Nothing more. She would be wise to act the same, but she wanted so much more with this man whose touch thrilled her.
Ten
“This was delivered for Lord Hawksmoor.” The footman gripped a pair of folded pages sealed with red wax as if he feared they would fly out of his fingers. “I thought he might be here.”
Tess stood and held out her hand. “I shall take them to him.”
The young footman faltered. Then color rose up his cheeks to swallow his freckles. “’Twould be my pleasure to find him.”
Had Cameron given orders she was not to receive anything here? No, that was absurd, because she had had a letter delivered from Mrs. Rappaport only an hour ago. Her late grandmother’s neighbor was not in Town, but would be delighted to have Tess call when Mrs. Rappaport arrived back in Town after her own granddaughter gave birth by summer’s end.
“Thank you,” she said to the footman, “but I will see they are delivered to Lord Hawksmoor.”
The footman placed the pages in her hand, an uneasy expression lengthening his face. If Tess had had any doubts that the servants were unaware of the strange marriage between her and Cameron, those doubts were now banished.
“Please convey to Harbour,” she added, “that I will be taking tea in the book-room.”
“Yes, my lady.” He rushed away toward the kitchen, where Harbour would be gossiping with the kitchen staff while tea was prepared.
Tess walked toward the back of the house, where Cameron had his study. Although she had taken a tour of the house with Mrs. Astin, the housekeeper, she had not gone down this corridor. Mrs. Astin had pointed to it and explained the marquess preferred his privacy there.
The house was silent, as always, while Tess went down the steps to the room that must share a wall with the kitchen. Her ears ached for the sound of loving laughter and gentle words. In her father’s house, she had always heard the servants chattering among themselves and listened to the cook’s whistling as she worked. As a child, Tess had spent hours trying to copy how Cook could imitate several different birds. Cook could copy their songs so well that, when after dinner Tess held the hedgehog in the kitchen, Heddy would look about as if trying to find the bird.
“No,” she whispered. She must forget her other life now that she was Lady Hawksmoor.
In the shadows beyond the staircase, she paused by the door that led into Cameron’s office. She knocked gently, and the door swung open. Realizing it had been left ajar, she hesitated. She did not want to burst in on him if he was intent upon … she had no idea what he would be intent upon during the hours he spent here each afternoon.
Tess waited for an endless minute, then pushed the door wider. The scrape of a chair on the wooden floor resonated, but she did not look to see where it was. She stared at the room, which was nothing as she had expected. Unlike the rest of the tidy house, every surface was covered with opened books, papers, and strange instruments. A door opened into a small garden between the house and the stables. A wide window swept the disorder with sunshine as she turned to face Cameron, who was standing in front of a long table.
Behind him, a large map of the world covered the wall. Aware of his gaze on her, but saying nothing, she walked to where she could read the map more easily. The vast distances overwhelmed her when she realized how small England was. She saw the notes written on it. Some of the words were in Latin, and she guessed they were scientific names. She was not sure if they were of animals or of plants.
“These were delivered for you,” she said as she held out the folded pages.
He set them on the table beside a pile of withered plants. “Thank you.”
His terse answer warned her she was traipsing on unsteady ground, but she yearned to know more about this man who was her husband. Looking from the plants to the map, she asked, “Are these the names of various plants on here?”
“Yes.”
“Do some of those cuttings come from these distant places?”
“These?” He picked up one from the pile. “No, these are quite common English weeds. I keep my more exotic cuttings in the files there.”
She looked at the wall opposite the window. It was lined from the floor to higher than her head with long, narrow drawers. Each one was labeled, but she could not read the neat white squares from where she stood. Quietly she said, “I had no idea you enjoyed studying botany.”
“It has been an interest for as long as I can remember,” he said in the same emotionless voice. “I hope through my studies to identify a plant that is like no other ever classified.”
She swallowed her laughter at his presumption, for surely every plant ever grown on Earth had already been discovered. The fire in his eyes warned her to silence, and she hastily looked again at the specimens.
“An admirable avocation for the son of a duke, don’t you think?” he asked when she did not reply.
Was he trying to incite her to a heated answer with his icy cold question? Images of quiet hours in a sunlit garden filled her mind. She had loved to spend time with Jasper, the gardener, learning about all the plantings in the garden. He had taught her about each plant, and he had been the one who found Heddy as an abandoned baby and brought her to Tess to care for. That had been almost three years before. Jasper had been helping her learn more about rhododendrons when Papa had to release him with a good character reference after money became so dear. Because Papa was having to pay Mr. Knox for his silence? So much had become clear with Papa’s admission of the darkness that haunted him.
She touched a dried blossom. A simple field daisy, its color faded and each petal as fragile as a dream. Raising her eyes, she met the vexation in Cameron’s. Was he irked she had found out about his interest or simply that she had intruded on his private haven?
Deciding honesty was the best recourse, as always, because there were too many half-truths about, she retorted, “Sarcasm serves you well, Cameron, doesn’t it? It keeps everyone from getting too close to you.”
“I did not guess you had become an expert on my feelings.”
“There is hardly any need to be an expert when you always resort to derision if someone probes too close.”
He picked up the dried plants and set them on a cluttered shelf. “You are proving surprisingly insightful. If this was more than a marriage of inconvenience, I would think you look upon me with the clear eyes of love. But then, love is reputed to betray the senses. I offer my brother as an example.”
“Love? Do you think he loves Isabel?”
“I believe he thinks he does … until he tires of her and finds a new love, whom he will swear is the very woman he has sought his whole life.”
“Bitterness over something you cannot change will not heal the damage, Cameron.”
“Do you have a trite phrase for every occasion?”
“Do you have cruel ones?”
“Cruel?” He came back to where she stood. “I did not think the truth could be deemed cruel. Simply the truth, and I believed that was what you wanted from me.”
You have no idea what I want from you. She was tempted to give voice to that thought, but bit back the words. “It is true we are making a complete muddle of this marriage.”
“Or it has made a complete muddle of us.”
Tess smiled, in spite of herself. “You may be right. I doubt either of us is at our best. I understand I am an embarrassment to you, Cameron.”
“Embarrassment? I am not embarrassed by you.”
“I thought you had not had any friends calling because you were embarrassed by the situation we find ourselves in.”
“I have not had any friends calling because I have been calling on them to seek their advice.” He cleared his throat and looked away, as if his own words had unsettled him. “I must own, Tess, you are behaving in a very civilized manner.”
“Is there any reason to be spitting at each other like two cats?”
“None that I know of.” He went to the door and opened it in a clear invitation for h
er to take her leave. “If you will excuse me, I should read the letters you brought.”
“Oh … of course.” She came around the table.
As she reached the door, he did not step aside. Instead he brushed his fingers against her cheek, then jerked them back, staring at them as if he had no idea why they had touched her. She steeled herself for a sharp comment, but he said, “I would be pleased to dine with you this evening, if you are willing.”
“Are you as tired as I am of taking a tray in private each evening?”
“Partly, and partly because I realize there is no need for each of us to make believe the other does not exist. We might as well make the best of the circumstances dealt to us until a suitable denouement can be found.” He took her hand and raised it politely to his lips. His kiss lasted no longer than etiquette allowed for strangers. “I trust I may enjoy your company then.”
She nodded and walked out of the room. As the door closed behind her, her fingers touched the warmth left by his lips. Such a reaction was more dangerous than his anger, but she knew she would chance the peril once again.
Soon.
Tess pushed aside her bonnet, letting it hang by its ribbons down her back. She kept hidden the jar of insects and worms she had picked up beneath the trees in the center of the square. Explaining to Harbour, who was always at the door whenever she came in or went out, would take too long when she had run out of food for Heddy last night. She would give the hedgehog a feast this morning that Heddy could enjoy before sleeping the day away.
“Lady Hawksmoor,” said Harbour as she greeted him and hurried toward the stairs, “there is a caller in the front parlor.”
She looked down at her gown, which bore the stains of where she had knelt on the ground. “Please express my regret at needing to change before receiving a guest. I shall be quick. I promise.”
“Do you want me to have that taken to the kitchen?”
Tess knew that must mean the jar she held. “No, thank you. I will tend to it.”
“You might find more treats for your pet to eat in the kitchen garden,” he said, smiling. “When I had a hedgehog as a boy, it liked the big slugs found under the leaves beneath the plants.”
“Thank you.” She should have guessed the servants would know quickly that she had brought Heddy with her and had the hedgehog in her bedchamber. No doubt they knew all about what did—and did not—happen in her private rooms. “You are welcome to look in on Heddy, Harbour, although she does not take well to strangers.”
“No hedgehog does.” His laugh echoed oddly along the high walls of the foyer. “Mine growled like a dog. The dog stayed far from it.”
Wanting to stay and talk to him more about the little creatures, Tess knew she should not keep the guest waiting. She gave the butler a smile and hurried up the stairs to her room. Pausing only to give a very sleepy Heddy some of the harvest from the green area in the center of the square, Tess changed into a pale yellow tea gown.
She rushed back down the stairs to the first floor where the parlor was. Hearing the servants on the ground floor below, she grinned wryly when a leaf fell out of her hair. No wonder Harbour had smiled when he looked at her. She patted her hair back into place as she reached the door.
Her smile faltered when she saw who was waiting within. Mr. Knox may have called since he traveled with them from her father’s house, but Tess had not spoken with him. As he faced her, he was rolling a walking stick with an ivory handle between his hands. He leaned it against a settee as she walked into the room.
“My lady,” he said, bowing over her hand, “may I say marriage appears to agree with you for you look even lovelier than I recall on our last meeting.”
“Thank you.”
When she said nothing more, Mr. Knox’s practiced smile grew taut. Did he think she would welcome him with enthusiasm when he was blackmailing her father and had had an obvious hand in her wedding?
“I had called,” he said, “to speak to your husband.”
“Cameron is not here.” She would not let him guess how he was disconcerting her by reminding her with every comment of her marriage, for she guessed that was his goal.
Mr. Knox scowled. “Blast! I did not guess him to be such a lovelorn fool after two years. He must be calling on Pamela again.”
“Pamela? Who is Pamela?”
His scowl became an expression of dismay. “I thought you knew.”
“Knew? Knew what?” She regretted the words, because she could not miss how his eyes twinkled. With mischief? Or was there a darker cause for his mirth?
“If you do not know, it is not my place to say anything. Pretend I never mentioned her name.” He tipped his hat as he picked up his walking stick. “I bid you good day, my lady.”
Knowing she was overstepping the bounds of propriety, she grasped his sleeve. “Mr. Knox, how can I pretend I did not hear what you said?”
“You should speak to your husband about Mrs. Livingstone. It is not my place to say anything to you about his very private concerns.”
She jerked her fingers back off his sleeve. She should have guessed right from the beginning what he meant. This Pamela Livingstone must be Cameron’s mistress.
Mr. Knox was instantly contrite, and she knew her reaction had been too visible. She wished she could be more like Cameron and hide her feelings when his friend said, “I am sorry to have mentioned her name. It was thoughtless of me.”
“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 Squ
are. 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.”
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