His Unexpected Bride (15 page)

“If you had not, someone else was sure to.” A tight smile stretched her lips uncomfortably. “With my luck of late, it would have been Mrs. Livingstone herself when I chanced to pass her on the street.”

“That is possible.”

“What?” She had not guessed Cameron's mistress might be found so close to his house.

He walked to a table set in a corner of the parlor. Picking up a miniature, he said, “Just so you will know, this is Pamela Livingstone.”

“He keeps a portrait of her in the parlor?”

“Where everyone can see it?” Mr. Knox chuckled coldly. “You must set aside your country ways, Lady Hawksmoor. An unmarried man flaunts his mistress, especially when she is as comely and refined as Pamela Livingstone.” He handed her the portrait.

Tess looked down at the woman's face as Mr. Knox bid her a good day and took his leave. He was right. This woman was extraordinarily beautiful, with an ebullience that burst forth even from the portrait that had not been done by a very skilled artist.

We are lucky I am a second son
.

Cameron's words resounded through her mind. For the first time, she realized he might have been speaking more about his good fortune than hers. He had a wife, so he did not have to worry about friends matchmaking for him, and he had his stunning mistress to warm his bed. Yes, he was a very lucky man.

And so was Tess lucky. 'Twas her misfortune all her luck now was bad.

Eleven

“Lady Hawksmoor?”

From beyond her closed bedroom door, Tess heard her name called in the apologetic tone which suggested Harbour would have preferred not to deliver this message. In her short time in this strange household, she had learned the butler served as a gauge for what was happening elsewhere in the house. If Harbour was distressed, something was about to change in the house. She hoped it would be for the better.

How could it be for the worse? She had not spoken with Cameron for the past two days, and she was not sure even if he was here in the house. Heavy, cold rain had kept her imprisoned here, going out only into the kitchen garden to find food for Heddy. She had spent time trying to read one of the books from the library and making little progress in writing a letter to Papa. Complaining that she felt abandoned would gain her nothing, and she had nothing else to write. What good would it do to tell him she was appalled to learn her husband was continuing to call on the mistress he had kept before he married her?

She was tempted to laugh at her own silly reaction. She should not care that Cameron kept a convenient somewhere near Grosvenor Square. It was not as if he had married her because he had professed to love her. This marriage was a bother to him, and he clearly did not intend to allow it to intrude on the life he had made for himself in Town.

As for her … Tess sighed as she shifted in the comfortable chair by the window. Watching the traffic rushing through the rain was silly. She had spent the past hour looking through the arched window to the street below.

Before her abigail could answer the door, it opened. She came to her feet, too shocked to remain sitting. Harbour always treated her with as much respect as if she had been a long-awaited bride coming to this house, so she had not guessed he would enter her private rooms without permission.

Tension was ironing the wrinkles from his face as he bowed his head. “My lady, excuse me, but 'tis Lord Hawksmoor. He requests you speak with him immediately.”

She nodded, not asking the dozens of questions racing within her mind. Cameron must answer them, not his butler. Her husband might consider her guileless in the ways of the
ton
, but she knew well how to deal with servants.

As she brushed invisible dust from her light green sprigged lawn gown, her stomach twisted. She knew how to live with the servants. What she did not know was how to live with the man who was her husband.

“Lady Hawksmoor, are you ill?” asked Harbour from the doorway.

“No, I am well. Why do you ask?”

“You appear a bit gray.”

Tess hastily rearranged her face into a smile that was as false as her fib. Her cheeks were icy, and she doubted if she could do anything to return the color to them. “I am quite well, Harbour.”

“My lord is very anxious to speak with you.”

She stepped past him, but paused in the hallway. “Harbour, could you bring tea to the parlor? 'Tis near enough the hour for tea.”

“Parlor?” His face became ruddy as he pointed to the door on the other side of the hall past the plant-laden table. “My lady, my lord wishes to see you in his private chambers.”

“What …” When her voice broke on the single word, she choked back the rest of her question. Even the dullest of the servants must know the truth—something was amiss with the marriage of Lord and Lady Hawksmoor. Forcing her smile back in place, she said, “Thank you, Harbour.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Tess edged past him and the planters to go to the door across the hallway. She realized her dressing room must be behind the wall that separated her rooms from Cameron's. When she knocked on Cameron's door, she received no answer. She glanced along the hall, but Harbour must have gone down the stairs. She could not have misunderstood his message. Not when it was so unexpected. Setting another knock on the mahogany door, she waited with as much patience as possible for an answer.

“Come in,” came the call from within.

She turned the knob slowly. Her forehead threaded with bafflement as she pushed the door open. The room was lost to the thickening twilight, and rain splattered against the window that was the twin of the one in her sitting room. In one corner mirroring the fireplace in her chambers, the hearth's gentle glow challenged the dusk. Uncertain, she entered the room. Had she misheard what she thought was an offer to enter?

When she saw a shadow move, she asked, “Cameron?”

“Please come in and make yourself comfortable.”

Tess walked toward where a chair was silhouetted against the light from the fire. This must be a sitting room, although it was far more austere than her room. That surprised her, for the master should have the best chambers in the house. Three chairs faced each other, and a pair of settees were set in front of the window that was the twin of the one in her private rooms. Several framed paintings were arranged on the wall between two doors.

In amazement, she realized Cameron must have given her his chambers. She recalled Harbour's astonishment upon their arrival when Cameron had requested her bags be brought to the rooms she now used. Why had Cameron hidden his kindness to her? She wished she could thank him for his attempt to make her welcome, but that might create more barriers between them. Any sign of emotion seemed to drive him further from those around him.

When she came around the chair, Tess was surprised to see Cameron dressed so informally, with his waistcoat undone and his shirt collarless. She had seen him dressed in something other than but prime twig only twice—the morning when he woke her in her bed and when he had kissed her with such desire at the coaching inn.

A quiver threatened to shatter her fragile composure. She must stop thinking of the moment when her life had been changed beyond anything she could have imagined. Even more important, she must stop thinking of the kisses they had shared then and since and dampen her longing for more.

Cameron closed the book he had had open, turning it so she could not see the title embossed on the cover. He tilted an irreverent eyebrow over the rim of his glasses. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“I never knew you wore glasses to read.”

“I did not before …” He put his finger to the scar just above his right eyebrow.

“Oh, I am sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I doubt if you were anywhere near the field where I last encountered the French.” He sighed and set his book on the table beside him.

It was not a novel, she realized, but an account book. She wondered why he was sitting in this darkened room reading such dry material. Her breath caught when she saw the slip of paper he was using as a bookmark. The engraved address was that of Mr. Paige, the solicitor. Had Cameron changed his mind and had the attorney send to the house the paperwork for a divorce?

“Tess, you need not stand there like a naughty child sneaking down the stairs to view a gathering of her elders.” He sighed. “What has unsettled you?”

“When you did not have someone open the door, I thought I might be intruding when … when …”

“Did you, mayhap, think I would invite you here to wash my back while I bathed? Tess, one would almost believe there was a hint of espousal affection in your disquiet.”

“Then one would be mistaken.”

Instead of retorting as she had expected, he looked away, as if he were embarrassed, and sighed. “Sit down, Tess. I must speak with you posthaste, and I honestly have no interest in the requirements of etiquette at the moment.”

“What is amiss?” Despite the room's faint light, she noted lines in his face which she was sure had not been there when she last saw him.

“Please sit down.”

She did, adjusting the fire screen so she could see him and still keep the flames from searing her face.

With another sigh, he lifted his glasses off his nose and rubbed the twin dents in its bridge. “I usually find exchanging words with you an invigorating pastime, but not today.”

“What is wrong, Cameron? You look positively distraught.”

He smiled without mirth. “Did you ever consider your intuition can be exasperating to a man who wishes to keep his thoughts private?” Without giving her a chance to respond to the unanswerable, he stood. “You should know before you hear of it from the servants that Russell and Isabel were involved in a carriage accident last night.”

Pressing her hand over her heart, which thumped against her breastbone, she gasped, “Was it bad?”

“Yes.”

“How are they?”

“Dead.”

“Dead?” She stared at him in disbelief. His voice held no more emotion than if he was talking of the latest news from Whitehall. Mayhap less. Her single meeting with his brother and the duke's current mistress had been horrible, but the duke
was
Cameron's brother.

As if he could read her jumbled thoughts, he said, “Do not waste any sympathy on them.”

“Cameron!”

“Please lower your voice.”

“My voice?” When he scowled, she added more quietly, “How can you be so heartless? If …” She wanted to bite back her accusation when she saw the undeniable pain in his eyes.

Rising, she put her hand on his arm. She guided him back to his chair and seated him. Looking about, she went to a table near the door where a tray had been placed. She must have missed it before when her eyes needed to adjust to the dark room. She poured a glass of wine from the decanter on the tray and brought it back to him, then knelt by his chair and handed it to him.

“I am sorry,” she whispered. “I should not have said that.”

“Why not? After what you have witnessed, you have no reason to believe there was anything but disgust between my brother and me.” He took a slow sip. “If my words just now suggested that was the true depth of my feeling for my brother, then I am the one who should apologize. I am not expressing myself well.” Rubbing his forehead, he stared at the fire. “I have been told they died instantly, and I am sure that is the truth, for I have seen the carriage. Even the horses were killed by the impact against the trees. I was also informed that riders were seen in pursuit of them. Thieves, it is believed, because the bodies were stripped of anything of value before the watch arrived.”

She put her head down on the arm of his chair. “Cameron, I am so very sorry. I have no siblings, but I can imagine how painful it must be for you, because I recall how it hurt when Mama died. I feared Papa would lose his mind.”

“I am not looking for your sympathy,” Cameron said, his voice again sharp. “I am requesting your help.”

Tess regarded him with astonishment. Gone was the honesty that had sifted through his words so briefly. What had caused the change? Her hands fisted on her knees. Had it been the mention of Papa? She wished she could reveal the truth to her husband—that his friend and his brother had arranged for their marriage and forced her father to acquiesce to their blackmail, but her promise to Papa precluded that.

“Of course,” she said softly, “you have my help. What can I do? If you wish me to have the house opened for the funeral service, I …”

“'Tis not that which I need your help with, because Harbour can handle any callers. It is something very different.” He came to his feet again. Setting the glass on the table, he took her hand and brought her up to stand beside him. He did not speak as he led her toward one of the doors.

The room beyond was lit with a single lamp, but that seemed overly bright to her eyes, which had become accustomed to the dim light in the other room. She blinked, trying to see.

“Come here, Tess,” he murmured.

She started to nod, but froze when she turned to look at him. Past him, she saw, set in an alcove smaller than the one in her chambers, a bed. This one was not carved with all the animals that graced hers, and its drapes were a simple cream. She had not guessed he would stay in rooms so barren in comparison with hers.

“Tess, do come along.” Impatience tightened his voice as he took another step toward the bed. “I thought you were willing to help me.”

“Yes, but …” She found her own voice. Jerking her hand out of his, she said, “I find it uncommonly coarse you would use
this
moment to … to …”

Cameron smiled coolly. Tess did not need to complete her thought, because it was revealed on her guileless face. She had asserted she wanted nothing to do with sharing a marriage bed with him, a wise choice he had agreed with until he could sort the whole of this out. However, her reaction proved she was not as oblivious to the sparks that leaped from her to him with even the most casual touch. A frown curved down along her lips, drawing his gaze to them again. So delicious they had been, a feast to tempt a man who had been fasting too long. Now … no, he must not let his thoughts go in that direction when there was another problem that required more immediate attention.