The Mister I Married (Romancing the Rogue #3)

Chapter Two

Alexander Whitcomb was, by nature, an even-tempered man. Controlled and patient, he prided himself on his ability to keep a cool head under even the direst of circumstances. There was, however, one notable exception, and that was seeing his family hurt.

Especially his little sister.

“Tess?” He reached out to grip his sister’s shoulders gently, his brows furrowed with concern. “Are you all right? Tell me what happened.”

She looked up at him and mustered a small smile for his benefit, though it did not reach her eyes. “I’m fine, Alex,” she said. “Something…unkind was said to me, but I do not wish to discuss it here. I…if I may, I should like to go home.”

Alex’s heart clenched at the weariness in her voice. He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Of course. Come, let’s find Aunt Lawrence and then I’ll have the carriage brought ‘round.”

He ushered her from the alcove into the corridor and left her in the front entrance hall while he went in search of their aunt. As he made his way into the ballroom, his gaze panning over the crowd of people in search of her, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of his sister and the unkind words some cretin—who was probably in this very room now—had said to her.

Anger thrummed through him, curling his hands into fists at his sides. He did not yet know what words had been said to his sister, but he had a vague idea of their nature. And whom they involved.

He sighed. He knew it was a bad idea to come to London. He had fought against it as best he could, but Tess had wanted to come—had begged to come—and he’d been powerless to deny her. As was often the case with his sister. She was the sweetest girl, and he adored her, but she was also sheltered and naive with no idea of the ways of the ton or how unforgiving these people could be. London’s elite loved a good scandal and the Whitcomb family’s scandal was far too salacious to be forgotten. Or forgiven.

Wending his way through the powdered, perfumed crush, he finally spotted Aunt Lawrence conversing with another lady at the rear of the room. His aunt was a plump woman and quite short, her dark head of hair barely visible through the crowd of bodies, and without the aid of the brilliant pink and purple floral-patterned dress she wore, he mightn’t have spotted her at all.

Despite himself, a smile tugged at his lips. Mrs. Charlotte Lawrence, his father’s younger sister and a widow these last ten years, was a warm, kindhearted woman, if a bit dotty at times with an almost impressive ability to butcher her proverbs. He liked her immensely and had enjoyed getting to know her better these last two weeks. She resided in London year-round, and he and Tess had only met her a handful of times before, on those rare occasions when she came to Berkshire to see them.

Alex reached his aunt a few moments later and drew her attention with a touch to her forearm. He drew her away from her friend with an apologetic smile and said, “Pardon the interruption, but Tess would like to go home now. She is waiting for us in the foyer.”

His aunt’s dark eyes rounded in alarm. “Has something happened to her? Is she unwell?”

He shook his head. “She is perfectly well,” he said with a reassuring smile intended more for prying eyes than his aunt’s benefit. “There was an…unpleasant incident which upset her, but I am certain she will be right as rain after a good night’s sleep.”

Aunt Lawrence nodded, a slight frown dipping the corners of her rouged lips. “The poor dear. Of course we must take her home,” she murmured. “You go on ahead while I bid farewell to our hostess and then I shall join you two in the carriage.”

Alex nodded before turning and diving into the crowd once again, and as he headed for the door, he couldn’t help wishing he really was going home tonight. Not his aunt’s home. His home. Bristlewood. He’d only been away for two weeks, but already he missed the place. He missed his books, his favorite armchair, his daily walks with Gracie and Prescott, the brother and sister deerhounds he’d had since they were pups. And he missed his own bed.

Aunt Lawrence’s townhouse was spacious and comfortably furnished, and his guest chamber more than met his needs, but it wasn’t his chamber. And he missed his own things.

Still, there was no sense in dwelling over it. He would be in London for another several weeks, at least, and there was nothing to do but make the best of it. He was here for Tess and for their father. Leonard Whitcomb was getting on in years, and he was not in the best of health, so when he’d hinted at his desire to see his children married off—and perhaps even meet a grandchild or two before he died—Alex had been powerless to do anything but agree.

So, here he was, escorting his husband-hunting sister around London while half-heartedly seeking a spouse for himself. Life could be bloody tedious at times.

“Are you all right, lovey?” Aunt Lawrence asked several minutes later in the carriage as she flopped onto the bench seat beside Tess, her round face pinched with worry.

Alex rapped his knuckles on the ceiling and instantly the wheels began to roll, propelling the carriage up the lamp-lit street.

“I am fine, Aunt,” Tess said, patting the older woman’s hand. “I was upset but my emotions have calmed, and I am feeling better now.” She gave Aunt Lawrence a small smile then turned her gaze on Alex. “Thank you both for taking me home early.”

“Of course,” Alex said with a nod before leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Now will you tell me what happened, please?”

Tess blew out a breath and flicked a dismissive hand. “It was nothing,” she said unconvincingly. “Just two unpleasant girls with unpleasant words.”

Alex frowned. “What unpleasant words?” he asked. “What did they say to you?”

“It doesn’t matter, Alex.”

“Of course it matters,” he said softly. “Was it about our mother?”

Tess’s gaze fell to her lap, and she fidgeted with the fringe on her wrap, her brow wrinkling. “They…they called her a wh-whore,” she whispered, wringing a gasp from Aunt Lawrence. “And they said her wicked blood flows through my veins, too.”

Alex swore under his breath. He’d figured it was something like that. Still, hearing the words from his sister’s lips was a sharp knife to the gut. “I’m sorry, Tess,” he muttered. “None of that is true.”

“Of course it isn’t!” Aunt Lawrence cried, wrapping a chubby arm around Tess’s shoulders. “It’s utter nonsense, that’s what it is. And I do hope you gave those nasty girls a good scolding in return.”

Tess pursed her lips and gave her head a regretful shake. “I’m afraid I was too stunned to say much of anything. Fortunately, Lady Emmaline overheard our conversation and swooped in to defend me.” A smile tugged at her lips. “She was marvelous.”

“She’s a good girl, that Lady Emmaline,” Aunt Lawrence said, her approving nod bobbing the dark curls piled high on her head. “She is outspoken and does not beat about the hedge, but I rather like that about her.”

A vague image of his sister’s savior filtered through Alex’s mind: Full figure, dark hair, round cheeks. Round eyes, he recalled with a mix of amusement and chagrin as he remembered the surprise that had flashed across her face when he’d demanded to know what she’d done to his sister. Not his finest moment, but Tess had been upset, and he’d reacted without thinking.

“I like her, too,” Tess said with a sigh. “She’s kind, and kindness seems to be in short supply here.”

“She would be an excellent friend and ally for you, my dear,” Aunt Lawrence said. “For the both of you, really.” She turned to Alex with raised brows, which Alex mirrored.

“Who precisely is this Lady Emmaline?” he asked, mildly exasperated.

Tess rolled her eyes. “She is Lord Keswick’s sister, of course.”

Alex was silent, as he had nothing to say to that.

“You know Lord Keswick,” she pressed. “The marquess?”

He shrugged and Tess rolled her eyes again.

He had no idea who this Lord Keswick was nor why he ought to. After all, he’d spent all of his life in Berkshire and, apart from Aunt Lawrence, had no ties to London or any of its inhabitants.

“Really, Alexander,” Aunt Lawrence said with a cluck of her tongue. “You must pay better attention if you and your sister are going to find spouses while you’re here. The Marquess of Keswick is a powerful man and his sister Emmaline, while still unmarried, is quite well-liked, despite her outspokenness. Her mother is a lovely woman, too.” She turned to Tess. “I think we ought to pay a call on them tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes! May we, Aunt?” Tess clasped Aunt Lawrence’s hands in hers in a rare display of affection, bringing a smile to Alex’s lips.

Aunt Lawrence was an open-hearted, exuberant woman, where Tess was quieter, more reserved, yet the pair got along famously and seemed to complement each other in their differences. Aunt Lawrence, who had no children of her own, clearly relished her role as chaperone and companion and Tess seemed to love their aunt’s mothering ways. Probably because she’d never had a mother. At least, not one she remembered.

“I should like to thank Lady Emmaline again,” Tess went on, “and I am certain Alex would like to apologize for his poor behavior.” She flicked him a reproving glance. “Wouldn’t you, Alex?”

Alex tugged on his cravat and sighed.

Yes, he supposed he would.