by Diana Quincy
“He tore your gown.” Disbelief filled Cam’s voice as he surged to his feet and spun to face Hart, a savage gleam in his eyes. “You bastard.”
Still trying to gain his bearings, Hart planted his feet, readying himself for Cam’s assault. “It is not what it seems.”
“No? I find you alone in a room with the door closed.” He stalked toward Hart. “Your hands were all over her.”
“Cam, don’t be absurd.” Willa pushed a tendril from her face, cheeks rosy against porcelain skin. Her mass of chestnut curls had partly fallen down, tumbling about her shoulders. Hart forced his eyes away from the extra bit of pale flesh left exposed by the torn décolletage of her gown.
“Hartwell didn’t attack me,” she said, the words weary. “He saved me from a man who attacked me in the alley. If it hadn’t been for His Grace, who knows what would have happened.”
“Saved you?” Cam tilted a look at her. “What were you doing alone in the alley?”
“I was riding with Augustus.” She glanced at Hart and then back to her cousin. “I decided to alight and walk the rest of the way.”
“Alone? Willa, what were you thinking?” Cam’s voice rose in exasperation. “This is London, not some country village.”
“The traffic was intolerable,” she said. “So you see, we owe Hartwell our thanks.”
Hart barely registered the exchange. All he heard was that she’d been with Bellingham.
“Allow me to understand,” Cam said to Hart. “My cousin was attacked and you saved her from certain ravishment only to tip the velvet yourself?”
Willa blanched at the coarse language. “Cam!”
His eyes blazed. “Do you deny it, Hartwell?”
Hart’s gut tightened. How could he refute it? Their tongues might not have been involved, but there was no denying that kiss. As fleeting as it had been, one could barely qualify the brief meeting of lips as a kiss, yet a part of him instinctively comprehended the course of his life had just been altered.
Just as suddenly, the sting of remorse gutted him. She’d been vulnerable and frightened and he had taken unconscionable liberties. “You are right, of course,” he said to Cam. “Mine were the actions of a blackguard.”
He barely had time to register the sight of Cam’s fist coming at him before it connected with his jaw. Pain exploded in his cheekbone and he staggered backwards under the force of the blow. Not that he would have defended himself. He deserved to be thrashed. Steadying himself, Hart fingered his throbbing jaw. “I will make it right.”
Grimacing, Cam cradled his fist. “Damn right you will.”
“Without a doubt.” Pain screamed in his jaw. “I shall seek a special license.”
“What?” Willa rocketed to her feet. “Stop being so honorable, Hartwell. Tell him the truth.” She wheeled around to Cam. “I forced him. I threw myself in his arms and practically begged him not to let me go. He was too gentlemanly to refuse me.”
“Gentlemanly?” Cam shot her a look of furious astonishment. “I cannot believe you would defend him.”
“I am doing no such thing.” She turned to Hart. “You must tell him the truth.”
But he could not, of course. To admit that she’d encouraged him in any way would impugn her reputation even further. She’d been shaken and frightened. He shouldn’t have touched her. He had behaved reprehensively and would willingly pay the price. “The truth is my actions were dishonorable even if my intentions were not. I shall make it right by marrying you.”
She froze, clearly stunned. Then suspicion gleamed in those mahogany eyes. “Is that the true reason for this sudden attack of gallantry?”
His heart twinged. She doubted his intentions? Not that he blamed her after what he had just allowed to happen.
Willa’s hands fisted on her hips. “I am not marrying anyone.”
Ignoring her, Cam addressed Hart in concrete tones. “You shall marry immediately.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Without question. It would be my honor.” Then, quietly and more urgently, “I assure you, it was not my intent to dishonor Lady Wilhelmina in any way.”
“Mind your words, Hartwell.” Cam’s body trembled with fury. “I’m still debating whether to let you marry into the family or just kill you and have done with it.”
“Are you mad?” Willa burst out. “I was attacked by a footpad and he rescued me.” She gave Hartwell a beseeching look. “Tell him.”
Hart’s gaze slipped to the fullness of her mouth, remembering its glorious taste. “There is no denying what Camryn saw here with his own eyes.”
She reddened all the way to her ears. “You are both reacting precipitously.” Gulping a breath, she turned to Cam. “No one has to know. We will just go on as before.”
Weary lines marked Cam’s face. “Lady Rawdon knows something of what happened here. She saw Hartwell carrying you and was more than pleased to alert me to your situation.” He sighed. “Your reputation cannot survive another scandal.”
“We shall marry,” Hart said in decisive tones, certain of the inherent rightness of his decision. “It is the only answer.”
Willa’s arms crossed under her chest, drawing his eye to her abundant, softly quivering bosom. One that would soon be his to cherish—along with the rest of this heavenly woman. The thought of it triggered a surprising burst of gladness in him.
But she didn’t seem to be reacting with the same equanimity. “You two and your misplaced sense of honor are not going to force me into marriage with a man who has made his disdain for me quite clear.”
A glancing pain stung Hart’s chest. “Do you find the idea of marriage to me so abhorrent?”
“I won’t consent,” she said stubbornly to Cam. “My reputation be gone. I won’t be forced into a silly charade of a marriage for no good reason. I won’t do it.”
“I cannot force you.” Sadness weighted Cam’s voice. Willa exhaled with obvious relief, but then Cam turned to Hart. “She leaves me no alternative. I demand satisfaction.”
“What! Are you cracked?” Willa blurted. “Don’t be a fool. There is not going to be any duel!”
Tension snaked into every muscle in Hart’s body. “Name your seconds, Camryn.”
Willa whipped around to Hart. “Don’t be so beetle brained,” she cried. “Cam’s a perfect shot. He’ll kill you.”
“So be it.” A sense of calm infused him. “Your honor has to be avenged.”
“Avenged?” Willa’s voice rose in panic. “What of your mother? You would leave her alone in this world? She has already lost one son. You would condemn her to a life without either of her children?”
“It is not ideal, but I have little choice in the matter.” Heaviness settled in his heart. His mother’s grief would be unimaginable. “Name your seconds, Camryn.”
“Not ideal? Aren’t you the last of your line?” she asked in a voice gone shrill with a rising sense of panic.
He nodded in assent without taking his eyes off Cam’s stony expression. “What will it be, old friend, bullet or blade?”
“Wait!” Desperation edged her voice. “You must give me time to consider this. If marrying Hartwell is the only alternative to you two killing each other, I should at least have a few days to consider it.”
“No.” Cam’s impenetrable stare moved from Hart to Willa. “I will have your consent now.”
“Very well.” She threw up her hands. “If you agree not to announce any betrothal until after the house party.”
“What house party?” Hart ventured to ask.
“The one I was supposed to invite you to today,” Cam said with baleful contempt. “To celebrate Adela’s engagement.”
“So you agree to withhold any announcement until after the party?” Willa pressed.
“Why?” Suspicion glinted Cam’s eyes. “To give you time to find a way to escape the parson’s trap? I know you too well, cousin, to fall for that.”
“I need time to adjust myself to the idea. Surely that is not to
o much to ask.”
“Very well,” Cam relented. “You have a fortnight. But I must make the announcement before the gossips explode this situation into something intolerable.”
Hart rubbed his tender jaw. “I’ll speak with Lady Rawdon and impress upon her how grateful I will be if she holds her tongue.”
“I’ll see to it that she is invited to the house party,” Cam said. “If she is ensconced in the country with us, she can hardly be spreading rumors here in town.”
“What if she writes letters to her friends in town while she is at Camryn Hall?” Willa asked.
“Missives can easily be lost if she sends them from the hall,” Cam said. “Leave that to me.”
The energy and fire seemed to cascade out of Willa, leaving her looking utterly worn out as she sank back into the chair. “Now will one of you go into the alley and retrieve the package I dropped there? I have dire need of it.”
“Beg pardon?” Cam looked at her as though she’d lost her mind.
Hart turned for the door. As her husband, he suspected he would often do her bidding, and quite happily. He might as well begin now. Buoyed by the thought, he suppressed a smile. “I shall retrieve it.”
…
“What happened to your face?”
Hart fingered his split lip. “It is nothing.”
Willa sat opposite the duke as his post chaise carried them away from London a week after her attack. “Did Cam do that when he hit you?”
“No, this is a bit more recent, an accident last evening. Nothing of importance.”
Willa exchanged glances with Addie, who sat beside her. Hart and Cam were across from them, their backs to the coachman.
Cam stretched his legs in front of him, looking deceptively relaxed. Sitting with his back straight, Hart affected a more formal posture. The older ladies, including her mother, rode ahead in Cam’s conveyance.
“Were you involved in some sort of fisticuffs?” she pressed.
“I tripped.”
Into somebody’s fist, no doubt. She didn’t believe him for a moment, yet she allowed him to dismiss the matter. She had far more pressing problems with which to concern herself. The steady beat of the moving carriage lulled them into a strained silence for a time, the horses’ thudding hooves and the clacking of the moving wheels filling the air. Staring blindly out the window, her stomach ached with nervous tension. She had so little time to find a way out of this sham of a betrothal. But find it she would.
She caught the duke sneaking a furtive glance at her every now and again. He looked darkly handsome today. Instead of his usual all-black ensemble, Hartwell wore a deep blue waistcoat embellished with tiny, intricate designs. A solid jacket of the same shade brought out the color of his slate eyes. The strong contours of his thighs were encased in form-fitting brown breeches. Willa pulled back as far as possible in her seat, so that her knees would not bump those long, masculine legs.
Adela’s gaze flitted from Hart to Willa and back again. Willa could see her sister’s mind working. She had confided the truth to Addie, who’d been both shocked by and impressed with Willa’s involvement in the tea shop. Addie fidgeted in her seat. One of her sparkling blue eyes narrowed. Willa knew that look. It meant Addie was in serious contemplation and would soon share her revelations. She closed her eyes and murmured a prayer that her sister would keep her thoughts to herself. Just this once.
“Becoming a duchess would be no hardship,” Addie finally said, breaking the silence.
Hart’s dark brows drew together in amused surprise. Her ears burning, Willa elbowed her sister in the ribs. “Don’t be a goose. There’s more to it than that.”
Addie shifted out of reach of Willa’s elbow. “It’s not as though he’s an ugly old troll. Far from it.”
“Thank you, Lady Adela.” Hartwell dipped his chin.
She smiled brightly. “You are most welcome.”
“I should be pleased to call you sister,” he continued.
Willa glared at her. If only she were close enough to pinch her sister without detection. Instead, she had to settle for inflecting a warning tone into her voice. “Addie.”
Hart’s dark gaze focused on her. “Perhaps you’d care to explain your concerns so I might ease them.”
“Why did you thrash Augustus at university?”
His assertive lips pressed together. “How is that relevant to our betrothal?”
“I should like to know what brings you to violence.” She gestured toward his red, swollen lip. “You seem to have a tendency toward fisticuffs.”
Addie leaned forward with interest. “You pummeled Augustus?” She slapped her knee and laughed. “I should have liked to see that.”
“Pity it isn’t Addie you’re courting,” Cam said wryly. “Your work here would be complete.”
“How am I to know whether you hide a brutal nature?” Willa asked. “You refuse to explain the injury to your lip.”
“Very well.” Hart ran a light finger over his mouth. “This occurred last evening. I was waylaid by footpads after departing Brooks.”
Willa inhaled. “You were attacked?”
“You should have taken the carriage,” Cam said. “Dukes cannot expect to safely walk unescorted in the evening.”
“Obviously I am not yet accustomed my new exalted status.”
“What happened?” Addie’s words were full of excited anticipation. “How did you elude them?”
“I persuaded them to reconsider their actions.”
Willa tilted her head. “With your fists, no doubt.”
“I won’t apologize for defending myself when provoked.” Hart’s certain tone held no trace of contrition. “However, I’ve never raised my hand to a woman and never would. As your husband, I will protect and honor you as no other.”
Her protector. A warm lush feeling welled up inside of Willa, but she refused to allow herself to be a pawn in his battle with Augustus. “That does not answer my question about the thrashing you gave the earl.”
His face closed off. “I cannot discuss the incident at Cambridge.”
Disappointment filled her chest. Had he pummeled the earl out of jealousy? It was entirely possible his sole interest in her lay in keeping her out of his nemesis’ hands. “Cannot or will not?”
“It is a matter of honor.” His expression was inscrutable. “I cannot say anymore.”
Willa looked to Cam for help, but he shrugged. “He never would say. I was away that week. I’d gone home because Father was ill.” He gave her a meaningful look. “But Hart has long maintained the altercation involved a matter of honor and I take him at his word.”
Frustrated, she tried again. “At least tell me the source of your enmity with him.”
Hart’s already sharp features hardened, giving him an even more intimidating presence than usual. “It is one and the same. I cannot.” His eyes narrowed on her. “Why is something so long past of such concern to you?”
“Is it past? Or am I a pawn in your game with him?”
A vein pulsed in Hart’s forehead. “If you think what occurred between us after your attack had anything to do with Gus Manning, you couldn’t be more mistaken.”
Willa inhaled sharply at his indelicate reference to their kiss. Cam stiffened, except for his hand, which curled into a fist so tight his knuckles whitened.
“And it was awfully kind of His Grace to retrieve your lost tea,” Addie added.
“What lost tea?” Cam looked from Addie to Willa. This time she did pinch Addie. And she added a little twist to it to make sure her sister received the message.
“Ouch!” Addie jerked away and rubbed her arm, shooting Willa a look of wounded outrage.
Cam’s gaze narrowed. “Why were you taking your tea to the coffee house?”
“You might as well tell him. There is no shame in it.” Addie inched further out of Willa’s reach. “After all, you’re selling your tea for a noble cause.”
“Selling your tea?” Cam’s voice throbbed
with outraged disbelief. “Tell me Addie is mistaken.” Wincing, Willa pressed her lips together. Cam exhaled slowly through his nostrils. “Now you’ve taken to engaging in trade?”
“It’s not like that—” Addie began.
“You have said quite enough, thank you.” Willa cut her off. Straightening, she met Cam’s angry gaze. “I donate my tea to the coffee house. It is sold to provide a way for the women who work there to provide for themselves and their children. I do not profit from it.”
Cam’s mouth fell open as a tide of color swept his face. “This is beyond belief. You are engaged in trade. Why are you so determined to ruin yourself?”
Hartwell cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “It is for a laudable cause.”
Cam glared at Hart. “You knew about this?”
“I only suspected.”
Willa turned her attention to Hart. “Is my involvement the reason you are trying to close the coffee house?”
“He is?” Addie looked at Hart. “Are you?”
Hart’s lips pushed inward. “My interest in the building is purely related to business. It is an ideal location for my London headquarters.”
“You will be condemning the women who work there to a life on the street,” Willa said heatedly.
Hart frowned. “Why can the enterprise not be relocated?”
“It is costly to do so and would make it more difficult for the workers to find their way to the coffee house if it is removed too far away.”
“Willa.” Cam interrupted, his frustration plain. “What else don’t I know about your clandestine activities? Have you decided to start treading the boards as well?”
“Willa on the stage?” Addie giggled. “I should like to see that.”
“I am well past worrying about being ruined,” Willa said. “Why shouldn’t I engage in an activity that assists the less fortunate?”
Sighing, Cam closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Having never had sisters, I clearly know nothing about managing females.” He looked to Hart. “I cannot wait until she is your concern.”
“Neither can I.” A slow smile of genuine delight opened across the duke’s face, his midnight blue eyes glowed as they held her gaze. “I don’t suppose Lady Wilhelmina can be managed, but I shall certainly take pleasure in the trying of it.”
