His Unexpected Bride

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “I know about that already. What I wish to know is any information you have about the carriage accident that killed my brother.”

  “And m’sister.”

  “Isabel van der Falloon was your sister?”

  “Jes said so, didn’t I?” He pulled a cigar from beneath his dark waistcoat and lit it with an ember from the fireplace. “Isa always ’ad plans to raise ’erself above ’er station. She got ’er chance when ’Is Grace lit eyes on ’er. She was a fine-looking woman.”

  “And generous.”

  “To ’er family, yes.”

  “And you expect the van der Falloon family—”

  The man laughed around his cigar.

  Cameron gave him a wry grin. He had known van der Falloon must be a name concocted by Russell’s last mistress, but he had become accustomed to thinking of her by that name. Picking up his ale, he said, “You expect your family to be given some sort of settlement that will ease your grief at losing her and the income she would have obtained from my brother when he set her aside.”

  “Thought ye’d understand.”

  “I do.” He dropped the small purse on the table. “Five crowns in there, my good man. Yours to ease your grief when you have eased my curiosity.”

  “’Bout the so-called accident?”

  “Yes. What you told my friends at Bow Street suggested you had some knowledge of who might have been involved in the so-called accident.”

  “I do.”

  “So why are you seeking me out instead of telling the Runner? Other than for the money, of course.”

  “Of course.” The man grinned through the rancid clouds of cheap cigar smoke.

  “Why haven’t you dealt with these chaps yourself? This loss of your sister has cost you dearly.”

  “’Cause it ain’t wise fer a man to put ’is nose where it don’t belong.”

  “So you have said.”

  “And my nose don’t belong in the Polite World.”

  Cameron sat straighter. “Polite World? Are you saying there was more to this than a botched robbery?”

  “Aye.” He rubbed his chin again, and Cameron wondered if the man had shaved just for this meeting. Not an unwise move, for the man could regrow his beard, and Cameron would never be able to find him again. Many men along the docks were missing fingers.

  “Go on.”

  “Five crowns ain’t a lot, Yer Grace.”

  “It will be double that, if you have proof of your extraordinary claim.”

  “I do.”

  Cameron listened, growing more amazed with every word the man spoke. The man did not embroider the tale. The simple recitation of the facts were even more horrific. Two men he knew had been paid well—“by a gentleman”—to make certain the duke and his mistress never reached his town house that afternoon.

  It was, he realized, going to be far more complicated than he had guessed.

  The house was so quiet Tess could hear the servants speaking in the kitchen as she passed the stairs. Mrs. Detloff had taken the boys to Green Park for an outing, as always with her brightly colored basket filled with toys and tidbits to make all sorts of paper toys. Harbour was overseeing the polishing of the silver. He had told Tess that Cameron would be returning in time for dinner. No other explanation, which told Tess that Cameron must be in pursuit of the truth about his brother’s death.

  She kneaded her hands. What would he do if he found proof of treachery? Or if he found none and had to accept that it was simply a horrendous accident? Then he would have to turn his attention to his obligations as the Duke of Hawkington, and that included obtaining an heir.

  A quiver rushed through her, but she shook it aside when she noticed a motion in the parlor. Was Cameron back? She paused in the open door. Her voice came out in a squeak as she recognized the woman rising from a chair. “Mrs. Livingstone?”

  The lovely blonde turned and smiled. “Your butler is very efficient to find you so quickly, Your Grace.”

  “Yes.” She did not want to own she had stumbled upon Mrs. Livingstone.

  “Forgive me for calling again, but I thought it imperative we speak.”

  “Is something amiss?” She bit back her ironic laugh. It would be more accurate to ask if anything else was amiss.

  “I assume you know Cameron called at my house recently.”

  Tess’s hands clenched at her sides. “No, I was not aware of that, but he has assured me, as you have, that you remain friends.” She forced her fingers to unbend so she could motion for the other woman to sit.

  Mrs. Livingstone’s face lightened with relief as she sat next to Tess on a settee. Grasping Tess’s hand, she said, “He called on me because he was upset about some words you had exchanged.”

  “He told you of that?”

  “Not outright, but I know him well enough to know what is distressing him.”

  “Me!”

  “Yes, you.” Mrs. Livingstone smiled. “Do not look so grim. You are not directly the cause of his distress. He is creating it by refusing to acknowledge the truth—that he is falling in love with you.”

  “Absurd!” Tess surged to her feet, unable to sit when her heart was leaping with joy. Silly joy, for the very idea Cameron would fall in love with a woman he had married by mistake was ludicrous.

  “Is it? You are in love with him, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Mrs. Livingstone chuckled softly. “No wonder the two of you are upsetting each other so. You are very much alike.” She held up her hands as Tess started to retort. “You may argue with me as much as you like, but you cannot deny the truth. You are as stubborn as Cameron, and you are as intelligent, save about the matters of your hearts. Like him, you will not own when you have made a mistake, even when conceding you have would bring you great joy.”

  “I should not be speaking of this with you.”

  “Quite true, and I did not come here to discuss this with you. I came here to urge you to speak honestly to Cameron. He is, as you said, someone I consider a friend. I believe you and I could have been friends, too, if circumstances had been different.”

  Threading her fingers together, Tess said, “That may be true, but as someone who knows Cameron well, you must know he will do everything he can to avoid acknowledging his emotions.”

  “That was never an issue between us. Cameron asked for no emotional connection with me.” She put her hands on Tess’s. “But he has fashioned one with you. I can see you have reached a part of him he has not shared with anyone.” Her smile became sad. “Not even with me, to own the truth.”

  “Yes, I have infuriated him beyond anyone else.”

  “You are helping him to stop being afraid.”

  Tess stared at her. “Afraid? Cameron is not afraid. I have seen the medal he was awarded for bravery at Waterloo.”

  “I am not speaking of bravery on the battlefield, but the courage to dare to feel what is in one’s heart. Cameron so longs to be the man he believes his father was, always in control of himself and never making a misstep.” She smiled as she folded her hands in her lap. “Then he makes the greatest one a man like him can make. He not only marries, but he marries a woman who refuses to let him hide behind the delusion he can leash his emotions, a woman who so revels in every emotion that she cannot curb her feelings, a woman who challenges him to be as open.”

  “Cameron does not wish to change.”

  “What man does?” Mrs. Livingstone laughed lightly. “But you have changed him by making him question his assumption his father’s way is the best one for him.” Coming to her feet, she said, “Promise me that you will continue in this direction, Your Grace. Cameron deserves that.”

  “I will consider what you have said.”

  “Consider it well, for it may be your only route to making your marriage a success.”

  When she heard familiar footfalls, Tess looked up to see Cameron by her sitting room door. He motioned toward where she was sitting and asked, “May I?”

&
nbsp; “Please come in.” She hoped he did not hear how her heart started beating like a wild bird trying to escape from a snare. When he closed the door behind him, her breath seemed unwilling to move out of her chest.

  Her fantasy that he would rush to her and sweep her up into his arms and carry her to the privacy of her bedchamber was dashed when he said, “Sir Walter Long has sent this invitation to enjoy some musical selections this evening.” He offered the slip of ivory paper to her. “I thought you would find it amusing.”

  “You wish me to go to this musicale with you?” she asked as she merely glanced at the invitation. If she had met Sir Walter Long at the assembly, she could not recall either his name or his face.

  “Yes.”

  She could not halt the question that burst from her lips. “But why? After what happened when we went out among the Polite World last time—”

  “It is because of that mix-up that it is imperative you join me tonight. We must assure everyone you are not having an affaire with my good friend.”

  “I will not speak with him unless you are present.” She came to her feet. “Even if he is choking in front of me, I shall not offer him my glass without your permission.”

  She thought she saw his lips twitch, but she must have been wrong because he said, “I have learned you cannot keep your emotions in check.”

  “You have no idea how many I do!”

  “Mayhap, but that could mean you are hiding your true feelings for Eustace.”

  “You think I have a tendre for Eustace Knox?” she gasped. “Are you mad?”

  “It might be the most brilliant solution I can imagine, save that there must be no question the heir to my father’s title is my son, not someone else’s.”

  “You are mad!” She stared at him. “Or is this your attempt to drive me into another man’s arms so you can return to the arms of your mistress?”

  “Both Pamela and I have told you that our affaire is over.”

  “She is not the only woman in London. If you have found another—”

  “Tess, you know I am searching only for the answers to Russell’s death.”

  “Then why are you pelting me with questions about your friend and me?”

  “Because I want you to know what you will be facing tonight.”

  Tess’s shoulders eased from their angry tension. Knowing she might be risking seeing his face lose all emotion as he shut her out again, she stepped closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He placed his own hand on hers.

  “I will be able to handle any comments fired at me tonight,” she said softly, “if I know you do not believe any of them.”

  “Are you asking if I trust you?”

  She wanted to argue that she was asking if he loved her, but she said, “Yes.”

  “My answer is the same as yours, Tess. Yes, I do trust you.” He lifted her hand from his shoulder and pressed his mouth to it. When her breath sifted past her parted lips, he smiled. “You need never ask that again, for I would not reveal to you all I have learned today if I did not trust you completely.”

  As he shared what he had found out in the tavern, Pamela Livingstone’s comments echoed in Tess’s head. Should Tess believe what her husband’s former mistress had told her? Was it possible Cameron was more intrigued with Tess than he had been with any woman? His trust in her seemed to confirm that, but she must not allow her eager heart to betwattle her. He was speaking of camaraderie while she longed to hear him speak of love. As well, he was speaking of a duplicity she had not suspected could exist.

  “If you ask questions,” she said, giving voice to her fears, “you could be refocusing upon you the fury of whoever had your brother murdered.”

  “I cannot let the mastermind behind this evil plot go unpunished. I must know the truth, and for that I need your help.” He folded her hands between his. “You have been more than patient with me, Tess.”

  “Patient?”

  “With my ignoring how I would find a way to end our marriage as I had promised you.”

  She could not answer. She had not guessed that he would speak of this now. Despite his words to Eustace, she had hoped Cameron would have changed his mind about their marriage. She recalled again, as she had not in days, the slip of Mr. Paige’s letterhead that Cameron had had in his account book. Had he been figuring how to pay for a divorce? The cost would be high, even for a duke.

  “First I must discover what really happened when Russell died,” Cameron continued, and she guessed he had not taken note of her despair. “Once I have done that, then we shall take a look at the future. Is that agreeable?”

  “Yes,” she said, although she wanted to shout no! “You need not worry about me tonight, Cam.”

  “What did you call me?” he asked, astonishment filling his voice.

  “Cam. It is what the boys call you, and I fear I have let their habit become mine.” Again she did not add the whole truth. It was simple to think of him as Cameron when he kept that wall between them. When he lowered it, even a single brick, this name had seemed so natural on her lips. “I apologize if you find it distasteful.”

  “Quite to the contrary, for it is the way my father always addressed me. I had forgotten that until just now.” He squeezed her hands gently. “Thank you for reminding me of that, Tess.”

  She smiled for only a moment, then said, “You can trust me tonight, Cam. I will not heed any insinuations about me and Eustace,” she said as she watched his finger glide along hers.

  “Made by others?”

  “Will you be making insinuations?”

  “Not about you.”

  “Only in search of the truth about Russell?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Cam, tell me if there is any way I can help.”

  “There is.” He tugged her against him, his lips on hers. Sweeping her fingers up through his hair, she savored the firm lines of his body … for as long as she could. The questions he would ask tonight might be as dangerous as anything he had faced at Waterloo, because he had no idea who his enemy was.

  Seventeen

  Cameron pulled his gaze away from his wife, who was listening to the music with an enrapt expression. He had planned to look around the room while he considered which one of the guests might be an appropriate one to speak to. The man who had arranged for his brother’s death could be among the guests, but Cameron must not tip his hand before he had some information to point him toward his prey.

  Tonight could be the night that would bring him the answers he sought, but he was unable to concentrate on his hunt for the truth. Instead he kept watching Tess. He had not guessed she had such an appreciation for music.

  When she glanced at him and smiled, his lips rose to return her warm expression. He had been congratulated again and again tonight on his good fortune in marrying such a pretty woman, even though he had seen some brittle smiles when he mentioned her maiden name.

  “Isn’t that lovely?” she whispered as the orchestra paused before the next part of the selection.

  “Very.”

  “Whom do you plan to speak to first?”

  “Our host.” He could not add more as the conductor raised his baton and set the percussionist to a flurry of drumming.

  When her fingers brushed his arm, he put his hand over them, holding them to his sleeve. He wished this program could last for the rest of the evening so he could sit here with Tess close as the music enveloped them.

  Cameron silenced his sigh as he applauded when the conductor lowered his baton for the last time. He came to his feet. Tess looked up at him and smiled before turning back to listen to Lady Peake, who was expounding on each piece of music they had heard. From experience, he knew the white-haired lady would keep Tess busy long enough for him to ask Sir Walter Long the questions that might get him the information he needed.

  Tess wanted to wish Cameron good luck in his search for answers, but she listened to Lady Peake, who was disappointed that her favorite music from Mozart had
not been played. The performance tonight had been more wonderful than Tess had imagined. The melodies had been sweet and Cameron’s touch even more so.

  “You two ladies seem to have enjoyed this evening’s entertainment.” Eustace bowed over Lady Peake’s hand. “You are looking quite enthralled, my lady.” His smile broadened as he took Tess’s hand and raised it to his lips. “And you look absolutely luminous, my dear Tess.”

  “Thank you.” She pulled her hand away. Surely Cameron had spoken to him about the perils of flirting like this. If not, she must set him straight with all speed.

  “Can I hope it is because you soon will have excellent news to share with all of us?”

  “That, sir, is none of your bread-and-butter.”

  “Listen to the Town cant,” he said with a broad smile. “Yet you are being a country bumpkin, Tess. Such matters of heirs are spoken of candidly among the ton.”

  “Mayhap, but not by me. It is no one’s business but Cam’s and mine what takes place within the private regions of our house.”

  She heard Lady Peake’s sharp intake of breath. Curse Eustace!

  Standing, she said, “I think you—” A motion beyond him caught her eye. “Papa!” Tess hated how her voice came out in a squeak. “What are you doing here? You should have let us know you were coming to Town.”

  He gave her a kiss on the cheek. He was dressed in perfect style, looking as if he often called upon friends among the Polite World. “My dear daughter, it would appear marriage is a happy state for you. Knox is correct. You are positively glowing.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled. “Do you know Lady Peake, Papa?”

  “Papa?” Lady Peake extended only the tips of her fingers, surprising Tess, because the lady had been more than welcoming to her. “I did not realize the duchess is your daughter, Mr. Masterson.”

  “Yes,” he said, “my daughter is now a duchess. It is amazing how the fates unfold, is it not?” He clapped Eustace on the shoulder. “Knox, you are just the man I had hoped to see here tonight. If the duchess and Lady Peake will kindly excuse us …”