Tess sighed. ‘What is the point of pretending any more? I know Grey was likely my father’s illegitimate son and not my cousin.’
‘Aah,’ old Leggat said, wagging a gnarled and bent finger. ‘My Jenny always said you were as bright as you could stare. No secret safe around you.’
True. She had overheard Grey and Papa arguing one day, because she had wondered why Grey had asked to speak with Papa privately. When Grey accused Papa of being his father, she had been shocked and then thrilled when Papa yelled right back that it was possibly true. Then shocked again when Papa said he didn’t know for sure, given that Grey’s mother was a damned whore. She’d had to look the meaning of the word up in the dictionary.
It had come as quite a surprise. She’d loved the idea of a brother, though he was never acknowledged as anything but a distant cousin. But she and Grey had talked it over and from that day on had referred to each other as brother and sister. They had always assumed Papa would make things right for Grey. It had come as a horrid shock when there was no provision for either of them in his will.
She ran her finger over the oak trestle table running the length of the hall. Made of one long plank from a very old, very large tree, it sat fifty people and had done so when the labourers would come to celebrate the harvest or a wedding in the old traditional way.
She recalled one specific day when Grey was around thirteen. He’d refused to attend the harvest home, though he’d worked in the fields as hard as any of the other men. When he did not show up for the celebration, Freeps had admitted that out in the fields the men had teased him about his lack of a name. She had gone in search of Grey and found his note in their secret place up in the long gallery. He had always been getting into scrapes and running off, but he always told her where he had gone by leaving a note.
That time, he’d been in the loft in the stables and she’d eventually convinced him to attend the feast. As she’d suspected, none of the workers had dared tease him in her father’s presence.
Frowning, she glanced at Sandford. ‘If he did ever come back here, he would have left me a note.’
‘Where?’
‘In our secret place.’ Though, of course, once Grey got to about fifteen, he was far too dignified to play such childish games. But perhaps now... ‘You must have done something similar as a child?’
Sandford’s expression shuttered. ‘I did not.’
‘Really?’ Had he always been above having a bit of fun? How strange. She shrugged off the thought. ‘I think we should look. Come on, up to the long gallery.’
‘Lady Tess,’ Sandford protested, ‘the house is locked up. How could he possibly have left a note?’
She could not prevent a chuckle. ‘Grey could get in and out of anywhere should he so desire.’
‘Sounds like a havey-cavey sort of a chap to me.’
She turned and frowned at his expression of distaste. ‘Grey was like any other boy of his age. Phin was the same, his mother said. You must have led a very sheltered sort of life as a boy if you never got into any mischief at all.’
She did not intend for it to sound like an accusation, but the pain in his eyes said she had hurt him.
An apology sprang to her lips. ‘I—’
‘Let us look for this note,’ he said stiffly. ‘Please lead the way.’
* * *
Well, at least he now knew for certain this Hammond fellow was not her sweetheart. He could certainly understand wanting to find a brother. It was with a sense of relief that Jaimie followed her up the winding staircase to the medieval long gallery that took up one side of the square courtyard around which the house was built. The Ingrams had certainly been wealthy in their time. The patterned brickwork in the courtyard would have cost a fortune, as would the display of loyalty by way of plaster likenesses of all the Tudor Kings and Queens peering down from under the eaves.
All this talk of hiding notes and creeping in and out of the house by Hammond made him feel...not superior, as he might have expected, but as if something was lacking in his life.
Envy. It was an unpleasant feeling and gave him a dislike for the Hammond fellow, despite the fact that he, Jaimie, had deserved his childhood of misery. Long hours of no company but his own had been justly deserved. He had not intentionally set light to his cousin’s house, but that one action had caused the deaths of everyone in his family except his cousin Michael. Jaimie himself had been left bedridden and weighed down by guilt for years for having dropped a candle whilst hiding behind the curtains to watch the party.
Perhaps that was why, when he’d first met Hester, he’d been fascinated by her lack of guilt at the wild things she did. Wild and free. Her wilful disregard for anyone but herself was one of the reasons he’d married her. At first. Later he’d come to realise she’d been completely spoiled by her doting parents. He certainly hadn’t expected her to disregard his wishes with respect to his half-broken carriage horses, though in hindsight he should have known forbidding her to drive them was a mistake. The word ‘no’ to Hester was like the call of the huntsman’s horn to a pack of dogs—and it seemed that Lady Tess was of a similar bent. The sooner he washed his hands of her, the better.
They reached the landing and he followed Tess into a long chamber. All the windows looked into the central courtyard, as was the fashion in Tudor times. A large fireplace loomed in the centre of one wall and it was to this magnificent structure, with carved plaster decorations, Tess hurried. She knelt and pulled free one of the fire bricks, feeling inside with her fingertips. Shoulders slumped, she sat back on her heels. ‘Nothing.’
Clearly disappointed, she rose. ‘I don’t understand. I felt so sure—’ She bit off the words and shook her head and closed her eyes briefly. ‘I certainly understand why he would not have contacted me through Cousin Phin. There was a great deal of bad blood between them. But to completely cut me out of his life like this...’
Something painful squeezed the air from his lungs. He wanted to offer comfort, or better yet, find a solution to her troubles.
‘Your cousin probably thinks it would not do your reputation any good to associate with a chap like Hammond.’
She glared at him. ‘Because he’s a bastard, you mean? How unfair. While the father escaped the consequences of his peccadillo, Grey must carry the burden for the rest of his life?’
‘I am not saying I agree with it, but it is just the way the world is.’ He spoke gently. In truth he agreed with Tess. The sins of the father should not be visited on the children. Lord knew he did not want his sins visited upon any child he might have in the future.
Tess’s drooping shoulders and hurt expression made him want to hold her and tell her he would make things right, but he couldn’t. She still hadn’t told him what was so important about her need to find this fellow. He could feel that there was something else going on, but she didn’t trust him with the full truth. And why should she? He’d already proved he was not to be trusted by kissing her. Something he wanted to do again, dammit.
What Jaimie wanted wasn’t important. It was the disappointment in Lady Tess’s eyes that he wanted to erase. He remembered only too well how he’d felt when he’d lost his whole family in one fell swoop. He also recalled the joy when Michael had reappeared in his life after long miserable years of regret. Joy and guilt. Michael had forgiven him and was a happy man, leading the life he had been intended for, with no recriminations for Jaimie.
Jaimie had done his best to forgive himself, too, although what happened with Hester had not helped with that one bit. Perhaps the fates were giving him this opportunity to help Lady Tess, to assuage some of his guilt. For clearly, despite all of his faults, this Hammond chap was dear to her.
‘Is there anywhere else he might have left a note?’ he asked.
She shook her head, then hesitated. ‘My old bedroom?’ She grimaced. ‘I wouldn’t have thought so, but I always lef
t the window open for him. It was how he came and went so easily. She smiled at the recollection. ‘I never heard a thing. He was always as quiet as a cat.’
Not unlike the burglars who were entering houses all over Mayfair. The passing thought surprised him. Shocked him. Intuition played a large part in his successes. Flashes of understanding that came from nowhere. The connecting of unrelated things often happened without his understanding.
In this case it was impossible. No doubt caused by his worry that he wasn’t making any progress on the burglaries because Lady Tess had him haring around the countryside on a wild goose chase for a reason she would not trust him enough to fully explain.
‘I suppose we should look, just in case,’ she said, her expression filling with cautious hope.
‘I suppose we should.’ He couldn’t keep the irony from his voice.
Good heavens, what would his father have thought of all this? He tried to recall that worthy gentleman’s face, a word of wisdom to fit the situation, but nothing came to him. Nothing, because he was too busy watching the sway of Lady Tess’s lovely rear end as she strode to the other end of the gallery. A sight as enticing as any he’d ever seen.
What was it about this young lady that called so strongly to his baser instincts? She was a lady, for heaven’s sake. A noblewoman who should be treated with the utmost respect. Not lusted after. One did not lust after ladies of the ton. It simply wasn’t done. Especially if they were single. That led in only one direction. To the altar.
At the door, she glanced back impatiently. ‘Are you coming?’
He’d like to be—Damnation.
He sauntered after her instead of breaking into the panting gallop his body demanded.
Her chamber was not far from the gallery, but up another flight of stairs. While the main window looked out over the courtyard, the attached dressing room had a narrow window that looked down on to the kitchen garden and an ancient quince tree close enough to act as a convenient ladder. Yes, he could certainly see a young, fit boy making the climb without difficulty.
Tess, meanwhile, was opening drawers and the clothes press, tossing the contents aside in her haste. Finally, she let go a sigh and plonked down on the edge of the steps to the bed. ‘Nothing.’
The first place she had looked was the small trinket box on the dressing table, turning over its contents, while anyone could see there was no piece of paper inside.
Fingers pressed to her temples she shook her head. ‘I hoped he might have returned the bracelet, hidden it amongst some of these things...’
She continued to search while Jaimie inspected the window in the dressing room and saw the latch was not locked. He clicked it into place without thinking.
When he returned to the bedchamber Lady Tess was on her knees in front of a trunk. She was tossing things on the floor at a feverish rate. One look at the tension of her shoulders told him she was angry. Not simply angry. Furious.
‘Lady Tess.’
She glanced up, then went back to heaving items on to the floor, shoes, scarves, garters all spilling on to the rug around her knees.
He crouched beside her. ‘Tess, calm down. I fear the bracelet is not here.’
She gazed at him, her eyes full of anger and betrayal. ‘He promised to always be here for me. In the end neither he nor Father kept their word. Grey knew what that bracelet meant to me.’
‘Because it was your mother’s?’ Jaimie hazarded, wondering if offering to buy her another would help. Hester had accumulated gewgaws in the way of a jackdaw.
‘According to my cousin, Mr Stedman bought up my father’s debts as a favour to him in exchange for my hand in marriage.’ She swallowed. ‘I hoped to use the diamonds to pay him off.’
This was her reason for needing the bracelet so badly? ‘Stedman will forgive Rowan the debt in exchange for your hand?’
‘I gather so. I thought I could settle the debt another way.’
He frowned. ‘This debt you speak of is not yours to pay. Rowan inherited the title and the wherewithal to pay it off, so it is his responsibility, not yours.’
‘Rowan has his own debts. He asked for my help.’
‘And threatened to send you off to Yorkshire if you did not do so.’
‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘I thought marriage would be a far better fate. Now I am not so sure. But I gave my word.’
The man was a damned mushroom. ‘You are more than a match for a man like Stedman. You’ll have him eating out of your hand in no time.’ He tried to inject humour into his voice, hoping to forestall what looked like tears glinting in her velvety-brown eyes. Hester had never wept. She had stormed and argued and made everyone miserable until she got her own way. ‘Please. Don’t cry.’ He fumbled for a handkerchief.
She waved it away. ‘I’m not crying. I’m angry.’ She leapt to her feet and strode jerkily across the room. In one sweeping movement she dashed all the trinkets she had so carefully sorted through, the box, the hairbrush and mirror to the floor. Glass shattered. Oblivious to the broken glass, she pulled open a drawer and dumped that out too.
Unable to bear her anguish any longer, he took her gently but firmly by her upper arms. ‘Stop!’
She glared back in defiance, but beneath the temper was such an agony of spirit, he lost the power to breathe. ‘Tess.’ Carefully he released her arms and lifted his hands to cradle her face. ‘Tess. We’ll find your brother.’
She blinked furiously. ‘How?’
‘Trust me.’
The doubt in her gaze challenged him to the bottom of his soul. And no matter whether she believed him or not, he was suddenly determined she would not marry Stedman, even if he had to take the man out to a field of honour and do away with him.
Tess gazed into his face for what felt like forever. An expectant silence filled the air. Reason told him to step back, but instinct overrode thought and when her eyelids fluttered, her chin lifted a fraction and she leaned into him, he brushed her mouth with his lips, a comforting little kiss that lingered when her arms stole around his neck and her soft curves melded into his body. Such a tiny little thing, but so full of spirit he’d forgotten how petite she was, how vulnerable to his greater strength.
He closed his eyes and savoured the sensation of her soft luscious body flush with his.
Step back, his brain warned. Yet, with a clarity born of instinct, he knew Stedman would never ever hold her like this, never comfort her, never give her her due. Her marriage to such a man would be a terrible waste...
Not his concern.
Gently, he eased her back and lifted her so she sat on the edge of the bed, then forced himself to step back.
Bewildered, Tess gazed at him. Her lips were rosy from his kiss, her breathing unsteady, her gaze oddly uncertain. She glanced at the devastation she had wrought and gave an unsteady laugh. ‘I cannot think what came over me.’
He knew only too well that anger and frustration at feeling helpless. He hadn’t merely broken things, he had become self-destructive, too.
He took Tess’s hand in his, realising she had removed her gloves while searching. Her naked skin was soft and pale and warm. Her hand was trembling. He stroked the back of it. ‘On the contrary, I find you remarkably restrained under the circumstances.’
‘No, it really was a disgraceful display of temper. And then...’ She coloured, a pretty wash of pink rising up her cheeks, before she averted her face. ‘Then to throw myself at you like that? I do beg your pardon.’
Puzzled, he gazed at her profile. ‘I think it is I who should beg your pardon. My attraction to you overcame my good sense.’
‘What a bouncer,’ she scoffed.
He stiffened. ‘What reason would I have to lie?’
‘I know full well I am not the sort of woman men lose their heads over. You are merely being kind.’
Then she didn’t know m
en very well at all. He’d been lusting after her since the moment he saw her dressed as Artemis. ‘Kindness is not my forte.’
She turned her head and searched his face with her gaze. ‘I am not some green girl, you know. I see the way men turn their noses up when a hostess suggests they dance with me. Even Stedman tells me I need improvement. He advises me to go on a diet.’
‘What a dolt.’
‘He is the only man willing to make me an offer of marriage and that’s purely because he wants an alliance with the nobility and we’re desperate enough to consider him. Be honest with me, Sandford. The only reason you kissed me just now was to distract me. To call a halt to my tantrum. It had nothing to do with attraction.’
He hated that she had been made to feel so unworthy by the idiot men of the ton. And Stedman, a man who wanted to become her husband, was the worst of all.
‘I...’ No man of honour admitted to lusting after a lady.
‘You see!’ She made as if to slide off the bed.
He put out a restraining hand. ‘I can assure you, I find you exceedingly alluring, Lady Tess.’
He gazed at her full lips, still rosy from his kisses, and his body hardened. ‘Kind is the last thing you should think me. You make me forget I am a gentleman.’
And to prove it, he gently pressed her back into the pillows until he could gaze into her face. He traced a finger along the soft smooth skin of her jaw, over her lips, and smoothed back the chestnut curls from around her face. ‘You are lovely.’
She made a face, though her cheeks flushed. ‘I am ordinary.’
‘Not at all. If you were, I would not be here...’ He sealed his words with a kiss that started with a tender brushing of lips, a slow exploration of tongues in hot dark places, and ignited to unquenchable fire in his loins.
She shifted, turning towards him, pressing her gorgeous breasts against his chest. He pulled her closer, finding the swell of her breast with his palm, resting it there, until with a moan of pleasure she wriggled against him, seeking more. Gently, he caressed her delicious form while the blunt head of his shaft pushed hard against her hip, seeking its own pleasure. He forced his hips to still, though he did not forgo the torturous sensation of that luscious thigh against his groin—he simply held it in check while his tongue explored the hot wet recesses of her mouth.
Rescued by the Earl's Vows Page 8