Improper Wedding
Scandalous Encounters
by Kristabel Reed
Copyright © 2016 by Kristabel Reed
Smashwords Edition
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Formatted by: CyberWitch Press
Chapter One
LONDON
APRIL 1818
IT WAS A lovely spring day, no hint of rain, and James Hamilton was exactly where he liked to be—with two beautiful women. He offered his arm to both Lady Octavia Pembroke and Miss Annabelle Barton, and winked salaciously at a pair of passing ladies. As he suspected, the old women gasped in shock and hurried past.
Not without looking over their shoulders once more, of course.
James snickered at their predictable reaction. Oh, how they’d be even further scandalized at seeing him leaving his club adorned with one of his lover’s gloves draped over his shoulder.
“What a fortunate man to arrive with two lovely ladies,” Strathmore said in greeting when his butler opened the doors to the townhouse of the Duke and Duchess of Strathmore.
James only smiled. Lady Octavia snorted delicately, and Miss Annabelle pursed her lips in amusement.
“Oh, Strathmore,” James drawled, “you know I always travel with superior companions.”
Ignoring both Annabelle’s laugh and Octavia’s snicker, James nodded to Strathmore. “Good to see you, old man. Where’s your beautiful wife?”
They’d moved into the less formal parlor, and James made it a point to look around as if the duchess hid behind the furniture. As if his words made her appear, Isabella, the Duchess of Strathmore, stepped into the room.
Her brown eyes sparkled with amusement, and she held a bottle of wine. A rather large bottle.
James looked at Strathmore and, all but drooling, grinned. He unceremoniously pushed his cousin aside and strode across the room. “Cousin Isabella!” he said, then dropped his voice as he bowed in greeting. “My, you grow lovelier every time I see you.”
Which had been months ago now that he thought about it. Really, he needed to visit Strathmore Hall more often. For his cousins, of course. And their superior wine cellar.
“Especially when I carry a bottle of your favorite?” Isabella asked with a knowing twist of her lips. The bottle glinted in the sunlight lightening the room.
“You paint such a tempting sight,” James said dramatically. “One day I’ll tempt you away from good old Strathmore. Or perhaps we can be well rid of him—then it’ll be you, me, and the wine cellar.”
Isabella laughed brightly and released the wine into his waiting hands. “I do believe young Oliver would take issue with that, James.”
“Oh yes, where is that pink-cheeked bundle?” James asked. “We may need to have words.”
Strathmore’s hand came heavily down on his shoulder, but James took no offense. He merely raised an eyebrow at his cousin.
“My son will always best you,” Strathmore said wryly.
“If he has a temperament like his father, I don’t doubt it,” James agreed. “As long as he allows me access to the wine cellar, all will be right with our families.”
“Jonathon,” Octavia put in, “I think it might behoove you to will a portion of your wine cellar to James.”
James met her gaze. “That is a brilliant idea, Lady Octavia.” He bowed to her in acknowledgement. “And one you should seriously pay heed to, cousin.”
Strathmore rolled his eyes, and Isabella merely laughed again.
“Did you manage to see Edmund and Selina before they left London?” Octavia asked Isabella as they moved farther into the parlor.
“Briefly,” Isabella said. “Selina is a lovely young woman. I can see why Granville is so taken with her.”
“Taken,” James said and rolled the word around before shaking his head. “Possibly obsessed, devoted, completely mad when not with her. It was quite the oddity to witness,” he added with an elegant shrug.
“To someone with your fickle taste,” Strathmore inserted dryly, “I can see how you view it as odd.”
“Duchess,” Octavia said with a wave of her hand in a clear change of subject. “Please allow me to introduce Miss Annabelle Barton, Selina’s cousin.”
“Miss Barton is now Octavia’s companion,” James added. “At least through Season.” He paused and snorted. “A bit like the dove”—he looked at Octavia—“guarding the hawk.”
Octavia slanted him a smirk he ignored.
“Please,” Isabella said and gestured to the settee. “Tea is on the way.”
“My regrets, Duchess, but I must take my leave,” James said with real regret. Despite his teasing, when here, he was amongst family. “I have business to attend to this afternoon.”
He bowed in farewell, carefully holding his bottle of wine as he did so. “However, I needed to see the duchess’s beautiful face,” he said sincerely. “And see the ladies through the harrowing London streets.”
“Thank you for the escort, Mr. Hamilton,” Octavia said with only a hint of amused acerbity.
James bowed to her in turn with an unrepentant grin. “I’ll see you for supper,” he said as he took his leave.
He needed to remember to send Digby, his footman, round to the theater. James intended to surprise everyone and take them to tonight’s play starring the indomitable Lavinia Walters, the current toast of Drury Lane.
James watched the streets roll by as his carriage made its way from Strathmore’s townhouse to the more pedestrian side of London, where Robert Kendrick lived. His mood soured with every movement of the carriage. He’d much prefer to meet the builder in his own townhouse or even at his club.
Hell, he’d prefer not to do business with Kendrick altogether. There was, after all, a beautiful bottle of Strathmore’s wine now in his possession that he’d like to enjoy instead. Perhaps with a beautiful woman.
But no, he’d made a deal with the man for information. James was many things, but he never went back on a deal he made, even with a snake such as Kendrick.
The butler showed him into the parlor, the same one he’d seen months ago when he and Granville searched for information on Ashworth’s killer. Now, James took the time to look over the décor.
He’d always been fascinated with Scotland, its history, its culture, its art. He didn’t understand why Kendrick had so many Scottish possessions, but it didn’t truly matter. He did not care about the man’s personal choices, only for Kendrick’s role in James’s new building project, the Bond Street Bazaar.
Once more the castle painting drew his attention. James remembered studying it on his first visit, drawn to it in a way he still could not explain. He’d seen dozens, if not hundreds, of paintings with heather and castles. This one painting, not even a truly superior one, captured him.
James slowly turned about the parlor, now picking out smaller items he’d missed before. Then, he’d had one goal in mind: find the man responsible
for Clayton Ashworth’s death. Now, he noticed so much more—there weren’t just tartans or heavy swords James immediately recognized as uniquely Scottish. No, the entire room was Scottish, and a specific clan at that.
This was not simply decoration but a tribute or shrine.
It sent a slow shiver of something—unease or interest, he wasn’t certain—up his spine.
Kendrick arrived before James figured out what that shiver was. The man was slightly shorter, his arms well-muscled and his face worn from being outdoors. His smile set James on edge.
“Mr. Hamilton,” Kendrick said smoothly. “Whisky?”
Agreeing, he wasn’t a fool, James remembered the excellent vintage Kendrick offered last time, and he waited while the other man poured two tumblers.
“As promised,” James drawled and sipped from his glass. It truly was excellent. “I’ve come to discuss your part in my building endeavor.”
“A man of your word, Hamilton,” Kendrick said in that falsely smooth voice and gestured out the parlor and down the hall to the study. “Admirable.”
James scowled but remained quiet and followed him down the short hallway. “No need for a commentary, Kendrick,” he snapped.
Unrolling his plans, quite beautiful if he did say so himself, James pointed to just off the center.
“This section of shops is separated by a glass conservatory walkway—smaller than the rest, of course, but still integral to the overall design. It’ll be the section you’ll work on,” James said.
He glanced up at Kendrick but barely looked at the man. The faster he gave directions, the sooner he could leave. The man set him on edge, but, worse, James knew Kendrick’s reputation. If he hadn’t made that deal with the builder, James never would’ve offered him the time of day, let alone a part in this construction.
“You’ll coordinate with two other builders. The building of your section has a very clear timeline,” he continued in a voice that bordered on harsh. “I expect you to meet it. There will be benchmarks at particular intervals. The foundation must be completed no later than July the first.”
Kendrick nodded. “We can have it completed much earlier than that—”
“I require a particular type of work,” James interrupted. “My men will inspect every brick you lay down.”
“That will delay things considerably—”
“Father!” a new voice interrupted.
James paused and looked up. Had he known Kendrick had a daughter? He shook his head, annoyed he needed to be here discussing business with this man and even more so that business was interrupted.
“Father, I’d like to use the carriage this afternoon.” She stopped when she saw him.
Unable to look away, he stared at her as she stepped into the room. James was embarrassed to admit he forgot how to speak. Every bit of manners his tutors ever drilled into him vanished when the young woman appeared. She was beautiful, yes, with dark almond shaped eyes and dark hair, but the way she held herself, the way she watched him, punched him in the stomach.
He’d seen many women in his life, but seeing her sucked all the air out of him.
James knew this woman, which was ridiculous; he’d clearly never met her. Some part of him, something in his heart or his soul, or maybe an instinct he had heretofore been unaware of, knew this woman.
This particular woman.
Simultaneously he wanted to usher her out of the room, away from Kendrick, to protect her. Tension tightened his neck and sat uneasily in his belly, sharp and ugly.
James shook his head, but the feelings didn’t vanish. He stepped from Kendrick and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension tightening there. Nothing worked; in fact, he felt more irritable and took another step from Kendrick.
What was wrong with him? Why did he suddenly need to protect strange women in their own households? But James couldn’t tear his gaze from her, no matter how troubled he felt.
“Rose, this is Mr. Hamilton,” Kendrick said, effectively jerking him out of whatever odd reverie James found himself in. “Mr. Hamilton, this is my daughter, Miss Rose Kendrick.”
James watched her tilt her head in acknowledgement as she obviously waited for him to speak. For the first time in his life, James found himself at an utter loss for words.
“A pleasure, Mr. Hamilton,” she said in an even voice. “I understand you’ve commissioned my father to work on the new marketplace.” She offered a slight smile. “It’s all the talk of London. We all look forward to what unique and exciting shops are coming.”
Recollecting himself, James offered a belated bow. “It’s always good to be talked about in such a manner.” He offered his own smile to her, unable to stop himself. “I look forward to having you see our work when it’s completed.”
Miss Kendrick merely nodded to that, her smile neither wavering nor widening. She looked to her father. “The carriage?”
Kendrick nodded and waved her off. “Yes, yes.”
She nodded again, offered a very quick curtsey in farewell, and turned away.
He wasn’t proud of the panic that went through him; James only acknowledged the fact he needed to keep her there. Near him.
“I don’t believe I’ve seen you in any of the more fashionable events,” he said smoothly. Turning slightly to include her father, however marginally, he asked, “Have you been hiding her, Kendrick?”
Rose’s eyebrow arched. “I don’t believe we attend the same events, Mr. Hamilton.” Her lips quirked and her eyes danced with mirth. “But it’s lovely you think we could.” She nodded to him and before she left, she offered a genuine, if all too quick, smile.
James blinked as she left. He took a deep breath and needed a moment to regain his composure. Beside him, Kendrick continued to talk about construction and timelines. James ignored him.
His entire focus stayed on the now-empty doorway where Miss Rose Kendrick had so recently stood.
“Has she had her coming out ball yet?” James asked.
Kendrick’s look of utter confusion was second only to James’s when he realized what he’d asked. It didn’t matter; he refused to take back the words. They beat through James in time to his heartbeat.
“That’s not the tradition in this household,” Kendrick said slowly, still frowning. “Why do you ask, Mr. Hamilton?”
James glanced from the doorway to him, barely seeing the other man. He didn’t bother to answer.
“Have you an interest in courting my daughter?” Kendrick asked, his voice shrewd now, that same oily smile twisting his lips.
James didn’t bother to answer. The air grew heavier in the room, thicker, and he breathed slowly through it.
“She’d be most surprised, but I’m sure she’d receive it well,” Kendrick continued with more force now. “Perhaps I can arrange for a pair of tickets to one of the local balls.”
He really wanted Kendrick to stop speaking, but with every word the other man said, James’s intensity grew. His focus narrowed to the empty doorway, a pinprick of light in the suddenly darkened room.
“I’m sure Rose will want to purchase a dozen new gowns to be courted by one such as you.”
The clear interest and the heavy-handed implications grated on James’s skin.
“She’d have been married already if not for the damnable war,” Kendrick added with a slyness that had James clenching his hands. “Please don’t view her age of twenty as a mark against her.”
James turned and fully glared at Kendrick. As if he cared of her age.
“I’m certain she’ll be very pleased to get to know you,” Kendrick added in that same slippery way that made James want to permanently shut him up.
He rapped his knuckles on the desk, cutting Kendrick off. He had quite enough of the man’s speech.
“Listen to me, Kendrick,” James said in a voice that brooked no argument. “I want you to arrange marriage between your daughter and myself.” He paused only long enough to meet the other man’s shocked gaze and wonder at the wo
rds coming out of his own mouth. “Immediately.”
Chapter Two
“PARDON?” KENDRICK ASKED, clearly at a loss.
James did not care. The words surprised him even as he said them, but now that he had, now that he spoke them, yes. He needed to do this—marry Rose Kendrick. It made no sense and certainly showed a madness he’d previously been unaware he possessed.
“Have you an issue with your hearing?” James snapped. “I require that you arrange a marriage between your daughter and myself.”
Kendrick’s mouth gaped. “You met my daughter moments ago,” he said slowly. “She does not know you nor you her. Why this need for a marriage arrangement so suddenly?”
Taking a step from the desk and the man, James titled his head back imperiously. “My reasons are my own. What I require is your cooperation. I can have my solicitor here shortly to draw up any necessary contracts.”
With every fiber of his being, James knew he needed to do this. He needed to marry Rose. He needed to get her out of this vile man’s household. This man knew full well he facilitated harm when he directed Denley to one of his more disreputable workers. He was involved in schemes that produced inferior construction, and Kendrick clearly had no true regard for his daughter beyond what Rose could do for him.
They were reasons to loathe Kendrick. But were they reason enough to take Rose as his wife? James didn’t understand any of it—but the certainty refused to leave him.
He needed to marry Rose, needed to keep her safe. Safe from Kendrick.
She hadn’t looked as if she feared her father; the short exchange father and daughter shared had told James they had a faintly cordial relationship, nothing close at all. But with every beat of his heart, with every breath in his body, James knew two things: he was definitely mad. And this was the absolute right course of action.
Kendrick stepped back from the desk, his eyes narrowed but head tilted in speculation. “Mr. Hamilton, I’m not sure if this arrangement would be advantageous.”
Fury rushed through him, but James merely raised an eyebrow. Kendrick didn’t fight for Rose’s happiness or even safety. The fact Kendrick even uttered those words made James’s skin crawl and stiffened his resolve.
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