Married in Haste (10 page)

His broad-shouldered figure stood out from the other men and she couldn’t help but think him the most handsome of the group. She let her gaze drop. Each of the men wore satin dress breeches. The material left very little to the imagination and Tess noticed that Brenn’s pillow—because it certainly must be a pillow right now and not a stick—was larger than the other men’s.

Much larger.

The thought brought a frown to her forehead as she contemplated the possible significance of this discovery.

It was then she realized that the gentlemen had noticed her staring. They all turned to see where she was looking and ended up staring at Brenn’s breeches.

There was a general discreet coughing and a row of hidden smiles.

Tess suddenly realized how brazen she must appear. She ducked her head and hurried off in the opposite direction.

Brenn didn’t have any idea what Tess was up to, but he was certain something was working in that redheaded mind of hers.

“I say, Merton, was that Miss Hamlin ogling you gentlemen only a moment ago?” Deland Godwin asked.

The man had played a hand in Brenn’s introduction to Tess, but Brenn did not trust him. He’d read the paper Godwin published, and was not impressed.

The newly knighted scientist who had been boring Brenn and the others with a discussion of his latest theory answered Godwin with a slightly embarrassed laugh. “She must have been searching for Lord Merton. He’s engaged to her, you know.”

“Yes, I do know,” Godwin said. “I am the one who arranged an introduction. I did not realize at the time that my simple request would turn out as fortuitous for you as it did, my lord. Please accept my congratulations.” He held out his hand.

Brenn shook Godwin’s hand. It was damp and lily-white. He forced a smile. “Yes, I am fortunate.”

“I take it you and Hamlin have discussed the marriage settlements?” Godwin drawled. “The financial amounts?”

If Godwin thought Brenn was going to let him pry into his business, he was wrong. Brenn smiled, the expression pleasant but firm. “I am well pleased. Now, if you will excuse me?”

He turned on his heel and would have walked off except for Godwin’s saying, “I wasn’t finished speaking, my lord.”

Brenn took the full measure of the man and didn’t like what he saw. He’d put up with enough pompous asses in the military. He didn’t have to any longer.

“I am,” he responded and left the group. If Deland Godwin was the only enemy he’d made here in London, he could sleep at night.

Some of the guests had left but the salon was crowded. He scanned the gathered assembly, searching for Tess’s flaming hair. She wasn’t to be found. Not with the group gathered around the Italian warbler and not around the refreshment table.

Brenn wandered out of the salon. A long hallway ran toward the main hall. It was quiet compared to the noise he’d just left. Then he heard her voice. It came from one of the side rooms.

He started walking toward it, but stopped when he heard her say, “Harve, you must deliver this and not a word to anyone. Not even Mr. Hamlin.”

Brenn took a cautious step forward until he could see around the corner. Tess stood with her back to him. She was addressing a servant wearing the Hamlin livery.

The servant pushed a note back toward his mistress. “Miss Tess, I don’t know.”

“Please,” she entreated, in a voice that would make a man do anything.

It worked on Harve. He held out his gloved hand. “I don’t feel right about it.”

“It’s nothing terrible,” she promised. “And remember, not a word to anyone. I can trust you on that, can’

t I, Harve?” She placed a gloved hand on his arm.

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down a moment before he whispered, “Yes, miss.”

“Good,” Tess cooed and then jolted Brenn by giving the footman Captain Draycutt’s name and address.

Fearing discovery, and having heard enough, Brenn turned and quickly walked back to the salon before she caught him spying. A few minutes later, she, too, joined the rest of the company.

Brenn watched her move easily around the room. She was so poised. So beautiful. She would be an excellent countess.

And a faithless one.

Tess was with child and she was sending notes to Captain Draycutt. A bloody cavalry officer with a reputation for seduction.

You’re a hypocrite, some inner voice told him. Don’t you have secrets?

Yes, but could he put up with infidelity?

Could you give up your dreams? that wicked voice countered.

Abruptly, Brenn turned and went in search of Hamlin to take his leave. After paying his addresses to Lady Ottley, he left without saying one word to his betrothed. He wasn’t feeling particularly charitable toward her.

Finding Draycutt wasn’t difficult. The man habituated all the haunts patronized by cavalrymen. Brenn found him at his club, just as he’d finished rising from a losing game of cards.

“May I have a word with you?” Brenn said pleasantly.

“Of course,” Draycutt answered. “Merton, no? Artilleryman. Congratulations. I hear you’ve landed Tess Hamlin.”

It took all of Brenn’s willpower not to wrap his fingers around Draycutt’s neck. Instead, he slapped his leather gloves against the palm of his other hand and motioned the cavalryman toward a private corner of the room. Once there, he said almost pleasantly, “Don’t ever let Miss Hamlin’s name cross your lips again.”

Draycutt pulled back in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

Brenn continued, his voice level, “Because if it does, I shall call you out.”

The younger man stared at him. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly serious.”

Draycutt blew the air out between his cheeks. He signaled for a drink from a passing waiter. “I hear that in spite of your leg, you are a noted swordsman.”

“And a crack shot, but then my leg has never interfered with my aim.”

Draycutt took a sip of brandy before shrugging. “Very well. I shall never say her name again.” He even smiled. “My word of honor.”

For a second, Brenn was tempted to call the man a liar. His promise had been too easily given. Either that, or else he didn’t give a tinker’s damn about Tess or the baby.

To Brenn, a man who didn’t honor his obligations was beneath contempt. He left the club without looking back.

Tess was his. He’d claimed her the moment he’d kissed her. He’d protect her and her reputation with his life. The day after the wedding, he’d whisk her off to Wales, away from the wagging tongues and the perfidious rabble known as the ton.

That night, Tess had trouble sleeping.

Brenn had left the Ottleys’ without wishing her a good evening. What manner of man was he? Stiff, formal, correct—and then suddenly, without provocation, he’d kissed her as if he could drain her soul from her very body then charged off without a word to her. Of course, her staring at a line of men’s private parts might have warned him off.

At last, tired of tossing and turning, she put her feet over the side of the bed and, with a heavy sigh, lit a candle. Her uneasy mind was not going to let her sleep.

She padded across the carpet to a leather-bound trunk filled with personal objects. Out of it, she pulled Minnie’s copybook.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, the candle beside her, Tess flipped through the pages. This journal was all she had of the woman who had been so influential in her thinking. The rest of Minnie’s meager possessions had been sent to her brother in Surrey.

The first time Tess had read this journal, she’d been fourteen. Minnie had just passed on and there were tearstains on the pages where Tess had mourned. She’d not understood much of what she’d read, but she’d cherished the copybook.

Now Tess studied the poems Minnie had written. She ran her finger across the pages. She knew this handwriting as well as she knew her own.

Many of Minnie’s poems were about love. And kisses. And loss.

This one spoke of something more:

Sweet, sweet copulation,

I take my lover in to me,

I shield him with my heart

Offering what is only mine to give.

The poem was dated 1794. For the first time, Tess read it with a woman’s heart…and understood.

Minnie had had a lover. She’d been an attractive woman. Perhaps there had been a scandal, something that would drive a Surrey vicar’s daughter to London and the penurious life of a governess. Minnie had always been firm in her admonitions to Tess to be a model of propriety.

“I wish you were here now to answer my questions.” Tess sighed.

Then she blew out the candle and, rising, went back to bed. She tucked the book beneath her pillow. In a week’s time, she would offer Brenn what was only hers to give. She thought of him not as the aloof man he’d been this evening but as the man she had laughed with on the Garlands’ terrace. The man who had kissed her. The man she and Neil were deceiving.

She shivered and placed her hand upon the book. In this position she fell into a sound sleep to dream of sticks that turned into pillows and pots of gold that disappeared when she reached out to touch them.

The next week was the most hectic, unsettling one of Tess’s life. It was as if her world had been turned upside down.

Stella was in her zenith. Everyone in their social circle vied for invitations to the wedding. Consequently, Stella wanted only the best for the celebration and was willing to pay lavish amounts for it.

Neil behaved as if he had no money worries. When Tess confided her very firm feelings that he should talk to Stella about scaling back the guest list to the wedding breakfast, he’d laughed. He’d said that nothing was too good for his little sister.

“But what of money, Neil?” she’d pleaded.

“Tess, my fortune’s intact. Stella and I are paying for this.” He then gave her his back as he helped himself to a freshly opened bottle of port.

“Then why don’t you reimburse me for the money you lost?”

Neil over-poured his glass. He wiped up the spilled wine before saying, “I can’t do that, Tess. You know I can’t.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t. It’s the only honorable thing to do.” She crossed her arms. “I overheard you talking to him about the marriage settlements. I think we should either tell him the truth or you should share some of the money Father settled on you.”

“Tess, that is such a radical idea. And it won’t fly. It won’t fly at all. Why, Christopher would never authorize such an expense. He is always going on about how extravagant Stella and I are.” Neil gulped down his wine.

“Talk to him, Neil. Explain.”

Her brother set the glass down with force. “I can’t! Don’t you understand? If Christopher finds out, I’ll never gain control over my own fortune. Father’s will was deucedly unfair. I can’t live this way. Not much longer!” He stormed out of the room before Tess could say more.

That afternoon, Brenn brought over pen and ink drawings he’d done of Erwynn Keep. He had talent as an artist.

Tess studied the pictures of the stately brick mansion sitting on a crag of land that jutted out over a lake.

Rosebushes and ivy covered its walls. Mountains framed the background.

She pointed to them. “Is this where the wizards kicked their feet?”

Brenn smiled at her reference to his story. “One of them. This is where the herb garden will be.” He pointed to a location in back of the house. “Off the kitchen.”

She nodded, not really interested in herbs at this moment. Since the Ottley musicale, Brenn had been cordial, but distant. She was tempted to ask him if anything was wrong but feared the answer.

She studied the drawings. “It looks peaceful.”

“It is,” he assured her. “The mountains keep the world at bay. No war, no hunger, no bloody death…”

He murmured the last words, as if speaking to himself.

“I thought soldiers lived for war,” she said.

“Only those who have never seen it.” He spoke without thought because the moment the words had left his lips, he acted as if he wished he could call them back. “Not noble of me, I know, but I’ve had my fill,”

he explained curtly and started to roll up the drawings, handling them as if they were the most precious objects on earth.

Tess stopped him. “Wait. Tell me about the weathervane.” She pointed to the cupola on the roof of the house and its fanciful dragon weathervane. “I’ve never seen one quite like it before.”

“No, and you won’t. I designed it.” A frown appeared on his forehead. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, had a fit of whimsy. It isn’t crafted yet and I may not use it.”

She looked at the coiling body of the dragon. The fire coming from his mouth pointed in the direction of the wind. “I like it.”

“You do?”

She nodded. “I enjoy whimsy.”

For the first time in days, he smiled at her. His grin was slightly lopsided. She liked it.

“Well, I’ll have Cedric Pughe fashion it then.” He began re-rolling the drawings.

“Who is Cedric Pughe?”

“The blacksmith. There’s a village within a mile of the house. About twenty families live there. Their livelihood depends upon the earl of Merton.”

Tess sensed that something was bothering him, but she didn’t feel comfortable prying. “I’ll be able to hire help then for the house, although I’m sure you already have some servants on retainer.”

“Retainer?” He said the word as if he’d never heard of such a concept.

“Yes. Certainly you have servants who have been with the family?”

Brenn went still. “Well, no. My uncle was rather…eccentric.”

At that moment, Neil came in and dragged Brenn off to have a drink at his club. Tess watched them go.

Twenty families. And she would be the lady of the manor. She had never considered that role before.

She knew very little about country life.

Then, the Monday evening before Tess’s wedding, Leah pulled her aside. They were at a small soirée featuring country dances. The crowd was young, and the atmosphere lighthearted.

Brenn stood to one side discussing farming methods with their host. Such a discussion would usually have caused Tess to roll her eyes with boredom. Now, she wondered how to encourage him to discuss such things with her. She even turned down offers to dance, hoping to capture his attention. If Brenn noticed she was available, he gave no indication.