Page 14 of The Rules of Matrimony (The Matchmaking Mamas #4)

The next morning, Ian watched through his study window as Amie left the house. He kept her blue spencer and red bonnet in sight until an easy distance separated them.

“It’s time,” he said to Tiny.

Tiny jumped to his feet, as if anticipating the walk together.

“Sorry, not this time chap. I can’t have a single bark giving me away.”

Tiny whined.

“I’m merely ensuring her safety. Try not to misunderstand.” He bent down and scratched behind Tiny’s ears before heading out after Amie.

He kept off the road, tromping through the dew-glossed grass and tucking himself behind trees. She walked without suspicion, holding a small woven basket on her arm. No more than a half mile from the house, she stopped at the gamekeeper’s cottage. Ian had met the older couple who lived there several times over the years but could not profess to knowing them well. Was Amie requesting a certain game for the table? Couldn’t she ask the cook to do that?

He held back, watching from a distance as the gamekeeper’s wife waved Amie inside. Amie shook her head but said something that made the woman wrinkle into a full smile. When the door closed, he fully expected Amie to turn around and return home, but she was off again, holding her basket to her as she continued down the lane. Unable to resist, he followed her again.

To his surprise, she stopped at the very next cottage. Ian crept closer, ducking his long body behind a stone wall that came up to his waist. He lifted his head enough to see her hand something to someone inside the house.

Amie stepped back and waved. “Enjoy the broth, Mrs. Turner!”

Broth? Ian frowned. Was she playing nursemaid?

A moment later, Amie continued on, swinging her basket happily at her side. There weren’t many houses along the road, but Amie stopped at every last one of them. Depending on where he could secrete himself, Ian couldn’t always observe her interactions. It seemed she was ... helping her neighbors. But how did she know them so well in such a short matter of time? Regardless of how, she had made fast friends with everyone. She was a marvel. There had been no need to worry about her at all. If she could take care of everyone, she could certainly take care of herself.

If he had possessed an ounce of guilt at walking away from Oak End, it slipped away with the morning sun. Indeed, her behavior now reminded him of their visits with her neighbors in Chestervale, where everyone had raved about her kindness. She’d even rescued Tiny, and Ian supposed he could include the mint leaves she’d so helpfully given him. A sudden grin played on his mouth. There was no denying that Amie had a bit of a Rebel spirit.

He tilted his head, trying to get a better look at her position. She stood on the front step of a stone house with a thatched roof, nodding and speaking little. Why was she lingering at this particular house? What were they conversing about? He couldn’t make out a thing. He and Amie had certainly never spoken this long together. He shifted, his legs starting to cramp.

While he didn’t mind freely observing her, he felt a trace of frustration. Shouldn’t she have told him where she was spending her time? All these people—these strangers—were spending time with his wife, while he had to hide behind a shrub to get a good look at her before dinner.

He scoffed at his own unjust reaction. It was exactly how it should be. The neighborly interactions seemed innocent enough, and his thoughts were borderline jealous. The whole arrangement was confusing him, and he was not an easily confused man.

Amie stepped away from the cottage and finally began to return the way she’d come. He sucked his breath in to narrow the breadth of his chest, realizing this particular tree would not hide all of him should she look over.

When she passed, he stepped around to the back of the tree, but he should have looked at his feet and not at her. His boot caught on a raised root, and he went crashing down to the grassy undergrowth.

Someone gasped. He wasn’t sure if it was him or Amie.

“Ian? Good heavens. Are you well?”

Blast. It was Amie. He hurried to his feet, brushing his trousers off. “Of course.” His knee was smarting, but he wasn’t about to admit it.

“What are you doing there?”

He pointed to himself. “Me? I’m ... hunting.” He forced an amiable smile.

She frowned, clutching her basket with both hands by her waist. “Hunting? For what?”

“Squirrels,” he blurted. Because grown men always hunted squirrels. He barely withheld his grimace.

Her charming brown eyes blinked rapidly. “With no gun or weapon?”

He reached to scratch his neck and paused with his arm in the air. “I prefer to use my bare hands.” He waved his hands like it was the obvious answer.

“I see.” She shook her head. “Actually, I’m having trouble visualizing how this is done. My curiosity is piqued. Might I watch?”

He looked up into the tree and bent to reach for a rock. No, this was going too far. “Forgive me,” he said, straightening. “It’s not a sight for a lady.”

“I suppose not.” She relaxed her grip on her basket, letting it fall to her side. “I suppose we will have squirrel for dinner. I will congratulate you then. If you will excuse me, I will continue on my walk.”

He nodded and waved her forward, his smile dropping when she was too far to see. Squirrel? Really? Was he ten years old again? Even then, that was the last thing he wanted to eat for dinner. But neither was he going to disappoint her. He had too much pride for that. He looked around, not seeing a rodent in sight. With a sigh, he went in search of the gamekeeper.

Once he finally returned to the house, it was already dark, and storm clouds gathered overhead. Eager to change and forget about his tiresome afternoon, he hurried inside. Mr. Hamburg met him at the door with a letter. Ian accepted it, broke the seal, and scanned the contents.

By Jove! This was exactly what he’d been hoping for. The new home secretary, Robert Peel, was intrigued about Ian’s ideas for reform and wanted to meet. The House of Commons currently possessed more power than the House of Lords. He could almost taste the change on his lips.

How soon could he arrange to leave? The fortnight had not passed, but surely Amie would not begrudge having the house to herself sooner than planned. He committed to telling her at the first opportunity and leaving after breakfast.

He dressed for dinner and, once seated, grimaced at his plate. The small squirrel the gamekeeper had miraculously managed to catch lay cooked on his plate and sprinkled with herbs. Glancing at Amie, he caught her smile.

“I cannot wait to try it,” she said.

Good. The squirrel had been worth the long afternoon if it meant pleasing her, especially since he meant to leave in the morning. He hoped to part on amicable terms.

If he had learned one thing about Amie in their week together, it was that she deserved to be happy, and she would be much happier when she could finally rid herself of him. Independence would finally be hers.

Her dream come true.

Whereas, he was oddly reluctant for dinner to end, despite the eagerness his earlier letter had lent him. Even if he did not plan on touching the main course, let alone tasting it, he had grown used to seeing Amie at this hour every night.

Perhaps that was why he needed to hasten his departure. No more habits like this needed to be formed before he returned.