Tess doubted her husband would show her similar deference in his manner of address. Not only was theirs an adversarial relationship, but Rotham had all the advantages in their marriage … legal, financial, physical.
There was little point in fretting over her position of weakness, she knew, but Fanny had advised her to start off on the right footing, to establish boundaries from the very beginning. Accordingly, Tess braced herself for the evening ahead and prepared to take the offensive.
Upon descending the stairs, she was met by Gaskell, the Bellacourt majordomo, who conducted her through the large east wing to the drawing room.
Once again the rich furnishings and artwork gracing the walls dazzled her. It was hard to fathom that she was now mistress of such a magnificent estate. But when Tess caught sight of the nobleman standing near the mantel, she only had eyes for him.
Rotham wore a different coat now—this one burgundy—and white satin evening breeches. His own gaze briefly surveyed her rose silk gown, the same one she had worn for their wedding, before he offered a pleasant greeting. When she made no reply, he dismissed his majordomo and crossed to a side table, where a decanter of sherry sat.
Tess watched him as he poured two glasses. His hair was too long for fashion, and the tawny brown
locks curled over the edge of his high collar. The careless touch softened the aristocratic arrogance of Rotham’s chiseled features, with their high cheekbones and forehead.
His tone, however, had lost little of its usual mocking edge when he spoke.
“You might attempt to cooperate in our pretense of a love match in front of the servants,” Rotham said, handing her one of the glasses of wine.
“I fear I am not skilled enough as an actress to manage that feat,” Tess remarked, keeping to her plan to begin on offense. “And I certainly see no need to do so in private.”
Rather than respond in kind, he changed the subject. “Did you find your rooms satisfactory?”
“As much as possible under the circumstances.” Tess glanced around the large, splendid drawing room. “I expected to feel sympathy for the poor female who agreed to be your duchess, but I concede there are many ladies who would be thrilled to be mistress of such a grand estate as Bellacourt.”
“But you are not one of them.” He took a swallow of his sherry. “You are not exactly my ideal bride either. You are too managing and independent for my tastes.”
Tess felt stung by his honesty. It was vexing also to admit that her feminine pride might be a little wounded, knowing that Rotham had no desire to wed her.
“No doubt you prefer someone more helpless,” she said, parrying his gibe. “I am sorry to disappoint you.”
She expected him to say something cutting in return,
but he merely gestured toward the same side table. For the first time Tess noted the silver tray lying there.
“Those are for you.”
Curious, she went over to inspect the tray’s contents—several official-looking documents and a small, blue velvet box.
“Open the box,” Rotham instructed.
When Tess did, inside she found a lovely gold locket on a delicate gold chain. Lifting the bauble from its resting place, she shot him a puzzled glance.
“Your birthday gift,” Rotham replied to her unspoken question. “It occurred to me that your birthday was spoiled, so you ought to have your gift now. I brought it with me to Wingate Manor yesterday, but never had the opportunity to give it to you.”
“You brought me a birthday gift yesterday?”
Tess stared at Rotham in near shock. She could not have been more surprised if he’d claimed to have plucked the moon out of the heavens for her.
Tearing her gaze from his, she focused on his gift. The locket was simple, but an appropriate birthday remembrance from a family acquaintance to a single young lady—which was what they had been yesterday before Rotham had interrupted her ill-conceived experiment in passion and set them on the path to marriage with his devastating kisses.
“The Rotham jewels also belong to you now,” he added, “and are much more valuable … although since many of the pieces are entailed, you cannot sell them. They are in a bank vault in London for you to wear any time you wish.”
When Tess fell silent, unsure what to say, Rotham
continued. “Those documents are from my solicitors—various legalities to allow you to keep your own fortune and properties, in addition to the details of our marriage settlement. The last is my wedding gift to you—a bank draft for the Families of Fallen Soldiers. As you recently told your major contributors, with winter coming on, the funds are badly needed.”
Tess stared at the draft for two thousand pounds, then mutely lifted her astonished gaze to Rotham. She had been prepared to meet him with defiance and belligerence, but his thoughtful gifts had completely taken the wind out of her sails. Were his magnanimous overtures a peace offering of sorts? An attempt to reduce their constant warfare and call a truce in their verbal sparring?
“Th-thank you,” Tess stammered. “I never envisioned such generosity from you.”
His mouth curved. “I well know your opinion of me, sweeting. Perhaps that alone spurred me to prove you wrong.”
If he had schemed to confound her, he had certainly done so, Tess thought, taking a long swallow of wine. She must have drunk too quickly for she suddenly felt light-headed. Swaying, she brought her fingers to her temple.
Rotham immediately reached out to support her elbow. “Sit down, Tess. Did you eat anything today?” he asked as he led her to the nearest chair.
“Not much,” she admitted, consciously responding to his continued kindness.
“Drinking wine on an empty stomach is not wise. We will go into dinner shortly.”
“I am not particularly hungry.”
“Even so, you should eat.”
At his forceful tone, Tess stiffened out of habit, then applauded her instinctive response. She didn’t want to live in armed warfare with Rotham, but neither did she want to become even more vulnerable to him than she was now. She was making a poor job of keeping her distance thus far.
“Is that a command, your grace?” she asked airily.
That half-smile etched his mouth again. “A suggestion, merely. But I might remind you that not three hours ago, you vowed to love, honor, and obey me.”
Glad to be back on familiar ground, Tess arched a taunting eyebrow. “Surely you do not expect
obedience
from me?”
“No, I know you better than that,” he returned with amusement. “Obedience is far beyond my expectations. And you declared yesterday that you could never love me. So that leaves honor.” His smile faded, while his eyes fixed on her. “I expect you to honor our marriage vows, Tess, even though they were made under duress. I have no desire to be cuckolded.”
The suggestion that she would ever commit adultery, regardless of how their marriage had begun, filled her with indignation. “I would never dream of cuckolding you, your grace. Although it is a matter of supreme indifference to me if
you
fail to honor our vows. Indeed, I expect you to seek your pleasures with your numerous mistresses.”
At her adamant reply, he studied her for a long moment, as if trying to gauge her sincerity. Then his expression seemed to lose its intensity and his sardonic
humor returned. “My numerous mistresses? How many do you think I have?”
“Rumor suggests that you have several.”
“Rumor would be wrong.”
“You cannot deny that you have kept mistresses in the past.”
“Never more than one at a time. And I have none now.”
Tess shrugged, although her show of indifference was pure bravado. She sincerely hoped her husband would not choose to flout their vows so savagely and sully their union—or if he did, that he would be discreet about it.
“I only meant,” she explained, “that I am not opposed to having a liberal marriage.”
“I never realized you were so broadminded.”
“I am, rather. It comes from having several married friends.…”
She hesitated, debating whether to mention her friendship with Fanny Irwin.
Just then Gaskell appeared to announce that dinner was served. She allowed Rotham to escort her to the smaller of Bellacourt’s two dining rooms. The table was still enormous and sparkled with crystal and china.
Instead of sitting at each end, however, parted by the vast length of the table, Tess found herself seated at Rotham’s right. When they had begun the soup course—the first of many dishes and removes—and the liveried footmen had left them alone, Tess returned her attention to Fanny, not only to provide a distraction from her own marital difficulties, but because she sincerely wished to help her friend.
“Do you happen to need a secretary, Rotham?” she began. “I know you are not much involved with politics in the House of Lords, but with your vast business enterprises, you must have numerous tasks that require clerical assistance.”
“I have two secretaries now. Why do you ask?”
“I know someone who would be ideal for the position. His name is Basil Eddowes. For the past several years, Mr. Eddowes has worked as a law clerk for a London solicitor, but just recently Lord Claybourne secured him a post as a junior secretary for an elderly nobleman. His salary is not sufficient for his needs, however, and I hoped to improve his prospects.”
Rotham’s expression remained neutral. “Why such a marked interest in this Eddowes fellow? Is he a former beau, perhaps?”
“Not a beau of mine. His affections are set on someone else entirely.” Tess paused before launching ahead with the nascent plan that had been forming in her head ever since last night. “Are you by chance acquainted with Fanny Irwin?”
She could tell her question was unexpected. “The Cyprian, Fanny Irwin?”
“Yes. Fanny is a dear childhood friend of the Loring sisters, and has become a close friend of mine these past few years.”
Rotham’s eyebrow shot up. “I find it surprising that you claim a friendship with a leading citizen of the demimonde.”
“It is actually not so unusual.…” A blush rising to her cheeks, Tess told him about meeting Fanny four years previously when the Lorings moved from Hampshire to Chiswick to live with their cantankerous
uncle … how Fanny’s craving for excitement had lead her to embark on a career as a lady of the evening, and how the sisters had refused to give up the connection with their bosom friend even after making brilliant society matches this past year, despite the courtesan’s notoriety.
Her tale was interrupted when the soup was removed and the fish served, but once the footmen were gone, Tess continued, explaining about Basil Eddowes’s odd courtship of Fanny.
“She no longer traffics with the gentlemen of the ton, but you can see why Mr. Eddowes would be hesitant to propose.”
“I believe I can,” Rotham murmured, his tone dry.
Tess ignored his remark and went on. “His pride is a large impediment, not only because of Fanny’s scandalous past but the issue of finances as well. She has abandoned her expensive lifestyle entirely—recently she sold her grand London residence and moved to her much smaller house in St. John’s Wood. But Basil wishes to support his wife in at least moderate fashion. If you were to hire him, he and Fanny could afford to marry.”
“Go on,” Rotham said evenly.
With that small encouragement, Tess warmed to her theme. “You could give him a job cataloging your library, for instance. I know Bellacourt has a well-stocked library. Or perhaps you could utilize him to good purpose in your business dealings. As a clerk, Basil’s main duties were writing out fair copies of legal documents, but his talents were utterly wasted. Although he has more responsibility in his current secretarial position, he is capable and clever enough
for so much more. He is also accomplished at ciphering and accounting. I believe he could prove a valuable asset to you.”
When Rotham did not leap to agree, Tess hastened to add, “If you have no need of his services, I thought I might hire him to help manage the increasing contributions to my various organizations and the growing demands of arranging benefits and other charitable events … at a significantly increased salary, of course. But I don’t wish to offend his pride. The offer would be better received coming from you. If I were to ask him, Basil would likely consider it charity on my part and refuse. If you would allow it, we could say that with my new obligations as your duchess, I will be too busy to continue overseeing my former responsibilities in the necessary detail.”
His gray eyes surveyed her. “You seem to have put some thought into this.”
“Well, I only began forming a plan yesterday. You were mistaken earlier in the carriage. I was not stewing about our marriage. I was thinking about how to unite Fanny and Basil.”
A devilish light entered Rotham’s eyes. “So you are set on playing matchmaker?”
“What if I am?”
“You know you cannot save everyone, sweetheart.”
Tess gave him a quelling look. “Your cynicism is showing again, Rotham.”
“As is your idealism. You want to be a champion for true love.”
“I do indeed. I am determined to help my friends. Simply because
I
have lost any chance for love and
happiness in marriage does not mean that Fanny must.”
A muscle flexed in Rotham’s jaw, but he made no comment.
Tess softened her tone. “Fanny has been extremely good to me. I owe her a debt for supporting me during the darkest period of my life, when I lost Richard so shortly after losing my mother.”
She was not playing on Rotham’s sympathies unfairly, Tess thought defensively. It was true that Fanny had helped significantly to bring her back to life and diminish her sorrow.
Rotham’s expression had turned enigmatic again, though, making Tess doubt that she was persuading him. Taking a breath, she tried a different tack.
“If nothing else, I believe I can help Fanny become more respectable by offering her my patronage. Until now I have been compelled to avoid her in public. I have visited her home in St. John’s Wood upon occasion, but I had to do so in secret. Because of my charities, I could not afford to be seen with a former Cyprian. It was immensely frustrating.”