To Desire a Wicked Duke (35 page)

A renewed wave of sadness and remembered grief swept over Tess, yet it was tempered by her newfound knowledge of Richard. Still, he had asked for her forgiveness … although the pain was too fresh for her to grant it just yet.

And then there was Ian. Apparently she hadn’t known him at all, Tess acknowledged. Had he actually considered competing for her hand at one time? Or was it merely wishful thinking on her godmother’s part?

Tess thought back, trying to recall those months directly after her debut ball. Admittedly, she’d felt the increased discord between the cousins during the summer before Richard went into the army. It made better sense now that she understood the cause of their friction.

And it was certainly possible that Richard had exaggerated his complaints against the Devil Duke for his own personal reasons.

She was partly at fault, however. She’d been deliberately blind to Ian’s true nature all this time. She had
wanted
to see him as a wicked rake for her own self-protection. To paint him black, just as Richard had done.

She’d been determined not to fall in love with so heartless a man, to open herself up to pain again. But now that she knew the truth, how could she justify not loving Ian?

The fact was, she couldn’t, Tess conceded, her head suddenly reeling in a fresh daze. Her feelings for him had been rapidly evolving since their first shocking kiss, when they were discovered by Lady Wingate and forced by propriety to wed. But now Tess no longer had any doubt in her mind—or more crucially, in her heart.

She loved Ian. Deeply, irrevocably. The kind of breathless, aching love she had always dreamed of feeling for her husband. In contrast, her girlhood love for Richard had been sweet and innocent, not the passionate love she felt for Ian.

But it was not just his incredible passion that had won her. She loved him for all the reasons Lady Wingate had just enumerated:

Because Ian would act to protect a child who was not even his. Because he possessed the kind of honor that was quietly selfless. Because he had protected
her
in innumerable ways all these many years, with no thought of himself. Because he had brought her back to life after an eternity of numbness.

A helpless smile touched Tess’s lips. That was likely the foremost reason she loved Ian.

Because he fired her emotions by challenging her. Because he forced her to
feel
. Because he had banished the emptiness inside her once and for all.

She’d resisted loving him with all her might, but her resistance now seemed foolish. She’d really had no choice in the matter once she had become his wife and been obliged to spend intimate time in his company.

But the question was, what did Ian feel for her?

Suddenly beset by gnawing dread, Tess clenched her hands together. The possibility that her love might never be returned frightened her.

Although Lady Wingate maintained that Ian’s feelings went beyond mere duty, Tess had grave doubts. He wasn’t the sort of man to fall in love. His past experiences had been very different from her own, starting with his childhood. He had never known a mother’s love, or a father’s. Indeed, had he ever known any kind of love at all?

If not, then how could he feel love for
her
? Tess wondered. The kind of deep, abiding love that warmed the very soul. The kind that lasted forever. The kind of love she felt for him.

She had given Ian no reason to believe she’d had a profound change of heart, Tess bleakly reminded herself. She had pushed him away from the very first, demanding a marriage in name only. Even when their physical attraction had kindled to white-hot desire, she’d insisted that any carnal relations serve only to mitigate their mutual sexual frustration—and Ian had readily agreed.

What was worse, he thought she still loved another man. Only hours ago she had fled his presence while weeping over Richard … mere moments after Ian had finally admitted the secrets he’d held close for years.

Tess’s stomach tightened as panic curled inside her. Was she too late to convince him of her changed feelings? To ask him to give her a second chance?

She wanted his love, more desperately than she had ever wanted anything in her life. She wanted a real marriage with Ian. But now any overtures she made might be futile.

Ian’s strongest inclination was to follow Tess to Chiswick immediately, but he forcibly controlled the urge. Compelling her to share his company just now would only compound her distress. He would be making an even greater mistake, Ian knew, by revealing his fierce jealousy of his dead cousin and demanding that Tess choose between them.

His impotence was galling, however. When his butler appeared at the study door to ask if he wished to be served tea at his desk, Ian nearly took the servant’s head off with his growled refusal.

For a moment, Phyfe’s usual impassive countenance slipped enough to show astonishment. Ordinarily the Duke of Rotham never took his ill moods out on his underlings.

But at least the interruption snapped him out of his own despondency. When Phyfe murmured a meek “As you wish, your grace,” and turned away, Ian called after the butler.

“One moment, Phyfe. Do you know Eddowes’s present whereabouts? Is he at Bellacourt?”

The butler shook his head. “No, your grace. Mr. Eddowes is here at Cavendish Square, in the library. He has been working there for the past hour or more, sir.”

“Has he? I did not hear him arrive.”

“He used the servants’ entrance, your grace, as he regularly does. Shall I summon him for you?”

“No, I shall seek him out myself. That will be all, Phyfe.”

Ian paused only to clear his desk of his most sensitive business documents before rising and heading for the library. His frustration had reached the boiling point. Sitting on his hands would get him absolutely nowhere, so he had to act.

But the question was
how?

He couldn’t let Tess leave him. He wouldn’t. He intended to fight for her. Four years ago, his cousin had had prior claim to Tess, but he’d deferred long enough. Too long, Ian thought, gritting his teeth. He’d kept his promise to Richard even after death, but now it was time to move on. To convince Tess to let go of the past.

He knew there was only one way for her to get over Richard, though. He had to make Tess love
him
. It was the only reason she would be willing to stay with him as his wife. The only chance for them to have a future together.

Fortunately, he was wise enough to know that he needed counsel—and he knew just the person to ask. Fanny Irwin had attempted to advise him once before, but he had brushed off her good intentions. Now, however, Ian planned to take the courtesan up
on her offer, which meant asking where she might be found of her betrothed, who just happened to be his newest secretary.

As expected, Basil Eddowes was in the library, poring over the catalog of volumes he’d made of the collection at Falwell Castle. He jumped to his feet when Ian suddenly appeared, looking strangely solemn. Then, when Ian eyed the open ledger on the table, the secretary started to explain about having begun work on the library at Cavendish Square.

“I am not here about the cataloging,” Ian interrupted. “Just now I wish to know where I can find Miss Irwin. I need to speak with her on a matter of importance.”

Eddowes stared, then nodded. “Certainly, your grace. She has a private residence in St. John’s Wood … Number Eleven Crawford Place.”

Thanking him brusquely, Ian turned to leave, but Eddowes called after him. “Your grace, if I might have a word with you?”

Ian paused to glance back. “Yes, what is it?”

“I am very grateful that you engaged me for such a distinguished position, but perhaps I should not continue in your employ any longer.”

Ian frowned. “Whyever not?”

“Well, you see … I never realized I could be facing a case of divided loyalties. I am loyal to Miss Bl—I mean, the duchess.”

“I should hope so,” Ian replied. “I have no plans to dismiss you, though, unless you give me good reason. Have you done anything to deserve dismissal, Mr. Eddowes?”

“Er … not yet, your grace. But I know you hired me only at the duchess’s behest, so if you should—”

Ian raised a hand, not having the patience to deal with his secretary’s odd themes. “I prefer to continue this conversation at another time, if we may, Eddowes.”

“Of course, your grace. As you wish.”

Ian resumed making his exit, but threw a comment over his shoulder at the last moment. “Oh, and Eddowes? From now on you are to use the front door. You are not a regular household servant, to be relegated to the tradesmen’s entrance.”

The secretary called after him once more. “Thank you, your grace. I will—”

But Ian was already striding purposefully from the library.

His coachman found Fanny’s home with little difficulty. The young maid who answered the front door looked intimidated when Ian said, “The Duke of Rotham to see Miss Irwin.”

The girl bobbed a timid curtsy, however, and showed him into a small but elegant parlor. To his surprise, the courtesan already had company—three ladies whom he recognized as the Loring sisters.

Having walked involuntarily into a den of genteel females, Ian considered withdrawing, but quickly changed his mind. He needed allies in his effort to win Tess, and her friends could probably help him if they could be persuaded to join his cause.

Fanny looked just as taken aback by the duke’s sudden appearance. She rose swiftly from the sofa,
her countenance a mix of puzzlement and alarm. “Your grace, is something amiss with Tess?”

“No, nothing is amiss,” Ian hastened to reassure her.

Composing her features, Fanny offered him a doubtful smile. “You honor me by visiting. I believe you have met my guests, the Duchess of Arden and the Ladies Danvers and Claybourne?”

Ian sketched a polite bow to the three beauties. The eldest two Loring sisters—Arabella, Countess Danvers and Roslyn, the Duchess of Arden—were tall, slender, and fair, while Lily, the Marchioness of Claybourne, had dark-chestnut hair and a more compact, although still lithe and feminine, figure.

“My friends are here to help plan my wedding, your grace,” Fanny added in explanation. “But if you are looking for Tess, she is not here.”

Before he could respond, Lady Claybourne spoke up in a tone that was decidedly unfriendly. “
Are
you searching for your wife, Rotham? I would not be surprised if she has fled you. Indeed, I suspected it was only a matter of time before you drove her away.”

Ian shifted his gaze to the youngest Loring sister and found her fixing him with an accusing stare. “I assure you, I did not drive my wife away,” he began bitingly before conceding he had done precisely that.

“But you have made Tess unhappy,” Lady Claybourne pressed. “Can you deny it? What else would send her rushing back to London without you when you are supposed to be enjoying a wedding journey?”

Ian sent her a sharp glance, while Fanny—who was looking uncomfortable at the unexpected altercation—stepped toward him. “No doubt you wish us to
speak in private, your grace. I have a smaller parlor upstairs, if you will follow me.…”

However, their departure was forestalled by Lady Danvers entering the conversation. “As it happens, we were just discussing you, Rotham.” Her tone sounded authoritative, possibly because as the eldest sister, she was accustomed to taking charge.

“Yes,” Lady Claybourne interjected again, “we were debating whether to call upon you. I wanted to give you a piece of my mind, but Roslyn dissuaded me.”

Ian halted. “Oh? Why would I deserve a piece of your mind?”

“I thought you needed to be reminded of the consequences of mistreating Tess. You will answer to us—and her cousin, Viscount Wrexham, as well. Perhaps threats of retaliation made by mere women will not move you, but Damon is another matter. He will protect Tess to the death, I promise you.”

Ian eyed Lady Claybourne piercingly. “All I have ever wanted was to protect Tess.”