Married in Haste (16 page)

She was alone.

But he had been here. The edge of a copper bathing tub could be seen from behind the screen and the air smelled of his shaving soap. He didn’t use the perfumed bars so many men favored. Instead, his soap reminded her of warm cinnamon and other spices of the Indies.

A knock sounded on the door. At her call, her lady’s maid, Willa, entered carrying a tray of chocolate and rolls. “Good morning, my lady,” she said cheerily. She set the tray down on the table and crossed to open the curtains. “We’ve about got your things packed for the trip, but it is best you be up and not lazing about.” Bright sunlight filled the room. “Just imagine, you are a countess now!”

Tess rose from the bed. “What time is it?”

“Half past nine. Lord Merton said he wants to be on the road well before noon.” She stopped, her eyebrows coming up in surprise at the haphazard order of the blankets. “My, it looks like the two of you did a bit of wrestling last night.”

Tess felt herself blush from her head to her toes. She hurried behind the screen, hiding her embarrassment behind her role of mistress. “I need a bath. See to fresh water, please.”

“Yes, my lady.” The maid left.

A heartbeat later, there was another knock. The door opened without her answering.

Tess stuck her head around the screen, fearing it was Brenn. She wasn’t ready to see him just yet. To her relief, it was her brother. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair mussed. She wondered if he’d made it to his bed at all, or had he once again passed out from drink in the library?

He gave her a crooked smile. “Good morning, Tess.”

“Neil.”

“Sorry to disturb you but, ah, it is my duty, you know.”

“What is your duty?”

He made a face. “To ensure the marriage has been consummated. Christopher will ask,” he explained, referring to the man of business who had almost absolute control over their lives according to their father’

s will.

No, not enough control, Tess amended to herself. If Mr. Christopher had been the overseer of her inheritance, she would never have been forced to marry.

Neil threw back the sheets. “Ah, the marriage was consummated.”

“Neil, this is so medieval,” she protested in a faint voice.

“Medieval or not, it is how things are done,” her brother said briskly. “I don’t want Merton claiming the marriage was not legitimate when he discovers the truth about your fortune.”

“Are you going to tell him this morning?”

Neil drew back, horrified by the thought. “Absolutely not. We don’t want him to know until the very last possible moment. Besides, you need time for him to get to know you better. You don’t want him to set you aside once he finds out he’s been duped.”

Duped. She hated the word.

“Oh, don’t prune up,” her brother said. “After a few weeks with you, he’ll be so daffy in love, money won’t matter.”

Tess doubted Neil’s optimism. “But the two of you are signing papers and Mr. Christopher will be here.

Certainly Mr. Christopher will want to see that my financial affairs are in order? He’ll know.”

“He won’t.” Neil frowned. “I told him I’ve taken care of it. Tess, you must stop putting a dark cloud over everything. It will all work out—if your manner doesn’t betray us.”

“Please, tell him.”

“If you want him told, you do it. Of course, don’t come crying to me if he leaves you. Then everyone will know. You will be the laughingstock of the ton. Will that please you?”

Tess could not imagine a worse fate. Her courage faltered. “What shall I do?”

Her brother smiled. “It’s simple. You are the man’s wife. Go with him to Wales. Please him. You know how to control men. Soon, he won’t care about your fortune.” He kissed her on the forehead before adding, “Besides, Merton isn’t without resources of his own. Sir Charles said he owns a good portion of Wales. He’s probably so wealthy your lack of funds won’t matter.”

Knowing what little she did of Brenn, and men, Tess didn’t believe that statement for a moment. She also knew her brother didn’t believe it either—but arguing would be fruitless.

Neil tilted her chin up. “You’d best get dressed. Merton wants to leave as soon as the papers are signed.” A second later, he left the room.

Tess sat down in the chair, her legs feeling as if they’d turned to jelly. She took a sip of the chocolate.

The sweetbitter taste calmed her frazzled nerves until she realized just how quickly her life was changing.

In hours, she would be gone from London, her family, and her friends. Few people would think it the least bit sad. Neil and Stella were actually happy to see her go, relieved even.

The only person in the world who seemed to want her was an all-too-perceptive Welshman. And she was deceiving him.

Worse, there was something disturbing about a man who had the ability to slip past her carefully erected defenses. Something unsettling.

Brenn Owen was the one man who could break her. She sensed that on a deep, almost primitive level.

He’d already thwarted her at every turn.

She could not let him closer.

Tess had not felt so alone since her father’s death. This time when the tears threatened, she did not fight them. Minnie had always said that a good cry was balm for the soul.

But, Tess discovered, they couldn’t cleanse a troubled spirit.

Outside the bedroom door, Brenn raised his hand, ready to knock. He’d met Hamlin in the hallway. His new brother-in-law had briskly informed him that he had inspected the wedding sheets. The marriage had been “well and truly consummated” and he would meet with Brenn in his study fifteen minutes from now to finalize the transfer of Tess’s money over to her husband.

Brenn had been shocked at the man’s callous attitude toward his sister. Inspecting the sheets! It was completely ridiculous—and just the sort of thing to bring out Tess’s temper.

He’d rushed to Tess as quickly as he could, but now he paused. Through the thickness of the door, he heard crying. He leaned against it, listening intently.

It had to be Tess. His strong, independent Tess. She cried as if her heart was breaking.

Flattening his hand against the door, he wished she trusted him enough to let him comfort her. But she would not appreciate his presence and he knew without asking that she would deny that anything was wrong.

Perhaps he should have been more open with her last night. He could have confessed that the fine manor house of Erwynn Keep existed only in his mind, that it would take years of work before the estate matched the image he’d drawn on paper. That it was nothing but a shell of a house now, though he would restore it to its proper glory. But he feared giving her more reason to armor herself against him.

No, he would earn her trust…and maybe, someday, he would earn her love.

Love? The thought had come from nowhere, completely unbidden.

Brenn had grown up knowing love. His mother and father had been more than just man and wife; they had been lovers in the truest sense of the word. He’d realized the difference between them and other couples at an early age. He was a product of their love—and loved by each of them—but their first love was saved for each other.

Because she loved her husband, Lydia Owen had followed the army, a hard life for any woman, even an officer’s wife. Because he loved his wife, Geoffrey Owen had renounced his birthright. And when Lydia had died of pneumonia, her husband had drank himself to ill-health and then embraced death.

The way his father had grieved after his mother’s death had embarrassed Brenn. It had angered him and irritated him…and saddened him. Once again, he’d been left out.

When his father had died, Brenn had driven the corpse back to the small church in Portugal where his mother had been buried. There, he had ordered the priest to bury his father in the same grave as his mother.

Now, he stood silent outside his wife’s door, listening to her tears and contemplating the sort of love that made a man follow a woman to the grave…and knew that he did not love Tess in that way.

It is supposed to be wonderful if you are in love. Her words of the night before reverberated in his brain

—and gave him an idea: if Tess loved him, she would forgive his small deceit about Erwynn Keep. Love did that to women. Look at what hardships his mother had put up with over the years because she had loved his father.

Brenn backed away from the door, knowing he had stumbled upon a solution.

He would make Tess fall in love with him. Oh, perhaps it wouldn’t be a love like his parents had…but then he and Tess didn’t know each other very well. Certainly, she didn’t trust him or else she wouldn’t have spent a portion of the night in a chair. Or have told him that silly story about her age being a secret.

But he’d remedy that on the trip to Wales…and then maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t cry anymore.

Chapter Nine

A few minutes later, Brenn sat in Hamlin’s study and watched his new brother-in-law make himself a stiff drink with trembling hands. There wasn’t much to admire in Neil Hamlin. He was soft—as were so many of the young men of wealth and privilege Brenn had met in London. Hard to believe Hamlin was related to Tess. She had far more fire and pride than her brother did.

“Perhaps you should try a glass of water,” he suggested mildly.

“Can’t. Devil of a headache. Cheers.” Hamlin sucked the glass dry.

Brenn stretched out his leg. It was bothering him. He thought of Tess crying up in their room. He was anxious to leave. “When is Mr. Christopher arriving?”

As if on cue, a knock sounded on the paneled door. The butler announced, “Mr. Christopher.”

Mr. Christopher, a short, balding man wearing gold wire spectacles, entered the room. For all his lack of physical stature, he was one of the most respected men of business in London. His presence reassured Brenn. Neil Hamlin might be a bit of a loose fish, but not when it came to money.

Without fanfare, Mr. Christopher quickly drew out the marriage contracts. “I believe everything is in order as we discussed, my lord,” he said to Brenn.

Brenn reviewed the documents, aware that Christopher had pointedly ignored Hamlin. Hamlin seemed unaware of the snub.

Everything appeared to be as agreed to in the contracts—although no mention was made of an exact monetary accounting of the marriage settlements. Brenn tapped the document thoughtfully with his finger, debating whether or not to push the issue.

He decided to push.

“I notice there is no mention of the marriage settlements.” He looked expectantly to Mr. Christopher.

Mr. Christopher met his gaze with a level one of his own. “Mr. Hamlin personally oversees his sister’s affairs.”

Brenn sensed that Mr. Christopher was discreetly telling him something. He turned. Hamlin still stood next to the liquor cabinet, one hand wrapped around the neck of a decanter as if holding it for support.

Realizing he must give an answer, Hamlin shrugged. “Let us finish the contracts and then I’ll discuss Tess’

s affairs afterward. I’m willing to answer all of your questions.”

“But shouldn’t a monetary figure be stated in the contract?” Brenn asked.

Hamlin dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “You receive it all. Of course, it’s invested. Finish with Christopher and then we’ll go over it.”

Brenn glanced at Mr. Christopher but no opinion showed on the man’s carefully schooled features.

Looking down at the cramped writing covering the contract, Brenn decided his reservations were groundless. After all, it was common knowledge that Tess was an heiress.

Dipping the pen in ink, he scratched his name at the bottom of all four copies. Two were for himself, one for Hamlin, one for Mr. Christopher as the Hamlin family executor.

Hamlin wobbled forward and signed his name. Mr. Christopher served as witness. With the fastidiousness inherent to his business, Mr. Christopher then sanded the signatures and rolled the documents into scrolls. “Do you wish to take your copies of the document with you, my lord?”

“I’ll take one. Have the other delivered to Rupert Goining on Beckon Road,” Brenn said. “He’s my man.”

“Ah, I think well of Mr. Goining,” Mr. Christopher said.

“He speaks highly of you also.”

“I shall see it delivered to him. Now, if our business is concluded, I shall take my leave.”

“Yes, yes,” Hamlin quickly interjected. “You are free to go, Christopher. I’ll be round to see you next Tuesday as usual.”

“Yes, sir.” Christopher paused by the door. “May I again offer my congratulations, Lord Merton? Your wife is a singularly lovely and gracious woman.”

Obviously the man had never been on the sharp end of Tess’s tongue. Brenn smiled with genuine amusement. “Thank you, Mr. Christopher.”

The accountant hesitated as if he had something else he wished to say.

“Yes?” Brenn prompted. The man was a financial genius. Brenn wanted to hear his opinions.

Mr. Christopher glanced at Hamlin. A small crease of disapproval appeared on his forehead, but when he shifted his gaze back to Brenn, his decision to leave well enough alone was plainly written on his face.

“I wish you all the best, my lord.” Mr. Christopher left the room.

Brenn had the premonition that Mr. Christopher had wanted to warn him about something. He stared at the door the accountant had just used.

“That man’s a cold fish,” Hamlin declared. “Drink to your health, Merton? And to a safe journey?”

Brenn rose and removed the glass from his brother-in-law’s hand, setting it on the table. “I want to talk about the marriage settlements.”

“Oh.” Hamlin smiled at him.

Brenn smiled back, a small smile, one without amusement. “The settlements.”

Hamlin walked around his desk. “Well.” He “ahemed,” and then reached into a drawer, pulling out a stack of papers. “I’m never certain how much it is at any one time. But it is considerable,” he added quickly.

“Certainly you have a general idea of the figure?”

Hamlin shuddered as if such crass accounting was beyond good taste. “I never keep that sort of thing in my head. Too dangerous.”

Such a verdict didn’t surprise Brenn. “Well, do you have it written down somewhere?” he persisted.