“Of course, my lady.”
Tess edged past him and the planters to go to the door across the hallway. She realized her dressing room must be behind the wall that separated her rooms from Cameron’s. When she knocked on Cameron’s door, she received no answer. She glanced along the hall, but Harbour must have gone down the stairs. She could not have misunderstood his message. Not when it was so unexpected. Setting another knock on the mahogany door, she waited with as much patience as possible for an answer.
“Come in,” came the call from within.
She turned the knob slowly. Her forehead threaded with bafflement as she pushed the door open. The room was lost to the thickening twilight, and rain splattered against the window that was the twin of the one in her sitting room. In one corner mirroring the fireplace in her chambers, the hearth’s gentle glow challenged the dusk. Uncertain, she entered the room. Had she misheard what she thought was an offer to enter?
When she saw a shadow move, she asked, “Cameron?”
“Please come in and make yourself comfortable.”
Tess walked toward where a chair was silhouetted against the light from the fire. This must be a sitting room, although it was far more austere than her room. That surprised her, for the master should have the best chambers in the house. Three chairs faced each other, and a pair of settees were set in front of the window that was the twin of the one in her private rooms. Several framed paintings were arranged on the wall between two doors.
In amazement, she realized Cameron must have given her his chambers. She recalled Harbour’s astonishment upon their arrival when Cameron had requested her bags be brought to the rooms she now used. Why had Cameron hidden his kindness to her? She wished she could thank him for his attempt to make her welcome, but that might create more barriers between them. Any sign of emotion seemed to drive him further from those around him.
When she came around the chair, Tess was surprised to see Cameron dressed so informally, with his waistcoat undone and his shirt collarless. She had seen him dressed in something other than but prime twig only twice—the morning when he woke her in her bed and when he had kissed her with such desire at the coaching inn.
A quiver threatened to shatter her fragile composure. She must stop thinking of the moment when her life had been changed beyond anything she could have imagined. Even more important, she must stop thinking of the kisses they had shared then and since and dampen her longing for more.
Cameron closed the book he had had open, turning it so she could not see the title embossed on the cover. He tilted an irreverent eyebrow over the rim of his glasses. “Why do you look so surprised?”
“I never knew you wore glasses to read.”
“I did not before …” He put his finger to the scar just above his right eyebrow.
“Oh, I am sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I doubt if you were anywhere near the field where I last encountered the French.” He sighed and set his book on the table beside him.
It was not a novel, she realized, but an account book. She wondered why he was sitting in this darkened room reading such dry material. Her breath caught when she saw the slip of paper he was using as a bookmark. The engraved address was that of Mr. Paige, the solicitor. Had Cameron changed his mind and had the attorney send to the house the paperwork for a divorce?
“Tess, you need not stand there like a naughty child sneaking down the stairs to view a gathering of her elders.” He sighed. “What has unsettled you?”
“When you did not have someone open the door, I thought I might be intruding when … when …”
“Did you, mayhap, think I would invite you here to wash my back while I bathed? Tess, one would almost believe there was a hint of espousal affection in your disquiet.”
“Then one would be mistaken.”
Instead of retorting as she had expected, he looked away, as if he were embarrassed, and sighed. “Sit down, Tess. I must speak with you posthaste, and I honestly have no interest in the requirements of etiquette at the moment.”
“What is amiss?” Despite the room’s faint light, she noted lines in his face which she was sure had not been there when she last saw him.
“Please sit down.”
She did, adjusting the fire screen so she could see him and still keep the flames from searing her face.
With another sigh, he lifted his glasses off his nose and rubbed the twin dents in its bridge. “I usually find exchanging words with you an invigorating pastime, but not today.”
“What is wrong, Cameron? You look positively distraught.”
He smiled without mirth. “Did you ever consider your intuition can be exasperating to a man who wishes to keep his thoughts private?” Without giving her a chance to respond to the unanswerable, he stood. “You should know before you hear of it from the servants that Russell and Isabel were involved in a carriage accident last night.”
Pressing her hand over her heart, which thumped against her breastbone, she gasped, “Was it bad?”
“Yes.”
“How are they?”
“Dead.”
“Dead?” She stared at him in disbelief. His voice held no more emotion than if he was talking of the latest news from Whitehall. Mayhap less. Her single meeting with his brother and the duke’s current mistress had been horrible, but the duke was Cameron’s brother.
As if he could read her jumbled thoughts, he said, “Do not waste any sympathy on them.”
“Cameron!”
“Please lower your voice.”
“My voice?” When he scowled, she added more quietly, “How can you be so heartless? If …” She wanted to bite back her accusation when she saw the undeniable pain in his eyes.
Rising, she put her hand on his arm. She guided him back to his chair and seated him. Looking about, she went to a table near the door where a tray had been placed. She must have missed it before when her eyes needed to adjust to the dark room. She poured a glass of wine from the decanter on the tray and brought it back to him, then knelt by his chair and handed it to him.
“I am sorry,” she whispered. “I should not have said that.”
“Why not? After what you have witnessed, you have no reason to believe there was anything but disgust between my brother and me.” He took a slow sip. “If my words just now suggested that was the true depth of my feeling for my brother, then I am the one who should apologize. I am not expressing myself well.” Rubbing his forehead, he stared at the fire. “I have been told they died instantly, and I am sure that is the truth, for I have seen the carriage. Even the horses were killed by the impact against the trees. I was also informed that riders were seen in pursuit of them. Thieves, it is believed, because the bodies were stripped of anything of value before the watch arrived.”
She put her head down on the arm of his chair. “Cameron, I am so very sorry. I have no siblings, but I can imagine how painful it must be for you, because I recall how it hurt when Mama died. I feared Papa would lose his mind.”
“I am not looking for your sympathy,” Cameron said, his voice again sharp. “I am requesting your help.”
Tess regarded him with astonishment. Gone was the honesty that had sifted through his words so briefly. What had caused the change? Her hands fisted on her knees. Had it been the mention of Papa? She wished she could reveal the truth to her husband—that his friend and his brother had arranged for their marriage and forced her father to acquiesce to their blackmail, but her promise to Papa precluded that.
“Of course,” she said softly, “you have my help. What can I do? If you wish me to have the house opened for the funeral service, I …”
“’Tis not that which I need your help with, because Harbour can handle any callers. It is something very different.” He came to his feet again. Setting the glass on the table, he took her hand and brought her up to stand beside him. He did not speak as he led her toward one of the doors.
The room beyond was lit with a single lamp,
but that seemed overly bright to her eyes, which had become accustomed to the dim light in the other room. She blinked, trying to see.
“Come here, Tess,” he murmured.
She started to nod, but froze when she turned to look at him. Past him, she saw, set in an alcove smaller than the one in her chambers, a bed. This one was not carved with all the animals that graced hers, and its drapes were a simple cream. She had not guessed he would stay in rooms so barren in comparison with hers.
“Tess, do come along.” Impatience tightened his voice as he took another step toward the bed. “I thought you were willing to help me.”
“Yes, but …” She found her own voice. Jerking her hand out of his, she said, “I find it uncommonly coarse you would use this moment to … to …”
Cameron smiled coolly. Tess did not need to complete her thought, because it was revealed on her guileless face. She had asserted she wanted nothing to do with sharing a marriage bed with him, a wise choice he had agreed with until he could sort the whole of this out. However, her reaction proved she was not as oblivious to the sparks that leaped from her to him with even the most casual touch. A frown curved down along her lips, drawing his gaze to them again. So delicious they had been, a feast to tempt a man who had been fasting too long. Now … no, he must not let his thoughts go in that direction when there was another problem that required more immediate attention.
“Do you think I would use my brother’s death as an excuse to seduce you?” he asked. “That I would be so anxious to do the duty of my father’s heir to begat an heir I would not let another hour pass before bedding you?”
She flinched. “I did not mean to suggest that.”
“But you thought I would suggest you join me in my bed.” He laughed without mirth. “It would have been very crowded, Tess.”
“Crowded?” She looked past him, her face tightening. “Are you saying someone else is here? How dare you bring me here when you have another … guest?”
“Guests.”
Her gaze came back to him, and he saw horror in her eyes. Guilt pinched him, but he ignored it. He had not asked for a wife. Nor had he wanted a brother who could not keep wandering from bed to bed, nor did he want any of the other obligations now foisted on him.
“Mayhap,” he replied, “if you would not paint me with every evil you can imagine, you might be willing to give me the benefit of the doubt long enough to look at this.” He walked to the bed and drew back the drapes that had concealed two small mounds. In a whisper, he said, “Russell, in his final act of insanity, named me the guardian of his children.”
“Russell’s children?” she asked as quietly. “You never mentioned your brother had children.”
“I did not know until these two young boys were brought to the house not more than an hour ago.”
Tess came closer to the bed, and he was treated again to the delicate fragrance of her perfume. He did not move aside as she leaned forward to look at the children. His fingers ached to sift through her hair, which had become an intriguing flame in the flicker from the hearth. His hand started to rise, but he forced it back to his side as she turned to face him.
Her eyes grew wide, and she tried to move away from him. She bumped into the bed. When she put her hand out to the mattress, he was surprised it was to steady it so they did not wake the little boys.
“Mayhap,” she whispered, “it would be for the best if we spoke of this in the other room. The children must be exhausted to be sleeping so soundly.”
She looked at the little boys again, and he tore his gaze from her enticing profile. On the green satin coverlet, the youngsters were rolled into balls beneath a single blanket. He saw her eyes narrow, and he guessed she had noticed how both boys had hair the same rusty gold as hers. That had surprised him, as well, until he had noticed the strong features of the Hawksmoor family in their childish faces. He wondered which one of Russell’s mistresses had borne these two children.
The boys moved, and one mumbled something in his sleep. Cameron dropped the curtain to allow them to sleep undisturbed. Taking Tess’s hand, he tugged her away from the bed, although every inch of him demanded he draw her into it and rediscover the pleasure of having her lying beside him.
“Your brother never spoke of these children before?” she asked.
“Never.”
“Then how do you know … that is, upon hearing of the tragedy of your brother’s death, someone might have brought these boys here to—”
Drawing her toward one of the paintings on the wall, he lit a lamp. She gasped, and he did not fault her. Save for the red hair, the portrait could have been of the two sleeping boys.
“Russell and I when we were of an age of those children,” he said, still whispering. “That was painted at Peregrine Hall. The artist took some liberties with it because Russell had dared me to climb a tree and I ended up with a broken arm.”
She went back to the doorway and looked within. When she faced him, her eyes were bright with tears. They did not fall, and he would have been amazed if they had, for she had endured with dignity every setback and indignity since he had met her.
Cameron wished he could persuade her to show him how she was maintaining her serenity, because he was suffering from an overwhelming urge to ram his fist into the closest wall. This was not the way his life should have unfolded after he returned home from battle. “’Twas insane for Russell to leave me with the responsibility for two children I never knew existed.”
“Not insane, for you are his brother. I am sure he had no wish to have them raised by strangers.”
“That is true, but now I find myself the guardian of two children.” He rubbed his aching forehead. “I think the oldest is about six or seven years old. The other appears to be about a year younger.”
“You think?”
“I told you already I was not aware of these children’s existence. Since Russell left Peregrine Hall after a huge argument with our father and came to Town, I have never had much interest in my brother’s private life.”
“A huge argument?”
He allowed himself a smile. “Our father wished Russell to be more responsible. More like his younger brother, as Father was fond of saying.”
“I am amazed your brother would even speak to you when your father compared him in anger to you.”
“Russell spoke to me usually only when he wished to borrow money. He never told me why he needed it, only that he was short of funds.” He did not pause to let her answer before he added, “Nor do I wish to know more now about his life. That is why I want you to take over the obligation for these children now.”
“Me?” Tess’s eyes widened, and he wondered if the depths would be as changeable as the green waves of sea that they resembled. A stormy sea, he corrected himself, when she added, “Why would you want me to take responsibility for those children? You were designated the responsible one.”
He bit back the curse that would make the situation only worse. “You are my wife. It is your duty.” He picked up his glass of wine and took another sip. “As you have no interest in your other wifely duties, the very least you can do is to assume this one.”
“You are beastly!”
“Mayhap, but I know I am not the right one to oversee the raising of two youngsters.”
“You are their uncle, and they have no one else. I will not let you foist your duty off on me so you can continue to live your life as you want.”
“That is not why I am asking this.”
Motioning for her to sit on a simple settee near a hearth, he dropped next to her. She started to rise. He reached for her hands, but she clasped them in her lap and met his fury without emotion.
“Listen to me,” he began.
“No, Cameron, I shall not listen to you. I am sorry your brother is dead. I am sorry as well that you feel you have been burdened with his children, but it is your duty.” She gave a laugh as cold as one of his. “After all, you have no respect for your brother because he d
id not do his duty as you and your family expected. Will you be like him and ignore your obligations?”
“I do not like having the by-blows of his love affairs handed over to me.”
“So you will hand them over to me?”
“You have been bored having so little to do here.”
“I did not realize you had noticed.”
He put his hand over hers on her lap. “Even if I had not, Harbour was quick to let me know. It seems you have made a very favorable impression on him, which is not easy to do.”
“You are changing the subject—or do you think flattery will bend me to your will?”
“I think taking this responsibility for Russell’s sons will give you something to do while we work out the muddle of our marriage.”
Tess sighed, owning to herself that he was correct. She had been lost in this house while she waited for an idea of what to do now that she could not go to Mrs. Rappaport for advice. “Mayhap, but Russell named you as their guardian. Not me. If—”
He gripped her shoulders, interrupting her in mid word. “Tess, do not make me beg.”
“Beg?” She smiled in spite of herself. “I would wager you do not do that well.”
“Then you would win.” His hands gentled as they edged up to curve along her face.
It took every ounce of her strength to turn her face away before he could tip it toward his. His kisses could persuade her to succumb to his demands … and not simply to take care of his nephews. In his embrace, pressed to his hard chest, she would promise almost anything to sample another of his kisses.
He stood and strode to the bedroom door. He glanced into the room—to check on the children?—then faced her. She waited for him to speak, but he did not.
She met his stare without lowering her eyes. “What will happen if I refuse?”
He sat again and entwined his fingers around the knees of his breeches. “Father always said there was no need for us to bring our bastards to Peregrine Hall, because they would find no welcome. I suspect Mother will heartily agree with that sentiment.”
His Unexpected Bride Page 12
