His Unexpected Bride

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  She knelt beside him. Putting her hand on his arm, she whispered, “Papa, I know you did only what you believed you must.”

  “Yes.” His words were muffled behind his hands. “Please promise you will speak to no one about what I have told you.”

  “Cameron—”

  “Most especially not him, Tess. There is already much anger between him and the duke, and it is sure to escalate if Hawksmoor discovers how his brother has arranged this marriage for him.” He shuddered. “And we would be ruined. Utterly ruined. Promise me this, Tess.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, I promise I will speak to no one about your being blackmailed into agreeing to this wedding.”

  “And you will say nothing to your husband?”

  “I told you I would not. I would do nothing to cause you more harm, Papa.”

  His shoulders drooped even lower. “I wish I could ask you to forgive me, but how is that possible when I have done what I have done?”

  “Papa, of course I forgive you. That is what one does for those one loves.”

  When her father lowered his hands and looked past her, whatever he had intended to say went unsaid as his mouth hardened. She turned to see Cameron opening the door. His face was, for once, not expressionless. Instead it was tight with a frown.

  Tess came to her feet. Her father stood, positioning himself between her and Cameron. Even though she was tempted to allow Papa to shield her from Cameron’s fearsome scowl, she was sure he had suffered enough already in being forced to agree to her marriage. This was her battle to fight.

  Forcing a smile onto her face, she stepped around her father and walked toward Cameron. She saw, for the first time, his friend Mr. Knox was standing behind him.

  “Do come in and join us,” she said. “We are having a conversation before retiring for the night. If the wind does not lessen, I fear we all shall be kept awake while it howls around the roof. Thank heavens you arrived last night, rather than tonight, because you would have been soaked. If—”

  “Yes, we were lucky to arrive last evening,” Cameron said, striding across the room.

  Papa poured two more glasses of wine and held one out to Cameron. When he offered the other to Mr. Knox, Tess was astonished to note her father’s smile had returned. Was Papa trying to hide his despair? Although Mr. Knox may not have been in a position to take note, Cameron surely had seen Papa hunched over, his face in his hands.

  Cameron set his glass on the table next to Tess’s and aimed his frown first at Mr. Knox, who was drinking his wine with obvious gusto, then at her father. “It is my duty as your guest, Masterson, to thank you for your hospitality. I wish to let you know Knox and I will be taking our leave at dawn on the morrow.”

  “You and Knox?” Papa asked, his voice becoming a low growl.

  “Yes.”

  “Does that mean you are planning to leave Tess here?”

  Tess looked from her father to Cameron, as she had so often in the past day. “Papa, I believe—”

  “Hush, Tess! I am discussing this with your father.”

  In astonishment, she realized Cameron had interrupted her. How dare he treat her as if she were too witless to have a say in her own future!

  “There is nothing to discuss,” her father said, glancing at Mr. Knox.

  Tess clenched her hands at her side. Did Papa fear Mr. Knox would spout out whatever he was using to blackmail her father?

  “You are quite correct,” Cameron replied. “There is nothing to discuss on this matter. Tess would be best off here.”

  “Do not lather me with such nonsense. She will not stay here. She is your wife. Her place is with you, Hawksmoor. Don’t you agree, Knox?”

  Mr. Knox looked up from where he was refilling his glass with Papa’s best wine. “What?” Even on that single word, his voice was slurred, and she wondered if he was on his way to becoming intoxicated again tonight.

  “Don’t you agree a wife’s place is with her husband? I believe,” Papa continued, “you mentioned that very thing to me earlier today.”

  Mr. Knox set the bottle back on the table with a thump. His chuckle sounded forced, but he said, “I do believe you are right, Masterson.” He tried to slap Cameron’s shoulder companionably, but his fingers missed, warning he was more fuzzy than Tess had guessed. “Sorry, old chap, but I believe I did say those very words.”

  “If you will not heed my counsel,” her father said, “then you should heed your friend’s.” He kissed Tess’s cheek. “I bid you both good night. Tess, I trust you will give instructions for an early breakfast.”

  “Masterson,” Cameron said in the quiet tone Tess was beginning to believe he assumed when he did not want to reveal his thoughts, “it would be better for Tess to remain here until I am able to work everything out.”

  “What do you need to work out? You and Tess are legally wed, and that is that. The sooner you face that fact, the sooner you can build a life together.” He tweaked Tess’s cheek. “And the sooner I will be able to bounce my grandson on my knee.”

  Tess opened her mouth to protest, but her father walked out of the room as assuredly as Cameron had entered. Mr. Knox picked up the bottle and followed. Looking at Cameron, she said, “I fear Papa is much more accepting than we are of the inevitability of our future together.”

  “Then he shall be disappointed.” He took her hand and drew her down to sit on the settee. “Tess, I suggest you remain here simply because the Polite World can be most unforgiving of any mistake.”

  “’Twas not my error that ended up with us married.”

  “True.” Leaning back against the settee, he set his arm along its back. Anyone walking past the library door would assume he was relaxed, but Tess was not betwattled.

  Although he did not touch her, she was aware of every inch of his arm’s length behind her. Some sort of energy billowed outward from him that she could not ignore. No one else had ever affected her like this, and she was unsure if she liked it or not, for it seemed to leave her too vulnerable in his company.

  “Do you want to go to London?” he asked.

  “I have always heard a wife’s place is at her husband’s side.” Her attempt at levity failed miserably.

  “You agreed to go to London because your father requested it. Do you want to go to London?”

  “There is nothing I can do here bring an end to this debacle.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Mayhap I can do something worthwhile in London.”

  “What do you think you can do?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Then—”

  She came to her feet. “What do you think you can do? I suspect you, too, have no idea.” Grabbing her glass from the table, she raised it to her lips.

  He seized her wrist. “Tess, do not make the same mistake of drinking too much as I did.” He lifted the glass from her fingers and placed it back on the table. His fingers loosened on her slightly. Then one slid in a slow, sensual caress along the inside of her arm.

  “A single glass of wine will not leave me foxed,” she whispered, watching the sinuous motion of his finger.

  Releasing her arm, he argued, “But you were not about to drink this wine for enjoyment. You were looking for escape from all of this that troubles you so deeply.”

  She stared at him, but he refused to meet her eyes. “Escape? Is that why you drank so much with Papa and Mr. Knox?” Not giving him time to answer, she asked, “From what were you trying to escape?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “This makes no sense.”

  He arched a brow. “I fear nothing will until we work out a solution to this.”

  “Do you believe we can?”

  “I believe we must.”

  Five

  This is nonsense. She will not stay here. She is your wife. Her place is with you, Hawksmoor.

  The words, in Papa’s most authoritative tone, echoed through Tess’s head as she listened to the steady soun
d of the horses’ hoofs on the road. Every pace took her farther from home and Papa. She tried not to think how long it might be before she returned.

  Cameron was looking out the window beside him as if he hoped to find an answer to all that troubled him. She was still amazed Cameron had not insisted, at the last minute, that she remain behind at her father’s house. Mayhap he had realized he needed her help in rectifying this bumble-bath, even though she had no idea what to do to find a way out of this problem.

  No one would guess anything was amiss with him, for his face suggested he did not have a concern beyond which cravat to wear at dinner this evening. Only his fingers, tapping in an endless rhythm against the bottom of the window, hinted at the turmoil within him. She wished he would share his thoughts with her, because they might then be able to devise an answer.

  She glanced to the other side of the carriage, where Mr. Knox was dozing. His light snores could barely be heard beneath the rattle of the wheels. She wanted to grab him by the shoulders and demand he answer her questions. Why was he blackmailing her father? Every chance Tess had given her father to explain to her this morning during the hurried breakfast and the even more rushed farewells had come to naught. Papa changed the subject, avoiding telling her the truth. She tried not to think what might have happened that was so appalling he could not speak to her of it.

  “I trust you have been to Town previously.” Cameron’s voice was hushed, so as not to wake his friend.

  Startled, for this was the first time he had spoken since they left Papa’s house nearly two hours ago, Tess replied, “Yes, I have been there three times. The last time was to pay a call on my grandmother before her death.”

  “When was that?”

  “About five years ago.”

  “Three times, but no trip more recent than five years ago?” He shook his head. “You might as well say you never have been at all, for I doubt you have ever attended any sort of assembly.”

  “No.”

  “Do you know how to handle yourself in such company?”

  “Of course.” She raised her chin, but did not lean toward him to make her point. She did not want to chance bumping into Heddy’s cage, which was next to her feet. If Cameron had been curious why she had brought it here instead of leaving it with the other bags in the cart that followed the carriage, he had not asked. “Do not write me off as a hopeless bumpkin.”

  “Knowing the rules is not the same as knowing how to comport oneself when one is faced with a challenge among the Polite World.”

  She clenched her hands together, glad her gloves hid how her knuckles must be bleaching with her fury. “I promise you I shall do nothing to embarrass you, Cameron, such as flirting with the Prince Regent.”

  “Are you always so outspoken?”

  “I am always this honest.”

  “A perilous trait in London.”

  She laughed. “Then I must risk that peril, because honesty is a habit I do not wish to lose.”

  Cameron shifted on the seat, sliding his arm behind her. Again, as when they had spoken last night in the library, he did not touch her. She was glad, because she was unsettled even when he was this close. If he let his fingers drop to curve along her shoulder, she doubted she would be able to form a single logical thought.

  “I hope you feel the same after you have spent a fortnight or two in London,” he said with the inkling of a smile.

  “A fortnight or two? You think that is all I will need to stay?”

  “On that I have no idea.” The smile was gone again. “Mayhap it would be for the best for you to refrain from involving yourself with the ton during your sojourn in Town. It would make it simpler for you to leave once our marriage has been brought to a satisfactory end.”

  She frowned at him. “Do you intend to keep me imprisoned in your house like a heroine held by some horrible villain in one of those outrageous novels?”

  “What do you know of such books?”

  “Only what I have read.”

  Cameron started to reply, then chuckled. She wished he would laugh more often, because the sound had a spontaneity missing in his other actions. Everything else about him, save for when he had awakened her in her bed, was so sternly controlled.

  His hand rose from the back of the cushion to tap the top of her bonnet. “Most honestly, I have to tell you I may be doing society a great favor by shielding them from your sharp wit. I suspect there are wretchedly few among the Polite World who would be prepared to counter your sarcasm with any skill.”

  “’Twas not sarcasm, Cameron. Simply the truth.”

  “Ah, that honesty again.”

  “You would prefer something other than honesty?” She was growing more certain with every passing moment he was the most contradictory man she had ever met.

  “I would be foolish to say no, wouldn’t I?”

  “Would you?”

  He leaned his cheek on his hand. With his elbow propped on the back of the cushion, he slanted toward her. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes, and her bonnet bumped on the seat. He hooked a single finger under its brim and tipped it aside.

  “I would be foolish to let down my guard in any way with you, Tess,” he said, his voice hushed, but penetrating. “You see everything very clearly and without compromise.”

  “It is the only way I know.”

  “Really?”

  Tess edged away as far as she could. “I do not like that question.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it sounds as if you are accusing me of some misdeed.”

  “Not you.”

  “Papa?”

  Cameron’s brows rose, but all suggestion of a smile vanished. “You leaped to that conclusion very quickly, Tess. Do you have a reason for that?”

  “You could be speaking only of Papa or me, because I doubt you are discussing Jenette.”

  “Who?”

  “My abigail.” She glanced over her shoulder, although she could not see the wagon that followed this carriage and carried the servants and luggage. “You do not know her, Cameron, so you must have been speaking of Papa or me.”

  “Yes.”

  She waited for him to add more. When he continued to look at her as if he expected her to reply, she turned to look out the window beside her. She would not sit here and listen to him criticize her father.

  A sigh edged through her tight lips. She could not fault Cameron for being furious at Papa, because Cameron must wonder why her father had allowed the wedding ceremony to take place. If she could explain …

  But she must not. She had promised Papa she would not reveal the truth to anyone.

  She had not guessed how difficult that promise would be to keep.

  Tess stretched her arms, holding Heddy’s cage with care, as she waited for Cameron to wake Mr. Knox. She had not guessed the man would sleep all day during their journey, save for when they had stopped for their midday meal. If Mr. Knox had been awake, he might have offered some conversation to fill the long miles of silence. Or mayhap it was just as well that he had slept, because she had heard the sharp words exchanged by the two men this morning as she was walking toward the carriage. How she had longed to tell Cameron he should be more than vexed at his friend. Mr. Knox’s crime had not been agreeing with her father last night that Tess should come to London. It had been blackmailing her father into arranging the wedding.

  Jenette rushed over from where she had been speaking gaily with a tall, skinny man who had been pointed out to Tess as Park, Cameron’s valet, when they set out this morning. “Are we staying here, Miss … my lady?” Her gulp was so loud Tess was surprised no one else seemed to hear.

  “Yes.” She gave her abigail a tentative smile. How could she blame Jenette for having a hard time adjusting to this sudden change? Again she was taunted by how readily she could set her abigail’s mind at ease with the truth, but she had promised Papa to say nothing. Handing the cage to Jenette, she pretended not to notice how her maid grimaced. The hedgeho
g and Jenette shared an intense dislike for each other, for Jenette was squeamish about the bugs and worms Heddy ate.

  “Please make sure our bags are brought promptly to where we are sleeping tonight,” Tess continued. “I am not certain if I shall need to dress for dinner.”

  “Will you be eating here?”

  “Yes.” She showed no sign of her doubt. Did Cameron intend for them to eat in the public room here? Mayhap he planned on having their evening meal brought on trays.

  She had no chance to ask him as he took her arm and guided her toward the inn. Mr. Knox trailed behind, rubbing his eyes and grumbling under his breath. The inn’s whitewash had fallen from its timbered front, revealing its age, but the windows were clean and unbroken. Both sounds and odors from the left revealed where the stables were. The wind was coming from the right, so those scents should not fill the inn.

  The inside of the inn was not as simple as Tess had suspected. A flowered rug ran along the stone floor, and the wooden floors in the taproom gleamed with care. A vase filled with white and pink blossoms sat on a table covered with an embroidered cloth. A painting of the front of the inn with a coach unloading passengers dressed in the style of a half century before hung on the opposite wall. Other frames were shadowed by the dim light, so she could not discern what was within them.

  To the right, a dining room was visible through a partially open door. A stone floor and low rafters offered a welcoming touch. The fire on the hearth eased the chill coming with the end of the day. So many times, she and Papa … and Mama … had lingered at the table in the dining room in the oldest section of the house and watched the fire burn down to embers as they spoke of whatever filled their minds. She was amazed—and saddened—to realize she and Papa had not done that since Mama’s death.

  “Are you hungry?” Cameron asked.

  Tess looked back at him. She should not be unsettled that he seemed to be watching her closely and questioning what she did, because he barely knew her. “Why do you ask?”

  “You are staring at the dining room like a child looking at a beloved toy.”

  “I am recalling some beloved memories.” She debated whether to share them, for she hoped Cameron would share some insight about his past as well. She halted when a raw-boned woman emerged from the shadows.