“My hedgehog.” Tess started to add more, then saw the distant expression in Cameron’s eyes. Not distant, but turned inward, warning he was wrestling with his own thoughts as fiercely the boys were on the grass.
While they continued to walk around the small square, he said, “I must tell you something that will distress you greatly.”
She gulped. Had he found a way to end their marriage? That would explain his comment to Mrs. Detloff that he was unaccustomed to having the title of duke connected with his name. His, not hers. And she could not forget seeing that letter from Mr. Paige, the solicitor, in Cameron’s book. A quaver slipped into her voice as she said, “All right.”
“All right?” He looked at her and smiled. “Tess, your serenity makes it always a pleasure to speak with you.”
“Always?”
He laughed, but the sound was taut. “Almost always, I should say more correctly.” Without a pause, he added, “I was speaking with Lord Stedley at the club.”
“Mrs. Livingstone’s …” She knew her face was red again, because it burned like a flame.
“Yes,” Cameron said with the gentleness he revealed so seldom. “Eventually you may become accustomed to Town ways and see it is not unusual that I can remain friends with my erstwhile mistress and her new paramour.”
“I doubt that.”
“Again that honesty.”
She put her other hand on his arm and stepped in front of him, forcing him to halt. “What is it, Cameron? What is wrong?”
“What is wrong is that Russell and his beloved Isabel’s deaths may not have been as simple as a robbery.”
Tess listened in growing horror as Cameron outlined what he had learned from speaking with Lord Stedley, the constable who had contacted Cameron with the news of his brother’s death, and the office of the Bow Street Runners. “Blackmail?” she gasped.
“Yes. At least, that is what Stedley spoke of.”
She tried to swallow past the clog in her throat. This was too much of a coincidence. Papa was having money extorted from him, and now it was possible Russell had been as well. By Mr. Knox, too? No, that made no sense, because Mr. Knox was Cameron’s friend, and Papa had intimated Mr. Knox had been acting at the request of Russell Hawksmoor when he arranged for the special license for Cameron to marry her.
“But why?” she choked. “Why would anyone murder your brother? It makes no sense.”
“I doubt if murder is the act of a sensible mind.”
“Aren’t you angry?”
“I am seething.”
She stared up at him, searching his face for any sign of such a strong emotion. There was none, save in his narrowed eyes, which blazed. “How can you be so calm?”
He put his hand over hers on his arm. “I must be, Tess. So must you be. If the one who did this—”
“Assuming the on dits are right, and it was not simply an unfortunate accident caused by a knight of the pad who took his booty and fled.”
“I cannot assume that any longer.” His lips tightened into a familiar straight line. “I do not know why I did not ask these questions right from the moment I heard of the accident.”
“You may have been thinking solely of your loss.” She knew she was being bold—even for a wife—in the midst of the walkway, but she put her hand up to his cheek and stroked it. “Cameron, do not curry your head. Self-flagellation is worthless at any time, especially now. I know you will do all you can to find the truth.”
“For that, I will need your help.”
“You need only ask.”
He pressed his mouth to her hand, then whispered, “You have not asked what and how I need you to help.”
“That does not matter.” Looking at where the boys were down on their hands and knees searching through the grass for worms, she said, “An appalling crime may have been done against their father, and I will do what I can to help bring your brother’s murderer to justice.”
Tipping her face back toward his, he said, “Eustace told me—”
“What Eustace Knox has to say does not concern me.”
“Tess, you must set aside your antipathy toward him. I do not understand why you hate him so much.” He cupped her chin in his palm. “Do you blame him for this predicament we find ourselves in?”
“The predicament of our marriage? Yes, I do blame him for it.”
“Blame your father as well, for none of us seemed to have a bit of sense that night.” Again the inward expression filled his eyes. “So why did the vicar perform the ceremony? I should have asked that before.”
“Mayhap you should have.” She longed to blurt out the truth, but her pledge to Papa halted her.
Cameron lowered his hand and said, “Although you may hate the source of this counsel, I believe it is wise. You must join me in attending Lord Peake’s assembly next week.”
“How can you plan to attend a gathering when your brother is so recently deceased? Yes, we are out of first mourning, but to attend such a party? Certainly that will cause quite a hullabaloo among the ton.”
He took her by the shoulders and held her gaze with his fervent one. “That is exactly what I hope. If there is enough babble about the most outrageous Duke and Duchess of Hawkington, people will focus on that instead of the questions I will be seeking answers to.”
“Do you believe I wish to be part of another deception?”
“I believe you have no more interest in it than I do, but I know this is what we must do, Tess, if there is any chance in discovering the truth about who was blackmailing my brother and why.” His jaw tightened. “And who killed him.”
Fourteen
Tess eased the bedroom door closed behind her. Mrs. Detloff could not hide her conviction Tess was spoiling the boys by coming to tuck them in each night, but Tess did not want to have the children believe they had been abandoned again. Some days during the past week, the only time she had had with the boys was when they were on their way to bed. She had not guessed having a single dress made would be so complicated and take so much time. An uneasy sensation deep within her warned nothing would be simple now she was married to a duke.
Although the ceremony to invest him with the title of his father and brother had yet to be held, she knew it was little more than a formality. The modiste had fluttered about the shop as if she had no more weight than one of her glorious silks, so excited at the idea of making a dress for a duchess to wear to this large gathering. Tess wanted to ask why the seamstress was so determined to have every inch of the dress perfect when there would be more than a hundred other guests. She did not bother, because she knew the answer. No matter the number of guests, everyone would take note of what a duchess wore.
She leaned back against the door to the boys’ rooms as she wondered if everyone would also take note of how this duchess’s knees trembled at the very thought of going among the beau monde. Cameron was right. She was a country bumpkin, better suited to a church fair than an assembly. So why, if she was so anxious about this gathering, was she looking forward to it with eagerness?
Trying to tell herself she might be able to obtain answers about why both her father and Russell had been paying an extortionist was silly. She would help Cameron try to find the truth about his brother, because she hoped it would lead as well to the truth about Papa. But that was not why she trembled with anticipation whenever she thought of going to this gathering. It was the thought of dancing with Cameron, of being in his arms for the length of a waltz. The very thought sent shivers of delight coursing through her. Mayhap it was madness, but she could not help it. She was falling in love with this man she had every reason to hate.
“Tess?”
She shrank back against the door, then laughed nervously. Cameron could not read the thoughts of her wayward mind. She went to the door on the other side of the hall. It was slightly ajar, and it came open as she reached out for the latch.
The way her breath caught when she saw Cameron in the easy dishevelment he chose around the ho
use was by now customary, but her heart pounded ardently within her. She could not keep from admiring how his collarless shirt accented his strength. With his waistcoat unbuttoned and hanging loosely, his shoulders seemed even wider. His fingers on the door were stained with green, and she knew he had been working with the samples delivered to him earlier today from a ship that had sailed back to England from the islands of the Pacific Ocean.
All of that she noticed before her gaze was caught by his bright eyes, which matched his cheerful smile. Oh, how she wished he would smile more often! It transformed his face, urging her to give into her craving and draw those upturned lips to her. Mayhap, she reminded herself, looking away, it was for the best that he usually wore an even expression, for then she was not so tempted to cede her common sense to this longing.
“I thought,” he said, motioning her to come into this workroom, “you might be interested in seeing some of these samples. You asked many questions before.”
“Where specifically did these come from?” She was proud of herself for asking a question that did not sound as if she desperately were seeking something to say other than to plead for him to kiss her.
“These are from the Philippines.”
“The Philippines? Aren’t they Spanish islands?”
He chuckled. “These samples have passed through many hands to reach me here, and they are in surprisingly good shape for their long journey.” He held up a flower that once might have been almost any color. The wide petals were now a dried brown. “I know it does not look pretty, but this was once an orchid. Its scent would have been exquisitely sweet.”
She touched the drooping petals. “Does it have a name?”
“A slipper orchid.”
“That is such a lovely name,” she said. “It sounds as if it should be part of lady’s garments for a fancy assembly.”
“Let me show you. Sit here.” He pointed to one of a pair of chairs next to the table.
She sat while he pulled a book off the shelf. When he sat beside her and began paging through the book, she was treated to a view of his sharply sculptured profile. His hair fell into his eyes as he bent to read the pages.
With a laugh, she picked up the glasses that were folded on another shelf. She handed them to him. “I believe you need these Cameron.”
“Yes, I fear I do.” He grimaced. “By the elevens, I despise these awkward things.”
She ran her finger along the scar above his eyebrow. “If wearing barnacles is the worst you have to suffer when you were wounded here, you should be grateful.”
“Tess, I do not want to talk of that.” He drew her hand away.
“Then talk about your plants. Let me see a drawing of this orchid.”
For a long minute, Cameron regarded her with astonishment. Had others pestered him with demands for tales of what had taken place on the day he was wounded? In the past few weeks, she had learned Cameron would divulge some experience only when he chose. She should be grateful he did not delve too deeply into her past, because then she might not have been able to hide the truth Papa had asked her not to reveal.
He paged through the book. When he pointed to a drawing, Tess smiled. The petals of the slipper orchid had once been a soft, deep green that was a dull sheen in comparison with grass.
“This type of orchid grows on the ground,” he explained, “so it is easy to pass right by it without seeing it.”
“It is beautiful.” She looked at the plants placed in neat rows on the table. “You truly enjoy your study here.”
“It shows that much?”
She nodded with a smile. “You describe these plants in the glowing terms most men save for the woman they love. It is the one time you do not hide your true feelings.”
Leaning back on the hard chair, he closed the book and placed it on the shelf behind him. He stretched un-self-consciously, giving her an excellent view of the rippling muscles shadowed beneath his lawn shirt. She made sure her eyes met his when he turned back to her. The agreement between them was so fragile, and she did not want to do anything to wreck it when she had this opportunity to hear him speaking with such candor.
“I have longed to sail away to the Pacific since I first read of Captain Cook’s travels.” He ran his fingers along one of the stems on the table. “I should say rather that I was fascinated by the studies conducted by Sir Joseph Banks, who discovered many new types of flora in those strange lands.”
“I saw, on your map here in your workroom, you have many species marked from that region, so those must be the ones you have studied already.”
“No, you have it quite in reverse, Tess. Those are the regions I planned to visit.” He stood and sighed. Taking off his glasses, he said, “More accurately, I should say once upon a time I planned to visit them.”
“Why didn’t you go? When your father and brother were alive, there was nothing to prevent you from sailing to have your adventure.”
He nodded. “You are right, as you are so irritatingly often. However, I chose a different sort of adventure.”
“Fighting the French?”
“As the younger son, it was my duty.” His mouth quirked into a reluctant smile. “Can you imagine Russell leaving the comforts and entertainments of London to march through the mud?”
“Many other younger sons did not go.”
“But I did.”
Tess came to her feet and around the table to stand beside him in front of the map. “And once you had done your duty to your family, you intended to sail here?” She touched the wide expanse of blue.
“That was my plan.”
“All of which has come to naught.”
“Plans do that.” He set his glasses back on the shelf. “I could not have imagined my life would be filled with more danger once I returned from the Continent.”
“More danger? Do you think you are in danger from whoever was blackmailing your brother?”
“I think I am in danger, but not from that quarter.”
“Then from what?”
“I believe you know quite well.”
His lips tilted in a smile. It was her only warning before he pressed his mouth over hers. He pulled her to him, his arms enveloping her. Her skirt caught on the chair, but he simply tugged harder as his hands slid down along her back to hold her to his hard body. She gasped. Not at his action, but at her reaction to it. Every fiber of her delighted in his touch.
She met his mouth eagerly with her own. Her hands rose to curve along his nape. Moving the half step closer so her legs pressed against his, she sifted her fingers up through his hair as he traced a path of fire along her lips.
He lifted his mouth from hers to whisper, “You are what is most dangerous to me, Tess. You create a quandary within me.”
“And what is that?”
“How can I want to kiss you when you are so contrary?”
“I am not the contrary one,” she murmured as she traced the thick line of his right brow with her fingertip. “Nor am I the obstinate, obsessed, obnoxious, overbearing one.”
With a grin, he caught her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “’Tis about time you pay for all the insults you have heaped upon a man who enticed you into his workroom expressly to have you to himself for a few moments.”
Her amazement at his words melted into his lips as he urged them to part beneath his gentle assault. While he sought pleasure within her mouth, she slipped her hands under his loose waistcoat. His strong sinews reacted to her touch even as his rapid breath mingled with hers before he bent to taste the skin along her neck. Waves of pleasure rippled through her, urging her to press even nearer.
His fiery fingers left scintillating sparks along her waist as his mouth covered hers once more. Rapture, stronger than anything she had ever known, soared through her. Her hands clenched on his back as she trembled, unable to govern the maelstrom within her. Was she out of her mind? She could not let him draw her into the insanity of making this marriage real. She tried to pull away, b
ut his arm tightened around her waist.
“Cameron, we cannot be silly,” she whispered as he swept her hair back from her face.
“What is silly about this?” His fingers twisted in her hair, sending pins flying about them in a silent storm.
She meant to give him a back-answer, to tell him she intended to leave this house and never to come back. She wanted to tell him she had been right. He was beastly to delight her like this when he still held on to the papers from the solicitor.
She had no chance as his lips slanted across hers. The sparks that had teased her when he touched her became a wildfire as his mouth dared hers to surrender to him. His fingers swept up her back, bringing her against him.
Turning her face away, she closed her eyes to keep the tears from leaking along her cheeks. She had depended on him to be sensible, but his fervor and her eager response warned this escalating desire could betray them more surely than Eustace Knox had. “Cameron, please stop.” She slid out of his arms.
Cameron reached to pull Tess back to him, but his hands dropped back to his sides when he saw the tears jeweling her eyes. “Of course.” Did she think he would force her into his bed? He never would do that. Or did she consider herself so irresistible to him that he could not control himself? Four months ago, he would have laughed at that question. Now it was no longer a hilarious idea. His gaze swept along her again, and the indisputable craving gripped him.
“Thank you for showing me your orchids,” Tess said, her voice little more than a ragged breath. “Good night, Cameron.” Her face bleached, and he knew even everyday words would be uneasy between them. She rushed out of the room, her footsteps echoing back to him until he heard her door shut at the front of the house.
He strode out of his workroom, closing the door behind him. By the elevens, what was wrong with him? He always had been able to keep his feelings firmly under control, just as his father had. His emotions would never dictate to him as Russell’s had, for his brother seemed always at odds with himself in the battle between what he wished to do and what he knew he should do.
Having his coat, hat, and gloves brought, he went out of the house. Mayhap fresh air would bring some fresh ideas into his head and banish this unacceptable longing for his wife.
His Unexpected Bride Page 16
