Improper Wedding: Scandalous Encounters

by Reed, Kristabel

  “And you feel your daughter can do better than this match?” James snapped, unable to keep the scowl from his face.

  “I don’t know what the possibilities for my daughter are,” Kendrick said slowly. “She is only recently entered the marriage mart, and while I believe you can take care of her,” he added with a shrewd look, “I require any man courting my daughter to be mindful of her family as well.”

  Ah. And there it was. James had been right—Kendrick cared less for his daughter than he did for himself. The confirmation settled slickly and nauseatingly in his belly. James gathered the shattered remnants of his control.

  He needed to get Rose out of his household. He needed to get her away from her manipulative father.

  “You would do no better than to align yourself with such as me,” James snapped. “Builder Kendrick.”

  Kendrick offered a slight nod in acknowledgement. “My daughter does not know you; this will come as quite the shock. I must see to her well-being in all matters. I must—”

  James cut his hand through the air, effectively cutting Kendrick off. The more the other man spoke, the more his own resolve hardened. He didn’t know where it came from or why, but he was absolutely certain Kendrick was a threat to Rose.

  “You will move forward with this arrangement,” James snapped. Glaring imperiously, he stalked toward the other man. “Or I shall see you find no work again. I shall rescind my offer for work. And I shall see no other reputable investor avails himself of your services.”

  He stalked a step closer, his words darker and more threatening now. “You’ll lose this house. You’ll lose your reputation. Your debtors will see you in prison.” With his hands clenched in fists and heart pounding with emotions he didn’t understand, James threatened, “Do as I say.”

  James watched Kendrick’s emotions darken his face. There was a moment he thought Kendrick’s spine might stiffen and he’d fight back. But no, Kendrick wouldn’t risk what he had, what he built with his meaty hands.

  Kendrick knew full well James’s threats weren’t empty. He simply acquiesced with a nod.

  Disgusted, James watched the man for another moment—waiting to see if he changed his mind. He didn’t. Jaw clenched, James stalked from the room and strode down the hall, yanking open the door. He called for his footman, and Digby instantly descended from the back of the carriage and hurried up the walk.

  “Digby,” Hamilton ordered with a harshness he couldn’t stop. “Fetch my solicitor and bring him here at once.”

  “Yes, sir,” Digby acknowledged and sharply turned for the carriage.

  Hamilton didn’t bother to watch as the carriage pulled away. He stepped back inside to find Kendrick in the foyer, watching him warily.

  “I shall have my solicitor obtain a special license so Miss Kendrick and I can marry.”

  “And what of the contracts?” Kendrick demanded. “I must protect my daughter and her financial stability.”

  Angry indignation shot through James, but he bit down on it. He couldn’t stand next to the man a moment longer and stepped into the parlor just to put distance between them.

  “I can’t offer a dowry that will be enough to take care of her in your household,” Kendrick added with that same shrewdness, following him into the other room.

  “No dowry is expected or required,” Hamilton snapped, his patience at an end. “This contract will be for her benefit, detailing her allowances and inheritances. She will be well taken care of.”

  “You work very quickly, Mr. Hamilton,” Kendrick said slowly. “But I must ask, should you not discuss all of this with your intended before she is your wife?”

  That had honestly not occurred to James, and Kendrick’s astute words, for all he disliked the man, made him step back. Yes. Yes, he ought to. The sane, reasonable thing to do would be to at least have a real conversation with Rose Kendrick.

  But that beat of desperation refused to let him be. Keep her safe, it warned him. Get her out of his house, it repeated.

  Leaning forward, he said quite clearly, “When I see her, I shall inform her of our future, but at the moment, these details must be attended to.”

  “And what of her father?” Kendrick asked. “What benefit do I receive for allowing this marriage to take place?”

  “You’ll get to keep what you have,” James snapped then took a deep breath. His next words tasted vile on his tongue. “Your business will grow because of your association with me.”

  He rocked back on his heels and tried to dispel the sickness he felt for simply prolonging his association with Kendrick. “Now tell me, is this your family line?” James gestured to the Scottish things hanging along the parlor walls. “Have you so much Scottish blood?”

  “My great-grandfather was from Scotland,” Kendrick said with a shrug. “I’ve always taken a liking to these trappings. Nothing more than that.”

  The answer settled heavily in James’s stomach, but he didn’t confront Kendrick on his answer. He sensed the other man’s truthfulness but didn’t entirely believe him, either.

  James nodded. “I’ll wait here for the solicitor. You may take your time looking over the plans.”

  Unable to spend one more minute in Kendrick’s presence, James turned sharply and stood by the windows. He needed distance. He probably should have gone with the carriage to the solicitor’s, seen to the contracts himself then sent them round to Kendrick.

  One more detail that had not occurred to him.

  No, only Rose had. One simple, short meeting and she consumed his thoughts. Nothing else mattered save her.

  Kendrick disappeared, and James took a moment to gather himself. Sitting heavily in a wingback chair, he scrubbed his hands over his face and curled his fingers into the top of his head. He leaned his elbows on his knees, head in hand, and wondered what the hell just happened.

  Good God, what possessed him? One part of him, his brain, clearly demanded answers—wanted him to step back and look at the last half hour logically.

  The rest of him, the instincts he’d long ago learned to trust, continued to shout at him. Demanded he move faster, work harder, promise anything only so Rose need not spend one more night in this house.

  He’d had barely a cordial conversation with her, but James needed to protect her.

  From what?

  He sat up, his hands dropping to the arms of the chair then gripping tightly. What did he need to protect her from? The answer, though instantaneous, made as little sense as his feelings.

  James needed to protect Rose from her father. And the only way she’d be safe was with him.

  His lips quirked in a wry twist. Safe with the madman who demanded marriage after the briefest of introductions. If he heard this story in the club, James wouldn’t have believed it.

  Kendrick did not bother him while he waited—no doubt pleased he’d gotten everything he wanted. Not for Rose, oh no. for himself.

  Finally he heard the carriage pull to a stop. He greeted his solicitor at the door with detailed instructions—nothing in writing for Kendrick if at all possible but every generosity for Rose. Money, land, gowns, jewels, any of it—all of it she could have.

  Naturally the lawyer thought him mad. He was not the only one. But James didn’t care. With a final nod, he left his solicitor with Kendrick to finish the contracts. With the heavy weight that settled over him, James took his leave from the solicitor and exited the house.

  “Where to, sir?” the driver asked.

  James looked up at him blankly. His club? His own townhouse? “Strathmore’s,” he instructed and settled in.

  James didn’t remember the return ride to Strathmore’s, his thoughts too much a whirl to pay attention.

  “They’re in the rear gardens, sir,” the butler said once he arrived.

  Nodding, he made his way to the back of the house and the beautifully manicured gardens. The trees were heavy with new buds, and the small patio was fragrant with spring roses. The group laughed, a happy sound that s
napped him from his own darkness.

  He blinked and heard Octavia adding, “Oh, but Mr. Logan has that eccentric pond with the odd fountains.”

  “There’s Lord Greenvale,” Strathmore said and ticked names off his fingers, “Lord Hawkhurst and Mr. Stafford.”

  “Very eligible bachelors,” Isabella agreed with a significant look at Octavia.

  “You may remove one bachelor from your list,” James said as he strode across the stones.

  “Who?” Isabella asked, her head tilting inquisitively. “Have you heard of someone to be wed?”

  The words held no connection to his brain. “Yes, Duchess.” He leaned forward and said succinctly, “I am.”

  Strathmore choked and stood from the wrought-iron chair. Octavia looked dumbfounded—an uncommon emotion for her—and Annabelle merely raised an eyebrow.

  “Truly?” Isabella asked, but James couldn’t decipher the emotion in her tone.

  Straightening, he nodded smugly. “Don’t look so shocked, Strathmore. It was bound to happen at some point.”

  Shocked may have been an understatement. Strathmore closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he nearly pleaded, “Don’t tell me it’s one of the women from the club.”

  James snorted. Even he was not so foolish, Though the previous hours told an entirely different story.

  “She is a builder’s daughter, Robert Kendrick’s daughter.”

  “Isn’t he the man you and Granville—”

  James nodded and cut him off. “Yes, yes. But all that with Granville and Ashworth does not matter. She had naught to do with it.”

  From the corner of his eye, he noticed Isabella glance at Strathmore. Clearly he’d told his wife what had happened.

  “Such things do not matter,” Isabella insisted. “Only the emotion between the two of you.” Then, shrewdly eyeing him, she asked politely, “How long have you known her?”

  James cleared his throat and braced himself. Odd, but he still did not regret what he’d done.

  “That’s the thing,” he said slowly. “As you say, Duchess, only the emotion matters. When I saw her, I was completely besotted.”

  Better besotted than foolish. Or mad.

  “She must be quite the striking woman,” Octavia said, still eyeing him with far more astuteness than he cared to be under at the moment.

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “She is. And she has a beautiful laugh, the most charming smile.”

  Even now, James easily pictured her face. The way her dark eyes watched him, the way her lips pulled back in a quick grin.

  “How is it you kept her a secret for so long?” Octavia asked.

  “She has a way about her that, well,” he said, trying not to sound as outlandish as his actions showed, “has captivated me.”

  “The business with Ashworth must have kept you from your intended,” Annabelle offered in the silence that followed his declaration.

  Normally, James truly adored Annabelle’s astuteness. Today? Not so much.

  “I regret it has done so,” she continued, “but I know Selina is grateful for your assistance during that time.”

  James swallowed. “I did not know Miss Kendrick during that time,” he told her. “There is no need for regrets.”

  Octavia stood so abruptly, her chair skittered loudly across the stone paving. Incredulous, she demanded, “How long have you known her?”

  Mentally shrugging, he admitted, “We met today.”

  Chapter Three

  THE CARRIAGE RUMBLED down the street, and though Rose Kendrick was quite pleased with her day’s excursions, her mind continued to return to the unexpected meeting with Mr. Hamilton. Of course she’d heard her father talk about the other man, about how his business was moving up with a man of Hamilton’s connections interested in Kendrick & Sons.

  Rose had cared little for that—she knew her father all too well and understood what sorts of business tactics Robert employed. She’d half a mind to warn Hamilton, but figured if one with supposedly such renowned connections as he didn’t know the slipshod work Robert did, he deserved what he paid for.

  Still, Rose hadn’t expected to find herself quite so entranced by the handsome Mr. Hamilton. Had she seen him before? At one of the balls? No, she only ever attended balls for her class. At a shop? Much more likely. Mayhap before the bazaar burnt? Had she seen him there?

  Surely she’d have remembered had they previously met. No, that wasn’t it.

  But there was a familiarity about him that kept him on her mind throughout the day. And what a silly thing for a man such as him to even look twice at a woman such as her. Mr. Hamilton was clearly far, far above her station. Rose would likely never see him again.

  Though her father would no doubt approve if Mr. Hamilton sought out her company.

  Oh, Rose understood her father all too well and had for many years. He was a determined man who wanted to increase his fortunes, if not his place in society, and she knew him well enough to know he’d do so through any means at his disposal.

  Robert Kendrick used every and any advantage. Rose’s mother had been the barrier between Robert’s weight and her. Her mother wanted Rose to be a different type than her father, and she was.

  Rose missed her mother, more so in these last few years than when she was younger. She simply didn’t have the same desire for the war of business that her father did. She’d done her best to steer clear of her father’s dealings, and he’d respected that.

  She hoped he continued to do so.

  Despite her barely-there relationship with her father, Rose knew—well, she hoped—Robert never compromised her in such a way.

  The carriage pulled to a stop, and the footman opened the door for her. Rose smiled at the man as he helped her out. Flicking her skirts, she walked into her house. Surprised to hear voices exit the study, she wondered if Mr. Hamilton lingered for all this time.

  Which would’ve been very odd—most of her father’s business associates couldn’t wait to leave their meetings. Robert wasn’t the most pleasant man to work with.

  Still, Rose couldn’t ignore the tingle that raced along her skin. She looked down the hall, but no. The man walking beside her father was definitely not Mr. Hamilton but a man she didn’t recognize.

  Removing her bonnet, she waited for the men to look up. Her father did with a smile that told her he was all too pleased with the day’s business dealings.

  “Oh good, Rose. You’re home.” He nodded to her and then gestured to the other man. “This is Mr. Abbott, Mr. Hamilton’s solicitor.”

  Rose offered a small curtsey to the tall man. “Mr. Abbott.” To her father she said, “I’m pleased you had a successful meeting, Father. I’ll be upstairs sorting my purchases.”

  Mr. Abbott eyed her strangely, but she didn’t understand the look, couldn’t decipher the hawkish gaze.

  “A moment, Rose. I need a word with you,” Robert said before she had the chance to walk more than a couple steps.

  “Miss Kendrick,” Mr. Abbott said in a smooth, cool tone, “please feel free to call on me if you ever need. I shall always be at your disposal.”

  Confused, Rose only nodded at the man as he took his leave. Her eyes narrowed, and a strange, sickly feeling moved through her; she swung her gaze to her father before the door closed behind the solicitor.

  “At my disposal?” she repeated. “Father,” she said slowly, “he’s Mr. Hamilton’s solicitor, not ours, correct?” Without waiting for the obvious answer, she shook her head. “Strange man.”

  Her day had been strange all round. Men like Mr. Hamilton did not pay her any mind, and their solicitors certainly didn’t acknowledge her.

  Her father’s half-smile did naught to ease the tension now stiffening her limbs. It was the greasy one he used when he’d bested a man in business. “I need to speak with you, Rose.”

  She followed him into the study, a cloying room she did her best to avoid. She’d never liked the room, finding it too oppressive for her tastes, an
d disliked the many lowlifes that frequented it. Rose didn’t bother to look around, but kept her gaze on Robert. She watched as he sat behind his desk cluttered with papers.

  “Rose,” Robert started slowly, “something has occurred this afternoon. It involves you.”

  “What is it, Father?” she asked, already knowing she’d not like where this conversation was going.

  “Mr. Hamilton has asked for your hand in marriage.”

  Rose blinked. She’d heard him wrong. Surely she had, because no one asked for a hand in marriage in the space of a few hours.

  “Pardon?” she heard herself ask faintly.

  “The arrangements were made this afternoon,” he continued, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. He nodded at her silence. “It seems when he met you, he was completely taken. You should feel very honored, Rose, that a man of his stature chose you as his wife.”

  She was sure this was an elaborate joke, though her father was never very good with humor unless it degraded another. Rose opened her mouth to speak, but she found her ability to form words had vanished.

  “He wants the wedding to proceed swiftly,” Robert said and stood. “I anticipate it will be within the next several days.”

  Rose stood automatically, but her legs felt like jelly, and she doubted her ability to walk under her own power.

  “Father,” she said sharply. “Has he? Is this Mr. Hamilton mad?”

  Clearly he was—what fool offered marriage after so brief a conversation?

  “I do not know him!” she insisted, her voice rising. “We met briefly, for a mere moment! Why would you agree to such a thing?”

  “Rose,” he snapped. “It’s unlikely you’ll meet a man of Mr. Hamilton’s prestige at a merchant’s ball or a cheap concert. You should feel honored such a man took such a quick interest in you.”

  Honored? She felt ill. And used.

  “I knew you were a pretty girl,” Robert continued with that horrid smile on his face. “But I had no idea you’d catch the eye of likes of Mr. Hamilton.”

  “I don’t care who he is!” she shouted, her hands fisted in her skirts. “I don’t know him, what his intentions are, what sort of man he is.”