Free His Unexpected Bride by Jo Ann Ferguson Page A

glass in the windows. The cheerful wallcovering was bright in the glow of the extra candles she suspected Jenette had badgered from the innkeeper.
    As if a bit of extra light could lighten my dark spirits tonight! Walking past the small bag that contained the clothes brought into the inn for her, her hands fisted on the footboard of the bed. A mocking laugh filled her head. How self-assured she had been when she told Cameron she could deal with anything that might happen on their journey to London.
    She wanted nothing but to go to bed and put the whole of this evening behind her. Ringing for Jenette, who should have been here instead of flirting with Cameron’s valet Park, she began to undo the buttons down the back of her dress. Two flew off, clattering like small hailstones as they rolled under the bed.
    â€œOh, my!” gasped Jenette as she rushed in and bent to retrieve them. “My lady, you should have waited for me.”
    â€œI know.” Tess did not want to argue with her abigail, so she let Jenette undo the rest of her dress. Going to the glass by the dressing screen, she knelt in the overstuffed chair beneath it. Her fingertips touched her straight lips. They would soften beneath one of Cameron’s kisses. Too easily she let her desires for them persuade her to toss aside her good sense when Cameron was near. His touch was the most wonderful thing she had ever experienced. The very thought terrified her, because she would be a widgeon to become more involved with a man who wanted only to put her out of his life.
    A knock was set on the door. Realizing she wore nothing more than her chemise and stockings, she sprinted behind the dressing screen while Jenette answered the door. “Thank you,” Tess heard her abigail say, before the latch closed again with a soft click.
    Peering around the edge of the cotton-covered screen, Tess asked, “Who was it?”
    â€œThe innkeeper … Mr. Hunt.”
    â€œWhat did he want?”
    â€œHe delivered this bowl of soup, a pot of hot chocolate, and a bottle of brandy for you.” Smiling, she held out the tray. “The note is from Lord Hawksmoor.”
    Gingerly, unsure what this gift meant, Tess took the pewter salver. She placed it on the table by the bed and stared at it. Brandy? Why would Cameron send her brandy? She did not need to recall he had been drinking Papa’s brandy when he became so intoxicated that he was a willing participant in the wedding ceremony, for every waking second was a reminder of that. Or had been it sent for some other reason? With quaking fingers, she lifted the unopened bottle.
    Mayhap in London Cameron was accustomed to women who drank such a quantity of spirits. She shivered as she wondered what sort of women he usually consorted with when he was in Town. In spite of Papa’s words about Cameron’s position as a second son and how women were disgusted by the barely discernible scar, she suspected there were many women in London who would appreciate the attentions of such a handsome man who was the brother of a duke and clearly plump in the pockets.
    Putting the bottle on the tray, she was ready to send it back untouched. Then she remembered Jenette had said there was a note. Tess unfolded it. The short message was written in a bold hand, which matched Cameron’s demeanor.
    My dear Tess ,
    Please accept this to eat and drink in hopes it will bring you a pleasant night’s rest. Our journey on the morrow will be shorter, and tomorrow evening we shall dine more comfortably in the privacy of my house. That will allow us time to work out a way to deal with the uneasiness of our lives together until I can find a way to end this .
    Cameron
    She blinked back unexpected tears. What had she expected? An apology that he had given her a scold in front of the inn’s other guests when she had wanted only to defend her father? Or had she dreamed—foolishly—of a profession of adoration he had