Captain Amberton's Inherited Bride (Whitby Weddings 2)

‘How about a tour of the house first? We have some very attractive walls here, too.’ He flashed his most charming smile, one that rarely failed to convince any woman to do anything, although Miss Harper seemed more interested in her breakfast.

‘All right.’

‘Good.’ He tried again, but she was too engrossed in spreading a fresh layer of marmalade over her toast to notice. ‘I might as well show you around since we’re snowed in together.’

‘I suppose so.’ She looked up again at last, her expression oblivious and resolute. ‘But only until the snows clears. After that, I’m leaving.’

Chapter Six

‘Cutting it a bit close, aren’t you?’ Lance winced as the blade scraped across his cheek.

Martin harrumphed, though his hand didn’t falter. ‘You need a haircut, too.’

‘There’s no time.’

Another harrumph. ‘You ought to try to look like a gentleman even when you don’t act like one. You’ll never get her to marry you otherwise.’

Lance blinked in surprise. It wasn’t like his taciturn retainer to comment on either his appearance or his behaviour, no matter how bad either of them were.

‘I doubt I’ll get her to marry me anyway. It appears I’m losing my touch with women. It’s me she objects to, not my leg.’

Though the realisation of that fact made him feel strangely buoyant. As furious as he’d been at the insult to his injured limb, the insult to his character didn’t bother him even half as much. He could perfectly understand her objections to that. Now that he’d stopped blaming her for the past he could even start to see their situation from her perspective, too. He didn’t resent her any more. On the contrary, after their conversation at breakfast, he felt strangely close to her, but he supposed Martin was right. If he wanted her to marry him, then he really ought to start behaving more like a gentleman.

‘She’s more intelligent than the rest, then.’ Martin put the blade aside.

‘So it would seem.’

Lance wiped a towel over his face and then pulled on a pair of breeches, fresh white shirt and crava

t. Now that he’d had a bath and a shave, he felt impatient to get downstairs, as if he were actually eager to see her again.

He’d made a bad start with Miss Harper—in all honesty, it was hard to imagine a worse one—but now he felt determined to woo her for real. It would be a challenge, but even that idea was exhilarating. He already felt less oppressed than he had when he’d woken up that morning. If he could convince her to marry him, then he could expand his mining venture in earnest. He’d already invested the money he’d made soldiering, but her father’s fortune would make all the difference.

‘There.’ He tied his cravat with a flourish. ‘Gentlemanly enough for you?’

‘Better than usual.’

‘Remind me why I keep you around, will you?’

‘Because no one else would put up with you.’ Martin grunted. ‘Tell her she looks nice. Women like that.’

Lance spun around in astonishment. ‘Are you offering me tips on how to deal with the opposite sex, Martin?’

‘It was just a suggestion, sir.’

‘Good, because if there’s one thing I know...’

‘Begging your pardon, sir, but she’s not like the rest.’

‘Is that so?’ He was beginning to feel faintly irritated. ‘Because of her alleged intelligence, or is there something else that makes her different?’

‘I just don’t think she’s the kind of woman to play games, sir. Or cheat on her husband either.’

Lance clenched his jaw at the words. Martin had made his disapproval about the major’s wife obvious from the start, though he’d remained at his side when the storm had broken. He’d even removed the bullet.

‘I don’t want to seduce her, Martin, I only want to marry her. From what I’ve observed the two impulses are quite different.’

‘Not always, sir.’