An Unexpected Passion (Unexpected Series Book 2)

by Leighann Dobbs

  For the first time since he had walked through the doors into Rothwyn House after his 'rescue' from Newgate prison, he felt one corner of his lips tilt upward ever so slightly. Phoebe was angry with him and that, at least, felt familiar. Flashes of another slamming doors and staring out to sea in stubborn silence flitted through his mind and, despite the decidedly morose nature of his mood, his smile grew slowly until it became a wobbly, rueful grin.

  I'll be damned, he thought.

  How had it escaped his notice before just how like his willful sister Lady Chelsea had been?

  Perhaps it was those very similarities which had drawn the two of them together in the first place, he thought now, remembering the way Chelsea had argued her own case, daring him to find fault with her need to see her father. It had not mattered to her that being aboard a ship with her father and his crew put her reputation in the veriest danger of being ruined. All she knew was that the man who called himself captain was still very much her father and she loved him. She missed him dreadfully, and when he found a way to offer her a chance to be with him, she had embraced it wholeheartedly, ignoring the risks of which her grandfather made amply sure she was fully aware.

  So like Phoebe, he thought again, yet he had not realized how very much until now.

  On the trip from Newgate to Rothwyn House, Lucien had recounted to him the weeks before Phoebe's betrothal, of her questionable bow into Society, and how determined she had been to find and follow any lead that might bring her to her lost brother. Chuckling now at the thought of how harried Lucien must have been, being forced to deal with Phoebe's unexpected defiance, he thought again of Chelsea and her surprisingly staunch refusal to leave the pirate's ship with him so that he might return her to safety. What a dressing down that had been!

  Shaking his head, he grinned at the memory. So alike, his sister and the woman he had fallen in love with, and yet, such a travesty the two would never meet.

  Not in this lifetime, anyway.

  Straightening, he let his head drop against the back of the divan and released a ragged sigh.

  “Ah, Chelsea, how you would have loved her,” he whispered brokenly into the silence of the room, speaking to the ghost of the spirited, achingly beautiful woman who lived on in his heart and head. “Indeed, the two of you would have gotten along famously.”

  8

  Tristan was late to breakfast the following morning. Nights were the worst for him, and as had been the usual for months now, he had been unable to sleep until dawn began to creep across the sky.

  By the time he made it down to the dining room, most of the family had already eaten and gone back to their rooms to prepare for the day. Amelia had elected to have a tray brought up to her chamber and other than his dear elder brother, who had not yet descended to join him, there was no one but Phoebe and Lady Claire in attendance when he sauntered into the room.

  Waiting to see the monster again, he thought. The woman killer.

  Lack of sleep was his only excuse when a derisive snort slipped past his guard, but he refused to beg pardon for it. Instead, he moved to the sideboard, joining Lady Claire where she stood picking at the choices before her to fill his plate.

  The instant he drew near, she stepped quickly away, making haste to find her seat at the table.

  “Stop being so damned skittish!” Tristan snapped. Stepping into her direct path, he glared hotly at her, defying her to attempt to side-step him once again as she attempted to make her way around the table. “I may be guilty of having killed one woman but you may rest assured I have absolutely no intention of doing harm to the future Duchess of Rothwyn.”

  “Nor will you take that tone with her again, if you value your tongue,” Lucien warned from the open doorway where he lounged indolently, one shoulder propped against the frame.

  Tristan scoffed yet again at the seriousness underlying the slightly teasing tone of his brother's warning. “She was brave enough to give me a tongue-lashing in front of the whole family yesterday, Lucien. I hardly think a night of rest will have diminished her fiery courage.”

  He peered across the short space between them at Claire. “Where is your bravado today, my lady?” he needled, daring her with his eyes to deny him the fight he seemed to need.

  Her chin lifted.

  “Within my reticule, my lord. Shall I fetch it and draw forth a portion for you? It looks as if you'll be needing it long before I,” she offered in return with a quick tilt of her head in Lucien's direction, silently warning him he should tread lightly.

  Tristan glanced back at his brother, noting once again the bright gleam of pride in his eyes when he looked at his lady. Lucien seemed inordinately pleased to see Lady Claire's show of courage as she stood her ground in the face of the monster, and despite the high level of intolerance he had been feeling moments before, Tristan felt something akin to respect rising inside him.

  For the longest moment, he merely stared at her, as if he were trying to determine the depths of her mettle. She refused to relinquish eye contact, though she did ease her own plate to safety upon the Battenburg lace covered breakfast table, surreptitiously sliding it into place while daring him with her eyes to challenge her further.

  A chuckle burst from his lips before he could call it back. Placing his half-filled plate on the sideboard, he motioned for her to come closer. “Come here.”

  Opening his arms wide, he said, “I promise I am harmless before I've had my breakfast, Lady Claire. After the hunger beast is appeased, however...”

  When she hesitated, her gaze slipping to Lucien for direction, he let his words trail off, purposely leaving a hint of doubt for her to ponder, and waited. Was his brother's future wife really as stalwart as she seemed? Or would she show herself possessed of a healthy bit of cowardice by turning away and looking to Lucien for protection instead?

  After a brief moment of wary hesitance, she stepped easily into his embrace and though he did not fully understand why, he, too, felt a sudden burst of pride at her deliberate show of courage. Hugging her close, he whispered, “Welcome to the family, Lady Claire. I do believe you are precisely what Lucien deserves, and more.”

  Lucien sauntered further into the room and around the table to his usual place. “And what would that be, Tristan?”

  “One would hope for a shrew at least, or a termagant at best, but it seems this one is neither.” Gathering up his plate, Tristan winked at Claire. “She is far too mild mannered and lovely, Lucien, but I suppose I could give up a portion of my day to instruct her in the fine art of proper defiance.”

  “As you did with Phoebe? No thank you, brother,” Lucien returned, and Tristan winced. He had fostered more than a little rebellion in his little sister though he had not realized he was doing so while he encouraged her independence at an early age.

  Lucien stepped to the sideboard and quickly filled a plate for himself before joining Tristan, Claire, and a still silent Phoebe at the table. “I have had enough of defiant females.”

  “Oh? So what do you intend to do with us, Lucien?” Alaina asked, padding into the room, her feet bare and her tone cheeky. “When it comes time for Em and I to take our bow, I do believe you will find Phoebe to have been mild in comparison.”

  “I shall have Claire foist you off upon the first eligible male to darken our door,” he promised, one brow rising, his tone and expression such that even Tristan was left uncertain as to whether or not he was teasing yet again, or if he was, indeed, quite serious.

  “As you did with Phoebe?” Tristan asked, his question hitting a mark he had not purposely targeted, if the change in Lucien's face was an accurate measure by which to judge, but it was as good a lead-in to what he wanted to speak to Lucien about as any.

  His brother's formerly pleasant expression darkened. “Claire merely suggested to me that Phoebe was capable of making up her own mind, and since the matter did concern her, Tris, I determined Claire was right.”

  “Since when do the men in this family defer to
the females?” Tristan shook his head in disgust. Did Lucien not realize the position he had put their sister in? He had to have known Phoebe was just the type of person to offer herself up as an easy sacrifice, but it was obvious he had no clue how unnecessary such a sacrifice had been. As he had told Phoebe the night before, he was already damned. “You've gone soft, Lucien.”

  “Would you care to test that, brother? I daresay you'll think differently when your lips are speaking to my fists.” There was a weariness in Lucien's tone belying the fire in his gaze. Snatches of their heated last words before he had disappeared waltzed through Tristan's thoughts, and he would have deferred, had Phoebe not interrupted before he could.

  “Boys, please,” she drawled prettily, and for the first time since he had entered the room, he looked directly at her. She was curled up on her chair, one foot propped on the seat, a knee protruding from a wrapper that was both askew and only half-tied. Her hair was awry and her eyes were puffy and red and still swollen with sleep. Like Alaina, she wasn't wearing shoes.

  “I should like to enjoy my breakfast without having to fend off an endless stream of needles and barbs and thinly veiled threats between the two of you.”

  “Then you should have risen early enough to escape those things, sister dearest. Or did your anger keep you up too late last night?” Tristan teased.

  “Stubborn males,” she grumped, but then she straightened, her gaze meeting his. “Can we tour the grounds this morning, Tristan? I thought we might spend the early hours together, catching up on what you've been up to while you were away—”

  “You mean other than stealing onto pirate ships and killing women?” he interrupted, keeping his tone light, but it still managed to draw a fierce glare from her.

  “Yes, other than that,” she bit out. “Tony often regales us with tales of his travels when he returns from an extended visit across the seas. I thought perhaps you might have collected an interesting tidbit or two to share during the past two years.”

  “Did you visit the Colonies?”

  This was from Emily, who hadn't said two words, not even 'good morning' since she had quietly slipped into the dining room a moment before.

  He studied her now, taking in the differences two years had made in her appearance. She was a good half a head taller than he remembered and she had grown breasts. So had Alaina, for that matter, he realized, casting a glance in her direction, too, before answering Emily's question. Both girls had begun to blossom into lovely young women—ladies who would soon be attracting the eyes of far too many roguish males—men exactly like the kind he had been.

  But that was before Chelsea.

  He was different now, but the change had come far too late to be of benefit to his sisters, and the thought pained him. If only he had checked the cabin before pulling that trigger. If he would have lit a lantern, a match...anything that would have allowed him to ascertain that the shadowy figure in the cabin was actually the man he had come to detain....

  The room had grown silent and he glanced around to see five sets of eyes on him, waiting to hear his reply. He cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact, we did, Em. But sadly, there were no Indians. Only a few wealthy merchants attempting to add to their coffers by whatever means, both fair and foul. Mostly foul.”

  His gaze moved back to Alaina. “Why have you two grown so much?”

  Ignoring him, she said, “Tony tells us the land is beautiful. I think I should like to see it someday.”

  Lucien chuckled. “Are you certain, Alaina? You have yet to tuck all of England neatly under your dainty little thumb.”

  The look she gave him spoke volumes. “Which is why I said someday, Lucien. Weren't you listening at all?” she teased pertly.

  Phoebe got up to select a few choice morsels from the sideboard for her own neglected plate. “Sebastian and Adrien will be going quite regularly now. To the Colonies,” she explained. “Perhaps not personally, but their shipping lines are bound for several ports there. Captain Osbourne told me the Wyndham-Locke fleet has agreements with several prominent merchants. Perhaps you could book passage on one of their ships, Alaina.”

  “Or, perhaps she could stay here with the rest of you, Phoebs. She is but a child,” Tristan reminded her. “Do not go putting such outlandish notions in her head.”

  “There is nothing outlandish about wishing to see the world, Tristan. Lest you forget, that is precisely what you did,” Alaina reminded him.

  “Yes, and my excursions, such as they were, landed me in Newgate if you will recall.”

  Phoebe scoffed. “I believe there was more to your stay in Newgate than a visit to the Colonies, Tris, but we shall discuss those reasons at length some other time. For this morning, however, I would love to know if I should expect you to join me at the stables after breakfast.”

  He nodded. “Aye, I will join you. But I must speak with Lucien ere we go, so there is no need to rush through your toilette.”

  Phoebe made a face at him. “You may rest assured I shall take great care with my grooming this morning. Or have you neglected to recall that Edward will be coming around to collect me later, in the afternoon?”

  “Mr. Claybourne,” he grumbled. “You should not be calling him by his Christian name, Phoebs. It is not proper.”

  “We are betrothed, Tristan. I hardly doubt anyone will be shocked by my use of his given name. But what is this thing between the two of you? You've barely been introduced. There hasn't been time for you to form an opinion of him, and yet it is quite obvious you have,” she pointed out between bites. “Why do you dislike him so? He has been quite wonderful thus far.”

  Tristan laid his fork carefully aside on the napkin beside his plate and turned a scowl on her. “Which, I presume, means the two of you have shared at least one stolen kiss?”

  “That is none of your business,” she informed him, but he could see the tell-tale blush warming her cheeks and how she refused to meet his gaze. He glanced at Lucien, one brow arched in question, as if asking whether or not he had known how serious things had become between their sister and the Claybourne chap. Lucien merely stared back, his expression closed.

  “I suppose I should take your sudden aversion to staring at my handsome face as a yes?” he asked, a bit of warning in his tone. If she agreed, he would have grounds to speak with Lucien about keeping them apart. If she said no, he would know she was lying.

  But this Phoebe was different from the girl she had been when he had left Rothwyn House many months ago, he decided, because she merely grinned at him, her own brow arched high, and said, “You may take it any way you like, Tris, but it will make no difference in my grand decision to sacrifice my future for your safety.”

  “Such cheek,” Lucien declared, staring at Phoebe through narrowed lids. “Phoebe, cease baiting your brother, please—at least until breakfast is done.”

  “Of course, Lucien,” she obediently agreed. “I shall simply bait him later. At my leisure, of course.”

  Later turned out to be too late, however, because by the time Tristan emerged from Lucien's study, Edward was already coming up the drive. Phoebe glared down at her brother from the top of the stairs. “It seems you and I shall have to put off our reunion until later.”

  “Not at all,” Tristan countered. “We shall have all afternoon to discuss how wrong you've been, dearling.”

  Phoebe opened her mouth to offer a scathing retort but the glint of triumph in his gaze gave her pause. “What do you mean we shall have all afternoon? What have you done, Tristan?”

  “I have done nothing, Phoebe,” he declared. “And for today, at least, neither shall you.”

  One hand on the banister, Phoebe made her way cautiously down the stairs, her eyes locked with his while an uneasy suspicion grew inside her. At any second now, Severn would open the door to admit her betrothed, and she wanted to be near in case the need arose for her to step between him and her brother again, but she also wanted to know exactly why Tristan was feeling so triump
hant his eyes fairly gleamed with it.

  “Stop speaking in riddles, Tris. I am no longer a child and do not find such games amusing. Neither shall I? I do not understand. What, precisely, did you mean by that remark?”

  Lucien stepped out of his study, offering little more than a cursory glance before greeting her with a nod. Then, he left the both of them to stare at his back while, after brushing Severn away, he opened the door to admit Edward into Rothwyn House himself. “Claybourne! So happy to see you. Please, do come in and take these bickering children off my hands, won't you?”

  He motioned with a sweep of his hand toward the stairs and Phoebe arched a brow when Edward drew up at the sight of Tristan standing beside her, dressed as if he, too, were about to partake in an outing for the day.

  “You?”

  “Aye, Claybourne,” Tristan put in, his fingers and attention on busily straightening his cuffs. “Since Lucien has neglected to inform you, I shall take great pleasure in doing so myself.”

  Sleeves in order at last, he tugged at the lapels of his overcoat and rocked forward onto his toes. “I am coming along with the two of you as Phoebe's chaperon for the day. Isn't that wonderful news?”

  Edward's expression immediately turned sour but his lips turned up in a tight smile. “Splendid. With Phoebe along, I shall have the perfect alibi. No one will ever know it was I who disposed of your sorry hide in the river along the way.”

  Phoebe turned to Lucien, her eyes silently pleading. “Tell me you aren't serious. These two will kill each other before the day is out.”