Family Scandals (14 page)

For the last few days she’d felt like a hot-air balloon, floating on an emotional high one moment and the next plunging toward earth at breakneck speed. She’d begun to realize her feelings for Marcus were more than just friendly, but she had doubts that their marriage could be valid. If Marcus discovered who she was, she knew he’d insist on protecting her. The only problem was he’d only be doing so out of guilt. The last thing she wanted was to be an obligation to him.

Marcus raised his head reluctantly. His conscience warred with his body, but reason won out—this time. “Corrie.”He could not stop the groan that escaped.

Corinna stiffened and pulled away, a look of horror replacing the dreamy, passion-filled haze she had been floating in. She scrambled from his lap and was around the other side of the desk in a flash.

“I-I…” she stuttered. Her hands rose to flaming cheeks before she whirled toward the door.

Marcus caught up to her before she opened the door.

“Corrie…Amy…wait!” He put one hand over hers on the handle, the other on the door above her head. She froze, then put her head against the door as her shoulders slumped. “We need to…talk.”

Her response was so soft, he almost didn’t hear it. “About what?”

About what?
His head spun with the possible responses, starting with
Why aren’t you dead?
Knowing he couldn’t ask that, he responded with the obvious. “Us.”

She stiffened and raised her head. Still staring at the door, she said, “There is no ‘us’, my lord.”

“What?” He didn’t believe he’d heard correctly.

She took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh before turning to lean back against the door. Licking her lips and unaware of the effect of that action on him, she explained, “I only came down here to tell you I wasn’t…um…dead, but I didn’t expect…” Her voice trailed off and she dropped her eyes to her hands worrying the tie on her robe.

“What did you expect?” He straightened, removing his hand from the door. At least she was speaking to him.

“I don’t know.” She paused then looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. “I was hoping that at least you’d be glad I wasn’t dead.”

“In that, at least, you were correct.” He had to restrain himself from saying more and waited for her to continue.

“I was diverted when I saw Douglas’s watch.” Something she still held, he noted. “Then, when I opened it, I…” Her voice tapered off and tears welled again.

He wasn’t proof against the tears. “Don’t Corrie—Amy—” He halted midsentence, then grinned to lighten his words. “What should I call you?”

She dashed away the tears with the back of her hand, then replied, “Corrie will be just fine. Since I’m only temporary, it wouldn’t do for you to be too familiar with me.”

“Temporary! Hell, you’re my wife.” His outburst startled not only himself, but she immediately stiffened and pressed herself back against the door. Contrition washed over him. “Sorry. I’m afraid my language goes to…um…the dogs when I’m agitated. I don’t mean to upset you, but Corrie you must realize you can no longer work for my brother.”

She lifted her chin and looked straight at him. “Why not?”

Why not?
They were married, for starters. His wife had no need to work. Besides, he’d promised Douglas to watch out for her. That meant, at the very least, he’d take care of her.

“Because my wife has no need to work.”

“But I’m not your wife. Not really.”

He could easily solve the
not really
piece. His bedroom was just down the hall. But the first part of her statement…

“Of course you’re my wife. Are you saying you didn’t participate in the ceremony in Little Tympington?”

“You know I did,” she replied. “But I also know that it couldn’t possibly have been valid. There were no banns read or special license obtained, it was performed in the middle of the night, and I was only fourteen. How much did you bribe the vicar to perform an illegal ceremony?”

She had a point. Actually she had a couple of good points. It still didn’t matter.

“Just because we didn’t do everything exactly by the book doesn’t mean it’s not valid,” he hedged. “It was recorded in the parish register. We both signed it. The vicar gave me a certificate and you the scrap of paper with the information on it.”

“That still doesn’t make it legal.”

“Perhaps. But I have always considered it legal.” He was stretching her arguments. “I even told my commanding officer in India that I was married.” Okay, that was a very long stretch.

She folded her arms over her chest, drawing his eyes to her figure. His body stirred again. “Then why didn’t you write to me?” she demanded.

“I wrote to you at the school once, shortly after Douglas was killed. The letter was returned unopened with a note explaining the school policy of not allowing the students to receive mail from non-relations. I also wrote to you at Houghton Hall to ask if you wanted Douglas’s effects—his watch and other small mementos.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Shortly after that, I received Gregory’s letter and just assumed…”

There was no need to repeat it again. They both knew what he’d assumed. His response took the wind right out of her. “Oh.”

Corinna stared up at him, at a loss for words. The last thing she wanted was to trap him into an unwanted marriage. At the same time she realized her assumption that any letter coming to Houghton Hall for her would not have reached her had been true. Of course, it also meant that he hadn’t been looking for her.

So, what now? She had serious doubts about the validity of the marriage, but soon she would no longer be needed by the duke and duchess. What would she do then?

Rubbing her eyes, she realized it was getting too late and she was not thinking well. Perhaps tomorrow things would be clearer.

“I need to get some sleep,” she told him. “Can we discuss this tomorrow?” The clock in the foyer chimed the hour of one. “Or later this morning?”

He hesitated, his eyes softening in the muted light. For a long moment he seemed to be thinking, then he let out a breath and smiled.

“Very well. For now, things may continue as they are, but before the twins’ regular governess returns, we will have to decide what to do. No matter what happens, however, I intend to take care of you as Douglas expected. It was a promise I made both in Little Tympington and in India and I will not go back on it because you are being stubborn.”

There was nothing she could say that wouldn’t sound childish, so she merely nodded. There might be some benefits to having him on her side, but right now she couldn’t think of any.

“I will escort you up.”

Startled, she blurted, “But there’s no need. Earlier this evening, I was perfectly able to negotiate the stairs on my own.”

“Earlier this evening I was a fool who didn’t recognize his own wife,” he responded as if that explained everything.

A denial rose to her lips, but she squelched it. Arguing right now was useless when she couldn’t think clearly. Tomorrow—later—they could iron it out.

The house was as silent on the way up as it had been on the way down, yet Corinna was very conscious of the man climbing the stairs beside her. Her lips still tingled from his earlier kiss and her legs were shaking, but she refused to lean on him like some clinging limpet.

At the door to the nursery, he stopped. Turning to look up at him, she could barely make out his face in the darkness. Neither had thought to bring a lamp.

“Good night,” she said softly. “Sleep well.”

“Good night, Corrie,” he replied and stepped back as she opened the door and slipped through.

Sleep well.
Her voice seemed to follow him back downstairs and he had to restrain himself from laughing out loud. Not bloody likely!

Not when he could still feel her body pressed against his, and his shirt was still damp from her tears. Not when he could still feel her lips beneath his, still taste her sweetness, and remember her response. Not when he could still see her breasts outlined by her crossed arms beneath the gown and robe she wore. Sleep well—hell, he wasn’t going to sleep at all!

Chapter Eight

To my sister, Corinna Houghton Waring, I leave all my worldly property and goods.
Last Will and Testament of Baron Douglas Camden.

Sounds beyond the door of her room drew Corinna out of slumber the next morning. Sitting up, she rubbed tired eyes then rose to begin her day. Maybe she shouldn’t have argued so insistently with Marcus last night. She might have slept in this morning, she thought, as she poured water into the basin.

Last night’s encounter with Marcus replayed itself in her head as she went through her morning routine. There were reasons, both for and against, that she should not count on the legality of the marriage. Perhaps if she listed them, he would see that she was right. That might be a good occupation during tea time.

Emerging from her room fifteen minutes later, she discovered that it was Thursday and she had forgotten. They always rode before breakfast on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.

“How about if we ride after breakfast instead?” she promised the disappointed children.

“But Papa and Uncle Marcus always ride before breakfast,” Michael protested.

Corinna pondered this for a moment. The reason the children loved riding so early in the morning was because of the possibility that they might come across their parents or uncle while out.

“Suppose I send a note down to your uncle and ask that he ride with us after breakfast, even if he has already ridden this morning? I’m sure he’ll be glad to join us.”

Yesterday she would not have dared to make such a bold suggestion, but after last night she had a feeling Marcus would not mind the request. And it would give her the chance to ensure he wasn’t about to tell the duke and duchess about her.

The children were skeptical. “Do you think so?” Caroline asked.

“Yes, I think he would,” she replied confidently. “I’ll write him a note right now while Penny goes for your breakfast.”

By the time Penny had returned with the breakfast tray, she had written a note to Marcus requesting that he accompany her and the twins on an after-breakfast ride. As breakfast progressed and no response arrived, she wondered if she hadn’t been too sure of herself. Perhaps Penny hadn’t been able to find him.

They finished breakfast and she had retreated to her room to change when she heard a commotion out in the large room. When she emerged, it was to find Marcus and his brother sitting on the floor with the children. They were lining up Michael’s toy soldiers, but Caroline was impatient. “When do I get to shoot?”

“Soon, poppet,” her father responded patiently.

Her eyes went unerringly to Marcus as he lounged beside Michael, watching the boy set his soldiers in formation. His dark hair was windblown, the shirt under his riding jacket open at the neck exposing the tanned column of his throat. She flexed her fingers as she remembered the feel of the corded muscle underneath her hand the night before.

As if he realized he was being watched, he looked up suddenly and their eyes met. The blatant appreciation in his eyes warmed her and she nearly stepped toward him. She was stopped by the duke’s deep voice, and turned toward him instead.

“Ah, Miss Camden, my wife requests that you join her in the cliff parlor.”

“Of course,” she replied automatically, her eyes swiveling to Marcus.

His eyebrows raised in response. It was the first time he’d heard the name she was using and she knew there would be more questions forthcoming. She had told him last night that she’d run away, hadn’t she? Surely he would understand why she wasn’t using her own name.

“Marcus and I will take these two scamps riding,” the duke continued.

A silent sigh escaped. She’d just finished changing. As she turned to go back and change her clothes again, she could feel Marcus’s eyes on her back.

As she unpinned Douglas’s watch from the inside of her riding jacket and re-pinned it to the inside of her dress, she was warmed by the thought that Marcus had written to ask if she’d wanted it, and the other small items he had. Now that she had it, it would become an even more cherished possession than the items she left Houghton Hall with. Even the thought that she might never see her mother’s jewelry again paled beside the joy of having Douglas’s possessions. If she were honest with herself, she’d known she might have to sell the jewelry to survive, but she would never part with Douglas’s watch.

Corinna entered the parlor overlooking the sea to find the duchess there at the small secretary that stood in one of the corners. She wondered at the summons, but could think of nothing untoward that might have happened recently. Of course, the duchess had been blatantly matchmaking last night. Perhaps she wanted to know if her efforts worked. Corinna smiled to herself. If only the duchess knew.

The duchess rose from the small desk as Corinna entered the room. Dressed in a rose pink-and-white-striped morning gown, Corinna thought she still looked like a debutante in her first season. She was slim despite three children, and her face was unlined. Only her eyes, which shone with a slightly jaded intelligence, corroborated the fact that she was no longer an innocent.