Married in Haste (3 page)

The spell was broken. Tess turned and gave a cool greeting to Deland Godwin. This was the man who had ruined Anne’s chances years ago. The publisher of a small weekly, he was a notorious hanger-on who adored gossip. His droll manner laced with sly innuendo barely masked a malicious mind. He never hesitated to print the on-dits he’d overheard whether there was truth to them or not. Everyone read his paper although few admitted it, and at least two men had taken their own lives over stories he’d printed.

He wielded great power amongst the ton.

Normally Tess avoided him—unless she needed information he possessed…like now.

“Who is he?”

Godwin took a pinch of snuff with a dramatic flourish. “The earl of Merton. It’s some obscure Welsh earldom.” He sneezed and blew his nose with a creamy white kerchief. “He’s come to Town in search of a wife. Former military man. Served on the Peninsula until he came into the title. I know very little beyond that, but I’m confident that in time I will know everything.”

A wife? She glanced at the earl. He was talking to Sir Charles. She wondered if they discussed her.

Boldly, she said, “Have you been introduced to him, Mr. Godwin?”

Godwin looked down to where her fingers brushed the fine fabric of his coat and up at her again. “Of course.”

“I wish to meet him.”

Godwin’s eyebrows almost rose to his hairline. “You are asking to be introduced to a gentleman? Don’t say that the dashing Miss Hamlin is finally considering making a match?”

Tess shook her head. “Now, Mr. Godwin, if I told you, then you would know straight out and there is no fun in that, is there?”

“No, there isn’t,” he agreed, his interest definitely piqued. He raised her gloved hand to his lips. “But then, I have always been yours to command, my dear.” Obviously smelling a story, he practically ran to perform his mission.

Tess watched him work his way toward Lady Garland. She turned back to the earl. He was watching her again.

Tess’s heart started beating erratically. She looked away quickly. She knew it was only a matter of time before she met the earl of Merton and she didn’t want to be thought forward.

From the opposite corner of the room Neil Hamlin studied his tall, beautiful sister. She held her head high looking as if she were the queen of the ton. No, he quickly amended his thought, she looked as if she were the reigning princess. She’d have to be married to be the queen.

He drained his punch cup in one gulp and reached for another of the brandy-based brew. What was he going to do? He was in a devil of a fix.

Their late father had trusted him to look after Tess’s inheritance and Neil had tried to be wise with the money. But who knew that such a sizable fortune as Tess’s could be wiped out so completely in such a short amount of time?

Of course, it would have helped if Tess had married years ago the way their father assumed she would.

The fortune would have been removed from his responsibility, and then he wouldn’t have these troubles.

Being the guardian of an heiress was hard work, especially when the heiress was Tess. She was too independent, and yet still naive and in need of his protection.

When he’d first married Stella, she had urged him to arrange a husband for Tess and move her out of his house. He knew that Stella was jealous of Tess, but he’d hoped she would grow out of it over time. It hadn’t happened. If possible, the situation had grown more touchy.

This afternoon, Stella had proudly informed him that she was with child—their first, finally!—and had decided that she wanted his sister out from under their roof.

Neil stared into the bottom of his now-empty punch glass. He’d be ruined if word of what he’d done to Tess’s fortune leaked out. Worse, she’d never make a good match and he’d be stuck with two bickering women the rest of his life. There had to be a way to marry Tess off without the unlucky groom being the wiser.

But how?

Chapter Two

Brenn Owen desperately needed a wife. As the new, improvished earl of Merton, he didn’t care if she was fat, ugly, or old, provided that she was rich.

He’d rather not marry for money, but he had no choice. Erwynn Keep, the estate he had inherited, was little more than an empty shell of a manor house surrounded by a village full of people who looked to him for their livelihood. The property wasn’t entailed. He could have sold the lot and moved to London, but he wasn’t the kind of man to shirk responsibility.

Besides, after years of war, he wanted peace. Often while facing battle, he’d dreamed of the life of a country gentleman. Now he had his chance to fulfill that dream, but he needed money for seed, equipment, livestock, and to rebuild the house.

Still, he couldn’t prevent his gaze from drifting back to the flame-haired beauty who’d smiled at him from the doorway. Her smile could captivate a eunuch, and he certainly wasn’t that.

“Merton! Are you paying attention to me?”

Brenn dragged his gaze away from the sparkling blue eyes and back to his host, Sir Charles Merriam, a man some thirty years or more his senior. They’d served together in Portugal. Back then, Sir Charles had been Brenn’s commanding officer. Now, he was Brenn’s guide on his wife hunt.

“I’m sorry. My mind wandered. What were you saying?”

The corners of Sir Charles’s mouth turned down. He had a balding pate and a strong hooked nose. “It’s hard enough to find a suitable wife for you without you wool-gathering. If you wish my help, you’ll have to be more alert.”

“Yes, sir,” Brenn answered with almost military precision, although he couldn’t help smiling. He was very fond of old Sir Charles. The man had been a damn fine military officer in his day.

“Good. I’m glad we have settled that matter,” Sir Charles said with irascible agreement. “Now, look over there across the room at that yellow-haired chit.”

Brenn stared in the direction he was pointing. “I’m sorry, Sir Charles, but I see exactly four yellow-haired chits between myself and that potted palm.”

“Don’t be impertinent. I’m talking about the one with the row of diamonds around her neck. The other three don’t count. Not a jewel on them.”

Brenn now focused on the passably pretty young woman whose gaudy necklace reflected the candlelight.

“The lady talking to the gentleman in the blue coat?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Her father is related to Marlborough. No title but she is worth two thousand a year.

What do you think? Handsome filly, what say?”

“Two thousand is considerable.” But unexciting. Brenn shrugged, letting his gaze wander back to the redhead. She wore a dress of filmy white muslin with gold stars embroidered in the hem around the skirt and across the bodice. Her magnificent abundance of hair was artfully styled and held in place by jeweled stars.

Two foppish young men had gathered around her, each of them posturing and preening for her benefit.

She appeared to be listening to them…then her alarmingly direct gaze moved past their padded shoulders and straight at him.

He smiled.

She smiled.

He had no doubt that she was as attracted to him as he was to her.

“I don’t know what you want with a damn-fool wife anyway,” Sir Charles grumbled. “They can be nuisances and dull bores. No amount of money is worth their nonsense…I’ve had two and I advise you to go back to Wales, live in your hut, and be happy. You always had skill with the ladies. Don’t lash yourself to only one. Enjoy them all!”

“Who is the redhead?”

“Which redhead?” Sir Charles leaned around Brenn to see where he was looking. With an abrupt noise, he rocked back on his heels, his expression distressed. “Don’t tell me she’s caught your eye?”

“Who is she?”

“Tess Hamlin.” He practically spat the words out.

“Is she married?”

“No! But you don’t want her. In fact, you should pity the poor lads talking to her instead of sending murderous looks their way. She may be fair of face and rich as a Turkish sultan, but she has no heart.”

“Rich?” The word whetted Brenn’s hunting instincts.

“The richest. A fortune beyond compare.”

“More than two thousand?”

“More like fifty.”

Brenn’s mind reeled at the number. “Then she’s perfect! Exactly the woman I came to Town to meet.”

Sir Charles snorted. “Hardly.”

“What the devil is wrong with her?” Brenn demanded. “She looks perfect from here.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said past the word ‘rich?’ The woman is as deadly as a cobra. She mesmerizes men and then poisons them for life.”

His words intrigued Brenn. He dropped his voice. “Is she wicked?” he asked with delicious anticipation.

“Think with your big head and not your small one,” the older man said bluntly. “We are talking about a wife here. The gel’s never been touched, but she’s still not for you. Tess Hamlin was spoiled by her late father. He was a dear friend of mine but lacking sense when it came to his daughter. Both his children really. He has a son—silly lad…but not as selfish as his sister. The chit inherited money from her mother who passed away over a decade ago. I’m not surprised Miss Hamlin hasn’t married. She thinks too highly of herself, too highly indeed.”

Brenn couldn’t help laughing. “Well, if I was rich, I’d be choosy too.”

“It is more than being choosy. She toys with men as if all of this—” The wave of his hand encompassed the ballroom. “—was nothing more than a game.” He pulled Brenn a step or two closer to the terrace door where they wouldn’t be overheard. “She turned the marquess of Redgrave down last month. The man’s a good friend of mine and he was besotted with her, had been for years. Recently, she had given him cause to hope. She’d smile at him—” He gritted his teeth in a poor imitation of a girlish “come hither”

grin. “—and flash her pretty blue eyes.” He batted his rheumy ones. “Why, Redgrave’s head was spinning like a top, and he’s almost as old as myself!”

“What happened?”

“He made an offer, fully believing that it would be accepted. Turns out the girl was just playing fast and loose. Oh, she begged off prettily enough, but the answer was still the same: no. Redgrave was devastated by her rejection. He left London immediately. Couldn’t face all of us—and he is a man of the world like myself. Not some young buck like you who wears his heart on his sleeve.”

Brenn, who was one and thirty, was amused by Sir Charles’s verdict. “I think I can take care of myself.”

Sir Charles stabbed a finger at him. “In combat you have no peer…but this is a different battlefield—and that girl is a crack marksman!”

Brenn almost roared with laughter.

“I’m not being funny,” Sir Charles asserted.

“It didn’t think you were. It’s just that I had this image in my head of the girl in full military regalia taking aim at us poor men on the dance floor.”

Sir Charles snapped his fingers. “Yes, that’s just what it is like,” he agreed without humor. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she kept a tally of the hearts she has stolen.”

“Now that’s ridicu—”

“Lord Merton, Sir Charles,” Lady Garland’s trilling voice interrupted them. “I am so glad I found you.”

“Didn’t know we were lost,” Sir Charles said grumpily.

Lady Garland laughed and swatted him on the arm with her ivory fan. “Such a dear you are. Cheeky, cheeky, cheeky. But I’ve actually come in search of our young earl. There is someone I especially wish to introduce to you, my lord.”

She didn’t wait for Brenn’s answer but took his arm and started to steer him away. “Have a glass of punch, Sir Charles, and I’ll return the earl in a thrice.” She then gave him her back before Sir Charles could answer.

“I know you and he are close,” she whispered to Brenn, “but I find him a bit trying.”

Brenn merely smiled his answer. He placed Lady Garland’s arm in the crook of his which made walking easier, especially with his limp. “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” she answered with a cryptic smile and directed him toward a group of men. She tapped the back of the nearest man with her fan. He shifted and Brenn found himself face-to-face with the lovely Miss Hamlin.

“Shoo! Shoo!” Lady Garland said, waving the other gentlemen away as if slapping flies. “I wish a moment alone with Miss Hamlin.”

They had no choice but to gallantly step aside, although one mumbled something ungracious and received a rap of Lady Garland’s fan for his temper. She released Brenn’s arm and stepped forward. “Miss Hamlin, this is Brenn Owen, the new earl of Merton. It’s in Wales.” She made the country sound as foreign as Calcutta. “My lord, may I introduce Miss Tess Hamlin.”

Brenn took the last step forward, conscious of his obvious limp, and yet Miss Hamlin seemed unaware of it. Instead, she met his eyes, her cool gaze as bold as any man’s.

In that moment, he knew he liked her.

He bowed over her gloved hand. “Miss Hamlin.”

“My lord.” Her voice was warm, husky, and a far cry from the shyly sweet sopranos of the other debutantes he had met this evening. It made him feel as if he were the only man in the room.

“You don’t dance, Lord Merton, but perhaps you can take Miss Hamlin on a turn around the terrace?”

Lady Garland hinted.

He picked up on the cue. “That is an excellent suggestion. That is, if Miss Hamlin would enjoy a breath of fresh air.”

“Yes, I would, my lord,” the lady agreed.

“Then I’ll leave the two of you to become acquainted,” Lady Garland said, her eyes dancing with matchmaking possibilities. She then seized one of the disgruntled young gentlemen who had been wooing Miss Hamlin and hurried him off to dance with a shy, mousy girl who was a distant cousin of hers.

For a moment, Brenn wanted to pinch himself to see if he wasn’t dreaming. There was no doubt in his mind that Miss Hamlin had been the one to request an introduction. He nodded toward the terrace door.

“Shall we take a stroll?”

She smiled, a smile that made Brenn feel a touch light-headed. She was extraordinary. Her skin was like the smoothest cream, except for the smattering of light freckles across the bridge of her nose. He was glad they were there. They reminded him that she was human, although they didn’t stop him from wanting to shout, Marry me, Miss Hamlin. Let me make you happy in exchange for your prodigious fortune! She was so delicious to look at, he’d been tempted to marry her even without money.