suppose I meant that as a joke, and it was a poor one. I merely thought we would have more discussion when it came time to choose a suitor.”
“Your mother and I have discussed the matter,” he replied as if that were sufficient. “I have written to Hascot and requested that he attend me.”
His note might have been couched as a request, but it would have been an order. She felt as if something was crawling up inside her, choking her, making her fists clench. Her parents were going to force her to wed.
Lord, show me how to stop them!
Calm welled up. She would prevail. And Lord Hascot would have something to say in the matter. For one thing, he knew he and Amelia had settled things. For another, he bore her no love. How could he?
She’d read a number of stories in which the hero conceived undying devotion for the heroine the moment he saw her, but in her experience it took a bit more time and proximity to develop lasting emotions. At least, that was what she hoped. For if men were supposed to wish to marry her on sight, something was very wrong indeed.
“Please don’t press me on this, Father,” she said.
Her father was watching her with a slight frown, as if he wondered what woman was masquerading as his daughter. “If it is that business with Lady Hascot that concerns you,” he said, “I can assure you her interests lay elsewhere.”
“Lady Hascot?” Amelia asked, confused. “Lord Hascot’s mother?”
“His older brother’s widow, the former Lady Caroline Musgrave,” her father corrected her, with a look that said she should have known that. “As the wife of the previous titleholder, she is beholden to the Hascot estate for her living. I understand there has been a question about whether Lord Hascot intends to honor his brother’s wishes, but his actions should have no bearing on you.”
The only thing she’d seen about Lord Hascot that could make her admire his character was his care for his horses. He might be handsome, in a dark, brooding sort of way, and he had been kind to assure her safety that night in the stable. But he was stiff in conversation, sharp in manner, rough in voice and dismal in attitude. Now it seemed he could not even care for a poor widow!
“His actions have no bearing on me at all,” Amelia said. “I don’t intend to see him again.”
Her father’s look was enough to make her knees start shaking under her petticoat. “Make no mistake, Amelia,” he said. “Bringing the appropriate son-in-law into the family is the one consolation for having a daughter. Hascot may not have the fortune or influence in Parliament I wanted, but his reputation as a horseman is unparalleled. I can make use of that. Therefore, you will accept him when he offers.”
She dipped a curtsy. Better that than to let him see the frustration surging up. She didn’t want to be angry at her father, didn’t want to be a disobedient daughter. But she had seen enough of John, Lord Hascot, to know that he was a man as cold as her father, and she would not wed him. And she would tell the horseman that in no uncertain terms if he bowed to her father’s demands and came calling.
Chapter Four
John hadn’t intended to call on Lady Amelia, even after her father’s imperious note demanding his presence in London. He generally came to town once a year for one of the larger sales at Tattersalls, and then he was careful never to cross paths with Caro. He was never comfortable dealing with the woman he’d thought to marry, especially now that she was his widowed sister-in-law, but it wasn’t as if she had scared him out of town. Hollyoak Farm had ever been more of a home to him than London. He’d only spent the Season in town to humor his brother.
He had no interest in humoring Lady Amelia’s father. The Jacoby family and the Wesworth title were well known for their pretensions. He had met the current titleholder twice, both times when Wesworth had come seeking a mount. Both times he’d made it seem as if John should be honored to receive him.
The letter Lady Amelia’s father had sent him held the same tone, but something in it hinted of consequences. John very much doubted the marquess could do anything to diminish the reputation of Hollyoak Farm. Hascot horses led the hunting field from Cornwall to Carlisle. They had, to John’s dismay, carried Hussars into battle. It would take more than the sneer of the Jacobys to sway the horse-loving gentlemen of the ton.
But even as he was tempted to dismiss the letter, he couldn’t help wondering about the consequences to Lady Amelia. Surely Society wouldn’t shun her for sleeping in his stable one night. And marrying her would hardly improve her standing with the ton. He wasn’t known for his cutting wit or dashing style.
Still, Fletcher’s prediction that she would pay for her lapse refused to leave John, so he rode to London with the idea of assuring Lady Amelia’s father that the marquess need not concern himself for her reputation.
But the meeting with Lord Wesworth did not go as he had expected.
“We are practical gentlemen,” Lady Amelia’s father said when he received John in his study. “This emotional business associated with marriage does not become us.”
John could not argue with that. He’d grown emotional about marriage once. He still bore the scars. He took the seat his lordship indicated before the desk. “Then you had another reason for writing to me.”
Wesworth perched behind the desk, his lips twitching as if he could not decide whether to smile. Or perhaps he was simply unused to the gesture. A spare man with a balding pate, he was so still and pale that he reminded John of grain left too long in the rain.
“I see this contretemps in Derby as an opportunity for the both of us,” he explained.
John cocked his head. “I don’t follow you.”
He rearranged the quills laid out on his desk, from longest to shortest, the sharp ends all pointing inward. “I am speaking of a connection between our houses. You are a man who understands breeding, sir. You know my daughter’s worth.”
Would he compare his daughter to a horse? John must have frowned, for the marquess looked up and elaborated.
“She is beautiful, well trained in the art of managing a household, a talented singer, I’m told. You would be aligning yourself to a powerful family, able to arrange matters in Parliament to your liking.”
John leaned back. “The last time I checked, Parliament had enough on its hands settling the affairs in France to worry about the regulation of the horse trade.”
“Ah,” the marquess said, hands stilling, “but there is more of interest to a horse breeder, say the right to enclose certain property.”
Enclosure gave the landowner the right to keep the local citizens from using property once held in common. Some of his pasture was unenclosed land. His frown grew. “Are you threatening me?”
Still the marquess did not smile. “I should not need to threaten you, Hascot. You wronged my daughter. I merely seek restitution.”
“I wronged no one,” John insisted, pushing himself to his feet. “Good day, my lord.” He turned for the door, but the quiet words stopped him.
“You’d have her shamed, then.”
John looked back at him. He remained calm, as
