His Unexpected Bride (19 page)

With a few soothing words to her pet, she set the cloth back over the cage. Then she turned to thank those who had helped in the search. She laughed along with the servants as they related how they thought they had found the hedgehog in a corner only to discover a shoe left by one of the little boys.

Cameron paused by his bedchamber door as he heard the laughter from Tess's room. He kneaded his brow, which ached from hours of poring over Russell's account books with the family's solicitor. They were nearly done, after three endless months of trying to make sense of them. The situation had been even worse than he had feared. Even after Russell's grand house on Berkeley Square was sold, the proceeds would be only a small percentage of what his brother owed. He could not guess why Russell had spent two hundred fifty pounds every month for the past year or more, but had not once accounted for where that money went. Every other debt, and there were many, were accounted for with signed IOUs or other slips of paper. The two hundred fifty pounds spent month after month were not.

Another peal of giggles came from the room, not from Tess or the youngsters. He watched, astonished, as several maids and a footman walked out of the room. Their amusement was masked when they saw him.

When his butler came out of Tess's room, Harbour asked, as if nothing unusual were taking place, “May I bring you something for tea?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

Cameron's brows lowered, and he was about to ask his butler why he was acting so oddly. Then Cameron realized he was still staring at the door opening into the rooms that once had been his. Going to the door, he said, “In my rooms, of course, Harbour.”

“Which rooms do you mean?”

Pointing over his shoulder toward the chambers he was now using and resisting the angry words that would not help just now when he did not need his butler playing matchmaker, Cameron walked into Tess's sitting room. His gaze swept along her slender form. Even though he had been away from her for weeks at a time since Russell's death, he could not erase the image of her enticing beauty from his mind. Her hair was mussed, falling in auburn swirls about her shoulders. His fingers tingled to follow the curve of her lips and watch them draw up in a smile in the moments before he tasted their luscious warmth.

Her abigail glanced past Tess, then said something. Tess turned, her lustrous eyes widening. Her attempt to smooth back her hair was futile, and he was glad. With it loose like this, she urged him to think of nothing but her.

“Cameron,” she said, walking toward him as she had so often in his dreams, “you missed all the excitement.”

He gulped, wondering if she had any idea what images of excitement filled his thoughts just now. Her in his arms, soft and willing, bold and seductive. He tried to force those thoughts aside, the effort making his voice gruff as he asked, “What has been going on here?”

“Heddy got out.” She looked down and smiled, and he realized Russell's sons were standing beside her. Until now, he had been so fascinated with the promise in her eyes he had not noted the children.

“Heddy?” he asked.

“My pet hedgehog.”

He choked on his astonishment. “Hedgehog? How long have you had this pet hedgehog, Tess?”

“Since it was a baby. About three years ago.”

“Three years?” He had expected her to say she had found it in the kitchen garden. “Did you bring this creature here from the country?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

She walked into the bedchamber with the lads in tow. When she gestured for him to follow, every inch of him reacted, even though he knew she was not offering the invitation a wife should make to her husband. She walked to a table and drew aside the cloth on the cage where the hedgehog was asleep.

“You keep it here?” he asked.

“Surely you saw this cage in my room and in the carriage.”

“I will own I had other matters on my mind the sole time I was in your chambers in your father's house. I did no more than give a passing thought to what sort of animal lived in the cage on your table. Nor did I take note of the cage on our way to London.”

“I thought your lack of curiosity remarkable, I will say.”

“And I will say I do not want vermin in my house.”

“Heddy is not vermin.”

“The hedgehog belongs outside in the garden. It is not right to keep a filthy creature in the house.”

“She is well mannered, and I keep her cage clean.” She arched a russet brow at him. “Why are you complaining about her being a filthy creature when you did not know she was here until I spoke of her?”

Before he could answer, Donald piped up, “I will help Aunt Tess keep the cage clean.” The boy grinned broadly. “I was the one who found her in the pot over there.”

“I will help! I looked, too!” Philip tugged on Tess's skirt. “Let me help, too.”

“Yes,” she said with a gentle smile, “you may help keep Heddy's cage clean. That way, she will become accustomed to you. Now Jenette will take you to have your supper.”

Her abigail took each boy by the hand and led them out of the room.

When Cameron was about to follow, Tess said, “Please wait.”

Could she hear his heart thudding at the soft warmth in her voice? When she went to the table which he once had used as a desk, but she had converted into a dressing table by hanging a glass over it, she picked up a small box and held it out to him.

He took it without speaking. Slipping it beneath his coat, he turned to go into the sitting room.

“Cameron?” She stepped in front of him. “You cannot pretend nothing of importance is in that box.”

“What is in it had its hour of importance, but that hour is past.”

“And that is that?”

“What else do you expect it to be?”

She folded her arms in front of her, clearly unwilling to put an end to this conversation. “I expect it to be something you are proud of.”

“I have no wish to be lauded as a hero, so leave off with your mewling for the great hero you wished you had wed.”

“Mewling?” Her hands clenched on her arms. “I can assure you, Cameron Hawksmoor, no one will ever use that word to describe me … if one sticks to the truth.”

“So you are accusing me of lying?”

“I am accusing you of being shortsighted, short-tempered, and short a sheet.”

He laughed dryly. “Another example of your wit, I see.”

“Quite the contrary. Another example of how I tire of your tiresome tantrums. You act no older than Donald when you cannot have your way.” She squared her shoulders. “Cameron, they are your nephews.”

“So I was told.”

“You think they are not? I know the boys were brought, unbidden, to the house, but didn't the paperwork found in Russell's house prove he had been paying someone to watch over his children?”

He waved aside her question. He did not want to think about what the paperwork at Russell's house had revealed. “That is neither here nor there. They are here now, as you are.”

She took a deep breath, then released it as her shoulders sagged. “Cameron, I was a fool to listen to someone who told me there was more to you than you allowed anyone to see.”

“Who told you that?”

“Pamela Livingstone.”

He was certain he had misheard her. “Pamela? When did you speak with her?”

“When she called.”

“Here?”

“Yes, to offer her sympathies upon Russell's death.” She faltered, then said, “As well, she wished to let me know there was more to you than the emotionless martinet who blames everyone else for his own mistakes and shuts everyone out of his life. I had hoped she was right, that your ex-mistress knew you better than I did, but it is clear she is wrong. You have fought so hard to set aside every feeling you have that you have forgotten how to feel. You are so determined to govern your emotions that you have come to fear having them. You cannot even accept your due as a hero in the war against the French.”

She pushed past him and out of the room. With a curse, he started to follow. Then he halted himself. If he gave chase now, he was certain to show her exactly how out of control his emotions were when he pulled her up against him and kissed her with every bit of his yearning for her.

That would be a mistake now. He reached under his coat and pulled out the box. Tossing it back on the table, he cursed. Tess was right. He was determined to avoid his own feelings, especially the ones for her.

Thirteen

Eustace Knox poured himself another glass of wine, then faced Cameron, who was standing by a leather chair. Eustace's fingers clenched and unclenched on the glass, matching the nervous tic that had twitched Eustace's right eyelid since Cameron had come into the room.

Cameron had not intended to come to the club this morning, for he had hoped to pay a call on Pamela and find out whatever had possessed her to give Tess a look-in. Instead he was here in response to his friend's urgent request, which apparently was about to become another scold. Cameron was tempted to tell his tie-mate another dressing-down would just add to his ill humor.

“It is simple,” Eustace said as he sat in another chair. “Even though
on dits
have been very clear that you returned to London with a bride almost four months ago, there are those who are questioning—very loudly and most rudely, if you wish to know the whole truth—why you and Tess have yet to be seen at a gathering.”

“Do not lecture me, Eustace.” Cameron set his glass on the table beside his chair and looked out the window to the street below. The rain had chased most of the pedestrians from the walkways, but the door to the club across the street was continually opening and closing. “I do not need more problems dropped onto my head.”

“I am trying to halt a problem that has been brewing for the past fortnight.”

“Do those same gossipmongers recall I have been in mourning for the recent death of my brother?”

Eustace shrugged. “Your father's death did not halt Russell from dancing at Lady Brigham's assembly a month later.”

“I am not Russell.”

“No, and so people are curious about the woman you chose to wed.”

“Chose? You know the truth of that wedding.”

In the reflection in the windowpane, Cameron could see Eustace set his glass on the table beside Cameron's and come to his feet. “Yes, but I thought, as you have made no motion in that direction, you had decided not to set Tess aside. You told me you did not fill out the papers from Paige.” His eyes widened. “Or is it simply you have not filled them out
yet
?”

Cameron turned from the window. “I trust you had a genuine reason for sending me that frantic note asking for this meeting to discuss dire matters.”

“Other than you should bring your wife to the assembly at Lord Peake's house next week?”

“Eustace, I have had enough of this skimble-skamble.” When his friend seized Cameron's sleeve, Cameron shook off Eustace's hand. “Have you lost every bit of mind you had?”

“I am thinking of you and your wife. By remaining out of sight, you are the cause of too much poker-talk. You need make only a brief appearance at the assembly, and the Polite World will see nothing to interest them. Their attention, then, will turn to other matters.”

Cameron had to agree his friend's suggestion made good sense. “I believe you are right, Eustace. Thank you.”

“While you are in a grateful mood—”

“How much do you need?” Cameron shook his head and reached again for his glass. Taking a deep drink, he said, “I did not expect you to spend through your inheritance with this speed. 'Tis not like you to make pots and pans with me.”

“I am not begging for alms from you.” He grinned when Cameron arched a brow. “All right. I am, but I have had unforeseen expenses.”

“Now you sound like Russell. He said that too often in the past year as well.”

Eustace flinched.

“What is it?” Cameron asked.

For a long moment, Eustace did not answer. He drained his own glass, then said, “Disparaging your dead brother is bothersome to me.”

“Sorry, but I have found lately that however difficult the truth may be, it is preferable to the alternatives.” Those words echoed through Cameron's head as he agreed to lend his friend one thousand pounds and while he walked down the stairs toward the door to the street.

Did he truly prefer the truth? If so, why was he avoiding confronting it where Tess was concerned? He must either put an end to this marriage or accept it. He had been able to set aside that concern while dealing with Russell's estate, but he must make a decision soon. After all, as his mother had been eager to remind him, he was now the Duke of Hawkington, and it was fortunate he had a wife to give the family's title a legitimate heir.

“Hawksmoor?”

Cameron turned to see a door open to one of the card rooms. Inside, John Stedley was sitting with several other club members, playing cards. The viscount, a good-looking blond man with enough blunt to enjoy the flats whenever he took the notion—which, Cameron had heard, was often—was shuffling the cards for the next hand.

“Just the man I was hoping to see,” Stedley said. With his cigar, the viscount motioned for the other men at the table to leave. Cameron nodded to the others, who gathered up their winnings and moved away like well-trained soldiers. “Sit down, Hawksmoor.”

“I see you are winning.”

Stedley looked down at the pile of money and chuckled. Reaching into the box by his side, he pulled out a cheroot as thick as the one he was smoking and handed it to Cameron. “And Millsmere is buying, so you might as well enjoy raising a cloud at his expense.” Without a pause, he said, “Pamela tells me I should, upon the very first opportunity I have, offer my congratulations to you on your bride, for she was much impressed with your new wife.”