Read Online One Touch of Magic by Amanda Mccabe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda Mccabe
Tags: Romance
Ads: Link
the days of their courting. Her pale blue eyes sparkled with life. All because of the prospect of supping with a marquis.
When he first met Emmeline, at an assembly in Bath, where he had gone to visit his old aunt, he had thought her so fun, so fresh. Not at all like the serious, scholarly women he was accustomed to. She flirted with him, and flattered him as no woman ever had. He had always been rather shy with ladies, comfortable only with his studies and his work, but Emmeline had taken no notice of that. She looked at him as if he were the strongest, the most handsome man in all of England.
That had been very reassuring, after his recent disappointment when Lady Iverson had not given him the village project after Sir John’s death. He was a man, her husband’s colleague, and she was just a woman, albeit an intelligent one. She had known nothing about Vikings, about antiquarian work, until she married Sir John and he taught her. Yet she refused to give it over to him!
Emmeline had thought that was appalling. She had looked at him with wide, sympathetic eyes, and laid her little, white, soft hand on his sleeve. Those eyes, along with the ten thousand pounds of her dowry, convinced him to relinquish his bachelorhood.
So he had married her. And all was well, until their wedding trip to Scotland. He wanted to explore ancient castles and forts, and saw it as a perfect opportunity to teach his bride more about his work. Yet Emmeline saw no interest in marching through the heather to look at ruins. She spent all her time changing into the various elaborate gowns of her trousseau, and talking about the soirees they would have once they were settled into their own house in Bath.
Bath! Neville never wanted to live in Bath. He almost snorted aloud now, as he watched his wife slide jeweled combs into her elaborate coiffure. One would have thought she was going to the Court of St. James, not to supper at Lady Iverson’s hunting box home.
No, married life was not at all what he had hoped. Perhaps he should have married pretty little Mary Ann Bellweather, who looked at him with worshipful dark eyes. She seemed malleable to learn anything there was to know about history, but she did not have ten thousand pounds, as Emmeline did.
Not that the ten thousand would last long, with the amount Emmeline spent on clothes and jewels. There would soon be nothing left at all for his studies.
“Papa will be so pleased when I write to him that we have met a marquis!” she went on, giving her hair one last pat. “Perhaps once we have our house in Bath, Lord Ransome will come to a party there. A supper. No, a ball! I would be the envy of all my friends.”
“Emmeline!” Neville burst out. His hand crushed the cravat he was trying to tie. “I have told you several times I have no intention of living in Bath, at least not for many years. We must finish the work on the village; then there is that new find in Northumberland to be explored.”
Emmeline slapped her hand against the dressing table, rattling glass pots and bottles. The sparkle on her face faded as if it had never been there, and her pink lips flattened. “I do not want to hear another word about Vikings! I refuse to spend my whole life as I did our wedding trip, shivering in the wind while you go dig up some moldy old bits and pieces. When I married you, I thought . . .” Her voice trailed away, and she closed her eyes.
“What?” Neville said, frustrated beyond all belief. “What did you think?”
Emmeline shook her head. “Just that you would know people, people who are something in Society, with titles and all—like Lady Iverson. That we would have a fine home, where I could entertain, as I have always dreamed of doing. Instead, we’re here at an inn in this pokey old village, and you say we will never live in Bath! It is not what I expected.”
“Marriage is not what I expected, either,” Neville muttered, so low that Emmeline could not hear. His entire life was
When he first met Emmeline, at an assembly in Bath, where he had gone to visit his old aunt, he had thought her so fun, so fresh. Not at all like the serious, scholarly women he was accustomed to. She flirted with him, and flattered him as no woman ever had. He had always been rather shy with ladies, comfortable only with his studies and his work, but Emmeline had taken no notice of that. She looked at him as if he were the strongest, the most handsome man in all of England.
That had been very reassuring, after his recent disappointment when Lady Iverson had not given him the village project after Sir John’s death. He was a man, her husband’s colleague, and she was just a woman, albeit an intelligent one. She had known nothing about Vikings, about antiquarian work, until she married Sir John and he taught her. Yet she refused to give it over to him!
Emmeline had thought that was appalling. She had looked at him with wide, sympathetic eyes, and laid her little, white, soft hand on his sleeve. Those eyes, along with the ten thousand pounds of her dowry, convinced him to relinquish his bachelorhood.
So he had married her. And all was well, until their wedding trip to Scotland. He wanted to explore ancient castles and forts, and saw it as a perfect opportunity to teach his bride more about his work. Yet Emmeline saw no interest in marching through the heather to look at ruins. She spent all her time changing into the various elaborate gowns of her trousseau, and talking about the soirees they would have once they were settled into their own house in Bath.
Bath! Neville never wanted to live in Bath. He almost snorted aloud now, as he watched his wife slide jeweled combs into her elaborate coiffure. One would have thought she was going to the Court of St. James, not to supper at Lady Iverson’s hunting box home.
No, married life was not at all what he had hoped. Perhaps he should have married pretty little Mary Ann Bellweather, who looked at him with worshipful dark eyes. She seemed malleable to learn anything there was to know about history, but she did not have ten thousand pounds, as Emmeline did.
Not that the ten thousand would last long, with the amount Emmeline spent on clothes and jewels. There would soon be nothing left at all for his studies.
“Papa will be so pleased when I write to him that we have met a marquis!” she went on, giving her hair one last pat. “Perhaps once we have our house in Bath, Lord Ransome will come to a party there. A supper. No, a ball! I would be the envy of all my friends.”
“Emmeline!” Neville burst out. His hand crushed the cravat he was trying to tie. “I have told you several times I have no intention of living in Bath, at least not for many years. We must finish the work on the village; then there is that new find in Northumberland to be explored.”
Emmeline slapped her hand against the dressing table, rattling glass pots and bottles. The sparkle on her face faded as if it had never been there, and her pink lips flattened. “I do not want to hear another word about Vikings! I refuse to spend my whole life as I did our wedding trip, shivering in the wind while you go dig up some moldy old bits and pieces. When I married you, I thought . . .” Her voice trailed away, and she closed her eyes.
“What?” Neville said, frustrated beyond all belief. “What did you think?”
Emmeline shook her head. “Just that you would know people, people who are something in Society, with titles and all—like Lady Iverson. That we would have a fine home, where I could entertain, as I have always dreamed of doing. Instead, we’re here at an inn in this pokey old village, and you say we will never live in Bath! It is not what I expected.”
“Marriage is not what I expected, either,” Neville muttered, so low that Emmeline could not hear. His entire life was
Similar Books
