A Worthy Wife by Bárbara Metzger Read Free Book Online Page A

Windham.” While the solicitor bounded to his feet, bowed, and babbled out his felicitations, Kenyon placed a sheet of paper on the man’s desk. “Here is the notification for the newspapers, if you would be so good as to see it inserted. And begin drawing up settlements and such. I have the name of the McPhee family’s solicitor here in London. I am sure he’ll be in touch.”
    And then they were in the carriage again, married again.
    The poor man was stuck with her, Aurora lamented, trying to keep the grin from her face. How sad.
    The poor puss was stuck with him, Kenyon despaired, hurrying her into the hotel before he did a jig right there in the street. Too bad.

Chapter Six
    A gentleman of three decades should not have to go courting. He should indicate his interest by a smile, a soft, not quite accidental touch. The lady in question should answer the unspoken question with a nod, or a gentle brush of their bodies, a promise of what was to come. So Kenyon’s relationships had always developed in the past.
    But marriage was not mistressing, and a wife was not affair fare, so a-wooing he would go. The earl was not about to scribe love poems to Aurora’s earlobes, dainty and delicious though they might be, nor to her honey-colored, arched eyebrows. He’d not shower her with costly baubles—although he did wonder if he could match her sunny-day-skies eyes to sapphires—or pay her flowery compliments. His bride would sniff at Spanish coin. What was left? Dancing attendance at shopping expeditions and social dos? Lud, he was too old for that nonsense.
    Win her he would, however, now that he’d wed her. Kenyon merely needed to prove himself worthy of Aurora’s regard, by proving that he trusted, respected, and revered the mutton-headed Miss McPhee. He had absolutely no idea of where to start, except it shouldn’t be in London’s fish bowl. He was not about to have the entire haute monde witness him making a cake of himself over some starchy-scrupled snip of a female. He’d have to take her to Windrush, his family seat in Derby, where only his sister and his lifelong retainers could watch him try to wheedle the widgeon into his bed.
    He couldn’t bundle her off on another journey today, Kenyon decided, although she’d been a regular Trojan on the way from Bath. Aurora didn’t chatter or complain that he slept, or suffer carriage sickness. His first wife, Genevieve, had always insisted on stopping every half hour, and being entertained between times. Miss McPhee just might turn out to be a restful sort of female, when she was not turning his life upside down. And once he overcame her maidenly misgivings.
    There were other reasons he could not leave London on the instant—the marriage settlements, for one, and discovering information about his brother for another. Besides, Kenyon needed to spend some time at his own house, making arrangements for his trunks and valet and horses and messages. He could make a start in the few hours before dinner.
    Kenyon decided that he’d also make a start in showing Aurora that he had confidence in her intelligence and her honor by leaving her alone at the hotel, her proper Bath maid having arrived.
    “But what shall I do?” Aurora wanted to know. “I have read all the papers, and Baggins has unpacked all the boxes.”
    “You could work on your embroidery, I suppose,” he offered, since every lady of his acquaintance had a workbasket or tambour frame nearby.
    “I gave up on needlework ages ago. Aunt Thisbe is the only one in the family with any talent in that regard.”
    Yes, Kenyon thought, she had enough talent to drive a man to lascivious thoughts over lizards! “Well, what about the lending library? You’d enjoy taking out a subscription, I’d wager. Or you could go shopping, as long as you take the maid along.” No female had ever turned down that pastime, to his knowledge. Still, his bride was looking like an abandoned kitten. “I realize you had a large circle