The Many Sins of Lord Cameron
Page 72
“Watch. Ride. Be the lady of the manor. Trust me, I’ll have plenty to do.”
Cameron ran his thumb along the thin gold bracelet he’d given her for New Year’s. “My estate in Berkshire is far from any city. There’s nothing to do there but horses. And my brothers will drift down to the estate when I start training. They use it as an excuse to escape whatever it is they’re supposed to be doing.”
“It sounds perfect.” Ainsley grew animated. “We can invite them all, Beth and Isabella and the children if they can manage it. They’re both due in late spring. Or afterward if they can’t come in spring. I’m certain we can have a lovely summer party with everyone there.”
Ainsley broke off when she saw Cameron’s look, a man contemplating his bachelor home overrun with women, babies, and nannies.
“It’s just a thought,” she said quickly. “Are you telling me, Cam, that we’ve stayed here all this time because you thought I liked it here?”
“You do like it here.”
“Well, yes, it’s exciting, but not what I want to do forever.”
Cameron watched her with a pensive look. “You’re a woman, Ainsley.”
“Yes, I know that. I have been for many years.”
“You’re supposed to want a constant flow of gowns and jewelry and to be seen in them every night.”
“The endless parade of fashion can become a bit dull.”
“You’re bored?” His frown deepened. “You should have told me. I can take you anywhere. Rome, Venice, even Egypt if you want.”
Ainsley put her fingers to his lips. “Why should we flutter around the world? I don’t wish to if it means I watch you be unhappy and impatient.”
Cameron gave a restless sigh. “I don’t understand what you want, Ainsley.”
“I want to be with you.”
“While I’m knee deep in mud? My estate is miles from any restaurant.”
“Good. I’d love a bit of old-fashioned Scottish cooking. Your Berkshire cook knows how to make bannocks and porridge, doesn’t she?”
“She’s Scottish.”
“Well, then that’s settled.”
“Ainsley, stop. Stop being so damned cheerful about everything.”
“I can be grumpy if you want.” She gave him a mock scowl.
Cameron didn’t laugh. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what it is.”
Ainsley lifted the fist he’d rested on his thigh and kissed his large fingers. “I’m trying to tell you. You’re a generous man, and I can’t lie and say I don’t want the beautiful frocks and jewels you give me. But really, I ran away from my respectable life to be with you. You, Cameron Mackenzie. I don’t care if we’re in the most expensive hotel in Monte Carlo or in a hovel with nothing but oat cakes for dinner.”
The look he gave her bordered on the anguished. “Why the hell would you want that?”
“I like oat cakes. Especially with a little honey.”
“Damn it, I mean why would you want me? Look at you. I’ve introduced you to the most corrupt of the demimonde, and you sit there all pristine and innocent, smiling at me, for God’s sake.”
“What should I be doing? Demanding more jewels? Breaking plates and screeching if I don’t get them? Threatening to leave you for a man who will buy me more?”
“It’s what they all do.” His voice was hollow.
“You see, you do despise women. I told you that before, remember?”
“I despise women like what you describe, yes.”
“Then have nothing more to do with them. Let’s go to Berkshire and say to hell with the lot of them.” When Cam eyed her skeptically, Ainsley wrapped her arms around him and ruffled the hair on the back of his neck. “It’s what I truly want, Cameron. The horses, the mud, and you.” She kissed him.
And so, they went to Berkshire.
Cameron had never brought a woman to his Berkshire estate, Waterbury Grange, which lay south of Hungerford. He’d bought the place after Elizabeth’s death, needing a retreat far from Kilmorgan and his father and Elizabeth’s grave.
He’d hired a houseful of servants, let Daniel run wild, and concentrated on horseracing. Newmarket, Epsom, Ascot, the St. Leger—these were the events around which his world revolved.
Needy mistresses didn’t fit into that world. Ainsley, on the other hand, slid into it without breaking stride. She took over the running of the house from the moment she arrived, soon discovering and curtailing the servants’ long-running practice of keeping the best foodstuffs for themselves while serving the offhand Cameron what was left over.
Cameron found her indignation about the way they took advantage of him amusing. “These people kept me alive when I first moved here, and they looked after Danny for me. I don’t begrudge them.”
“There is a world of difference between begrudging them and dining on gristly salt pork while they feast on tender beefsteak.”
Cameron shrugged. “Do what you like. I’m not good with domestic arrangements.”
“Obviously not,” Ainsley had said with a frown.
Cameron couldn’t deny that Ainsley had been right to bring them back here. January winds were brisk and raw, but the worst of winter’s grip soon departed and he and Angelo, with Daniel in tow, began training in earnest. Cameron found that he looked forward to rising before dawn every morning and leading out the horses with Daniel as the sun rose.
Cameron ran his thumb along the thin gold bracelet he’d given her for New Year’s. “My estate in Berkshire is far from any city. There’s nothing to do there but horses. And my brothers will drift down to the estate when I start training. They use it as an excuse to escape whatever it is they’re supposed to be doing.”
“It sounds perfect.” Ainsley grew animated. “We can invite them all, Beth and Isabella and the children if they can manage it. They’re both due in late spring. Or afterward if they can’t come in spring. I’m certain we can have a lovely summer party with everyone there.”
Ainsley broke off when she saw Cameron’s look, a man contemplating his bachelor home overrun with women, babies, and nannies.
“It’s just a thought,” she said quickly. “Are you telling me, Cam, that we’ve stayed here all this time because you thought I liked it here?”
“You do like it here.”
“Well, yes, it’s exciting, but not what I want to do forever.”
Cameron watched her with a pensive look. “You’re a woman, Ainsley.”
“Yes, I know that. I have been for many years.”
“You’re supposed to want a constant flow of gowns and jewelry and to be seen in them every night.”
“The endless parade of fashion can become a bit dull.”
“You’re bored?” His frown deepened. “You should have told me. I can take you anywhere. Rome, Venice, even Egypt if you want.”
Ainsley put her fingers to his lips. “Why should we flutter around the world? I don’t wish to if it means I watch you be unhappy and impatient.”
Cameron gave a restless sigh. “I don’t understand what you want, Ainsley.”
“I want to be with you.”
“While I’m knee deep in mud? My estate is miles from any restaurant.”
“Good. I’d love a bit of old-fashioned Scottish cooking. Your Berkshire cook knows how to make bannocks and porridge, doesn’t she?”
“She’s Scottish.”
“Well, then that’s settled.”
“Ainsley, stop. Stop being so damned cheerful about everything.”
“I can be grumpy if you want.” She gave him a mock scowl.
Cameron didn’t laugh. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what it is.”
Ainsley lifted the fist he’d rested on his thigh and kissed his large fingers. “I’m trying to tell you. You’re a generous man, and I can’t lie and say I don’t want the beautiful frocks and jewels you give me. But really, I ran away from my respectable life to be with you. You, Cameron Mackenzie. I don’t care if we’re in the most expensive hotel in Monte Carlo or in a hovel with nothing but oat cakes for dinner.”
The look he gave her bordered on the anguished. “Why the hell would you want that?”
“I like oat cakes. Especially with a little honey.”
“Damn it, I mean why would you want me? Look at you. I’ve introduced you to the most corrupt of the demimonde, and you sit there all pristine and innocent, smiling at me, for God’s sake.”
“What should I be doing? Demanding more jewels? Breaking plates and screeching if I don’t get them? Threatening to leave you for a man who will buy me more?”
“It’s what they all do.” His voice was hollow.
“You see, you do despise women. I told you that before, remember?”
“I despise women like what you describe, yes.”
“Then have nothing more to do with them. Let’s go to Berkshire and say to hell with the lot of them.” When Cam eyed her skeptically, Ainsley wrapped her arms around him and ruffled the hair on the back of his neck. “It’s what I truly want, Cameron. The horses, the mud, and you.” She kissed him.
And so, they went to Berkshire.
Cameron had never brought a woman to his Berkshire estate, Waterbury Grange, which lay south of Hungerford. He’d bought the place after Elizabeth’s death, needing a retreat far from Kilmorgan and his father and Elizabeth’s grave.
He’d hired a houseful of servants, let Daniel run wild, and concentrated on horseracing. Newmarket, Epsom, Ascot, the St. Leger—these were the events around which his world revolved.
Needy mistresses didn’t fit into that world. Ainsley, on the other hand, slid into it without breaking stride. She took over the running of the house from the moment she arrived, soon discovering and curtailing the servants’ long-running practice of keeping the best foodstuffs for themselves while serving the offhand Cameron what was left over.
Cameron found her indignation about the way they took advantage of him amusing. “These people kept me alive when I first moved here, and they looked after Danny for me. I don’t begrudge them.”
“There is a world of difference between begrudging them and dining on gristly salt pork while they feast on tender beefsteak.”
Cameron shrugged. “Do what you like. I’m not good with domestic arrangements.”
“Obviously not,” Ainsley had said with a frown.
Cameron couldn’t deny that Ainsley had been right to bring them back here. January winds were brisk and raw, but the worst of winter’s grip soon departed and he and Angelo, with Daniel in tow, began training in earnest. Cameron found that he looked forward to rising before dawn every morning and leading out the horses with Daniel as the sun rose.
