Free To Win His Wayward Wife by Rose Gordon Page B

for his sister-in-law’s happiness plain as day in his eyes.

Chapter 7

    Benjamin slept a whole fifteen minutes before it was time to get up. He’d spent most of the night thinking of ways to woo his wife. He knew love matches were rare and elusive, but he couldn’t help wanting one. The problem was convincing his wife she wanted one, too. What a cruel twist of fate, he thought, rolling out of bed. Most times it was women who longed for a love match and tried to get their husband to love them. And yet, not his wife. No, his wife seemed to have as much interest in love as he did in hair ribbons. Which, just to clarify, wasn’t much.
    After he dressed and ate breakfast in his own company in Rockhurst’s giant breakfast room, he decided to go to Bath. He’d never been a welcomed guest to Rockhurst before and it felt uncomfortable roaming the halls in search of his wife when he was clearly unwanted. To be fair he’d told her he wouldn’t impose on her charitable activities, which seemed to be what she was up to this morning. He’d walked in and found Madison and her younger sister Liberty with a few other ladies sewing clothes for the needy.
    In her usual polite way, she’d sweetly offered to teach him how to sew. And in his usual not-interested-in-female-pursuits way, just as sweetly declined and informed her he’d be back for lunch and she’d be spending the afternoon with him. 
    For now he’d go to Bath. He remembered from his brief time in America that she’d liked to paint. He’d caught Brooke on her way up to the nursery and after he’d nearly beat Madison’s whereabouts out of her, he casually asked if Madison needed any painting supplies. Brooke then informed him she hadn’t seen Madison paint since before they’d left New York. Thus, he was on his way to go buy painting supplies for her.
    He knew the selection in London would be better, but surely he could gather enough of the basics in Bath to occupy her for now.
    It was a perfect plan, he mused as he rode Greer, his stallion, to Bath. She could teach him how to paint this afternoon. Not that it would do any good; he was abysmal at the hobby. But that wouldn’t matter. They’d be spending time together doing something she liked. And if he proved to be as bad of an artist as he imagined, he’d pose for her. He liked that idea even better. If he posed for her, she’d have to touch his body to position him perfectly for her portrait. Perhaps he’d even suggest she paint him nude.
    He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. He better put a cap on these lusty thoughts before his trousers got any tighter.
    At a little shop in Bath he bought every piece of painting supplies he could get his hands on. With his purchases in hand—literally—he ran into his other brother-in-law—once again, literally. “Sorry, Paul,” he called.
    “It’s all right,” Paul told him, ducking his head so he wouldn’t get the glass poked out of his spectacle with the corner of a very large canvas. “Can I help you?”
    “No, I don’t think so,” Benjamin said, laying a few canvases across the saddle and stuffing the smaller packages into his saddle bag.
    “I didn’t realize you lived so close,” Paul mused.
    “I don’t,” Benjamin allowed. “I—we’re visiting Brooke and Townson.”
    “Are you on your way to Rockhurst, then?” Paul asked, catching the stack of canvases before the wind blew them to the ground.
    “Thank you,” Benjamin said, taking the canvases back. “Yes, I’m on my way. We’re to have lunch there.”
    “I’m headed that way, too. Why don’t I help you manage those canvases on the way?”
    Benjamin shot him a slight smile. “Thank you. It seems I bought more than I can hold.”
    Paul nodded. “I understand better than anybody what it’s like winning the affections of one of the Banks girls,” he said with a knowing smile.
    “You have no idea,” Benjamin muttered, shaking his head.
    “I bet I do,” Paul stated flatly,