His Unexpected Bride (13 page)

Cameron turned and caught her staring at him. She did not lower her eyes from his sapphire ones, but she could not prevent her breath from catching. This man, who was now her husband, would have drawn her eyes amid any crowd. When the sun shone on his jet hair, the strands glistened with blue-black fire. Yet it was the determined set of his lips which held her attention. No one could doubt he intended to have his way. A shiver sifted along her spine, and she was grateful she was not his nemesis.

As his gaze swept past her as if she were no more important than the chair beneath her, Cameron turned to the clerk. “How much longer must we wait?” he demanded in a voice guaranteed to carry past the closed door.

The clerk squinted and mumbled, “Mr. Paige is a busy man. You were told he would try to squeeze you in this morning, Lord Hawksmoor. As soon as he has time to meet you and your
wife
, he will send for you.”

Tess recoiled from the emphasis the weasel-faced clerk used. Telling herself Lady Hawksmoor should be above letting the words of a common law clerk disturb her, she could not help noting how Cameron's back stiffened at the verbal jab. Not for the first time, she was curious about what had been said in the messages exchanged between Cameron and this solicitor during the past four days.

Cameron crossed the room and sat next to her. “How can you be so patient?”

“I am not patient. I hate waiting.”

“You do not show it.”

Tess kept her voice low, but did not hold back her fury. “Would you prefer I throw myself on yonder lad in a fit of temper?”

“He might not mind if you did so in a fit of a different sort of passion.”

“Cameron!”

For the first time since they had entered the stuffy office, a suggestion of a smile pulled at his lips. “I thought you wished honesty from me.”

“Yes, but I can assure you I honestly have no desire to throw myself at that man—in a temper or in any other way.”

“I am glad to hear that.”

“I never guessed you would be a jealous husband, Cameron.”

“Jealous?” He regarded her with bewilderment.

“You may rest assured I have no interest in throwing myself at any man. In spite of what Isabel whatever-her-fancy-name-is said, such a thought would never come into my head.” She lowered her eyes, so he could not see her distaste with her lies. She would gladly fling herself in Cameron's arms again if he would welcome her there. Being false with him—and herself—was becoming increasingly difficult.

Save for when she had believed he was about to kiss her in the upper hallway after their arrival in London, Cameron had been the pattern-card of a polite stranger. He greeted her politely each morning if he chanced to see her after she took breakfast in the cheery orange breakfast-parlor, but he never joined her there. When he discovered she enjoyed reading the news, he offered her the newspaper for her perusal; yet he avoided discussing anything in it with her. He had secured a seamstress to make her clothes to replace her unfashionable gowns, even though he had said nothing about calls or going out among the Polite World. Without fail, he treated her with gracious indifference.

But he was no more indifferent to her than she was to him. She had too often caught sight of the same heat in his eyes as when she had awakened to find him lying beside her in her bed. He had not tried to hide it, and that added to her discomfort.

The door to the inner office opened, freeing her from her uneasy thoughts. Cameron set himself on his feet and held out his hand to her. When she rose, he drew her fingers within his arm as he led her toward the open door.

Her steps faltered when she followed Cameron through the doorway. By a large cluttered desk, stood a man. His chins compounded upon each other as they struggled to stay above his collar which had vanished in a cascade of flesh. His waistcoat contained enough material to make her a gown. Bright eyes peered from behind his full cheeks, which were edged by pale brown hair.

“Lord Hawksmoor?” he asked, and her eyes widened in shock. The high pitch of his voice did not match his girth.

Cameron either was not astonished or hid it, as he concealed so many of his thoughts. “Yes, and I trust you are Mr. Paige.”

“Of course.” He bowed his head slightly toward them. “I am Eldred Paige, Esquire.”

“I trust as well this conference will be private.”

Mr. Paige smiled, his wide cheeks broadening. “All my clients can be assured of complete confidentiality.”

“Really?” Cameron glanced at the clerk on the other side of the open door.

The young man remained over the heavy tome, but had not moved his finger since the door opened. Mr. Paige motioned for his clerk to rise. That the clerk had been watching became obvious when he bounced to his feet, slammed the book shut, and strode out of the office with the air of an affronted grand dame.

“Forgive him,” Mr. Paige said. “Delany does not like hearing his reputation disparaged.”

Cameron said nothing as he ushered Tess across the solicitor's office. If she had thought it would be elegant, she was sorely disappointed. A scratched desk showed every dent its chair had made in it. Books were stacked against walls bare of any decoration.

Mr. Paige lifted a mountain of papers from a chair and smiled. “If you please, my lady …”

Tess sat gingerly. Dust met her gloved fingers as she put her hand on the chair's arm. Wiping them surreptitiously, she watched as Cameron selected another chair, set closer to the desk.

“You understand why we are here?” Cameron asked without preamble. “This situation is uneasy at best and must be handled with the utmost decorum and secrecy.”

The obese man smiled. “I am aware of that, my lord. Your correspondence has informed me of your, shall we say, unusual circumstances.”

“Then what is your opinion?”

Tess could not help admiring how Cameron ignored the attorney's fawning tone. Tightening her hands on the ribbons of her bag, she leaned toward the desk, anxious to learn if Mr. Paige knew of a solution they had not considered.

“You have presented me with a unique and not easily solved dilemma.” The solicitor sighed. “I have already told you an annulment may be impossible unless you are ready to offer proof you did not consummate your marriage.”

Tess choked, and said, “I—”

“Lady Hawksmoor shall not answer your coarse statements, Paige,” Cameron said quietly.

Mr. Paige relaxed back in his chair, which creaked an ominous threat from somewhere beneath his bulk. Disregarding the sound, he pyramided his fingers before his nose and nodded. “The facts you presented in your letter to me suggest any resolution will be, as I have already stated, far more complicated than a simple annulment. Not impossible, but complicated.”

“Complicated?” Cameron pounced on the single word.

“A divorce—”

Rising, Cameron clenched his hands. His gaze fled past Tess as he fought to control himself. “I told you. A divorce is out of the question. I shall not have Lady Hawksmoor's name sullied with deeds she has not done.”

Mr. Paige raised his hands. “My lord, I am not a magician. What do you expect me to do? It may have taken you only a few minutes to marry Lady Hawksmoor, but even if you were to choose to petition for a divorce, it shall take many months to undo the bonds of matrimony. If you do not decide to divorce her, then you are her husband, and she is your wife until death do you part. So name a correspondent in a charge of adultery against your wife.”

“No!” Tess's voice squeaked on the single word. Heat flowed along her face, and she guessed her cheeks had reddened with mortification. Cameron must not consider this course. It would shame her father even more than whatever Mr. Knox was blackmailing him with.

When Cameron put his hand on her shoulder, she looked up at him. He was staring at Mr. Paige, his jaw fixed with his scowl. “Neither Tess nor I shall resort to perjury.”

“Then neither you nor your wife shall be divorced.”

She sensed Cameron's fury, even though she could not see him. The stiffness of his fingers along her shoulder warned her he was seething with his inability to end this problem swiftly.

“I see no reason to continue this conversation,” Cameron said, holding out his hand to her. As he brought her to her feet, he added, “Good day.”

Tess was no longer startled by the sharp sound in Cameron's voice. It was the coldness she had heard the morning she woke to discover him in her bed.

“Lord Hawksmoor?” called Mr. Paige. Turning, she saw him holding out a sheaf of papers. “If you change your mind, you need only fill out these with the appropriate names and return them to me.”

Cameron took the pages and dropped them on the desk. “We will not be returning.” Taking Tess's arm, he steered her to the door.

Tess wished she could think of something to say to ease the silence between them as they went back to where the carriage waited on the street. She knew so well the pain of having hopes dashed. But to say that was to chance refocusing his anger on her, because
he
was the reason her dreams were now disintegrating into despair.

“Damn my eyes,” Cameron muttered as he sat next to her in the closed carriage on the way back to Grosvenor Square. Crossing one foot over the other knee, he clasped his hands around his ivory breeches. “Paige is an ass.”

Although she silently agreed, Tess asked, “Why would you expect anything else from him? The law is the law.”

“A friend told me Paige is very competent at handling difficult situations. I figured such competence might enable him to find an answer for us that would avoid the messiness of a divorce.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, she watched his brows dip in a low scowl. “Why would you believe anything that
he
said or did?”

“He?”

“Mr. Knox? Wasn't he the one who told you about Mr. Paige?” Her face grew cold. “How many others have you told about this?”

“There is no reason for me to tell anyone anything. My friends have been sharing the glad tidings, apparently.”

“Why are you surprised? After all, Mr. Knox is the one who—”

“The one what?”

She had said too much. Papa had pleaded with her not to speak to anyone, especially to Cameron, about the blackmail. Searching her mind, she asked, “Cameron, how can you trust him after what he did?”

“What he did?”

“He was a witness to the wedding vows you took. He should have halted you then.”

“He was drunk.” He grimaced as the carriage bounced into a chuck-hole. “Now he is eager to help undo what has been done.”

“So he suggested you contact Mr. Paige.” She folded her arms in front of her. “Does Mr. Knox have any other dead ends to suggest?”

He did not answer. Leaning his elbow on the window, he stared out it.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the town house on the north side of Grosvenor Square. When the door opened, Cameron glared at the footman who set the step by the coach door. The young man backed away, and Cameron stepped out. Turning, he held out his hand in a silent command to Tess. She wished she could ignore it, pull the door closed, and order the coachee to take her home. That was impossible.

Harbour opened the door. “Good morning, my lord, my lady.”

“Thank you, Harbour,” Tess replied.

Cameron said nothing as he thrust his hat and gloves toward a footman.

She looked at Harbour, but the butler did not seem surprised by Cameron's taciturn behavior. He took Tess's bonnet before she hurried to catch up with Cameron, who was going up the stairs.

When Tess entered the small parlor where they had talked to his brother, Cameron was pacing with the same impatience he had shown in the solicitor's office. He whirled as she entered and asked, “Are you following me?”

“I thought you might wish to discuss with me what we should do next.”

“Do next?” He laughed tightly. “There appears to be nothing we can do next. We are husband and wife quite legally and quite irrevocably. We are lucky I am a second son.”

She dampened her arid lips. “So you do not have to produce an heir to be the duke after you?”

“Now you understand.”

Wanting to tell him she understood less and less with each passing hour, for she had seen the desire in his eyes, she said, “I do want you to know I appreciate that you did not consider Mr. Paige's suggestion of a divorce.”

“It would be a waste of time.”

“A waste of time?” She was puzzled by his answer.

Facing her, he walked toward her as he said, “For a bill of divorce to succeed, there must be no doubt of the charges within it. Who would believe
you
were guilty of adultery?”

“I am not so loathsome that no one has looked upon me with interest.”

“No, you are not.” He lifted a single strand of hair that had fallen onto her shoulder.

A sudden heat seared her. Slowly she raised her eyes to meet the blue-hot fire in his. Knowing she should turn away or simply ignore it, she waited a second too long. She was caught by his eyes. The weakening within her center was no longer unfamiliar as his gaze slid along her arm, across her bodice, and up to her face. He took another step toward her, then stopped abruptly as if he had run into an invisible wall.

Not one she had built. Nor was it one she dared to break through, even if Cameron would allow anyone to penetrate that barrier. He kept it in place, especially with his unwanted wife. If she suggested they could be friends during the time they had to endure each other's company, she feared he would turn his back on her. She was unhappy and wanted nothing more than someone who would listen to her despair.

That was a lie. She wanted his fingers touching more than her hair, and she longed to have his arms around her as he held her with unrestrained ardor, as he had when she woke to discover herself in his embrace.