Free Married in Haste by Cathy Maxwell

imagine you wish to return as quickly as possible,” Stella said almost gleefully. “Oooo, Neil, please pour a glass of wine for me.”
    “And you, Tess?” her brother asked. “Do you wish a small sherry?”
    Tess didn’t answer him. Instead, she said to Brenn, “Are you really expecting us to return to Wales?”
    He answered her honestly. “Yes. Probably the day after the wedding.”
    Stella almost jigged for joy. “What an adventure for you, Tess. Imagine, the wilds of Wales. She’s rarely been out of London,” she confided to Brenn. “The change of scenery will be good for her. For all of us.”
    The woman Brenn had met last night on the terrace would have challenged Stella for making such a slur, but now, Tess murmured distractedly, “Yes, it will.”
    She took a small restless step and then, as if just remembering the flowers in her hand, said, “I should have these put in water.” She would have made a quick exit except Neil stopped her.
    “Not yet, Tess. We must toast your happiness. Give the flowers to the servants to arrange.”
    “Yes, a toast!” Stella echoed happily.
    For the space of a heartbeat, Tess appeared ready to toss the insipid bouquet in the air, lift her skirts, and run. But she didn’t. Instead, she handed the flowers to one of the ever-present footmen with the same resolve Brenn had used himself to confront French cannons.
    Her brother pushed a glass of wine in her hand.
    “To your happiness,” he said.
    “Hear, hear,” Stella acknowledged, lifting her own glass.
    Brenn sipped, all too aware that his intended had not moved since her brother had forced her to take the glass. Instead, she ran her thumb back and forth along the glass’s crystal rim.
    “Another drink!” Hamlin ordered, having downed his own. He crossed to the wine cabinet to refill it.
    “We must celebrate your future. By the way, Merton, I will have my man of business in on the morrow, say two o’clock? We’ll discuss the wedding contract at that time.”
    The wedding contract. Fifty thousand pounds. Swallow your pride. Brenn glanced at Tess standing rigid and silent, her reluctance a dart aimed at his deepest doubts. Would fifty thousand be enough?
    “I’d like a moment alone with your sister.” The words were out of Brenn’s mouth before he’d even realized his intent.
    The request caught Hamlin off guard. Brother and sister exchanged quick glances.
    “A moment only,” Brenn pressed, a hint of steel in his voice.

    “Of course you can,” Stella said cheerily. “After all, I have a wedding to plan. Imagine, it must be all done by next Wednesday! Neil, darling, can we not hold it here instead of the church?”
    “The church,” he insisted curtly, still frowning at Brenn. He forced a smile. “But the wedding breakfast will be here.” He paused. “I will not be far,” he told his sister. With a stiff bow, he left the room, Stella traipsing at his heels and prattling on about wedding arrangements.
    Tess looked as if she might follow them. Brenn dissuaded her by walking to the door and shutting it.
    She flinched at the sound of the lock clicking in place. Her gaze flew up to meet his. There was definitely panic in her expressive eyes. She looked away, moving across the room to the front window overlooking the street.
    “You don’t want this marriage,” he said without preamble. “Why?”
    She turned, facing him, and he saw a flash of the spirit he’d seen in her last night. “My lord, I don’t understand your question. Are you attempting to cry off?”
    Brenn wasn’t about to walk away from her now. He had given her his word. He crossed the carpet to her, stopping when they were less than a hand’s distance apart. She observed his approach with the watchful caution of someone being stalked by a wolf.
    He spoke. “We each have our own reasons for wanting this match. Let us clear the air and go on about it.” Even as he said this, he wondered how much he was willing to reveal about his