His Unexpected Bride (16 page)

“Do you think I would use my brother's death as an excuse to seduce you?” he asked. “That I would be so anxious to do the duty of my father's heir to begat an heir I would not let another hour pass before bedding you?”

She flinched. “I did not mean to suggest that.”

“But you thought I would suggest you join me in my bed.” He laughed without mirth. “It would have been very crowded, Tess.”

“Crowded?” She looked past him, her face tightening. “Are you saying someone else is here? How dare you bring me here when you have another … guest?”

“Guests.”

Her gaze came back to him, and he saw horror in her eyes. Guilt pinched him, but he ignored it. He had not asked for a wife. Nor had he wanted a brother who could not keep wandering from bed to bed, nor did he want any of the other obligations now foisted on him.

“Mayhap,” he replied, “if you would not paint me with every evil you can imagine, you might be willing to give me the benefit of the doubt long enough to look at this.” He walked to the bed and drew back the drapes that had concealed two small mounds. In a whisper, he said, “Russell, in his final act of insanity, named me the guardian of his children.”

“Russell's children?” she asked as quietly. “You never mentioned your brother had children.”

“I did not know until these two young boys were brought to the house not more than an hour ago.”

Tess came closer to the bed, and he was treated again to the delicate fragrance of her perfume. He did not move aside as she leaned forward to look at the children. His fingers ached to sift through her hair, which had become an intriguing flame in the flicker from the hearth. His hand started to rise, but he forced it back to his side as she turned to face him.

Her eyes grew wide, and she tried to move away from him. She bumped into the bed. When she put her hand out to the mattress, he was surprised it was to steady it so they did not wake the little boys.

“Mayhap,” she whispered, “it would be for the best if we spoke of this in the other room. The children must be exhausted to be sleeping so soundly.”

She looked at the little boys again, and he tore his gaze from her enticing profile. On the green satin coverlet, the youngsters were rolled into balls beneath a single blanket. He saw her eyes narrow, and he guessed she had noticed how both boys had hair the same rusty gold as hers. That had surprised him, as well, until he had noticed the strong features of the Hawksmoor family in their childish faces. He wondered which one of Russell's mistresses had borne these two children.

The boys moved, and one mumbled something in his sleep. Cameron dropped the curtain to allow them to sleep undisturbed. Taking Tess's hand, he tugged her away from the bed, although every inch of him demanded he draw her into it and rediscover the pleasure of having her lying beside him.

“Your brother never spoke of these children before?” she asked.

“Never.”

“Then how do you know … that is, upon hearing of the tragedy of your brother's death, someone might have brought these boys here to—”

Drawing her toward one of the paintings on the wall, he lit a lamp. She gasped, and he did not fault her. Save for the red hair, the portrait could have been of the two sleeping boys.

“Russell and I when we were of an age of those children,” he said, still whispering. “That was painted at Peregrine Hall. The artist took some liberties with it because Russell had dared me to climb a tree and I ended up with a broken arm.”

She went back to the doorway and looked within. When she faced him, her eyes were bright with tears. They did not fall, and he would have been amazed if they had, for she had endured with dignity every setback and indignity since he had met her.

Cameron wished he could persuade her to show him how she was maintaining her serenity, because he was suffering from an overwhelming urge to ram his fist into the closest wall.
This
was not the way his life should have unfolded after he returned home from battle. “'Twas insane for Russell to leave me with the responsibility for two children I never knew existed.”

“Not insane, for you are his brother. I am sure he had no wish to have them raised by strangers.”

“That is true, but now I find myself the guardian of two children.” He rubbed his aching forehead. “I think the oldest is about six or seven years old. The other appears to be about a year younger.”

“You think?”

“I told you already I was not aware of these children's existence. Since Russell left Peregrine Hall after a huge argument with our father and came to Town, I have never had much interest in my brother's private life.”

“A huge argument?”

He allowed himself a smile. “Our father wished Russell to be more responsible. More like his younger brother, as Father was fond of saying.”

“I am amazed your brother would even speak to you when your father compared him in anger to you.”

“Russell spoke to me usually only when he wished to borrow money. He never told me why he needed it, only that he was short of funds.” He did not pause to let her answer before he added, “Nor do I wish to know more now about his life. That is why I want you to take over the obligation for these children now.”

“Me?” Tess's eyes widened, and he wondered if the depths would be as changeable as the green waves of sea that they resembled. A stormy sea, he corrected himself, when she added, “Why would you want me to take responsibility for those children? You were designated the
responsible
one.”

He bit back the curse that would make the situation only worse. “You are my wife. It is your duty.” He picked up his glass of wine and took another sip. “As you have no interest in your other wifely duties, the very least you can do is to assume this one.”

“You are beastly!”

“Mayhap, but I know I am not the right one to oversee the raising of two youngsters.”

“You are their uncle, and they have no one else. I will not let you foist your duty off on me so you can continue to live your life as you want.”

“That is not why I am asking this.”

Motioning for her to sit on a simple settee near a hearth, he dropped next to her. She started to rise. He reached for her hands, but she clasped them in her lap and met his fury without emotion.

“Listen to me,” he began.

“No, Cameron, I shall not listen to you. I am sorry your brother is dead. I am sorry as well that you feel you have been burdened with his children, but it is your duty.” She gave a laugh as cold as one of his. “After all, you have no respect for your brother because he did not do his duty as you and your family expected. Will you be like him and ignore your obligations?”

“I do not like having the by-blows of his love affairs handed over to me.”

“So you will hand them over to me?”

“You have been bored having so little to do here.”

“I did not realize you had noticed.”

He put his hand over hers on her lap. “Even if I had not, Harbour was quick to let me know. It seems you have made a very favorable impression on him, which is not easy to do.”

“You are changing the subject—or do you think flattery will bend me to your will?”

“I think taking this responsibility for Russell's sons will give you something to do while we work out the muddle of our marriage.”

Tess sighed, owning to herself that he was correct. She had been lost in this house while she waited for an idea of what to do now that she could not go to Mrs. Rappaport for advice. “Mayhap, but Russell named
you
as their guardian. Not me. If—”

He gripped her shoulders, interrupting her in mid word. “Tess, do not make me beg.”

“Beg?” She smiled in spite of herself. “I would wager you do not do that well.”

“Then you would win.” His hands gentled as they edged up to curve along her face.

It took every ounce of her strength to turn her face away before he could tip it toward his. His kisses could persuade her to succumb to his demands … and not simply to take care of his nephews. In his embrace, pressed to his hard chest, she would promise almost anything to sample another of his kisses.

He stood and strode to the bedroom door. He glanced into the room—to check on the children?—then faced her. She waited for him to speak, but he did not.

She met his stare without lowering her eyes. “What will happen if I refuse?”

He sat again and entwined his fingers around the knees of his breeches. “Father always said there was no need for us to bring our bastards to Peregrine Hall, because they would find no welcome. I suspect Mother will heartily agree with that sentiment.”

“Are you suggesting she will cast out these children, who are part of her own blood?”

“Yes, it is possible.”

She wrung her hands as she glanced at the doorway leading to his room. “You could keep them here in London.”

“That is what I intend to do, but they must not be allowed to run about without some supervision. If I were to let them do that, I might as well turn them loose in whatever decrepit section of London spawned their mother.”

Tess bit her lower lip, then nodded. He was correct. The children needed someone to care for them. She rose and walked to the tall window overlooking the formal gardens of the park across the street. Tears boiled into her eyes, turning the garden into a collage of wavy green. Before the past few weeks, she had dreamed of a husband and children. How could she have guessed her wish would come true like this?

When she remained silent, he said, “I know you have every reason to deny me this request. No one would fault you for throwing it back into my face when I have ruined your life.”

“But now you intend to shift the circumstances so the blame will be mine if two other lives are ruined?” She turned to him. “How easy it is for you to twist things about so you get what you wish, Cameron.”

“Not easy.” He set himself on his feet. “Tess, I know it is a great imposition, but I need your help in hiring a governess. As a woman—”

“Just hire a governess? Is that all you are asking me to do?”

“Did you think I was asking you to adopt them yourself?”

She stared at him in disbelief. “I thought you wanted me to assume their care.”

“No wonder you called me a beast.”

“I will be glad to help hire a governess.” She hesitated, then said, “Until one is hired, I will work with Harbour to watch over the children.”

He sighed. “No need. I have already obtained his agreement to have two of the footmen oversee the children until a governess can be hired.”

“Footmen? Will you abandon them to servants again?” Pain sliced through her when she saw the grief in his eyes. “Forgive me, Cameron. I am not thinking clearly.”

“I have had several hours to think about this. It kept me from having to think about devising a compassionate way to tell my mother that her wastrel son is dead.”

“Cameron, I am sorry,” she whispered. Looking at the bedroom door, she shook her head. “The poor children. How can we ease their grief?”

“They seem more frightened than sad. I doubt they knew Russell, and I have no idea if Isabel is their mother or if one of his other mistresses is.”

“If we ask them—”

“I already have. They could not describe their mother, although they were able to describe quite accurately several servants in their household.”

“That is ridiculous! How could they not know their own mother?”

“The woman who delivered them here said the children had been left with her as a housekeeper in a house not far from Covent Garden. She heard of Russell's death and brought them here because it was clear she would no longer be paid by my brother.”

“The poor things!”

He nodded. Taking her hands again, he drew her back to sit beside him. “How delighted Father would have been with you! You have that sense of responsibility and obligation he despaired of ever inspiring in his carefree sons.” Slipping his arm along the back of the bench, he let his fingers rest on the curve of her shoulder.

She plucked his hand off her shoulder. At the soft padding of stockinged feet, she turned, as Cameron did, to see a tangled-haired moppet in the doorway.

“Oh, my!” Tess looked at Cameron as she whispered, “What is the child's name?”

“One of them is Donald and the other is Philip.”

“But which is which?”

“I am not sure.”

She was about to retort when she heard his regret. Touching his arm in condolence, she looked up at him for the length of a single heartbeat. Then she went to the little boy. Kneeling in front of him, she forced a smile.

“Who are you?” the little boy asked before she could.

“I am Tess. Your Aunt Tess. What is your name?”

“Donald.” He tugged at his wrinkled shirt and regarded her through squinting eyes. Rubbing them with his knuckles, he yawned, but lurched forward. He had eyes as blue as a summer sky … just like his uncle's.

“Good evening, Donald,” she said softly. “Did you have a pleasant nap?”

The child nodded.

Putting her hands on her knees, she waited for the youngster to speak. She must avoid overwhelming him, but she wondered how much attention the children had gotten in a home without anyone to supervise the servants. He searched her face, clearly looking for anything familiar. She kept a smile in place.

Just when she was losing hope that he would answer, he murmured, “Tess is a pretty name.”

“I like your name, too.” She pointed toward the bench. “Do you know his name?”

The child bowed deeply. “My lord.”

“No, no,” she said. When the child regarded her in abrupt terror, she seethed inside. Being furious at the little boy's selfish father was useless now that Russell Hawksmoor was dead. Holding Donald's short fingers, she stood. “You need not call him ‘my lord.' He is your Uncle Cameron. He and your father are brothers.”