To Desire a Wicked Duke

by Nicole Jordan

  “I was dead to the world, yer grace. Slept better than I can remember in o’r two years. Dint hear the voices once. No bad dreams, not a single one.”

  Tess was still smiling by the time her visit ended. According to Mr. Geary, the ghosts in Ned’s head might never go away, but with proper care, the debilitating effects of his trauma should lessen over time.

  Upon leaving the hospital, she decided to call on Patrick Hennessy at once rather than wait for a formal appointment, and so directed her coachman to Covent Garden, where the actor had converted a small warehouse into a theater for his troupe’s rehearsals and productions.

  When she was shown into his office, Hennessy appeared glad to see her, yet his restrained greeting was significantly more cautious than in the past. Clearly her marriage had impacted their relationship, Tess concluded—perhaps because he was now wary of rousing the Duke of Rotham’s ire.

  Hennessy relaxed somewhat when she began the conversation with a topic near and dear to his heart: His investigations into the spirit world.

  “I regret that the rumors of Falwell Castle being haunted by ghosts were slightly exaggerated,” Tess said lightly, before recounting her adventures over the past fortnight—how Ned Crutchley had posed as the ghost of Rotham’s murdered ancestor to scare away the castle servants so that a local band of thieves could store their booty beneath the dungeons undetected.

  Hennessy chuckled at the conclusion of her narrative. “I cannot say I am not disappointed,” the actor commented. “But this one incident still does not disprove the existence of spirits.”

  Tess then asked him how the planning for the Drury Lane concert was proceeding.

  “The program is coming together well, your grace. Indeed, your new title has unexpectedly opened doors, garnering renowned performers and patrons alike. I did not think it shameless, however, to use every advantage we have.”

  Tess smiled faintly. She was not above using her new, albeit unwanted title, either.

  Finally, when they had finished discussing which acts to hire and which to cross off the prospective program list, Tess opened her reticule. After showing him the bank draft signed by Daniel Grimshaw, she asked if Hennessy knew why the solicitor had always been so generous.

  “I beg your pardon, your grace? I do not understand the question.”

  Tess watched Hennessy thoughtfully as she explained. “Until now, I never wondered why Mr. Grimshaw was so eager to part with his fortune. Do you perhaps know what motivates him?”

  The actor looked strangely uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t venture to guess, your grace.”

  “It seems curious,” she mused aloud, “that his firm handles Rotham’s legal and financial affairs. Are there other connections that you are aware of?”

  When he remained silent, Tess added casually, “Tell me, has Rotham ever contributed to any of our theatrical endeavors without my knowledge?”

  Hennessy’s face became shuttered. “Well … he has not contributed any funds directly that I know of.”

  “What about indirectly?”

  After a marked hesitation, he grimaced. “Perhaps you should discuss the matter with the duke, your grace.”

  Tess’s gaze turned penetrating. “I prefer to discuss it with you now, Mr. Hennessy. I should like an honest answer, please.”

  “It is not my place to say anything.”

  “Why not?”

  “The duke bade me keep my mouth shut.”

  Tess would not relent, however. “What were you not supposed to reveal to me, Mr. Hennessy?”

  “Honestly … I don’t know for a fact what the truth is.”

  “But you have your suspicions, do you not?”

  He sighed heavily, as if acknowledging that she wouldn’t give up her questioning until she got the answers she sought. “Very well, your grace, if you insist. I suspect that Grimshaw’s involvement in your charities was a pretense … a charade to hide your true patron’s identity. It was never admitted in so many words, but I fancy Grimshaw has been acting for the Duke of Rotham all along.”

  Tess’s mouth opened in startled disbelief. “You mean, Grimshaw made all those donations at Rotham’s behest?”

  “I suspect so. But from the very first, Rotham made clear to me that he didn’t want you knowing about any role he played as your benefactor.”

  She stared at Hennessy in bewilderment. Had Ian truly supported her philanthropic endeavors anonymously all this time, contributing large sums to her charities from his own vast fortune?

  “Perhaps you are mistaken,” she protested in an unsteady voice. “Grimshaw could be acting entirely on his own. What makes you think he is not?”

  Hennessy hesitated. Evidently, however, he realized the futility of silence, for he heaved another sigh. “Chiefly because Grimshaw always seemed to know exactly when we needed large sums for our productions. I believe the timing was not mere coincidence, since I regularly kept Rotham informed of our needs. And I know for certain the duke aided us in the past, in ways other than financial. I had only to mention to him that we required a thing and he saw that it was done. Do you recall when the Prince Regent attended the benefit at the Theatre Royal in September? That was the duke’s doing.”

  Tess sat there in mute astonishment. Prinny’s attendance that evening had assured the event’s success, but she’d never known Ian had interceded on her behalf.

  “How long has this been going on?” she finally asked.

  When her tone remained calm instead of irate, Hennessy’s expression went from anxious to sheepish. “Since you first hired me two years ago. Rotham appeared the very next day and made his wishes known. I was to apply to him if we ran into difficulties on any front.”

  Tess raised a hand to her temple. “How would he even know that I had hired you?”

  “I gather that some of your servants may report to him about your affairs. Your footman, the former pugilist, for one. I believe that big strapping fellow was in the duke’s service before he came into your employ.”

  Fletcher had been in Ian’s service? Was still in Ian’s service, doing his bidding? He had commissioned her servants to spy on her?

  Tess didn’t know whether to be outraged or grateful. Ian had always claimed that it was his duty to protect her because he considered her family. Perhaps controlling her servants was his chosen way of imposing his will on her and ensuring her safety at the same time.

  But his furtiveness made little sense to her. Why would he keep his good deeds a secret? Because he didn’t wish her to know he had a soft heart?

  This was not the first time, either, that she had wondered if Ian was hiding his inner goodness, Tess recalled. Without question, he’d kept secrets from her before this. He had never told her about his young ward, for one thing.

  But in that instance, he most likely hadn’t wanted her knowing that he had a son from an adulterous affair with a married woman.…

  Tess shook herself and returned her gaze to Patrick Hennessy. “Why would Rotham contribute to my charities, but let his solicitor receive all the credit?”

  “I couldn’t begin to guess, your grace.”

  Neither could she, Tess realized, feeling swamped again by conflicting emotions.

  She was still stewing over the baffling question when she concluded her meeting with Hennessy and returned to her carriage. Fletcher was there to hand her inside, but although she gave him a piercing look, Tess refrained from interrogating him just yet, not wanting to accuse her servants of betraying her without proof.

  She would have confronted Ian directly on the matter, but she had no notion when he planned to return from Cornwall. Furthermore, she hoped to find some sort of evidence of her suspicions so that he could not simply deny his involvement.

  Perhaps Basil could assist in her search for the truth, Tess reflected. As the duke’s newest secretary, Basil could likely help her learn more about Ian’s past business dealings. And as a former law clerk, he might even know Daniel Grimshaw.

  I
f so, then she could possibly confirm what she was beginning to believe: That for some inexplicable reason of his own, Ian had spent years aiding her causes through his lawyers.

  She directed Spruggs to take her to Fanny’s nearby boardinghouse at once. While waiting for Basil to return home, she visited with Fleur and Chantel, the two aging courtesans who had mentored a young Fanny at the beginning of her career and who now supervised her lodgers.

  When Basil arrived shortly before supper time, Tess explained her suspicions about the duke’s solicitor. And since he was a quick study, he instantly understood her desire to know if her husband was the enormously generous benefactor who had anonymously supported her charities for years.

  “What do you wish me to do, your grace?” Basil asked simply.

  “Can you tell me where Rotham’s account books are kept?” she replied. “I maintain a record of the major contributions my charities have received over the years. If I could check his accounts and compare entries to see if the same sums were paid to his solicitor around various dates, then it would confirm my theory.”

  Frowning, Basil shifted uneasily in his seat. “I only hold a junior position in the duke’s household, so I don’t yet know where his staff keeps his account books. I could inquire, certainly, but I dislike betraying the duke’s trust. And then there is—”

  Even before Basil stopped abruptly, Tess could see his obvious reluctance. “There is what, Mr. Eddowes?” she prodded.

  “You do realize I could be dismissed for prying into the duke’s financial affairs?”

  It was Tess’s turn to frown. She was not asking him to pry, only to help her to pry. But perhaps there was little difference.

  Then Basil hastened to add, “But of course I will do anything you ask. Indeed, I would not even have the post of his secretary if not for you.”

  “No, I have changed my mind.” She didn’t want to cause trouble for Basil, especially not when he was just beginning his new life with Fanny. “Never mind. It isn’t important.”

  “I can see it is exceedingly important to you, your grace.”

  It was desperately important to her, but rather than say so, Tess fell silent. Basil knew her marriage to Ian was not a love match, but that didn’t mean she felt comfortable discussing her marital problems with anyone but her closest friends.

  “Is there no other way to gain the evidence you seek?” Basil asked, still intent on helping her.

  “Perhaps.” She could question Mr. Grimshaw, but his loyalties doubtless lay with his employer, and he would probably not be forthcoming. Worse, he might report her peculiar interest to Ian before she had a chance to question him.

  She wanted the element of surprise when she confronted her husband. Ian might try to fob off her queries, and she urgently needed to see his expression and judge his reaction for herself.

  “With all due respect,” Basil added with obvious concern, “could you not simply ask the duke directly when he returns to London?”

  “I intend to,” Tess said, pressing her lips together with resolve.

  One way or another she meant to get to the bottom of Ian’s secrecy and discover if and why he had been deceiving her all these many years.

  It is shocking to learn why Ian hid the truth from me all this time.

  —Diary Entry of Miss Tess Blanchard

  From the moment she began suspecting Ian’s subterfuge, Tess felt fretful and on edge. Doubtless she was a fool to long for his return, but she was anxious to understand his motives if he had deceived her. Not, Tess firmly told herself, because she keenly missed him.

  Perhaps her unease was due in part to the fact that she had to settle into Ian’s magnificent ducal mansion in Cavendish Square. She claimed her own suite of rooms, but without his presence, she found it awkward to establish herself with the large staff, who were much more formal than the friendly servants in his remote castle in Cornwall.

  At least she had Dorothy for companionship. When Ian finally did arrive home Friday afternoon, Tess was out making calls with the elder lady. Upon being informed that the duke was in his study, Tess excused herself to Dorothy, then handed over her outer garments to the lofty butler and went in search of her husband.

  The study door was closed, but when she rapped lightly, she was bid entrance at once. She found Ian seated behind his desk. His expression remained shuttered as he greeted her, although he politely set down his quill pen and stood.

  Not wanting to seem too eager to welcome him home, Tess kept her tone dispassionate when she said, “I trust your business in Falmouth went as planned?”

  “Yes. Banks and his confederates are in jail awaiting a hearing.”

  “Good,” she responded.

  “How is Crutchley?” Ian asked in a detached tone of his own.

  “His mental state seems to have improved a bit, I think. He no longer quakes at his own shadow. And now that he has proper care, I hope he can heal enough to find productive employment someday. Earning his own keep may help Ned recover his dignity and give him a reason for living.”

  When Ian gave an impersonal nod, Tess hesitated. The stiff formality of their exchange felt supremely uncomfortable, although she should have been glad for the cold barrier between them. It was precisely what she had wished for, wasn’t it?

  “Did you desire something particular of me?” Ian prodded.

  “Well …” Hearing the tentative quaver in her voice, Tess chastised herself. She had no reason to feel ill at ease. She had a legitimate right to question Ian about his possible involvement in her affairs.

  She just wasn’t certain she wanted to know the answer. Not if it meant that he had been her anonymous benefactor all this time. She didn’t like to think she owed him such a great debt, or that she had misjudged him so profoundly. But Tess took a deep breath and began calmly.

  “I recently realized that Mr. Daniel Grimshaw is your personal solicitor,” she commented.

  “So?”

  “So, for the past several years he has been a major contributor to my two most important charities.”

  At first, Ian gave her no response at all. When eventually he raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for her to proceed, she blurted out her suspicion. “I believe you have been making those contributions all along, and that Grimshaw was merely acting at your direction.”

  Ian’s silence spoke volumes, but Tess wanted to be certain. “Do you deny it?”

  “No.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Why would you let Grimshaw take all the credit for your philanthropy?”

  Ian delayed his reply, obviously reluctant to explain his involvement. “It seemed wise at the time. Had I used an alias, you would have been overly curious about an anonymous donor. Thus, I had Grimshaw make the donations so you could put a face to a name.”

  “That explains how you hid your altruism, but not why.”

  When Tess’s gaze remained steadfast, Ian finally offered a justification. “You are so conscientious, you might have felt obliged to refuse my donations if you knew their source.”

  Her eyebrows rose in disbelief. “You thought I was so closed-minded and priggish, I would turn down funds to feed and clothe destitute women and children because I objected to your wicked reputation?”

  Ian remained silent.

  “I think you had another reason,” Tess said slowly. “You didn’t want me to know you had a heart.”

  “There is that,” he agreed with an ironic, humorless smile.

  “And it was not only monetary support you provided either,” she added. “You have intervened in other ways, haven’t you?”

  “Why would you think so?”

  “I spoke to Patrick Hennessy yesterday.”

  Ian’s jaw hardened. “Hennessy should learn to honor his word.”

  “He did. He refused to tell me anything of worth. I had to prod him relentlessly before he would even acknowledge the possibility that you were behind your solicitor’s generosity.”

  Ian’s mouth twisted cynically
at her resolve. “I am not surprised you deduced my role, Tess. You always were too clever and inquisitive for your own good.”

  “In this instance, I was not clever at all,” she retorted. “You deceived me for years. I should like to know why.”

  “I told you why.”

  “No, you did not. Not really.” She took a step closer to him, her hands reaching out in an unconsciously imploring gesture. “Why have you always been so protective of me, Ian? Since the moment we met, we were always more enemies than friends, and you made clear your disdain for me and my hopeless idealism.”

  “You were betrothed to my cousin.”

  It was still an inadequate explanation, and Tess’s mouth tightened with frustration. “But I was never a member of your family.”

  Ian’s eyes grew more hooded. “As I told you, Richard asked me to look after you in the event something happened to him.”

  Tess hesitated, knowing he had a point. “Even so, that doesn’t explain the enormous sums you provided. A hundred pounds would have sufficed. You gave thousands to my organizations.”

  Ian sighed faintly and looked away, as if wanting to avoid her penetrating gaze. “We have discussed this before, Tess. I was the one who sent Richard off to war, so it shouldn’t surprise you that I wanted to make amends. In some way, my contributions were in reparation for you losing your betrothed.”

  “You purchased Richard’s colors, Ian, but it was not your fault that he died.”

  “No, I didn’t directly cause his death,” he agreed solemnly.

  “Then there was no need for you to feel guilty. Richard was eager to serve in some dashing regiment. You did not force him to go.”

  Reluctantly, Ian turned his attention back to her. “Actually, I did force him.”

  Tess frowned in puzzlement. “Why?”

  The gravity she saw in his eyes was somehow unsettling. “At that point in Richard’s life, I thought he needed to grow up and learn to take responsibility for his actions.”

  “What actions?”