His Unexpected Bride (17 page)

“Brothers?”

“Like you and Philip.” She gave him another smile. “Please say ‘good day,' to Uncle Cameron.”

“Good day, Uncle Cam—Cam—”

“Cameron,” she said, patting her head.

“Yes, Tess.” Donald edged closer to her as Cameron stepped toward them.

Cameron paused as Tess knelt again and began to talk in a quiet, calming tone to the little boy. She looked directly into the child's eyes and waited with a patience for each answer he doubted he could copy. When Donald grinned, Cameron leaned one elbow on the marble mantel and listened to the child's chatter. He was impressed with how much information Tess was obtaining with a few questions, but he noticed how her hands clenched in unuttered outrage while Donald told a tale of abandonment and loneliness without shame.

Seeing her eyes spark as she stood, Cameron understood her anger. How could Russell have ignored his own sons? They were illegitimate, but they had Hawksmoor blood. Mayhap Cameron would have discovered that the children existed if he had become more involved in his brother's wasted life. The few attempts he had made to convince Russell to stop bringing shame on the Hawksmoor name had been futile, so he had given up.

“As there is no nursery in this house, which room will the children be using?”

Tess's question brought his attention back most gratefully to her. Astonished, he saw the smaller boy was now holding her right hand as Donald clutched onto her left one. When had Philip come out of the bedroom?

“You are welcome to choose any room for them you wish,” he said.

“On the morrow.” Smiling down at them, she said, “Tonight, I think it would be best if they slept in my sitting room. Jenette and I can watch over them. On the morrow—”

“I must leave for Peregrine Hall in the morning to escort Russell's body home. If you are willing to remain here with the boys, it might be for the best.”

Cameron frowned when her face bleached. Wondering why she found his brother's death so much more upsetting than he did, he nodded when she said, “I shall order supper for all of us brought up here.”

“Tess, I should—”

“I know you have many preparations to make for the journey tomorrow, but I think it would be best if we became better acquainted during supper.” She bent and said, “Donald, go across the hall and ask Jenette to ring for supper for us.”

The little boys ran out, shouting with sudden excitement.

When Tess straightened, Cameron said, “Thank you.”

“They need someone.”

“Something that can be said for everyone.”

He heard her breath catch, and he wondered why he could not draw in a breath of his own. He must be drowning in her deep green eyes. He could think of no place he would rather be. Cupping her chin, he bent toward her. As her compelling eyes closed, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

“My lord, I—” Harbour's embarrassed gulp was becoming too blasted familiar.

Tess swallowed her moan of frustration as the butler remained in the doorway. When Cameron motioned impatiently for Harbour to enter, she watched the butler hand him a folded page.

Cameron scowled as he read. “Forgive me, Tess, but I must go out. It seems his children are not the only things my brother ignored. The scavengers are gathering to collect the debts he never bothered to pay.”

“Must you go
now
?” She glanced at her room. When she looked back at him, heat climbed her cheeks as she saw the hunger in his eyes. Had he thought she meant her question as an invitation instead of her plan for him to talk to his nephews? No, it was just that he must know she wanted to be in his arms as much as he wanted her there.

He smiled. “Sometimes I could almost believe you had affection for me, Tess.”

“Why?” Her frustration flashed into aggravation. “Because I willingly assume your responsibilities?”

“No, not because of that. I might suspect you have some affection for me because of this.” His hands encircled her face as he tilted her mouth toward his. The kiss was swift, but its fire seared her.

She stared after him as he left, Harbour following to arrange for a tray to be sent up to Tess's room. How many times would Cameron kiss her and walk away as if the fleeting touch meant nothing? Slowly she walked out of the room that belonged solely to him and back to her own. She halted in the middle of the hallway and stared toward the stairs, where she could hear him giving orders to bring a carriage to the door.

With Russell's death, Cameron now would become the duke. It would be his obligation to provide an heir. She grasped the molding on the door. Too late, she understood why Cameron had regarded her with such dismay when she had been furious with him beside his bed. He had told her only minutes ago he had had time to consider all the complications.

And one complication he had yet to deal with was obtaining an heir. A legal heir. Only one person could give him that.

His wife.

Tess Hawksmoor.

Twelve

The rain was heavy, and Tess drew the children closer to her beneath the umbrella as she stepped out into the humid day. The steady patter of the drops on the roof had drowned out the hushed voice of the bishop while he read the memorial service in the crowded church. Apparently Russell had gained many friends here in London, for even three months after his death, many had come to attend the service that marked the end of first mourning for his family.

Not friends, she realized, when she overheard two of the men talking. They had come here only to have the chance to speak with Cameron and remind him of the debts Russell had left as his legacy. A man pointed toward her, and she turned, not wanting him to come and dun her, too.

“Pay them no mind,” Cameron said as he lifted Donald into the carriage. “They are ravens waiting to pick at the dead.”

She watched him set Philip beside his brother. “Is that why you insisted on a quiet funeral at Peregrine Hall and this memorial service so much later in London?”

“My mother is still upset enough by Russell's death and the sudden realization she has not only a daughter-in-law, but two grandsons. She did not need to hear this gabblemongering as well.” He took her hand to help her into the carriage. “That is why I urged her to remain in the country.” He smiled sadly. “I know you have feared for weeks that she did not come to Town because she was furious I had married you.”

“You knew I was fretting about that?”

“I suspected it.” He handed her in, then sat beside her, facing the two little boys, who were giggling with each other. For a moment, she thought he would chide them, but he slapped the side of the carriage to give the order to return to his house on Grosvenor Square. Looking at her, he said, “You have much to learn about keeping your thoughts hidden, Tess.”

“And will you teach me?” Even after nearly four months of marriage, she could not help bristling at the sarcasm Cameron used whenever anyone delved too close to his true feelings. “You seem to be a master at the skill.”

“Hardly, for you seem to comprehend far too often exactly what I am thinking.” He drew away from the window as rain blew in. Pulling down the curtains, he reached past her to do the same on the other side. He grasped the edge of the window, stretching in front of her, and faced her. “For example, I have no doubts you know what I am thinking of now.”

He was right. She knew exactly what he was thinking as he slanted across her. In the past three months, she had not seen him frequently, for he had many obligations now that he was assuming the family's title. In addition, he had to work on clearing up the muddle his brother had made of his private life. Yet through all those long weeks of not seeing him, her desire to have him close had not ebbed.

He did not touch her, but he wanted to, she knew, and she wanted him to. Slowly her fingers rose to trace the stern line of his nose, then edge along the tilting line of his lips. His breath warmed her skin just before he laced his fingers through hers. Saying nothing, he turned their hands, which were woven together, so he could brush her cheek with the back of his fingers.

He yelped, and his fingers tightened around hers. When she gasped, he yanked his hand away and turned to look at the little boys. He reached down and caught Philip's swinging foot, halting it.

“By the elevens,” Cameron said, “watch where you aim that boot!”

The little boy's eyes filled with frightened tears, and Tess put her hand over Cameron's. As his fingers slipped away, she patted Philip's knee, telling him to be careful.

“He did not mean to strike you with his foot,” she added more quietly to Cameron. Even less than she had seen Cameron had the little boys had time with him. To them, their uncle remained a stranger. Their young faces disclosed their fear this unknown man would come between them and Tess, whom they had come to love and respect.

“I realize that,” Cameron replied with a sigh.

“But you were so vexed.”

“Because his kick reminded me that a boy can be foolish, but a man must not.”

“Oh.”

He frowned. “Just ‘oh'?”

“You have made yourself very unclear on everything to do with me. I have found it simpler to say nothing until you decide if you wish this to be a marriage or not.”

“Me? What of you? I cannot imagine Tess Masterson Hawksmoor accepting the dictates of her husband.”

She looked away. Had he used her whole name as a reminder that he still harbored a hope, even after four months, that this marriage could be brought to an end? She thought of the page engraved with Mr. Paige's office address she had seen in his account book the day he told her of his brother's death.

“I wish only to know,” she said in a near whisper, “what you are thinking on
this
subject.”

“My mind has not changed.” He hooked his finger beneath her chin and smiled. “My thoughts may have changed, but my mind must not.”

“You are speaking in riddles, but I understand.”

“I thought you might.” As the carriage slowed in front of the house on Grosvenor Square, he added, “For I have few doubts your thoughts are as rebellious as mine.”

Tess did not answer as the tiger opened the door. She was startled when Cameron motioned for the boys to scamper out and then for the tiger to assist her. When she stood on the walkway, safely beneath the umbrella held by a footman, she looked back at the carriage.

“Go inside,” Cameron said. “I have business I must attend to.”

“With Mr. Paige?”

That was the wrong question to ask where, even on the deserted street, others might overhear, she knew when his eyes narrowed. No emotion warmed his voice as he replied, “I should have said I have my brother's business to attend to this afternoon.” He pulled the door closed.

She herded the boys into the house, knowing that by the time they were inside, the carriage would have driven out of sight from the square. Again so many questions waited to be asked, and too few had been.

“Mrs. Livingstone,” Harbour said, his voice strained.

Tess came to her feet and stared as an elegant woman with golden hair came into the parlor, the very woman portrayed in the miniature Mr. Knox had told her was of Cameron's mistress. Pamela Livingstone drew off her lacy gloves as she paused on the other side of the chair where Tess had been sitting. Her deep blue gown was glorious, the perfect complement for her incredible beauty.

Tess struggled not to look down at her own dress that was not
à la mode
as Mrs. Livingstone's was. Her fingers wanted to reach up and make sure her hair had not escaped from beneath her cap yet again, but she must not reveal any nervousness until she discovered why
this
woman was calling.

“I am glad you are at home to me today,” Mrs. Livingstone said in a voice like the song of a robin on a spring morning.

“I was not expecting company.” This time she could not keep her fingers from patting her hair back. “Please sit while I ring for some lemonade.” She faltered, then asked, “Do you like lemonade?”

“It will be lovely.”

Tess turned to see that Harbour had lingered in the doorway. Asking him to have some lemonade brought, she gave him a smile to thank him for staying to make certain she would not turn Mrs. Livingstone away. Relieved that the boys were out playing in the square with two of the younger footmen, she took a steadying breath before she walked back to where Mrs. Livingstone still stood.

“I came to offer my condolences, for it would not have been my place to attend the memorial yesterday afternoon,” Mrs. Livingstone said. “I was very sorry to hear of Russell's death.”

“I will tell Cameron you have called.” She sat facing Cameron's mistress, hoping that she could retain the remnants of her composure.

“I trust those were Russell's children I saw running about on the grass.”

“Yes. I know there may be those who believe they should not be in such a public place just months after their father's death, but they need to run about in a space much bigger than the kitchen garden.”

“Susan Baum's children, I assume.”

Tess could not keep from blurting, “You know the identity of their mother?”

“Assuming only, because the children are ginger-hackled like Mrs. Baum was.” Mrs. Livingstone held up a hand graced by a lovely emerald ring. “Before you ask, Lady Hawksmoor, Mrs. Baum died nearly five years ago. Mayhap even longer ago, for she may have not survived the birth of that younger boy. I no longer recall.”

“So they truly are orphans.”

“Yes. As Cameron takes his obligations seriously, I do not doubt he will continue to tend to those children as if they were his own.” A twinkle abruptly brightened her brown eyes. “Or he will make arrangements for them to be properly cared for.”

“He has.”

“And you are the arrangement?”

Tess was tempted to tell Mrs. Livingstone the question was presumptuous, but arguing with Cameron's mistress would gain her nothing. “I offered to help him find a governess for the children, a process that is taking much longer than I had anticipated.” She did not add that all the candidates she had interviewed seemed overly strict or more interested in flirting with one of the footmen.