Читать книгу Captivated By Her Convenient Husband - Bronwyn Scott - Страница 15

He was going to exhaust himself before supper at this rate. Avaline stopped long enough from helping with lunch preparations to watch her husband with the tenants as they thatched a roof. Perhaps that was his plan. Work hard, sleep hard in order to avoid the bad dreams by night and perhaps his wife by day.

For all the differences she saw in Fortis, that one hadn’t changed. Last night had driven that home. He’d never had time for her and it seemed he still didn’t. No doubt he’d brought her today to tour the estate because he’d needed her to make introductions. The sooner she could accept that, the sooner she could move forward with constructing what her new life as Fortis’s wife would look like.

The sight of him working made it difficult to harden her heart entirely. It had pleased and surprised her to see his willingness to join in. He’d never shown an interest in the estate before. Perhaps he’d meant that piece at least when he said he’d come to home to help with Blandford. It gave her a different kind of hope. The new life they could have together might not be the fairy tale she yearned for, but perhaps neither would it be as disappointing as their past. They might be able to use their dedication to Blandford to build a foundation between them, one that in time would give way to respect and friendship. Many marriages were built on less. She could learn to be happy with that if she could just keep her fantasies in check. Something that was easier to say than to do, when one’s handsome husband was up on the roof, flexing his muscles in shirtsleeves.

Avaline used a hand to shield her eyes against the sun. At some point in the morning, Fortis’s coat had come off along with his waistcoat, his shirt open at the neck, the once carefully laundered garment now sporting splotches of sweat and grime. His trousers were dusty from hauling up the bundles of straw. He paused on the roof, straightening for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow. It was heated work, hard work, even beneath an October sun. The day was clear and crisp, the not-so-subtle hint of oncoming winter in the air, yet the efforts of labour were evidenced in the steam off his body.

What a body it was. Even at a distance, she couldn’t help but be aware of it, of him. Shoulders strained tirelessly beneath his shirt; long, booted legs strode confidently on the flat of the roof with athletic grace, old buckskin breeches showing well-muscled thighs, never mind that most men of his class had eschewed breeches for trousers. ‘No sense in ruining perfectly good trousers,’ he’d told her this morning when she’d raised a questioning eyebrow at his attire. That was new, too, another piece of reality the military must have drilled into him: thrift, frugality. The Fortis she’d married had been fashion conscious. Not a dandy, certainly, but always well-turned-out. Too bad breeches weren’t back in fashion. She liked the look. He wore them well. Extremely well. Well enough to make a girl forget quite a lot of things, ranging from helping the women lay out a luncheon to the risks of wagering one’s heart on a fool’s prospect. Perhaps she wasn’t beyond such foolishness as she thought. If so, she would need to be on her guard.

‘Let me take those.’ Mrs Baker came to help her with the basket of apples on her arm and she felt silly for standing about gawking at a man who’d dismissed her from his bedroom last night.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Baker, I was just bringing the basket to the table,’ Avaline apologised hastily.

The woman smiled knowingly, following the recent trajectory of her gaze. ‘You must be thrilled to have him home, such a handsome man, and the two of you only married a short while before he had to leave. You can make up for lost time now.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Avaline replied automatically and hurried off to put the apples on the table. Perhaps she should take a cue from Fortis and immerse herself in work as well. Then she, too, would be less inclined to spend so much thought on his return. Perhaps it would indeed be possible to simply go on from here without confronting the past. Perhaps she should just accept Fortis as he was. She could not make him love her and it was hardly his fault that once she’d thought to love him. That had been her choice.

It was clear that was what Fortis meant to do. He’d been congenial at breakfast, stating his intention of meeting the tenants. He’d asked questions about the estate while they ate, showing a considerable interest in how she’d run things. That interest had been both welcome and unnerving. On the one hand, she was grateful to be able to lay down the burden. Estate management had not come naturally to her, but she’d learned. She’d had no choice. There’d been no one else. Between herself and her land steward, Mr Benning, they had managed admirably. On the other hand, as relieved as she was to surrender the burden, there was a sense of loss, too. She had done admirably. She’d come to take pride in how she’d made ends meet and kept the estate going against considerable odds and debt. She would miss that challenge. Her role now would be reduced back to playing Lady Bountiful and delivering baskets. After seven years of free rein, it was something of a demotion.

A long arm darted around her and grabbed an apple in a lightning-quick move. ‘I’m famished!’ Fortis laughed when she whirled around, startled. He took a big, crunchy bite of the fruit and finished off the apple in four bites. He reached for another, looking entirely boyish. He might have been any one of them instead of a duke’s son. She liked the notion of that—one of them, a part of Blandford in a way he’d never been a part of it before. Before, Blandford had been a nuisance, merely a piece of land he held for his father, not a home as she saw it. She’d grown up here. It was all she knew. Yes, perhaps her earlier thought was right—with Blandford between them, they could build something together out of their marriage.

‘There’s meat and bread, too,’ she offered, smiling back. It was hard not to. His smile was intoxicating, his good humour contagious and, as long as she was honest with herself about the limits of what this marriage could provide, it was safe to indulge. This man was easy to be with, perhaps even easy to work with. The men seemed to like him. She’d heard them joking up on the roof, bits of their conversation and laughter floating down to the ground. That was new, too, or was it that she’d not had time to discover it? Had all this good will and good humour been there and she hadn’t noticed? Perhaps she’d been too wrapped up in her own needs and disappointments to truly see him? ‘Let me make you something,’ Avaline offered.

‘I can make my own bread and meat.’ He grinned, stretching around her again. The action brought his body close to her, the smell of morning soap and afternoon sweat combining for a masculine appeal all its own. He assembled a stack of bread and meat and gave her a wink. ‘Come on, let’s find a place to sit before John has us back up there slaving away again.’

‘John?’ Avaline asked in surprise. A duke’s son was on first-name basis with a tenant farmer?

‘John Wicks.’ Fortis found them a piece of grass and sat down without ceremony. She joined him, tucking her skirts beneath her.

‘I know Mr Wicks. He’s a good man. He’s a leader among the tenants. He worked with me and Mr Benning to take care of those who needed it most while you were gone.’ Something nudged at her arm and she looked down to see Fortis holding out bread and sliced ham. ‘What’s this?’

‘Your lunch. You didn’t think I grabbed all of this for me or that I would eat it all in front of you?’ He laughed. ‘Take it.’

‘Thank you, that was very...thoughtful.’

He stretched out long legs that drew the eye. ‘John speaks highly of you. He says you’ve done a masterful job of keeping the estate going. He says Benning is a good man, too.’

‘You’ll want to look over the ledgers and decide where to go from here,’ Avaline offered generously, blushing from the praise. He would never know how much it cost her to make that offer, to begin turning the estate over to him, the running of her home handed over to a veritable stranger, never mind they’d grown up as neighbouring families. Fortis was seven years older than she was. It wasn’t as if they’d roamed the fields together. He’d already had a commission in the military by the time she was thirteen.

Fortis knit his brow. ‘I’m to make the decision? It seems I might be the worst possible person to do that at this point. I’m the one who knows the least what the estate needs. It seems that perhaps Mr Benning and yourself, myself, and perhaps John Wicks and others like him should make those decisions. I’d appreciate it, Avaline, if we handled the reins of the estate together.’

He paused and she almost choked on the ham. ‘You want my input?’ she stammered.

‘Yes,’ he answered simply. ‘Unless you don’t wish to offer it? Perhaps you want to lay it all down?’

‘No. Not at all,’ Avaline said firmly lest she accidentally throw this unexpected gift away. ‘I would be pleased if you would consult me. I will help in any way I can.’

‘Good.’ He gave her an infectious grin and swallowed the last of his lunch. ‘It looks as though John wants to get back at it.’ He rose and held out a hand to help her up. It was a natural enough gesture, a casual one. But Avaline hesitated, feeling as if taking his hand signalled something more, a sealing of their partnership, or at the very least, an acknowledgement of it. Was she ready for that? She supposed she didn’t have a choice. Ready or not, Fortis was here, offering his hand, and, in time, perhaps he might offer her something more. Avaline reached up and took it, aware of all the flaws and hope that came with the gesture.