The Pursuit of Pleasure by Elizabeth Essex Page A

of the mortgage.
    “No.” He seemed surprised she should ask such a blunt question. His brow lowered, shading his sharp gaze. “Bought and paid for in cash—or bank draught from Hoare’s Bank. But it’s mine, free and clear.”
    “How very enterprising of you.” Her smile was genuinely admiring. He would be enterprising. He would live up to every promise of his boyhood. He would grow up to be a man people would respect and admire. A man she could respect and admire. Quite a bit more than was comfortable. Or advisable.
    She repeated her warning again in the privacy of her thoughts. He was leaving.
    The land stretched down between bands of trees on a gentle slope away toward the sea in the distance. On one side of the lane, pastureland was in use, being grazed with cows, and sheep dotted the fields in the distance.
    Practicalities. “Do you keep a dairy?”
    “I’m a sailor, Lizzie. I know halyards, not heifers. You’d best put such questions to Mr. Tupper. I’ll introduce you. The farms are all tenanted.” His gaze focused on her. “May I ask to what purpose are all these questions?”
    Would he understand? It had done no good to try to speak to her parents, or anyone else, even Celia, about the need for a useful life and the dignity of work. And it couldn’t matter to Jamie what she did with the farm—he’d soon be on the other side of the world. Dying.
    “Just taking an interest. After all, it will be my home.”
    “Lizzie, you can’t live here. It’s not fit for a lady. I’ve made plans for repairs, but there is still much work to be done. And even when that’s done in some months’ time, you’ll need to make your own plans, consult with painters, drapers, and such before you could move in. It’ll give you something to do besides lounge about assembly rooms looking for trouble.”
    He thought her a useless fribble. It stung. She’d played the jaded sophisticate far too well, it seemed.
    “I’ve always enjoyed looking for trouble. It seems so much more logical than to wait for it to find me. But you found me, so I must be looking at trouble now.”
    “You are. But I was only teasing, Lizzie. Feel free to look back upon your fields.”
    She did so, for her relief as well as his. Every time her eyes had contacted his, a feeling like pressure began to build in her chest, squeezing her breath. She brought her mount to a halt and took a deep inhalation of the fresh, moist air coming in off the sea—the tang of salt mixed with the earthy scents of animal and greening grass. It was heavenly.
    “In raptures over fallow fields? Who’s sentimental now, Lizzie?”
    This time she could hear the teasing note in his voice, as he brought his horse up close beside her. She could also feel the heat of his penetrating scrutiny.
    She faced back into the sea breeze to cool her flushed cheeks. “Not sentimental. What you mean is romantic, like the poets. Messers. Coleridge or Blake.”
    “Romantic then.” His gray eyes were warm and laughing at the corners even as they probed.
    “Not I. I’m being practical. Why have these fields been let go fallow?”
    “I haven’t the vaguest. Mr. Tupper again, although he’ll probably say something beyond my ken about pastoralism versus agrarianism. You’ll probably understand it, my clever girl.”
    Jamie reached out to stroke the side of her cheek very lightly with the knuckle of his gloved hand. The soft touch sent shivers of lightning shooting every which way inside her body. She felt as if she might jump out of her skin.
    She wanted to tell him she wasn’t his, or anyone else’s clever girl, to combat the spike of yearning that cut into her like a shard of glass, but she stopped. She was. She was anything he wanted her to be. She was his wife. At least for today.
    It might expose her to ask, but she had to know.
    “Why? Why did you marry me?”

C HAPTER 4
    H e didn’t pretend not to understand. He was too honest.
    “Because I’m drawn to you. I always have