Hadley Fullerton
Damn. Not the homecoming he was expecting. Emotionally blackmailed into marriage, and now a serious cryptic message sent in invisible ink, from a man whom he trusted with his life. A man who said he was in danger. But from whom?
The Hennesseys came to mind; however, without his financial support the family would not survive. No, he was more use to them alive.
He sank into his chair and pondered this new development. Was it something to do with Christian and Serena? Were they the ones in trouble? True, he did know about Serena’s past, so if she was in danger, it could make him a target.
Christian Trent, the Earl of Markham, had been in the Caribbean while he was there. Christian had been en route from Canada to England to clear his name of rape. His ward’s governess, Serena, was wanted for murder and Sebastian had aided her in avoiding discovery. He’d not heard what had happened once they’d returned to England. Was this the trouble Hadley alluded to? Was he in trouble for aiding her?
Sitting here wasn’t going to provide the answers. He made his way back to the drawing room just as Aunt Alison arrived home.
“Sebastian, dear. How nice to see you home.” His aunt kissed him on both cheeks before she looked him up and down. “You appear to be in good health. Let’s
hope you stay that way. Now”—she clapped her hands—“we shall have no further scandalous behavior, agreed?”
Sebastian understood his aunt had issued a command, not a question. “You’re looking the picture of health, Aunt—”
“You’ll never guess, Auntie, Sebastian is getting married,” Marisa said excitedly.
Aunt Alison frowned at her with raised eyebrows and with a nod toward the staff. “Shall we retire to the drawing room to hear Sebastian’s news?”
Once more he found himself settled in the drawing room. Aunt Alison smoothed her skirts, accepted a small sherry from Sebastian, and then smiled. “Marriage. I love a wedding. Who is the lucky lady?”
The girls both said at once, “Miss Beatrice Hennessey.”
Aunt Alison didn’t even blink. “Well, isn’t that interesting,” she pronounced, and took a sip of sherry. “As I always said, sins have a way of ensuring we atone for them.” She threw Sebastian a knowing look. “When is this marriage to take place?”
He cleared his throat. “Tomorrow morning.”
“Hmm, so fast. A very guilty conscience, it would seem.”
“It would appear the Hennesseys’ financial situation is dire.” Sebastian gritted his teeth and watched as his sisters giggled. “If you must know, I have to leave London immediately after the wedding. Lord Fullerton needs my assistance with a small matter.”
Helen’s head popped up. “What matter? Is Hadley, I mean Lord Fullerton, all right?”
Marisa sighed. “Oh, for goodness’ sake. The man doesn’t even know you’re alive.”
“Stop teasing your sister, Marisa.” Aunt Alison turned to Sebastian. “You’ve only just got home, my boy. Surely it can wait a few days.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt, it cannot wait.”
“Well, you’ll take your new wife with you. I’m not going to be left to deal with her. Nor will I be left to face the gossip. There will be a thunderstorm of talk when everyone hears you’ve married Miss Hennessey. And even more if they hear you tore off after the wedding and left her here with us.”
Sebastian noted the firm line of Aunt Alison’s lips and inwardly groaned. Aunt Alison was right. If there was mischief about, leaving London would be noticed.
Unless it was for his honeymoon …
Aunt Alison waggled her finger at him. “She can accompany you. I’m not cleaning up your messes anymore.”
“Of course my wife will accompany me.”
With that final statement, Sebastian realized he’d not have a hope in blazing hell of leaving Beatrice behind. Damn. The upside was he’d have plenty of opportunity to sleep with her. The sooner he got her with child, the sooner they could lead separate lives, and she could reside at his country estate, Hawkestone, near York. Out of sight and out of mind.
Later that night, a small nagging doubt stayed with him as he lay in his bed trying to sleep. A woman who entered gaming hells to retrieve her brother, and a woman who would come to his ship and proposition him, was unlikely to be the type to sit quietly in the country.
He fell asleep frowning. The best-laid plans had not met Miss Hennessey. He wouldn’t admit that he looked forward to the challenge.
Chapter Four
The wedding took place early the following morning at the chapel in Bow Street. Only Sebastian’s family was present. Beatrice’s mother refused to attend but that did not upset her. Beatrice couldn’t have faced a scene on this day of all days. It was bad enough she was marrying the man who’d killed her brother. As far as Dowager Hennessey was concerned, Beatrice had sold herself to the devil. Her mother could not understand why Beatrice would not contemplate marrying Lord Dunmire.
For one moment last night, Beatrice considered telling her mother the truth about Dunmire, but then that would let Lizandra’s secret out, and she would protect Lizzy’s confidence until the day she died.
Dunmire was a monster. If Coldhurst
was
the devil, then Dunmire was his maker.
The ceremony was a solemn, swift affair, certainly not even remotely like the cherished ideal of her dreams. The groom in particular did not radiate happiness. He looked pale and his brow had a sheen to it. The entire event seemed surreal to Beatrice. She felt like an observer rather than the glowing bride.
She smoothed down the skirts of her high-waisted wedding gown. It was the only gown she owned that was suitable. How ironic that the soft ivory satin with a tulle overskirt shot with silver threads complemented the groom’s superbly tailored blue coat, the silver matching the color of his eyes.
She could scarcely believe she was at her wedding. It was as though it were happening to someone else. After so many seasons with no marriage proposals, she’d never thought this day would come. The fact she had no dowry and was not considered a raving beauty meant that she was not surprised when her first season slipped by with no interested pursuers at all. By the end of her third season, she heard the rumors. Henpeck Hennessey the men called her, all because she was trying to stop her selfish brother from spending the last of their money. As soon as she heard the cruel nickname, coupled with her lack of dowry, she knew her marriage prospects had died.
Never in her life did she ever imagine she’d end up marrying, let alone a man
like Coldhurst. The idea of sharing a bed with her brother’s killer turned her stomach.
She glanced covertly up at Sebastian standing beside her. The light from the church candles glinted off his dark locks. But the glow didn’t reach his eyes. His face was hard and unsmiling. That he did not wish to marry her was humiliatingly obvious to everyone present. His younger sisters had smiled at her in a way that declared how much of a favor their brother was doing her, and her family. Her face had flushed with humiliation.
When it came to declaring her vows, she did so with quiet determination. She agreed to love, honor, and obey the man standing tense beside her. Her family—mother, sisters, and brothers—would be safe. She would be safe.
When he took her hand to place a ring on her finger, a sear of heat raced up her arm and for one terrifying moment she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Suddenly, marrying a man like Sebastian Hawkestone, the Marquis of Coldhurst, didn’t feel safe at all. Her heart pounded and her head swam. The idea of handing her body into his keeping sent giant waves of terror ricocheting through her. Lizzy had told her what Dunmire had done to her, and how much it had hurt.
Her back straightened. She wanted a family, children of her own. She had to lie with Coldhurst to achieve that goal. She could put up with any amount of pain if the coupling produced a child.
With an unsteady breath, Beatrice studied the immaculately groomed fingers of the large hand clasping her own, and thought about this man’s reputation as England’s most accomplished lover. If it hurt so much, why did women crave entrance to his bed? Perhaps, with Coldhurst, it would not be so painful.
The ceremony over, they signed the registry and walked slowly back down the aisle.
“You wear your martyrdom well. I’ve married you, not disgraced you. You could try to appear, if not happy, at least thankful,” he growled beside her.
Sebastian tried not to look at Beatrice as they walked together. He couldn’t quite believe he had married the woman beside him. He could feel a line of sweat dripping down his back. This was not the woman he had met down at the dock. In place of the seemingly dull and slightly unattractive woman, Beatrice had turned into a captivating blushing bride.
He understood her strength of character. It took a brave woman to approach him with her proposition of marriage. He admired her forthrightness, as well as her
courage. What he had not seen yesterday, under the layers of Thames mud, was a woman whose beauty, while understated, was certainly there for a man of discriminating tastes to discover.
When he’d watched her enter the church, he had almost stopped the wedding. She’d been nervously licking her lips, the action immediately drawing his attention to the lushness of her mouth. Her deep green eyes, inadequately hiding her fear, were luminous enough to drown in, while the hair that had seemed only a dull brown yesterday was the lustrous color of brandy, flecked through with shimmering gold and the russets of autumn.
When he’d placed a ring on her finger, she’d shivered. Not with fear. When he’d looked in her eyes, there was awareness in her gaze, a sexual awakening that indicated she too had felt the attraction between them.
How he’d ever thought her plain, he didn’t know. He did not wish to feel this flare of heated desire when he looked at his wife.
Now his thoughts were in a strange turmoil.
What the devil had gotten into him? Beatrice had every right to blame him for Doogie’s death, but the last thing he needed just now was a wife to complicate his life. Certainly not a woman they called Henpeck Hennessey. His
wife;
he swallowed back his choking fear at the word. Beatrice was the sorrow-filled, antagonistic elder sister of the man he had killed in a duel.
God help him
.
Yet he’d had every chance to refuse her proposal. And he had been certain she would find the idea of being married to a man like him repulsive. He glanced sideways, and to his horror he had to confess intense pleasure at the prospect of taking this woman to bed. That’s what scared him. He was supposed to feel nothing for his bride. That had been his plan since boyhood.
Sebastian gave his head a slight shake, hoping to clear the bemusement. How ironic that his plan should backfire on him so thoroughly. He couldn’t remember the last time his pulse raced at the mere thought of having a woman in his arms. Yet Beatrice Hennessey, the spinster who had been sitting on the shelf for five long years, had his heart pounding like a thoroughbred’s after a race.
“Forever,” he murmured to himself. Dread began to invade and crawl over his body.
“My lord?” she asked quietly.
“Nothing.” He studied her with a slow possessive gaze.
It had been an eternity since a woman had made him this excited. He had tasted the charms of the world’s most beautiful women, and no one had intrigued him quite the way this composed woman, who was now his wife, did. With her stunning combination of vulnerability, defiance, and undisguised beauty, the hunger she aroused in him arose effortlessly.
Briefly he shut his eyes, remembering the way she’d looked with garments soaked and clinging to her skin, her ripe breasts exposed to his view … and his own wild reaction grew. The simple glance as she lay on the deck of his ship had inflamed him beyond reason. He should have taken that as a warning but thought it had been because of his enforced lack of female company on the voyage home.
He should have walked away from her outrageous proposal. Now, just the touch of her tiny hand on his arm had his blood surging thick and hot.
Sebastian stiffened as heated images of her flickered before his mind’s eye. What would she look like naked, her glossy hair spread across his bed? He imagined her lush and wanton, arching against him as he explored the mysteries of her silken body …
The sensual image set him on fire.
He feared this unexpected arousal. It had been weeks since he had enjoyed a woman, what with his trip back from Jamaica. He wasn’t accustomed to abstinence. His beautiful Jamaican housekeeper had been the last warm body in his bed, in a long line of warm bodies, and he had been forced to abandon her when he returned to England.
He had left her the house in Jamaica. He knew she would take good care of it, and he would always have a warm welcome if he ever needed to return.
Beatrice gave a small cough by his side and his thoughts again turned to what he was going to do with a wife. This wife.
His eyes briefly glanced at her face. Her eyes reflected fear and awe at the position she found herself in. She continually ran her little pink tongue over her bottom lip, and heat flicked at his groin. Why he should find the lady so provocative, so enticing, particularly considering her obvious dislike of him, was beyond a sane man’s reasoning.
But heaven forbid, he wanted her, and up until now, he’d had no intention of really ever desiring his wife.
He had wanted an uncomplicated marriage. He had wanted a marriage in
which both parties understood and agreed why they were marrying. And the reason would have nothing to do with love. He had watched his parents’ jealousy turn their house into a battleground, a war that no one was ever going to win—could win. He always knew that when he married, love would never enter the equation. What he hadn’t foreseen was that desire and passion would be part of his marriage, for he had always planned to marry a woman who was plain in looks and compliant in nature. The woman walking beside him was neither of these.
Best-laid plans …
Just then he felt a quiver in her grip on his arm. A sudden stab of conscience hit him. Though he was looking forward to having Beatrice in his bed, he knew that it would be an awkward situation for her. How would she feel having to give herself to the man who had killed her brother?