To Desire a Wicked Duke

by Nicole Jordan

  “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.”

  Her delicate chin jutted out with a stubbornness that reminded him of Tess at her most determined. “I beg to differ, your grace. You compromised her so that she was forced to wed you—”

  “Pray calm down, Lily,” the Duchess of Arden interrupted in her serene way. “You go too far.” Roslyn then offered Ian a smile and an apology. “Forgive my younger sister, your grace. Lily has yet to learn that not all noblemen are foes. She only just recently wed, and Claybourne has not yet totally convinced her. Please, will you be seated?”

  Ian hesitated, then settled in the only vacant chair left, while Fanny resumed her place on the sofa.

  Yet Lily would not give up, it seemed. “Just what are your intentions toward Tess, your grace?”

  His mouth twisted with a mix of exasperation and ire. “What is this, an inquisition, my lady?”

  “Perhaps it should be. Are you afraid to explain to the friends who love Tess dearly just why we should not come to her rescue?”

  “I am here, aren’t I? In point of fact, I came to seek Miss Irwin’s advice on how to win Tess.”

  His declaration took the wind right out of the marchioness’s sails. When she stared, slightly slack-mouthed, her middle sister Roslyn smiled again and said sweetly, “I commend you for braving the four of us together, your grace. We can be like mother lionesses when it comes to our close friends.”

  Ian nodded in appreciation, while Arabella asked curiously, “What do you mean about seeking advice on how to win Tess?”

  “I love her and want her for my wife,” Ian admitted with far more ease than he’d expected.

  A look of glee claimed Fanny’s features, and she clapped her hands together. “This is beyond famous! I knew it! I have a good instinct for these things. Have you told her of your love yet, your grace? That is the first step, you know.”

  Ian met her gaze evenly. “I don’t believe it is so simple.”

  “I think it is. Tess fears you will only cause her more pain, so she needs to know how you feel before she will risk returning your love.”

  “Yes,” Lily agreed. “She believes you will break her heart, and she has already had it shattered once.”

  Ian grimaced. “That is a large part of the trouble. Tess is still in love with my late cousin. Richard was a saint in her eyes.”

  “Whereas you are a devil,” Arabella commented in an audible undervoice.

  “Just so,” Ian said dryly. “But it is beyond time for her to move on with her life.”

  “Tess was prepared to move on with the right man,” Lily pointed out, obviously still skeptical. “Perhaps you are not the right man for her.”

  Ian turned a blazing glance on her, but said nothing.

  When he remained silent, Lily searched his face intently. “You are positively certain you love her? You have no doubts?”

  “No doubts whatsoever,” he said emphatically.

  Her expression softened a tiny measure. “You will have to prove that you will be a good husband to her.”

  “I realize that. But my bigger dilemma is to make T
ess love me as much as she loved my cousin.”

  “So how can we help you accomplish your aim, your grace?” Arabella asked genially.

  His attention shifted to the eldest sister. “I am willing to entertain any suggestions you might have.”

  “I should hope so,” Lily muttered. “We know Tess better than anyone. You would be wise to take our advice.”

  Ian couldn’t help but be amused by her reluctant about-face. “I agree, Lady Claybourne. I am accustomed to putting experts in charge of my business enterprises, and you are certainly more expert than I when it comes to Tess.”

  The four women glanced at one another, before Roslyn answered for them all. “Fanny is right, your grace. First and foremost, you must tell Tess that you love her. She is too wary to give her heart when her love is not returned. If you like, we can speak to her and ascertain her feelings, to see what you are up against.”

  Ian nodded, relieved by her offer.

  By the time he left Crawford Place, the sisters as well as Fanny had all pledged to do everything in their power to aid him, including pleading his case for him with Tess if necessary. Most surprisingly, he had managed to convince even the dubious Lily that he was serious about winning Tess’s love.

  Ian still felt anxious and apprehensive about his prospects for success, but their counsel had given him reason to hope. Moreover, he’d faced and conquered enormous challenges before, although none where the stakes were so high.

  Therefore, he directed his coachman back to Cavendish Square rather than go after Tess just then. He would give her the night to come to terms with her new knowledge of Richard’s shortcomings. But first thing in the morning, he intended to head for Chiswick.

  His restlessness didn’t abate, however. Before his marriage, Ian might have dined at his club or invited friends or colleagues to his home for dinner. Having no desire for the company of mere acquaintances, though, he ate alone at his empty dining table.

  He missed Tess badly. Missed her warmth and her verbal jousts. Missed her sweet smiles and even sweeter touch. Realizing how swiftly he’d shed his bachelor ways, Ian laughed softly at himself.

  Most assuredly he was in love. Why else would he be craving his wife’s presence the way a parched man craved water?

  After finishing dinner, Ian drank his port in front of his drawing room fire. It was perhaps ten minutes later when Phyfe informed him that the duchess had returned home.

  Ian’s heart started thudding erratically, but before he could do more than set down his glass and stand up, Tess appeared in the doorway.

  Phyfe bowed himself from the drawing room and shut the door for privacy, but Ian scarcely noticed.

  His heart felt lodged in his throat as he drank in the sight of her. She was no longer weeping at least, although she looked pale and her expression was gravely serious.

  Ian started to speak, but Tess interrupted him by holding up a hand. “Please, let me say something first, Ian.”

  She bit her lower lip, then hesitated. Her dark eyes looked huge in her face.

  He forced himself to wait, hardly daring to breathe for fear of what she might be planning to tell him.

  Finally, she murmured in a low voice, “I did not mean to give you the impression that I am still pining after Richard. I am not.”

  “You aren’t?” he managed to ask, his throat tight.

  “No, not at all.” Tess twisted her hands together, as if gathering her courage. She looked nervous, anxious, fearful even. At last she broke the silence again. “I love you, Ian, and I want you for my husband.”

  Joy slowly burgeoned inside Ian, although he wondered if he could trust the feeling. “You love me?” he repeated rather densely.

  “Yes. And I want a true marriage with you.”

  The fearful ache inside him eased for good. “I suppose that is just as well, Tess, since I have loved you for years, even if I never acknowledged it to myself until very recently.”

  She stared, searching his face with a fierce intensity. After another long moment, hope lit her dark eyes. Then the same joy Ian was feeling swept over her beautiful features and with a glad little cry, Tess launched herself into his arms.

  I never believed I would know such joy.

  —Diary Entry of Miss Tess Blanchard

  The taste of Ian’s mouth was pure heaven, but it was his admission of love that made Tess delirious with happiness. Clinging to him with all her might, she kissed him ardently, showing him without words what she felt inside: Relief, elation, wonder, joy, love.…

  Eventually, however, Ian pulled away, leaving her lips bereft. A fresh tinge of apprehension surged through Tess until he took her face in his hands.

  “Say it again,” he demanded, his voice husky and urgent.

  She stared up into his heated gray eyes. “You mean, say that I love you? I do love you, Ian, so very much—” Tess declared, only to be interrupted by another fierce kiss.

  Her breath fled as he lifted her off her feet and took her mouth rapaciously. She welcomed his ferocity, though, returning his ardor measure for measure.

  It was a very, very long while before Ian allowed her any respite by setting her down and ending their embrace. Dazed as she was, Tess made no protest when he guided her backward and settled upon the sofa with her.

  Drawing her into his lap, Ian cradled her against his chest and simply held her, his forehead pressed against hers while their racing pulses slowly began to calm.

  Tess was the first to speak. “You truly love me?” she asked, seeking reassurance just as he had done.

  He drew back to meet her gaze. “Truly. I love you dearly, my sweet Tess. More than I can say.”

  She shook her head in wonderment. “I never expected to hear those words from you, not in a thousand years.” She reached up to touch his beloved face. “Lady Wingate thought you might be harboring some unacknowledged affection for me, but I wouldn’t believe her.”

  Ian’s smile was slow and tender. “She was right, love, although I did my utmost to pretend otherwise.”

  “It seems you have been concealing other secrets as well,” Tess pointed out, feeling a trifle more confident now. “When I spoke to her this afternoon, she revealed any manner of interesting details I never knew about you.”

  His eyebrow lifted. “Details such as …?”

  “Such as the state of your finances when you inherited the title from your father. I never realized you were facing ruin, Ian, or that your gaming was born out of necessity.”

  Ian’s expression sobered. “It’s true. I was drowning in debt from my father’s reckless extravagances and calamitous misfortunes at the gaming tables. But I happen to have an uncanny skill at cards, and gambling was the only way I could survive financial disaster and save Bellacourt, as well as all the other money-gorging properties that accompanied the dukedom, including Falwell Castle.”

  Very glad he’d been able to save his ancestral home and the smaller castle in Cornwall, Tess remembered what else her godmother had told her. “Lady Wingate suggested you are not only skilled at cards, but that you have a Midas touch when it comes to business.”

  “That may be a slight exaggeration,” Ian replied, his mouth curving. “But I invested my winnings wisely and eventually managed to restore the family fortune to its former glory.”

  Tess slid her arms around his neck again. “And here all this time I thought you were a wicked libertine, following in your father’s footsteps.”

  Despite the teasing note in her voice, Ian returned a somber answer. “I well deserved my wicked reputation, Tess. I squandered my youth in rebellious escapades and shirked my responsibilities out of spite. I could have easily ended up like my father. But I have changed my wicked ways. I no longer need to gamble, and I certainly no longer indulge in amorous affairs. I haven’t for quite some time.”

  “No?” she asked somewhat dubiously. “Why not?”

  “Because I want no other woman but you, my lovely Tess.”

  She felt a
warm glow welling inside her. “I can scarcely believe you love me, Ian. I was convinced you lacked all heart.”

  “I do have a heart. It’s just that you twisted it and tied it into knots.”

  Tess smiled to think she had such power over him, but then her amusement faded and turned to sadness. “I doubt your notoriety was solely of your own making. I suspect Richard helped by embellishing your sins at every opportunity.”

  “I am certain of it.” Ian’s mouth tightened a moment. “I’m clearly no saint, Tess, but it always frustrated the bloody hell out of me that you believed Richard to be one.”

  Hearing the grating note in his voice, Tess searched his face. “I know differently now, Ian.”

  His eyes held sympathy. “Still, I regret you ever had to find out about his foibles.”

  “No, I needed to know. I wanted to know.” Tess frowned. “I now understand why my godmother seemed unhappy when I became betrothed to Richard. Yet she told me today that even before then, she favored you, in spite of your rakish ways, or perhaps because of them.”

  “Did she?”

  “Yes. She confessed that she wanted us to marry four years ago and that she tried to play matchmaker at my comeout ball.”

  “I know,” Ian replied, not trying to conceal his amused irony. “I had every intention of evading her efforts, but then I saw you for the first time. You were laughing with Richard, and the sight cut right through me. But when you fell in love with my cousin, you became off-limits. It was damned hard for me to be near you, Tess, always wanting what I couldn’t have.”

  “Lady Wingate thought you might be jealous of Richard.”

  “I was, savagely so. But like Richard, I wanted to be a better man because of you. To win your admiration and respect. I wanted to see that same look in your eyes that you always had for him.”

  “You are a good man, Ian. You have proven it in countless ways.”

  “Have I?”

  “Indeed. It was remarkably admirable for you to take Jamie in as your ward.”

  Ian shrugged. “My reputation was already tarnished. What was one more blot on the whole?” His features lightened. “And then I came to love the little fellow.” Ian’s gaze held Tess’s. “I will send him away from Bellacourt if you wish it, but—”