His Unexpected Bride (11 page)

“Are you going to forget your customary gentlemanly manners, Cameron? Come here and greet Isabel.” The duke's scratchy voice resembled an unoiled shutter hinge being played with by the wind. “She is a very dear friend.”

“Very dear,” seconded the garish woman. Her outrageous accent exposed her low class beginnings in one of London's decrepit streets. Holding out her pudgy hand, she pushed it directly in Cameron's face.

Tess clenched her hands in her lap as she waited for the explosion of fury she could see tensing the muscles across Cameron's jaw. She had not seen his anger explode, and she feared it would be fearsome. She could imagine no other reason why he struggled to keep all his emotions in check.

“Miss—” Cameron glanced at his brother.

“Miss van der Falloon.”

Cameron almost smiled at the absurdly fancy name for this bit of fluff. He forced himself not to look at Tess. If she could not overcome her country manners and giggled at this ludicrous name, he feared he would lose any control over his own mirth. The temptation to grin vanished when his brother's mistress waved her hand impatiently in his face, triumph oozing from every licentious angle of her sharp features. He had thought his brother, now that he held the ducal title, would have better taste in women than the she-cats that crawled through the alleys around Covent Garden.

Miss van der Falloon—How had she devised
that
name?—smiled more broadly as he bent over her hand. Her expression, which revealed a pair of broken teeth, dimmed when he did not raise her hand to his lips. She might have his brother wrapped around her fingers, but not him. He released her hand and folded his own behind him as he regarded her without expression.

Not willing to be defeated by a show of good manners, she put her hand on Russell's arm and cooed, “My dear, dear Russell 'as been so anxious fer ye and me to meet. When 'e 'eard ye'd returned to Town, 'e positively leaped outta our bed to rush to call 'pon 'is little brother.”

Cameron's jaw tightened with the curses he wanted to let fly. How could Russell parade this tawdry woman through Cameron's house and through Town? Did Russell believe Cameron would accept this strumpet when both of them knew Russell would soon tire of her and seek another bed? If Russell thought—

“Please sit,” came a melodic voice from beside him, “and I shall ring for some hot chocolate. The morning air still has a chill in the wake of last night's rain, doesn't it?”

He turned to see Tess coming to her feet. She was smiling, every inch the gracious hostess who would not be unsettled even if the Russian army marched through the parlor. As her hand swept out toward the settee, he caught it in his. Too tightly, he realized when she winced, her smile faltering.

He let his gaze linger on her, pleased by how charming she looked in her simple gown of a soft ivory that added more fire to her glorious hair. Her pretty face had no need for cosmetics, and the scent that came from her was sweet, not thick with perfume like the woman beside his brother.

Cameron's pleasure vanished when his brother asked, “Wherever did you find this lovely creature? I had heard that you had returned to Town, but the
on dits
did not suggest you had brought such endearing company with you.”

“I found her at her father's house.”

His brother chortled. “A bold move, Cameron, but one worthy of a great war hero, I must say.”

Blast and double blast! He did not have to look at Tess to know she was regarding him with astonishment and that gentle aura of disappointment she showed each time she discovered he had withheld yet another fact from her. She had been reticent about the flowers and bushes in the hallway and in her private chambers, but he had seen the questions in her eyes. Could she guess he balked at explaining because to invite her into his private life even that small bit suggested she might remain there? That this whole debacle was real?

The great war hero … Balderdash! He was a coward who had let brandy gain the better of him and steal his wits and his future plans from him in one drunken jest.

“Will you introduce me to your delightful companion?” Russell asked with more than a touch of impatience.

“This is Tess.” Cameron knew he should not hesitate, but he did before adding, “Tess Hawksmoor, my wife.”

“Wife?” repeated his brother. With a chuckle, he walked across the room, steering his garish convenient ahead of him. “This is, indeed, a surprise, Cameron.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“I did not expect to be meeting
your wife
today. I had not even heard you were betrothed. Father would have been very pleased to see you settled. He always said you would be wise and set up housekeeping with the proper woman, and I must say you chose a properly pretty one.” He seemed unaware of Isabel's jealous scowl, and Cameron knew his brother would soon be giving the woman her
congé
if she insisted on being in a muff.

“Not as pleased as he would have been to see you wed with an heir on its way.”

“Ah, that is true.” Russell reached past him and grasped Tess's hand. “Tess Hawksmoor, is it? I welcome you to the family, my dear.”

His quick tug nearly pulled Tess off her feet. As he kissed her stoutly, Isabel fumed. That did not surprise Cameron. What startled him was his own reaction. Before he could halt himself, he jerked Tess away from his brother. Her whispered thanks would not reach any ears but his.

“Do not be a jealous bridegroom.” Russell laughed as if he had made a great joke. “Then she will have the right to be jealous as well, and
you
would not want that, I know.”

Cameron's curse was silent, but he said only, “Tess, please ring for chocolate and coffee now.”

She slipped around him, as ethereal as a wraith. When she reached the bellpull and gave it a tug, he could not miss the dismay in her eyes. He knew it was not because of his brother's overly passionate kiss, but because Russell had suggested Cameron would soon give any wife cause to be jealous that his affections were not offered solely to her. Dash it! Did she expect him to be faithful to this mockery of a marriage?

He could not ask that now. Not when his brother, who could not keep from repeating every bit of poker-talk he had ever heard, was within earshot. Instead he said, “I trust there is some reason for your call at this early hour, Russell. You seldom are up before noon. I collect you are in need of funds.”

“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.”