She melted against him, feeling the planes of his body harden as he molded her against him.
"I'm not angry anymore," she whispered.
"Good." He lifted her against his chest. "Let's go upstairs."
* * *
In the end, Tess agreed to a new gown. It was a small price to pay, she decided, after Leonie had gone to the trouble and expense of the flower-filled ballroom.
That night, as she looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror, she knew that it wasn't only a wish to please Leonie that prompted her decision. It was a very natural feminine desire to wear her first London-made gown. The effect was breathtaking.
She had selected a fabric of cream-colored silk, shot with silver. The dressmaker had worked it into a starkly simple, classically cut sheath that sparkled like stardust when Tess moved. The Langley diamonds glittered in her ears and around her throat. The bodice was lower than she'd ever worn before and a single large pendant, worth a king's ransom, rested between her breasts. Her hair, too straight to curl, was dressed in a high chignon, its simplicity setting off the purity of her profile and the long, lovely line of her neck.
She looked, Leonie thought, as she watched the fair-haired beauty descend the stairs, like a princess.
Although he made no comment, the look on her husband's face was worth everything to Tess. Later, as he stood next to her, greeting their guests, he murmured under his breath. "You humble me, my love. Not in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would have the good fortune to find someone like you."
Tess met his glance, her heart in her eyes. "It is the same for me," she whispered. "Every day, I thank God it was you who was Georgiana's brother."
Lord Castlereagh, stepping forward to greet the duke and duchess did not miss the look that passed between them. With genuine pleasure, he shook Devereaux's hand as Lady Castlereagh spoke with Tess.
"My faith in you has been reaffirmed, m'lord," he said in a low voice. "I'm glad of it."
James did not pretend to misunderstand. "That relieves me." His eyes danced. "However, your concern was unnecessary. I can always handle my own affairs."
Castlereagh grinned. "Again, I'm glad of it," he repeated, before moving into the brilliantly lighted room.
After greeting their remaining guests, the duke and duchess made their way through the people clustered in small groups throughout the ballroom. More than one admiring glance followed the attractive couple as they took their places beside a large banquet table. The massive chandelier brought out hidden blue lights in the duke's black hair, a perfect complement to the silvery fairness of his wife.
As Tess stared at her husband, she was struck, once again, by his striking appearance. The light eyes, so arresting against the black hair and dark skin, were intent on her face. The familiar glint in their depths weakened her knees and brought a flush of anticipation to her cheeks.
His features were lean and hard, meticulously sculpted, as if chiseled from marble. The white cravat against his black coat brought out the contrast of dark skin and white teeth, of steel-blue eyes and black hair, unrelieved by even the slightest shade of brown.
Suddenly he grinned. Tess took a deep shuddering breath as he expertly guided her through the dancing couples. God help her. He was devastatingly handsome. She was thankful he had wanted to marry her, thankful it was love they shared, as well as the searing passion that threatened to consume her heart and soul whenever he touched her. She knew with a dreadful certainty, that even if he hadn't been a gentleman, even if he hadn't offered marriage, there was nothing she would have refused him.
In public, James wasn't a demonstrative man. He preferred to show his affection in the privacy of his bedchamber. But the look in Tess's clear eyes couldn't be denied. Just as the last note died away, he bent down and brushed her lips with his.
The intimate caress was missed by almost everyone except the stranger who stood in the doorway. His appearance caused a stir among the guests in the ballroom.
"Good heavens," Leonie whispered to Georgiana, who stood beside her. "Who is that? I'm sure he wasn't on the guest list."
Georgiana turned to look. Her face whitened with shock and she lifted her hand to her throat.
The boy who stood at the door was young, and of no more than medium height and weight. But his lean, athletic grace gave the appearance of controlled strength. He was dressed correctly, in a dark coat and knee breeches, but the clothing didn't suit him. His skin was deeply tanned, his hair the color of sunlight on cornsilk. His eyes were a tawny gold, angry and accusing, like those of an enraged predator.
He searched the room, the molten gaze stopping, now and then, to look carefully at the features of a fair-haired woman before moving on. He found Tess at the exact moment James bent to kiss her lips.
Stepping back from Devereaux's embrace, she looked toward the door. Her gaze locked with the golden eyes and the impact shook her. She gasped in disbelief.
Tess's eyes widened and her throat went dry. All around her, the light began to fade. Drinking in deep gulps of air she fought against the faintness threatening to envelop her.
Unconscious of the staring eyes, the young man crossed the floor with long, deliberate steps. His head was up and his brows drew together in an angry, defiant line.
"Tess?" James's worried voice broke through the fog clouding her brain. "Are you ill?" He looked at the man bearing down on them. "Do you know this man?"
The boy stopped directly in front of Tess. His eyes gleamed with contempt and rage, and something else James couldn't identify.
In the distinctive tones of the American tidewater, he spoke. "Are you ill, Tess?" he mocked her. "Tell the duke of Langley who I am." His lips pulled away from his teeth in a savage grimace. "That is, if you can remember. How long has it been?" The relentless voice showed no mercy as he answered his own question. "All of seven months, I believe. For some women, seven months is long enough to forget one husband and marry another."
There wasn't a hint of color in the pale ivory of Tess's cheeks. She turned to look at Devereaux. Beneath the drawn mask of his face, his expression was unreadable. All at once, she was violently, bitterly angry. She wanted to lash out, to hurt him.
"This," she said, waving her hand at the young man, "is a ghost, Your Grace. Meet the remains of Daniel Bradford, the man you swore was dead at Dartmoor Prison."
A horrified gasp broke the silence. James watched his mother slide to the floor. He didn't move. A horrifying despair held him in its grip. He looked at the still, cold face of the woman he loved. She believed he had lied to her. He could read it in her eyes. Desperation seized him. He tried to make her understand.
"I didn't know, Tess. I swear I didn't." His voice was hoarse. "I believed he was dead."
Fearless and straight as a lance, she moved quickly. He saw it coming and winced even before the contact was made. Like the crack of a gunshot, her hand came up and slapped his cheek. The sound shattered the stillness.
A red welt stained his skin. Still, James didn't move.
Without a word, Tess walked past the assembled guests and out of the ballroom. Daniel Bradford followed her.
Chapter 21
Walking quickly down the hall, Tess had almost reached the stairs when Daniel caught up with her. Reaching out he grabbed her arm, pulling her around to face him.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
Her eyes were huge and stormy grey. "To collect my belongings."
"You're coming with me?"
Tess heard the question in his voice. She searched his face. He was terribly thin, the bones prominent under the taut skin. Guilt flooded through her and she clenched her fists.
"Did you doubt that I would?"
"Of course." His smile was bitter. "Once, I thought I knew you better than anyone. That was before you married an English duke, barely five months after I was reported missing. The Teresa Harrington I knew would never have done such a thing."
Tess winced, but refused to look away fr
om the censure in his eyes.
"You were not reported missing, Daniel. We thought you were dead."
Against his will, the words burst forth. "How could you do it, Tess? Did you care so little for what we had?"
She shook her head. "I loved you very much," she whispered. "I still do."
He reached for her hands. "Were you forced to wed? Did he threaten you?" Hope shone from the golden eyes.
For the space of a heartbeat, Tess hesitated. A lie would wipe the torment from his face.
"No," she said, at last. "I married Lord Langley of my own free will."
He waited for her explanation. There was none. Finally, he dropped her hands.
"If you've no objection," he said, "I'll wait for you at the American minister's residence."
Tess nodded her head. "Very well. I won't be long."
He opened his mouth to speak and then changed his mind.
Tess watched him open the door and disappear into the night. A blessed numbness took hold of her. She climbed the stairs to her rose-scented bedchamber. Lamplight bathed the room in a welcoming glow. Deliberately ignoring the bed, she threw open the wardrobe searching for the gowns she brought with her from Annapolis. Working quickly, she dragged a trunk from against the wall, and haphazardly began to pack.
A knock on the door froze the blood in her veins. She couldn't face James. Not now. Not ever. On leaden feet, she walked to the door. Bracing herself, she opened it. Lizzie Devereaux peered back at her.
Tess sighed with relief. "Lizzie," she breathed, "what on earth are you doing up at this hour?"
The child's lip quivered. "I heard loud voices and Judith told me Mama is sick." Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. "Is it true, Tess? Georgiana said you are going away."
Heedless of her gown, Tess knelt on the floor and held out her arms. Lizzie fell into them. The tears she had been holding back now flowed freely down her cheeks, wetting Tess's bare shoulder.
"Hush, dear," Tess murmured, kissing the top of Lizzie's dark head. "Please, don't cry."
"Why are you leaving us?" she cried. "Aren't you happy here?" She lifted her head and looked accusingly at Tess.
"Oh, Lizzie," Tess began. "If only I could make you understand."
Lizzie sniffed and buried her face against Tess's neck. "I don't want you to leave," she whimpered.
"I don't want to leave," Tess cried, "but I have no choice. Please try and understand, Lizzie. I made a promise that I must keep."
The child's wet eyelashes brushed against her neck. Tess tightened her arms around the small body.
"Will I ever see you again?" Lizzie asked.
"Yes," she said. "Caroline lives in America. When you are older, we'll see each other again."
"I'll never forget you," she murmured, the words muffled against Tess's throat. "I wish you could truly be my sister."
The numbness dissolved and pain, like the searing of a slow burn, twisted her heart. "Oh, Lizzie," she sobbed, clutching the small girl to her breast, "so do I."
* * *
Leonie lay on her bed with a handkerchief soaked in lavender water pressed to her brow. She watched her son with worried eyes. He faced away from her, toward the window, but the tight set of his shoulders, and the balled fists in his pockets, gave him away. His silence was frightening.
"Are you going to stop her?" she asked, unable to keep still any longer.
He turned toward his mother. Leonie gasped. His ravaged expression, the haunted eyes, the mouth tight with a pain she had never seen before, couldn't possibly belong to her son. Her heart ached for him.
For a long time he said nothing. She waited for him to speak. When he did, the despair in his voice nearly broke her control.
"No," he replied. "I am not going to stop her."
She dropped the handkerchief and sat up. "James," she began, wetting her lips, "you must listen to me." She fixed serious blue eyes on her son. "For years you've gone your own way, refusing to do as I asked, but this time I insist that you listen."
He stared at her without answering, his mouth grim with suppressed rage. For a moment, Leonie doubted her courage to continue. Recklessly, she proceeded.
"Tess is the kind of woman who does not give her heart easily. I know she loves you. Can you send her away with a man she no longer cares for?"
His lips twisted. "How can you have lived with her for all this time and not come to know her at all?"
Leonie frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Tess will never forgive me for this," he answered. "She believes I lied to her."
Leonie's eyes widened in disbelief. "She can't be foolish enough to think you would actually marry a woman who already had a husband."
His smile mocked her. "Tess is no fool, Mother. Unlike you, she knows me for what I am."
The ice in his voice chilled her. She shivered. Rubbing her arms, she forced the question from her lips.
"What does she know, that I do not?"
The firelight flickered across his angry mouth and high cheekbones. He looked up suddenly, startling Leonie with the deadly purpose reflected in his eyes.
"Nothing would have kept me from marrying Tess," the soft voice answered her. "If I had known that Daniel Bradford had survived his impressment, he would no longer be alive."
Shock drained the color from her face. Leaning back against the cushions, she shaded her eyes with her hand.
"May God have mercy on your soul," she whispered.
As the sound of his footsteps died away, she turned her face into the pillows and wept.
* * *
The vessel Daniel had secured for them to return to Maryland was an American privateer. Tess knew the moment she saw it that the slim beautiful hull and proud bow could have been crafted by only one man. Nathanial Harrington's mark was there in the clean lines and graceful sails. Tears filled her eyes. She would sail home on a ship designed and built by her own father.
Because of Adam Bradford's failing health, Lord Liverpool had arranged for Tess and Daniel to be given the right of safe passage across the Atlantic to Annapolis. Tess was sure this act of unprecedented kindness had more to do with consideration for the Devereauxs than any concern for the troublesome son and daughter-in-law of a dying American senator.
Tess looked at the sober cut of Thomas Waverly's clothing and the carefully neutral expression on his handsome face when he conversed with Daniel or Mr. Rush. The captain's gentlemanly manners were in direct contrast to the way he treated her when no one else was around. The dark eyes stared boldly into hers, admiring her beauty, teasing her, daring her to respond. His teeth were very white against his dark face, and his sensual mouth slanted with laughter as he whispered improper suggestions into her ear. The earring in his ear and his deep tan reminded her of a pirate, rather than a respectable patriot loyal to the United States of America.
Although she treated him with icy disdain, Tess couldn't help liking him. He was completely obvious about his intent and went about achieving its end with a single-mindedness that took her breath away. Unlike Daniel, he made it very clear that he desired her company.
It mattered little to Thomas Waverly that the beautiful young woman on his ship had a husband. Early in the voyage, he concluded that the couple were not on intimate terms. The details were unimportant to him. Whatever their difficulties, he hoped they would not be reconciled before their journey ended. He found her alone on the deck, one evening, staring at the white foam breaking against the bow.
Tess was worried about Daniel. They had been at sea for over a week and still he could not bear the sight of her. They shared a cabin, but each night he waited for her to fall asleep before stretching himself out, fully clothed, on the far side of the bunk. Other than a brief explanation of his rescue by the crew of The United States and The Java, Daniel had revealed little of his difficulties during the past year. When Tess asked him why his name had appeared on Dartmoor Prison's roll of the dead, he refused to discuss it. Finally she gave up. When he was re
ady, he would explain. She hoped it would be soon. Annapolis and their future loomed closer every day.
"Why so melancholy, little one?" The low, vibrant tones of the captain interrupted her thoughts. He leaned on the railing beside her.
Feeling more miserable than usual, Tess answered him honestly. "I wish that we would never reach home and I might sail the seas forever."
Waverly looked at her, a strange expression on his face. "That's an odd wish for a beautiful young bride."
"Not so odd," she replied, "when you consider the circumstances."
"May I know these unusual circumstances?"
Tess shook her head, brushing the hair from her face. "No, I'm sorry. I've said too much already."
He looked at the proud set of her chin, the anguished eyes and trembling lips. A surge of possessiveness swept through him. Without thinking, he put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her against him. "Tell me what troubles you, Tess?" he whispered. "I can't bear to see you miserable."
Shocked at his presumption, Tess tried to move away but he was too strong. "Please release me," she said, holding her arms stiffly at her sides. She would not compromise her dignity by struggling.
Instead of complying, the captain tightened his arms, holding her immobile against his chest.
Suddenly it was too much. The humiliating public disgrace, the contemptuous stranger waiting in her cabin, the aching pain of a loss she hadn't even begun to come to terms with and now, this final insult. Perhaps Waverly had heard her shameful story. Perhaps he thought that a woman who had been unfaithful once would be so again. Tears spilled down her cheeks wetting his shoulder.
His hands moved up and down her back. "I'm a man, little one. And if you don't say something very soon, I'll forget that you're particularly vulnerable tonight and show you."
"May I interrupt?" Daniel's cold voice cut through the silence.
Waverly raised his head. Smiling down at Tess, he put her behind him.
"By all means, Mr. Bradford." He waited for the challenge he was sure would come.
"It's late, Tess." Daniel stared pointedly at her.
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