.

“As soon as you’re finished,” she said, giving Amelia’s arm a squeeze, “come find me. I can’t wait to hear all.”

Amelia wasn’t sure how much she dared relate with so many other people about. But after the guests had been seated for the wedding breakfast, she managed to slip away with Ruby into the gardens behind the house.

“I know the two of you met when you were up at Fern Lodge with us, but I won’t believe it was love at first sight,” Ruby declared in her forthright manner. She linked arms with Amelia as they strolled the white-rocked paths among the low boxwood hedges. “So what happened? Did he follow you to London? Plead his case on bended knee?”

“Not quite,” Amelia admitted, going on to explain the situation. When she finished, Ruby’s face tightened.

“Not the most auspicious of beginnings,” she agreed. “Do you at least admire him?”

Amelia thought hard. He was cool but generally considerate in a rough sort of way. He was not much of a conversationalist. He did not seem to be particularly devoted to family.

“He is by all accounts good with his horses,” she finally said.

The faint praise hung in the sunny morning air a moment. She glanced at Ruby, and suddenly they were both giggling.

“He looks presentable in a jacket and trousers,” Ruby offered.

“His nose is not offensive,” Amelia countered.

“He does slip out of services on Sunday to race his carriage,” Ruby assured her.

“And he isn’t an avid fisherman,” Amelia proclaimed triumphantly.

Ruby hugged the sides of her emerald gown as if to hold in her laughter. “Oh, so true! You are very fortunate there, you know. On my honeymoon, I learned fifteen different ways to entice a trout to rise. Who would have thought the silly things so fussy!”

“Or so determined,” Amelia agreed.

Ruby sobered. “Indeed. I never thought I’d give the time of day to a trout other than to gobble him down for dinner. But I have come to care about such things as fishing because he cares about them. I’m sure it will be the same with you and Lord Hascot.”

Amelia could only hope her friend was right. In truth, she’d always enjoyed riding. Why shouldn’t she enjoy helping John with his horses? Perhaps they could find companionship of a sort, at the very least.

Her doubts returned the moment they stepped out of the house for the carriage.

She had changed into her travel attire, a corded surge gown of navy blue with a feather-trimmed bonnet, and John had changed into a rough tweed coat and brown trousers. Her mother took one look at his scuffed boots and turned her back on him. But Amelia could see him frowning at the lumbering travel coach and wagon standing behind his trim carriage.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

Before Amelia could answer, her mother drew herself up. She’d been far too busy with her other guests the past few hours to pay much attention to her daughter or new son-in-law. Now she affixed him with an imperial glare.

“These are Amelia’s belongings, her contribution to your home, sir,” she informed him.

He eyed the chair leg poking out of the canvas covering the back of the wagon. “My home is sufficiently furnished, madam. You may keep your castoffs.”

“Well, I never!” her mother cried, face reddening.

Amelia stepped in the middle from long practice. “They are not castoffs, my lord, but a few pieces of which I am very fond. Being a bachelor household, your home likely lacks some of the things a woman needs.”

Now he frowned at her. As frowns went, it was fairly formidable. His dark brows drew down over his long nose in a V that made his deep brown eyes cavernous. She imagined his staff must duck and scurry when they saw such a look. Being her father’s daughter, she had seen worse.

“Such as?” he demanded.

“A jewelry case?” Amelia guessed. “A dressing table? Poetry by Shakespeare and Everard?”

His brow cleared. “Very well. But it will all have to come later. I intend to make Dovecote Dale by dinner tomorrow, and I won’t be held up by the pace of that wagon.”

“Now, see here,” her mother started, but Amelia’s father came out of the house just then, approaching them with measured tread. As if Amelia’s mother saw defeat coming, she called to her servants to do as Lord Hascot requested.

That necessitated a rush among her parents’ staff to ensure Amelia had what she’d need for the next three or four days before the coach and wagon reached the farm. Then it was time to say goodbye.

Her mother went so far as to hug her, her arms wrapped around Amelia’s shoulders, her head resting against Amelia’s. She couldn’t remember the last time her mother had been so demonstrative, and tears pricked her eyes.

Then her mother whispered, “Remember your vows, Amelia.”

Her vows? Did her mother think she would be unfaithful? The very idea hurt so much that the tears overflowed. Her mother must have noticed them as she disengaged, because she patted Amelia’s hand.

“There now, it shouldn’t be so hard,” she said, voice unusually quiet for her. “You were always an obedient child, until recently. Just see that you treat your husband with a similar level of agreeability.”

Obedience. Agreeability. That was what her mother expected of her. Normally, it was what Amelia expected of herself, as well. “Honor thy father and mother,” the Bible said. She would continue to honor them, but she was no longer their child. And though she was Lord Hascot’s wife, she could not help feeling that perhaps she might at last become her own person.

Her father merely extended his hand, and she accepted it in farewell.

“I trust we will see you in London this fall,” he said, and Amelia could tell by the way his pale blue gaze shifted to John that he was addressing her new husband.

She couldn’t help glancing at John, as well. He stood next to the open door of the carriage, waiting for her to climb in.

“I come to London in the spring for a sale at Tattersalls,” he said. “Amelia is free to come whenever she likes.”

Her father released her hand and turned to offer his arm to his wife. That was all that need be said. She blinked back the tears and went to join John in the carriage. When would she learn that nothing about her warranted her father’s attention?

Would it merit her husband’s? And if it did, would she want his attention?