His bleary eyes, when he came to the breakfast parlor the next morning, suggested he had been out late and drinking hard. Immediately after breakfast he asked Emma out to ride, mentioning that his Arabian gelding should be here by now. As this imaginary horse had not appeared, he rode the late Sir John’s mount. As they cantered through her meadows and pastures, he pressed on her the changes that would be required to turn Whitehern into a stud farm. “I’m really not at all interested in that, Mr. Hunter,” she said firmly. When they stopped by the pond to rest, Mr. Hunter showed her to a grassy surface and dropped down beside her. He removed his curled beaver and gazed out over her land with a proprietary eye. He saw not a rich, thriving dairy farm, with a new crop of calves insuring future prosperity, but a stud farm manqué. The location, too, was excellent. There wasn’t a good stud farm in this southeastern corner of England. Emma admired him, as he admired her estate. His platinum hair and blue eyes had never looked more delightful.
What do You think about An Infamous Proposal (1997)?
