To Desire a Wicked Duke (16 page)

“As you wish,” Rotham said finally. “I will write a letter of introduction to Falwell and have it sent by courier at once.”

Tess eyed him warily, surprised that he had capitulated to her terms without further battle. But she wouldn’t give Rotham time to change his mind.

“Thank you,” she said swiftly, graciously, and sincerely. “Now if you will excuse me, I must send a message to Fanny and tell her of my plan.”

She turned and escaped the breakfast room, feeling Rotham’s gaze following her all the while. When she reached the corridor, Tess breathed a sigh of relief and vexation.

Relief because she would soon be on her way to Cornwall, far away from her dangerous new husband.

Vexation because of her contrary, tumultuous, maddening feelings toward him.

Sparring with Rotham always got her blood up, but now she had softer, more tender assaults on her heart to contend with—namely, his unexpected bond
of affection with his young ward. She also had a dull ache in her chest induced by this fresh evidence of Rotham’s wickedness.

Tess muttered a low oath. She had wanted to bring sparks and fire and feeling into her life, and she had undeniably done so with her unwanted marriage. The damnable truth was that for the first time in two years, she felt truly alive. She’d been living half a life, sacrificing joy and excitement for freedom from emotional pain. And after such a long numbness, she yearned to experience simple emotions other than sorrow again … to know joy, pleasure, excitement, passion.…

Without a doubt, last night’s passion with Rotham had been exhilarating, thrilling, amazing—and he had given her only a fleeting taste of what she could expect if they became lovers.

But it infuriated her—galled her even—that of all men, it was the wicked Duke of Rotham who stirred her blood and made her vulnerable again to pain.

The dull ache in Tess’s heart only intensified two hours later. She was packing her trunks yet again, this time for a much longer journey, when she spied the Devil Duke and his young ward from her bedchamber window. The two were bundled up warmly against the chill, tramping across the immaculate west lawns toward a verge of mostly bare-limbed woodland.

A large pile of autumn leaves awaited them, along with a wheelbarrow full of objects that Tess couldn’t quite make out from such a distance.

Halfway there, Rotham swung Jamie up on his shoulders and carried him the rest of the way, but upon reaching their destination, tossed him gently into the mound of dried leaves. Tess could almost hear the child’s delighted shrieks of laughter as he struggled to extricate himself from the slippery pile. However, she could clearly see Jamie’s happy grins as he ran around wildly, kicking up leaves with his small boots while his guardian inspected the contents of the wheelbarrow.

Eventually Rotham allowed himself to be pulled down into the pile by the joyful child, and they proceeded to roll and wrestle with abandon in the soft bed of leaves. For the life of her, Tess couldn’t look away.

Her gaze remained riveted on the pair, even when they began the serious business of constructing their fort. Apparently a leaf fort entailed making a sort of low tent out of several blankets and wooden staffs, and then covering the tent with leaves and crawling inside, so that only their faces showed.

For one wistful moment as Tess observed their frolics, she had a poignant flash of a possible future with Rotham. She could envision him playing with their own children, lavishing the same heart-melting affection on them—

Crushing the notion, Tess forced herself to turn away. Making a family with Rotham would be impossible when they only had a forced marriage of convenience, and watching him with his young ward was too painful a reminder.

Determinedly, Tess returned to her packing with her maid. Fortunately, she had just heard back from Fanny, who claimed to be thrilled to accompany her to Cornwall, so in a very short while she would make her escape from Bellacourt.

Tess knew without a doubt she had made the right decision to leave this very afternoon. The sooner she put some distance between her and her damnedly endearing husband, the better.

The journey to Cornwall was uneventful, chiefly because it was made in easy stages over three days.
Tess’s coachman and footmen took excellent care of her and her fellow passengers, Fanny and Alice. They changed teams at regular intervals and laid over each night at small but comfortable inns along the route.

Thankfully, Tess found her frayed nerves easing the farther they got from Richmond. It was impossible to quell her memories of Rotham and his unforgettable lovemaking, but at least she was not locked up at Bellacourt with him, having to face him over the breakfast table, or worse, sharing a nuptial bed with him.

It was easier also, Tess knew, to defer dealing with her unsettled emotions aroused by Rotham’s adorable little ward, who might very well be his son. She needed time to come to terms with the situation—or at least enough time to discipline her outward demeanor. The last thing in the world she wanted was to make the darling child feel spurned, and Tess feared her distress might convey itself unwittingly to the young boy, no matter how earnestly she tried to conceal her reactions.

She hadn’t had much difficulty persuading Fanny to accompany her to the wilds of Cornwall. The denizens of Falwell Castle had likely never heard of the notorious courtesan, so Fanny’s worry about tarnishing the new Duchess of Rotham’s reputation was not a significant risk. And Fanny relished the opportunity for Basil’s courtship to blossom under more favorable conditions. Thus, she was both anxious and hopeful about Tess’s matchmaking scheme.

Tess was mutually glad for her friend’s support. She disliked taking Dorothy Croft away from her beloved painting. And if Rotham
did
join them at Falwell as he’d pledged, her sweet, gentle companion would
offer her little protection from her irresistible husband. Fanny’s extensive skills and knowledge of men, on the other hand, could be her best defense.

During the first evening of their journey, when she and Fanny dined alone in her hired parlor and Tess confessed what had happened on her wedding night, she received a thoughtful frown from her friend.

“It is unfortunate that you didn’t complete the consummation,” the ever-practical beauty responded. “Now you will continue to fret over what is still to come.”

Yet Fanny heartily approved of Tess leaving Bellacourt and likened her battle with Rotham to military action: Retreating temporarily would provide her the chance to regroup and rearm herself before returning to fight another day.

The temperate weather also helped lift Tess’s spirits. They left behind the cold, dreary dampness of Richmond and found more and more sunshine as they traveled south.

“The warmth is remarkable,” Fanny commented on the second afternoon as she lowered the coach window a few inches to let in the fresh air. “I have never visited Cornwall before, have you?”

“No,” Tess replied. “I have been to Bath and Brighton several times, but never Cornwall. I understand the climate in the lower reaches of Devon and most of Cornwall resembles the Mediterranean more than England. It is balmy enough even in winter that palm trees grow.”

They rode through wooded river country, a lush patchwork of thick forests and verdant valleys. Reportedly, Rotham’s castle was situated partway down
the eastern coast, near the small port of Fowey. By noon of the third day, they could smell the salt-fresh scents of the ocean and were occasionally afforded glimpses of vast silvery-blue waters.

Because of the convergence of rivers and creeks, Tess’s coachman, Spruggs, took a circuitous route for a time before making several turns to approach the estate from the south. Then, halting the carriage a few miles from their destination, he pointed out the distant castle above them.

Situated on a low bluff stood an enormous edifice of gray stone, complete with towers and crenellated battlements, set off by a backdrop of dark woods. To the southeast, Falwell boasted a breathtaking view of the sea and overlooked a lovely cove and golden sand beach below.

A bit further up the coast was a headland that formed a small bay. From the coach window, Tess saw a charming fishing village perched on the steep hillside that was crowded with whitewashed, thatched-roofed cottages.

They drove another ten minutes through a hilly woodland park, then along a sweeping gravel drive, before coming to a halt at the front entrance of the castle. The main wing was recessed around a paved courtyard, Tess saw, and flanked by two octagonal towers. The lichen growing on the granite walls gave the gray stone a slightly rose hue. Clearly older than Bellacourt by a century or two, Falwell Castle was not as splendid or impressive, but still striking.

Miles, one of her two strapping footmen, handed the ladies down, while Fletcher—the former pugilist—ran up to the ornate front door to seek admittance.
Both servants had shadowed Tess during the journey. And since Rotham knew her coachman and footmen by name, she suspected he’d charged them with closely protecting her. When asked directly, Spruggs had confirmed her suspicions, saying that the duke had ordered them to take special care of her and her friend, Miss Irwin. Once more, Tess didn’t know whether to be piqued or touched by Rotham’s continued interference on her behalf.

She and Fanny stood for a moment, drinking in the magnificent vista. The sparkling blue-gray expanse of ocean seemed to stretch to the ends of the earth. A soft breeze blew from the sea, amazingly warm for early November.

Tess reluctantly turned away when her attention was claimed by the castle’s massive front door opening. Evidently Rotham’s introductory letter had already arrived, for an elderly couple emerged, bowing and beaming.

They made themselves known as the Hiddlestons, steward and housekeeper for the castle. Both husband and wife were plump and ruddy-cheeked with a lively, informal air that was quite different from the dignified formality shown by the head retainers at Bellacourt.

Mrs. Hiddleston, apparently, was also far more outspoken. She seemed excited to have a new mistress and claimed to have been preparing for the new duchess’s arrival since yesterday.

“Oh, your grace, do forgive us for not greeting you the very instant you arrived,” the woman gushed. “We were polishing the silver to make ready for you. We had such short notice, you know, but we wish to
make you welcome. We never expected his grace to wed, to be truthful—” After a warning glance from Hiddleston, his missus clapped a hand over her mouth. “Not that we mind his marrying, certainly, and not that it is our place to judge his affairs.… Listen to me running on so. You must be weary after your long journey and in need of rest and refreshment. If you will come this way, your grace.…”

Tess liked the Hiddlestons at once, she decided as she and Fanny followed them inside and handed over their bonnets and pelisses.

“I fear we have only a small staff serving here,” the housekeeper chatted on. “The new duke never visits this big pile—well, almost never.… Oh, that was not a criticism, my lady, no indeed. I am sure the duke is exceedingly busy. I only meant there is little need for a multitude of servants with no lord or lady in residence. But yesterday I hired some girls and lads from the village to help out during your visit.”

Over the course of the next two hours, Tess and Fanny were served a hearty tea and then given a lengthy tour of the castle. Falwell was originally built in the 1500s, they were told, but refurbished extensively in the middle of the last century by the current duke’s great-grandfather, who added the battlements and the two flanking towers.

The castle supposedly had over twenty bedchambers, as well as a great hall and portrait gallery, with many of the main rooms decorated with tapestries and paintings and even armor and weapons. The towers had several small chambers each, and were four stories high.