His Unexpected Bride

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “Money? Do not be crude, Cameron, and speak of such things when ladies are present.”

  Cameron smiled tightly. Russell had never been averse to asking him for a loan in the past. Twice his brother had even sent a note to Pamela Livingstone’s house to request money to cover his gambling debts because Russell had been anxious not to leave the table when no one else would take his IOU.

  “I agree it is not a subject fit for female company,” Cameron said as he watched Tess give her request to a footman before returning to stand beside him. “I am simply inquisitive.”

  “What reason do we need now that we have your nuptials to celebrate?” Russell laughed again as Isabel plucked a bottle of wine from a sideboard as she passed. When Russell snagged two pairs of glasses, she gleefully uncorked the bottle and emptied it into the goblets. Wine splashed on the dark rose rug, but she ignored it as Russell shoved a glass into Tess’s hand. He held out another to Cameron, who did not take it.

  Raising the glass high, Russell crowed, “To your future happiness, brother dear.”

  Cameron did not move, save to look at Tess. Her cheeks remained gray with distress that she was coming face-to-face with his brother’s mistress. She must learn the ways of the ton were different from what she had known in daisyville. No, he knew Isabel was not the reason for her ashen appearance, because she had been fine until Russell spoke of Cameron giving her cause to be jealous.

  “Aren’t you going to drink to your future?” Russell asked, his smile fading.

  “At this hour of the morning?” Cameron returned. “The idea of a cup of coffee appeals to me far more than wine.”

  “Ever the puritan, aren’t you?” He dropped the bottle back onto the sideboard with a crash. He disregarded the sound and the puddle on the polished mahogany. As he raised the goblet to his lips, he locked eyes with Tess. “How about you, Lady Hawksmoor? Why aren’t you drinking to my toast? Aren’t you pleased with your good fortune in marrying into this family?”

  “I prefer to wait for the hot chocolate.” Relief filled her voice. “Here it is.”

  Tess motioned to the maid carrying the tray to set it on a table between a trio of chairs. A footman had followed the maid into the room, and he moved a fourth chair closer to the low table. Smiling her thanks to them, she wished she could go with them out of the room.

  “Please sit,” she said. “You must forgive Cameron and me, for we are still tired from our long journey from my father’s house.”

  The duke poked Cameron with an elbow. “A good excuse for guests, isn’t it?” Leering at her, he added, “You need not speak gently for me, dear sister Tess. Lustiness is a Hawksmoor family trait.” He put his arm around the waist of the woman by his side. “Right, Isabel, my love?”

  “Wotever ye say, dearie.”

  “I was being honest, Your Grace,” Tess replied, trying to keep her frustration in check. She poured out two cups of coffee and two of hot chocolate. It did not surprise her that the duke and his mistress did not set down their glasses to take one. “I meant only what I said.”

  Beneath the duke’s laugh, Cameron said, “Pay him no mind. He is so seldom in a real lady’s company I fear he has forgotten how to act graciously.”

  “I heard that,” growled the duke. “Do not become all fancy on me, little brother. If your new wife is fatigued because of her journey here from … where did you say you met this charming flower of femininity?”

  Tess’s fingers clenched her cup so hard she feared that she would crush it. She kept her face blank as she waited for Cameron to give the ignoble explanation guaranteed to add to her shame as an unwanted and unwilling bride. When she looked at Cameron, her outward composure almost crumbled, for she had not expected to see an apology in his eyes. He was, she realized with a start, ashamed of his brother and the earthy woman by his side.

  When he took her hand, no sign of his indignity could be heard in his serene voice. “If you recall, I told you that I met her at her father’s house. We were introduced and wed there.”

  “And Mother approved of this?”

  “Mother does not know.”

  Mother? Tess stiffened. Cameron had mentioned his father was dead, but had not said anything about his mother. The duchess was certain to be in a snit over her son’s marrying without her approval.

  Cameron put his arm around Tess’s shoulders. Did he think she was about to flee? Mayhap he understood how much she wished to—to flee back to Papa’s house and the life she had known there. She wanted nothing to do with the fast life of a duke and his mistress and his brother and their friends who spoke of people she had never met. He tightened his fingers into her arm, and she glanced at him. His taut smile warned he wanted to prevent his brother from suspecting anything was peculiar about their marriage.

  Quietly he said, “No doubt Mother shall be infuriated with me. That should deflect her vexation from you for failing to wed.”

  The duke laughed again. “This is so unlike you, little brother. You have always been the good and obedient son, the one who makes the family proud with your devotion to duty. Now you have gone and done something completely out of hand. Could it be you have a reason to have been in such a hurry to make this lovely lass your wife?” He stretched across the tray and patted Tess’s stomach. When she gasped and pulled away, horrified at his outrageous action, he winked at her. “Could it be you want to make your child legitimate? Mayhap you have learned something from your wayward brother.” He stood and lifted his glass. “To the next generation of the Hawksmoor family!”

  “That is quite enough.” Cameron put out a hand to block his brother from reaching behind him for the wine bottle again. “If you want to drink yourselves into oblivion, I suggest you return to your own house, Russell.”

  Isabel pouted, the expression out of place on her thickly powdered face. The duke started to argue, then stammered as he met Cameron’s cool eyes. Mumbling an excuse that Tess suspected was aimed at maintaining his dignity, he stood and put his glass on the sideboard, then led Isabel from the room without another word.

  Cameron turned to her. Motioning for her to stay where she was sitting, he went and tugged on the bellpull. When a maid answered the ring, he ordered a full tray of breakfast. Belatedly, he added, “I assume you are hungry, Tess. Harbour mentioned earlier to me you had not called for a tray to be brought to your chambers.”

  “Yes.” She wanted to say something else, but was not sure what would be appropriate, so she added only, “Thank you.”

  “I suppose I should apologize.”

  “Apologize?”

  “For Russell’s behavior.” He cocked one brow toward her. “Do not say what I fear is in your mind.”

  “Do you profess to read my thoughts now?”

  “No, I think only what I would be thinking if our situations were reversed. I would be sure nothing your brother did could outweigh what you had done in a drunken moment.”

  “By marrying without obtaining your mother’s approval on the match?” She came to her feet and wrinkled her nose as she looked at the wine splattered on the rug. “I may not know the ways of the ton well, but I cannot see how your behavior compares to your brother’s.”

  “You are right. You do not know the ways of the ton. A mistress is a passing fancy; a wife is a way for a man to advance himself in the eyes of his family and friends.”

  “I am sorry I do not meet your expectations or theirs.”

  “I did not say that. I said only I am sorry my brother has been inflicted upon you.”

  “What good would an apology do now?” She met his eyes steadily. “What good would any sort of apology do now?”

  Sitting beside her, he smiled, but the warmth failed to reach his eyes. “You have been prettily spoken until now, quiet as a mouse, according to Eustace, who has not taken notice of how you can be very much the opposite.”

  “I warned you I prefer honesty. You must own this is hardly a normal situation.”

  “True.” He sandwi
ched her hands between his. “I feel compelled to apologize for my brother and his latest high-flyer calling when you have just arrived in Town.” His lips tightened, but he took a calming breath. “I fear you will be unable to avoid them, but I must speak with Eustace about spreading the news of our arrival about London with such alacrity.”

  “Mr. Knox? But he was traveling with us.”

  “I should have been suspicious when he gave that lad a tuppence at the inn.” A wry smile settled uncomfortably on his lips. “It seems he owes me an explanation of why he believed he should do that.” He looked again at the door. “As Russell owes me an explanation of where he found that low creature.”

  “Miss van der—?”

  “You may as well call her Isabel,” he interrupted with a terse laugh. “I doubt if even that is her real name. I never met her before this morning.”

  “Never?”

  “She has never been received at Peregrine Hall. After meeting her, you can understand why. Mother would fly up to the boughs at the very idea of Russell bringing his latest mistress to our ancestral home.”

  She drew her hands away and stood. “As she will be in a pelter to hear you have wed, Cameron.”

  “Quite possibly.”

  “The duke—”

  “He is your brother-in-law. You should accustom yourself to calling him Russell.”

  Color flashed along her cheeks. “I have never met a duke before.”

  “Is that why you acted so overmastered by him?”

  “No. I was not impressed by him, but I am by his title.”

  “I can assure you Russell is not the only duke who takes advantage of his position to seek his pleasure as he wishes.”

  When he stood, her gaze moved along the white shirt covering his broad chest to his linen stock, which was wrapped perfectly beneath his chin. As she met his eyes, curiosity taunted her. Unlike his brother’s glazed eyes, Cameron’s revealed his quick wit and his tightly controlled passions.

  Before she could speak, although she was unsure what she would have said, a maid brought in a tray topped by silver serving dishes. When she had spread them out on a low table and curtsied before hurrying away, he urged, “Eat, Tess. Mayhap this coffee will finally loosen my frozen brain, and I can recall what happened the night we wed.”

  “You remember none of it?” Once she would have found such an assertion preposterous, but she could not disbelieve what was before her eyes. Cameron Hawksmoor was not a man who surrendered his will readily. She could not imagine him drinking until he was so foxed he was made a party to wedding a woman he had spoken to only in passing upon his arrival.

  “Bits and pieces, but what I recall is like some half-remembered dream.” He scowled into the cup he was pouring for himself. Sitting on the settee, he met her gaze without apology. “Mayhap some fresh air will help me remember more. I have some calls to make today.”

  “To whom?”

  “The first shall be to a solicitor who may be able to help us. If all goes as I hope, I shall be hurrying back to tell you the good tidings. Then you can be done with the Hawksmoor family once and for all.”

  Nine

  There was more comfort than Cameron had guessed in seeing how little had changed on the street. So many times he had driven along it, and the brick fronts of the houses had been the backdrop to the anticipation of pleasure. He had thought of this pleasant street many times when the bitterness of the battlefield had threatened to drag him down into melancholy.

  He swung off his horse and handed the reins to the lad who ran forward to take them. Noting the new livery the lad wore, he smiled. His erstwhile mistress, Pamela Livingstone, had made good use of Stedley’s generosity. That was no surprise. Before he had left England, her intelligence had drawn him to her almost as surely as her sensuality.

  As Tess does to you now.

  Where had that thought come from? He did not want to tangle his life up with the woman who was now his wife. Mayhap if they were not prisoners in this marriage, he would have determined if she might be interested in an affaire de coeur. A worthless pursuit, for she might allow him to sample a few kisses, but she had thrown him out of her bed.

  Cameron forced his frustration aside as he walked into the parlor where he once had felt more at home than at his own house on Grosvenor Square. His vexation bubbled forth again when he noted how the room had been redecorated in shades of green and gold. It was far more pretentious than it had been when he last called here, for the furniture was gilded, and the rug was clearly new. He had hoped something would remain the same as before.

  “Cameron, how kind of you to call.”

  He looked toward a tall bay window. As a slender figure rose, silhouetted against the day’s feeble sunlight, he smiled. Pamela was the same. She walked toward him, and he saw she was as graceful as he had recalled during those long months when he had been far from England. Her golden hair was lying perfectly about the shoulders of her cream wrapper, which was edged with intricate lace.

  Taking her hand, he bowed over it, then kissed her cheek and smiled. “You know I would not be long in London without giving you a look-in.”

  “Do come and sit down. You can tell me about all your experiences since you left.”

  “If I not am intruding when you are expecting another caller—”

  She smiled. “Dear Cameron, you know John would be as pleased to see you as I am. He has said so often he is grateful for your introducing us.”

  “So you still are with Stedley?”

  “Yes.” She sat in the green tufted chair, where she had been obviously enjoying a cup of tea when he arrived, for a tray was set in front of her. When he brought a painted chair to face hers, her smile broadened. “He is a kind man, and he is devoted to me. I am grateful, too, Cameron, that you took the time before you left England to arrange for us to meet. However, I wish to know about how you have been. I have heard congratulations are due you.”

  “On my marriage?”

  “Yes.” She laughed lightly. “I am so pleased for you, Cameron, although I should chide you for not telling me about this before I heard the on dits.”

  He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “By the elevens, Eustace is losing no time in spreading the word of my nuptials.”

  “And why not? It is joyous news. So tell me, however did you get your mother to agree to let you wed Tess Masterson?”

  “Your spies are very efficient.”

  “Because I know her name?” She laughed again, the sound like sunlit bubbles bursting in midair. “You must know such a quick wedding in daisyville without anyone being aware of your plans is sure to create a great deal of talk. No one had a chance to debate the planned wedding before it took place, so now everyone feels the need to prattle about it.”

  “It is not a wedding I had planned.”

  “What?” She lost her nonchalance and frowned. “You plan everything, Cameron, to the tiniest detail. How could you fail to plan your own wedding?”

  It did not take long for him to tell her the ignoble tale of how he had come to find himself with a wife. As he spoke, Pamela came to her feet, motioning for him to remain seated. She paced from the window to the table where she kept a bottle of wine for guests.

  “Outrageous,” Pamela said. “It sounds as if Masterson’s hand is deep in this.”

  “She is his daughter.”

  “That is true.” Sitting again, she added, “I have heard nothing of her, for Masterson has kept her secluded and away from his cronies.”

  “Those cronies are not the type of men one would wish to know one’s daughter.”

  She nodded. “I have heard he cares little who sits across the table when he holds the flats in his hands. He is known to be strident when he is in his cups and refuses to listen to any opinion save his own.”

  “In that, he is much the same when sober.” He poured himself a cup of tea from the pot on the tray.

  “And his daughter? Is she like him?”

  Camero
n shook his head. “She is very different. She listens when someone speaks, even though she may not agree.” He chuckled as he recalled her heated words at the inn. “She is not afraid to let one know her opinions, but she has a gentleness about her that is completely contradictory to her father’s character. I suspect she is well read.”

  “A bluestocking?”

  “Mayhap, but her country ways are because she has seldom been to Town.”

  “So Masterson has never spent any of his winnings on launching his daughter into the Polite World?”

  “Winnings? From what I saw at their house, I would have guessed Masterson was at point non plus. The garden—” He threw up his hands. “The garden was a disaster.”

  She laughed. “I should have guessed you would notice the state of the garden. What of your wife’s wardrobe?”

  “It seems to me it is not as fashionable as among the dandy-set here in Town.”

  “Which means you took little notice of what she was wearing.” She wagged a finger at him. “Either I should chide you for paying more attention to Masterson’s gardens than his daughter, or I should wonder if she has so beguiled you that you have taken no note of what she wears.”

  “Feel free to chide me.”

  “Really?” She smiled and relaxed again in her chair. “I think you are wanting to avoid the truth, Cameron—she intrigues you.”

  “Whether she intrigues me or not is immaterial. Nor does it matter that Masterson is so bothersome he would not hear of Tess’s remaining in the country while I made an attempt to unravel this mess.”

  “Unravel?”

  “I am looking for a way to put an end to this marriage.”

  Pamela’s dark eyes widened. “Oh, no, Cameron! If you divorce her, she will be forever ostracized.” Reaching across the table, she put her hand on his arm. “She is your wife, Cameron. Your very new wife. Please go to her and make certain you are aware of what you are doing.”