His Unexpected Bride (5 page)

“If you are agreeable,” Cameron said in a near whisper, “I would ask you take your breakfast with me somewhere where we may talk without being overhead.”

“I find I am not hungry this morning.” She motioned toward the hall behind her. “May I suggest we go to the parlor? With the doors closed, it is impossible to hear inside.” She hesitated, then added, “I know because I tried to listen at the doors when I was much younger.”

Was that a smile she saw slip across his lips so swiftly? She could not be certain.

He offered his arm as he said, “Eustace, old chap, I trust you will excuse us.”

“Go on, go on,” his friend urged, waving the fork he had brought with him from the table. “I shall finish up my breakfast here. My lady, your father has an excellent cook. Please offer him my thanks.”

Tess nodded as she put her hand on Lord Hawksmoor's arm. The strong muscles hinted at beneath his shirt were no illusion. She wondered what he had been doing that had created this unyielding strength. It was only one of a thousand thousand questions she longed to ask him. Or mayhap even a thousand thousand thousand, because every beat of her heart brought another she wanted to ask.

Knowing she was prattling like a gabble-grinder, but unable to let silence reign between them because then she would have to think of all that had not yet been said, Tess pointed out the portraits of her ancestors lining the hallway from the breakfast-parlor to the more formal room near the front of the house. She was not sure if Lord Hawksmoor was heeding her commentary until he paused in front of one picture.

“Your mother?” he asked in that controlled way that gave her no idea what he was thinking.

“Yes.”

“I thought so. There is a definite resemblance beyond her hair, which is the same shade as yours.” He peered at the portrait. “Are those chrysanthemums in the background?”

She had to look, because she had not paid much attention to what was behind her mother. Whenever she looked at this portrait, she tried to re-create her mother's living face, but nearly a decade had passed since her mother's death. Now it was impossible to remember the different expressions Mama had worn. “Yes, I believe they are. I have few memories of my mother, but I have heard she was greatly interested in her garden.”

“I would like to see her plantings, if you would show them to me.”

“The garden has suffered much neglect in recent years, although Papa told me just last week he intends to hire a gardener again.”

“The other one was let go?”

She nodded. “With a good character recommendation, because there was not enough … that is …”

His mouth quirked. “You need not think you are betraying your father by divulging he has been purse-pinched for several years.”

Realizing how close she stood to Lord Hawksmoor, she backed away a step. His mouth hardened again, but he drew her hand within his arm and let her lead the way to the parlor. He said nothing as she opened one of the double doors and walked in. His gaze swept the room, and she wondered what he sought.

The room had the best furniture in the house, although many of the pieces of art that once had graced the rosewood tables and walls covered with red silk had been sold quietly to pay for the upkeep of the house. The red and silver striped curtains were too gaudy, in her estimation, but there had been no money to buy new ones. Now it would not matter, because this would no longer be her home. Her home would be with her husband.

“Are you chilled?” asked Lord Hawksmoor.

Realizing she had shivered in response to her own thoughts, Tess closed the door and said, “No, I am fine.”

“Then may I be forthright?”

“Please.”

He walked away from her, pausing to look at a stack of books on a nearby table. “I have been giving our situation and possible remedies much thought since I last spoke with you.”

“As I have.”

Glancing at her, he turned and walked back toward her. “Because of our circumstances this morning, no one will believe our marriage is unconsummated.”

“So you will ruin my life to protect your reputation as a rake?”

He clasped his hands behind his back, even though the fury in his eyes suggested he was giving thought to clasping them around her throat and putting an end to this with all due speed. “If you would take a moment to think, madam,” he said coolly, “you will realize yours is not the only life which has taken an unexpected turn. And 'tis not my reputation that concerns me, but yours.”

“Mine? I was asleep in my own bed, aimlessly dreaming of who knows what, when this scheme was set into motion.”

“Which led to you being in your own bed with your own husband.” His smile was as icy as his words. “For that reason, an annulment would be most unlikely. The alternatives are to accept this situation or to seek a divorce.”

“A divorce?” She shook her head. “But that would mean you must accuse me of adultery.”

“Ironic, is it not? I would need to label you a wanton when you may remain a maiden, for all I know.”

Her hand rose to strike his cheek. She gripped her own wrist, pulling her hand back, and stared at her fingers in horror. When his fingers covered hers, she lifted her eyes to his face, fearing she had angered him beyond all good sense. She could not keep from cowering when his hand rose toward her. Something flickered through his eyes, but they grew cold again when he touched her cheek as gently as if she were a child.

“I fear,” he said quietly, “my frustration has been directed toward you, when you are not at fault. I owe you an apology.”

“I never have … I mean, I should not have slapped you before or tried to now. 'Tis not a habit I wish to gain.”

“You have never slapped a man's face before this morning?” His chuckle surprised her. “I trust you have never been given such cause before this.”

“No.”

“Honest, I see.”

She jutted her chin toward him. “You have no reason not to trust me, my lord. 'Twas not at my instigation that we became husband and wife. Nor was I present, as you may now recall, although unquestionably you were too deeply lost in your cups to take note of the solemnity of the vows you spoke.” Tugging her hand out of his, she went to sit on the bench beside the window. “How could you have been so foolish?”

“A question I have asked myself repeatedly.” He leaned on the wall beside the window and gazed down at her. “Miss Mas—madam … blast it! Calling you Tess would be easiest just now.”

“I would not wish to inconvenience you further.”

His mouth tightened, and she regretted her sarcasm. Yet he had appreciated her honesty. She could not pretend she was joyous at the tidings that she had become his wife.

“I do not think of being inconvenienced, but of finding a way to put an end to this with all due speed.” He looked out the window, and she guessed he was wishing he was far from here. He sighed before adding, “If you are willing to allow such a slight intimacy, it will not suggest we have shared further intimacies.”

“You are right. There is no reason to be silly.”

“Save that everything around us is skimble-skamble.”

Tess smiled, surprising herself. Under other circumstances, she believed she might have enjoyed exchanging words with Cameron. Her smile faltered. Friendship would be denied to them because they were in this absurd situation.

“As soon as I can, I shall seek legal advice,” he continued. “There must be a choice other than divorce, which would destroy your good name, or an annulment, which I fear will be impossible to obtain now.”

“I hope you are right.”

“You sound dubious.”

“I am dubious.”

He nodded. “As I am, but I promise you I will contact our solicitor as soon as I reach London. There must be a way out of this, and I swear to you I shall find it.”

“And if that is not possible?”

He did not give her answer as he looked again out the window. She understood why. There was none.

Four

Wind battered the eaves and slammed against the windows. The glass rattled while the fire cowered and cringed before the air being forced back down the chimney. Something struck the house before clattering to the ground.

A branch, Tess suspected, as she fought to calm herself. Every nerve was on edge, even though she had tried to hide that fact. When rain washed down the windows, she slumped against the bright blue settee and laughed uneasily as the clock on the landing chimed ten times. She was unsure if she should be grateful the storm had prevented Cameron and his friend from taking their leave today or furious they remained here, reminding her of how her life was no longer her own.

From where she sat alone in the library, she could hear male voices. Papa had invited his guests to join him in the parlor farther along the hallway for after-dinner wine and cigars. Glad for the reprieve, Tess had come here. Her hopes of losing herself in a book had been for naught. The book sat on her lap, and she had not turned a page since the clock had last chimed.

Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the settee's well-worn cushions. This was her haven, the place she came when she yearned to think. She loved the odor of sunlight on the oak shelves as well as the dusty warmth from the books. The leather bindings added a thick scent to the room. Beneath her feet, the carpet was dilapidated, for it had once been in the front parlor before it had been moved back here. Now the rug in the parlor was nearly as worn.

The rug should have been replaced last year. Tess had looked at one in a London shop, but her father had given her excuse after excuse until she no longer asked when they might order it to replace the one there now.

Often she brought Heddy here and read aloud to the hedgehog as the moon rose. She had no illusions that the little creature gave her words any mind, for Heddy's thoughts were purely on the grubs and insects trapped in the garden so Tess could put them in the hedgehog's cage. Sometimes, Tess took Heddy out of the cage and held her, but never when anyone else was about. The hedgehog, which was no more than six inches long, was skittish and would curl up into a snorting ball if anyone else approached.

But tonight, Tess had wanted to be alone to try to sort out her thoughts. It had been useless, because her thoughts had gone around and around until
she
wanted to curl up as Heddy did and wait for this to pass.

A shadow appeared in the doorway, and she smiled when she recognized the silhouette as her father's. Coming to her feet, she started to walk toward him. He motioned for her to stay where she was as he drew the door closed.

Tess gnawed on her lower lip. Papa's steps were furtive, almost as if he were an interloper in his own home. She lowered herself back onto the settee and, closing the book, set it on the shelf beside her. He stopped in front of her and sighed.

“This has all become even more complicated than I thought it would,” he said without preamble.

“This? I assume you mean my abrupt marriage.” Tears weighed in her eyes as she whispered, “Papa, how could you agree to let me be married like this to a man I do not know and who does not want me?”

“Tess, I had no choice.”

“What do you mean? Of course, you had a choice. You could have refused to go along with that drunken sport.” She closed her eyes before the tears filling them burst forth in a springtide.

When her father put his hand beneath her chin and tipped it up, he said, “Tess, look at me.”

She opened her eyes. She had thought she was familiar with every expression her father might wear, but she had never seen this taut one before. The muscles at the back of his jaw worked, adding the illusion of a tic to his cheeks. His eyes burned with strong emotions, and his mouth shifted from a consoling smile to a straight line before she could draw a single breath.

“There is something you must know,” her father said. “Something that is very painful for me to tell you, but it is clear I cannot be false with you any longer. You have a right to know the truth, because it has now had a terrible impact on your life. 'Tis ironic that the very thing aimed at protecting you has turned your life topsy-turvy.”

“What is it, Papa?”

He gazed at her steadily as he said, “I did not choose to have you marry Hawksmoor. Knox insisted I must do nothing to halt the ceremony.”

“Mr. Knox? Why should he have had anything to do with this?”

“Because of blackmail.”

She sucked her breath in with a horrified gasp. “Blackmail? You are being blackmailed by Mr. Knox?”

“Hush!” He put his finger to his lips before going to the sideboard to pour himself some wine. He filled a second glass and brought it back to her. “Hawksmoor's older brother apparently is so desperate to have Hawksmoor wed and therefore keep him out of trouble—”

“Marriage does not keep all men out of trouble, Papa.”

He took a deep drink, and his tight smile returned. “It appears you are more worldly than I had guessed.”

“Even here, one hears the gossip of the
ton
and their antics.”

“You are now part of the
ton
, Tess.”

Coming to her feet, she put her untouched glass on the table beside the settee. “Papa, I do not want to be part of the Polite World, nor do I wish to be Lord Hawksmoor's bride. But I do wish to understand why you let Mr. Knox force your hand in arranging a marriage guaranteed to make neither me nor Cameron happy.”

“Cameron?”

“That is his name.” She arched her brows. “And I
am
his wife. It is not inappropriate for me to speak of him thusly.”

“You are accepting this bumble-bath with equanimity.”

“What good would a tantrum do?”

Her father chuckled. “If I had had your equanimity, I might have found myself in less difficult situations throughout my life. I should have known I did not have to prepare for vapors or hysterics with you.”