Page 33 of Wicked with Him

“If my wife likes it, then it’s worth considering. I’m expected there shortly, so please hurry to prepare the horses so I don’t have to keep my wife waiting.”

The innkeeper nodded. “I take it you’ve made up?”

It was a bold question for an innkeeper to ask a near stranger. But if Amity said no to marrying him, he’d be leaving, and she would stay in this village. “It’s too early to tell,” he warned the fellow.

He headed up to his room to change into clothing more suited for riding, making sure he appeared as prosperous as possible. Not to impress the land manager, who didn’t know his real identity anyway, but to impress Amity herself.

He tossed a pair of tight breaches to give to Amity to slip on under her dress for their ride over his arm. They would be a little loose perhaps but should ensure her modesty, and if she tied a sash about her waist, it would hold them in place for the ride.

He was ready at the appointed time and went down to fetch the horses, spare breaches in hand. As the innkeeper had warned, the hired mount left a lot to be desired when compared to his own mount, Argus. But it was a sturdy beast, if too placid in temperament for an experienced gentleman rider. Amity was surely experienced on horseback, as well, and deserved the very best.

His own horse danced with impatience at his side to be off and running the moment he was in the saddle. The hired mount merely shook his head and as Roman kicked his flanks but eventually got moving.

Amity was still inside her home when he arrived but peering out her front window in wait for him. When she saw him, it took no time for her burst out her front door in a rush of excitement at seeing him. Had she thought he’d not be coming back? Or had she missed riding as much as he suspected she might?

He dismounted the plodding hired horse and tied it to the hitching post outside her front yard. He tied up his own horse next to it, too, even though the beast kept tossing his head. “This is Argus. Energetic but he has a good nature.”

“He’s beautiful,” she enthused, stroking the horses long nose. She glanced at him, frowning. “Is this the horse my brother wanted to buy from Tattersalls last year but was outbid on the day?”

“Hmm, it could be?” he answered, grinning that she knew about yet another revenge scheme he’d taken on her obnoxious sibling.

“I’m so glad I get to ride him instead of George. He would never have let me if he was the owner,” she told him. “He’ll be furious when he hears about this.”

“George’s temper, or lack of it, is well known now.” He handed her the breaches. “For you to wear.”

“Thank you.” Amity darted back inside and returned before he’d finished naming all the shrubs planted in her front garden to pass the time.

He helped her mount, though there was some confusion about getting her legs into right places on the saddle at first. She was attuned to mounting for a sidesaddle rather than astride.

Amity was laughing by the time she was secure on horseback with her feet in the stirrups. “Habits are so hard to break. I’m not accustomed to riding anything but sidesaddle now.”

“Just remember to hold on with your knees and you’ll be fine.” Assured she was properly situated, he climbed atop his hired mount and turned toward the lane. Amity followed and they started out at a walk. “Did you have a horse of your own?”

“Not since Papa died when I was a young girl. George said I shouldn’t ride alone or often, and the aunts who cared for me never dared disagree with him. If not for my cousins, Fairbridge, Nash, Jasper or Stratford. I’d never have been competent on horseback.”

“Thank heavens for them.” He met her gaze and grinned. “From now on, you decide our riding pace, sweet lady.”

“In that case, we need to ride much faster than this plod,” she warned before applying her heels and launching Argus into the lead, her laughter the only sound he heard from her until they reached their destination.

Chapter 12

Amity glanced around at the thoroughly neglected manor house, hoping Roman didn’t actually want to buy the place from Lord Barnes. It could have been so pretty if someone had cared enough to keep it in good order some time in the past. But it would take a long time, considerable money, and dozens of staff to bring such a ruin back from the brink. And that was her opinion after seeing only the outside. She dreaded what state of decline the interior must be in.

But she dutifully played the part of Roman Crawford’s wife for the sake of appearances. Allowing him to fuss with their horses, even though she was quite willing to hold them and avoid going any farther. The steward knew her from the village but spoke exclusively to her husband. It irritated her to be so overlooked for an opinion.

“As you can see, it’s a grand place,” the steward enthused to Roman. Pointing out features and ignoring the neglect.

The steward was either blind or delusional if he thought they were too stupid to see the faults around them. This wreck of an estate would empty Roman’s coffers very smartly to bring it back to order. Although she suspected Roman could afford the purchase and bill to repair, Amity knew of dozens of unwanted estates, better kept and elsewhere, where she’d rather see him live.

The steward appeared reluctant to show the interior, too, even when Roman requested to a second time. However, at the third request, the steward sighed and wrenched open a pair of French doors with some effort.

Roman turned to her, wincing at the sound, his hand outstretched. “Sweetheart, shall we take a look?”

She’d rather not but she put her hand in his and stepped inside, nose wrinkling immediately at the dust that rose up around her. She pulled out a handkerchief to press over her mouth and nose as they toured the lower floor of the house.

Furniture had been piled up in corners without the benefit of dust cloths to even protect them from fading.

Amity could easily see why Lord and Lady Barnes wanted to sell. Only one part of the dwelling seemed livable in her opinion, and that was the cavernous servants’ quarters at the very back, where the steward resided. The rest of the public rooms at the front and the bedchambers upstairs were like the outside—neglected terribly.