Following Philip out of the room, Tess was not surprised when Cameron led her down the hall and into his sitting room. Unlike the day when she had been here before, the draperies were thrown back and sunshine filled the room. She let her shoulders droop from the tension left by her fear as she took the cup of tea Cameron held out to her. Sitting in the closest chair, she sipped.
“The doctor seems to think the injury will not cause him to limp,” Cameron said as he sat beside her.
“That is good. He may have nightmares for a while, because he is frightened, despite his brave words. While the doctor was examining him, Donald kept saying he could not believe that nice gray horse would try to hurt him.”
Cameron arched his brow. “Donald is very much his father’s son. Russell adored horses when he was a child. He had spoken of breeding a fine line of race horses when he became a man. Grays were what he planned to breed, but he had only the one, which he apparently lost in some card game while I was on the Continent.”
“My father likes grays, too. He bought one in Town almost a year ago.”
Continuing as if he had not heard her, Cameron said, “When Russell was old enough to invest his money in a line of grays, Father believed it was a waste of money and that Russell would end up owing even more money on bets than he already did.”
“Mayhap if he had allowed Russell to follow his dream, your brother would not have gotten himself into the trouble that brought his death.” She put her fingers to her lips as he scowled. “Cam, I am sorry. I should not have said such a thing about your father.”
“I have said worse.”
“You have? I thought you admired your father.”
“I did, but he was a hard-hearted, narrow-thinking man.” He stood and placed his cup on the mantel. “You look shocked, Tess.”
“I am.” She came to her feet, too, for the pulse of fear still pumped through her. “You have struggled to be so like him.”
“Yes, but not because I admired him.” He walked to the other side of the room and to the window which overlooked the spot where Donald had been injured.
“I do not understand.”
“Mayhap it is better that you do not.”
She bit her lip, not wanting to let the sob bubbling up through her escape and show him how it hurt when he raised this barrier between them. Placing her cup back on the tray, she said, “I should go and make certain Philip does not mishandle Heddy.” She went to the door.
When it would not open, she looked up to see Cameron’s broad hand, stained green from where he had been working with the living samples that had been delivered to the house earlier today, pressed against the door.
“Don’t go, Tess.” The soft whisper of her name wafted through her hair, setting each strand to dancing.
Looking over her shoulder, she stared at his lips, which were at the exact level of her eyes. Her gaze rose to his eyes, but she did not turn as she met the question displayed so vividly there. Ideas of how she should answer it, but unsure if she should even attempt to answer it, drifted within her head. She was caught by the sapphire fervor in his eyes. His yearning swept over and through her, becoming her own. For so many months, they had been man and wife, but strangers. Their cooperation while he sought answers about Russell’s death had made them reluctant partners.
As his gaze moving along her enthralled her until she found each breath matched his, she faced him. Her arms slipped up his back to savor the warmth of his skin through his shirt. Lightly he brushed her hair back from her forehead. At his touch, her fingers quivered with a need she could not name, but which urged her to bring his mouth to hers and sweep away everything save her longing for him.
She flung her arms around his shoulders, which were broad enough to bear her despair as well as his own. Pressing her face to Cameron’s shirt, she closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his heartbeat. The steady pulse helped her hold on to her senses, which seemed determined to vanish into a black void of horror. When his arms slowly rose to encircle her, she savored the warmth she had enjoyed so seldom. He might kiss her and hold her when he wanted to lure her into his bed, but she needed this gentle compassion which asked nothing from her.
Then she drew back. She must not lose herself in this exquisite pleasure when the boys might still be in great danger. She took a shuddering breath as she fought her own desire. First … “There is something I need to tell you.”
He ran his finger along her lips, inciting the hunger for his lips. “Yes?”
“What happened to Donald may not have been an accident.”
Cameron was sure some invisible force had struck him in the gut. May not have been an accident. He had heard those words too often lately. First Russell and his mistress, now Donald. “That is a strong accusation.”
“I know.” Tess’s face became colorless, and her hands were shaking even more than they had been when she was in the children’s room. “I want to tell you, but—”
“But what?”
“I promised I would not.” She closed her eyes. “I made that promise before Donald was hurt.”
He held out his hand. When she put her fingers on it, he watched her face as he drew her closer. By the elevens, he hated seeing her eyes dim with dismay. He wanted to see them sparkling with delight. Even more, he longed to watch them close as she held her mouth up for his kiss.
“Tell me,” he ordered quietly.
She looked past him when a shout sounded in the hallway, but he tipped her face back toward his and repeated his command.
“There is,” she whispered, “a rumor that one of Russell’s sons may not be illegitimate. Your brother may have been married to a Mrs. Baum.”
He released her, but only so he could step back an arm’s length. Holding her so near kept him from concentrating on her words, and her fearful expression warned him that he would be very wise to heed them. “Mrs. Baum? Who is that?”
“Pamela Livingstone told me that she believes a Mrs. Baum was the boys’ mother because of their hair color. You should ask her.”
“Mrs. Baum?”
“No, for she is dead. You should speak with Mrs. Livingstone.”
He chuckled. “You are an exceptional wife, for few would bid their husband to go and call on a woman who was once his mistress.”
“This has nothing to do with you and me. This is about Donald and Philip.”
“If one or both are legitimate, you will no longer be a duchess.” His finger stroked her cheek. “You need not say you care nothing for titles.”
“That is true.”
“It is possible Russell married in secret.” He stroked her hair, but drew his fingers away. He must focus on the danger to Donald, not forget all about the children and everything else as he lost himself in the wonder of her kisses.
“I have sent Jenette to several of the nearby churches to discover if there is any record of such a wedding.”
“It could have been held anywhere in Town.”
“Anywhere? There are scores of churches.”
“That is true. I shall share this with my contact at Bow Street right away. Russell could have married while I was out of the country.”
“But your mother surely would have heard of it. A duke’s wedding is not something that goes unnoticed.”
“It is possible to keep any secret if one is willing to pay highly enough for it.”
“Do you think that is why your brother was being blackmailed?”
“No, for Russell never cared a rap what other folks thought of him and his decisions, no matter how foolish they might be. He always knew someone would come along and help him clear away the mess.”
“Like his younger brother?”
Cameron nodded.
“And now you are again.” She squeezed his hands in a touch meant to offer a connection where he had tried to make sure none was forged. “Everyone should have someone like you, Cam, who is always there. Few other men would be willing to consider there might be truth in a rumor tha
t could deny them the title of duke.” Her lips quivered as she said, “I doubt my father would. He did not want me to tell you about this rumor.”
“I am not your father—nor mine, either.”
“I think I understand that now.”
“Thank you, Tess.”
“Thank you for shaking up your life again?” The gentleness in her smile threatened to undo his resolve to think only of how to protect the children.
“No.” He cupped her cheek and tipped her face toward his. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me this even when your father asked you to say nothing and stay out of what could be very messy.”
She edged away from him. “It is not a matter of trust. It is a matter of love.”
“Love?”
“I have seen how you have come to love those boys as much as I do.”
“They are good children,” he somehow replied. His stomach had lurched and his heart had thudded against his ribs when she had spoken of love, but now his heart had fallen silent. The ache in his middle was not dread that she might be speaking of loving him, but regret she had not.
“They are naughty little boys,” she said with a smile. “Much as you and Russell were, I suspect.”
“You would be right.”
“You must miss your brother.”
He sighed. “He has been gone from my life for so many years that he seemed like a stranger.”
“But he trusted you to raise his children.”
“That trust has been tested now, when I nearly allowed one of them to be killed.”
She gripped the back of the chair. “Cam, you must not fault yourself for that.”
“I cannot bear to lose one of these children.” He sank to the chair by the window. Looking down at the street where Donald had been, he said, “I have lost too many.”
“Your brother and your father in such a short time.” Tess knelt beside Cameron’s chair and gazed up at his face that was more open than she had ever seen it. “I don’t know how you endure it.”
He stroked her cheek. “Tess, you are kind to think of those losses, but I am thinking of others.” His gaze seemed to turn inward, and she put her hand on his arm. She must not let him slip away into his memories as he had too often before.
“Who?” she whispered.
“The names would mean nothing to you, for they were the men who served under my command during the battles against the French. They were more than comrades. They were friends, and I, as their officer, had to choose which one would have a chance at life and which one would risk dying.”
“So you cut yourself off from all feeling in order to make that choice?”
By the elevens! Cameron did not want to answer that question, for he had spent his life striving to be like his father, who had made no secret he believed only fools gave in to melancholy and exultation. A man, his father averred, should keep his thoughts away from the seduction of emotion so every decision made was done so with clear thought.
Mayhap Cameron had learned the lesson well, for it had saved his sanity when he faced the insanity of the battlefield. He had learned to watch a friend die and still keep his mind on his duty. Upon returning to England, he had rebuilt his life with the same common sense.
Only here, where he had clung to the boyish dream of learning more about exotic plants, had he failed to banish emotion from his life. Even so, he had pursued his studies in a methodical manner … until Tess became part of his life.
“Now you understand. I am becoming ever deeper in debt to you, Tess,” he said as he stood. Bringing her to her feet, he let his fingers sweep upward through her hair to tilt her mouth closer.
“Aunt Tess!”
As Cameron released her with a curse, Tess turned to see Philip race into the room. She started to chide him, but the little boy held up the cover that went over the hedgehog’s cage and cried, “Heddy is gone!”
“Where?” she gasped.
“I don’t know.” Tears rushed down his round face. “I carried the cage very, very, very carefully to the table by Donald’s bed. Just like you said, Aunt Tess. When I peeked under the cover, Heddy was gone.”
“She could not have gotten far.” She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him toward the door. “She must still be in my room. It has only been a few minutes.”
Philip dragged his feet and muttered, “It may have been more than an hour.”
“What?”
In a burst of words, Philip said, “Donald and I took Heddy to our room earlier. We wanted to show her our kites that we made with Mrs. Detloff.” He choked back a sob. “She is not in our room. I looked everywhere.”
“She will be looking for a place to hide. Somewhere under a shady leaf or—” In horror, she looked up at Cameron. “Your samples!”
Gathering up her skirt, she ran after Cameron, but his curse as he went into his workroom warned her he had found the hedgehog already. She went in and stared as he picked up a broken pot. The leaves were scattered in pieces across the floor. Although Heddy would not have eaten them, she had shredded them to build a hiding place behind the door.
Tess took the cloth from Philip and lifted the irritated hedgehog, which promptly rolled into a ball, out of the ruined plant. “Cam, I am so sorry.”
“Get that beast out of here.” His clipped words warned how he was fighting to hold back his fury. “If it comes in here again, I will feed it to the closest fox.”
“No!” cried Philip as he came in with the cage. “You can’t do that!”
“Get both of them out of here.” His voice was colder than she had ever heard it, as if every bit of life had been frozen out of him.
“Cam—”
“All of you, leave now.”
“If you are angry,” she said, placing the frightened hedgehog in its cage and latching the door, “be angry, Cam. Do not shut us out again.”
He picked up the torn leaves, then dropped them on the table. “Being angry will gain me nothing now. Weeks of work is destroyed. Flying up to the boughs will not repair it.”
She gave the little boy a gentle shove out the door. “No, it will not, but, Cam, if you—”
Clearing his throat by the door, Harbour could not hide his discomfort in intruding on this brangle. “Your Grace,” he said, looking at Cameron, “this was delivered for you.”
Cameron took the page held out to him. Reading it swiftly, he placed it under his coat. “Harbour, have my horse brought around.” He did not look at Tess as he added, “I must go out and attend to this matter. Stay close to the house. I shall be back within an hour or two.”
She took one step to follow him, but he was gone, the door closing behind him. Her shoulders sagged. So much she had hoped—had dared to believe—that he was changing. She had almost persuaded herself he cared about her and no longer viewed her as a tiresome burden. What an air-dreamer she had been to hope that he would care about her feelings and opinions.
Nineteen
The coffeehouse was far more respectable than the tavern where Cameron had gone to meet Russell’s mistress’s brother. Nodding to several men he knew, he walked to a clean table by a window that gave an excellent view of the street. Anyone who passed by and saw him talking to Todd would know that the Duke of Hawkington had engaged the services of the Bow Street Runners. He did not, at this point, care.
Blast that creature! He should have banished the hedgehog from his house as soon as he had learned it was there. If he had half the wit he claimed to possess, he would have sent Tess back to the country with it. How dare she challenge him to unleash his anger simply because she believed it would make him feel better? Blast that woman!
Forcing his exasperation into submission, he turned his attention to the man seated at the small table. Todd epitomized the word nondescript. His face was unremarkable and his hair a common brown. Of a middling height, he wore clothes that would have made him appear at home in a fine house or in a more impoverished one.
Taking the chair facing
the representative from Bow Street, Cameron said, “I understand from your message you have uncovered something I should know about immediately.”
“Yes.” The man’s accent gave no hint of his origins or his station. He pushed another piece of paper across the table. “You may want to read this, Your Grace. Mr. Knox is a friend of yours, I believe.”
“Yes.” He was abruptly irritated. If all the Bow Street Runners had managed to uncover was that he and Eustace Knox were friends, as they had been since their youth when they were a trio with Russell, terrorizing the countryside with their antics, then this was a waste of his time and his money. “What does that have to do with my brother’s death?”
“Read this please, Your Grace.” The man’s expression did not alter from its practiced smile.
Cameron took the page and scanned it. He read it a second time, wanting to be certain he was not mistaken. Lowering it to the table, he asked, “Why do you believe Eustace is being blackmailed?”
“We have spoken with his solicitor. There has been a regular disbursement of two hundred fifty pounds each month.”
That was the same amount unaccounted for in Russell’s books. As he did not believe in coincidences, there must be some connection, but that was not the issue now. “Why have you gone to speak to my friend’s solicitor? I asked you to find out who was involved in my brother’s death. Surely you do not believe it is Eustace Knox.”
“No, we do not.” Todd folded the page and put it back under his coat.
“Then why are you delving into his private matters?”
“Because it appears he is being blackmailed for the same reason your brother was.”
“Russell?” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Tell me what you have discovered.”
Todd stood. Withdrawing a sheaf of papers sealed with wax, he said, “You should find everything you need to know in here. I urge you to read them with all due speed, Your Grace. Contact us once you decide what you wish to do.”
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