Tristan continued walking, and she could not help noticing the other wall niches stood empty.
“I sold artwork after my father died,” he said.
Her throat clogged, knowing how much he’d sacrificed for his family. “You did what you had to do,” she said. Like him, she would do what she had to do and end what never should have started in the first place.
Upon reaching the gallery, he paused for a moment and took a deep breath. Her lips trembled. Forgive me. I never meant to cause you anguish.
He exhaled audibly and escorted her inside the long, rectangular room. She gazed at the numerous portraits lining the dark-paneled walls. Two crystal chandeliers hung from the ornately carved ceiling. A fireplace with a pale marble mantel stood at the far end of the gallery.
Tristan took her over to a portrait of a gentleman with a pointed beard and a pearl eardrop. “James Gatewick, the first Earl of Shelbourne,” he said. “He served Henry VIII.”
As he strolled on, she gazed down the wall. “Oh, look, that is your mother, is it not?”
“Yes.” They walked over to the portrait. The artist had deftly captured the duchess’s ironic smile. “Your mother was a great beauty. She still is.”
Tristan led her to the huge portrait next to it. “My father,” he said.
Tristan bore the same square jaw and thick-lashed blue eyes as his late father. “You bear a strong resemblance to him.”
“Until yesterday, I would have said I do not resemble him in character.”
Her quick inhalation brought his gaze down to her upturned face. “I have not stepped inside this gallery since my father died,” he said.
“Why?” she whispered.
“Resentment.”
Tessa turned her attention to the portrait and glowered at it. “Your mother loved him. How could he betray her?”
“He was ten years her senior, well on his way to dissipation and dun territory when she met him. My mother’s family traded her along with a generous fortune for a ducal connection.”
Tessa regarded him with parted lips. “That is the reason you refused to marry for money.”
“That and pride,” he said.
“How did he die?”
“Predictably.” His gaze strayed to the portrait again. “A cuckolded husband called him out. My father was drunk and misfired. His opponent shot him in the shoulder. The surgeon brought him home and dug the ball out, but the wound festered. He lingered for three days. Just long enough in his feverish state to beg my mother’s forgiveness.”
“And yours?” she said.
“I refused to see him.”
A terrible suspicion gripped her. “Why did you bring me here?”
“I will not follow in my father’s footsteps. It is my responsibility to restore your honor and mine.”
Her heart knocked against her chest. “What are you saying?”
“You know, Tessa.”
She started shaking. “I—I knew you would take all the blame, but you cannot absolve me of responsibility. I—I didn’t stop you.”
“No, I will not allow you to make excuses for my conduct. I swore never to touch you again at Ashdown House, but I broke my promise. There is only one way for me to make this right.”
Panic clawed her lungs. “No. The girls. The families will arrive tomorrow.”
“Shhhh,” he said, placing his finger briefly over her lips. “Do not worry. I will speak to their fathers privately. The courtship was supposed to allow me the opportunity to know their daughters, but it has not worked as I’d planned. It will be a tricky business. The girls will have to cry off, but I also plan to pay a handsome sum to their fathers as restitution.”
“I know you have doubts, but you must not end the courtship because of what happened between us,” she said quickly. “We are consenting adults and—”
“Listen,” he said, his deep voice silencing her. “In June when the season ends, you will return with my family to Gatewick Park. And then we will formalize our engagement.”
She gasped. “No. Say no more, I beg you.”
He took her by the shoulders. “Have your attorney arrange to put all of your fortune in trust before we marry. It will remain in your sole control.” He smiled a little. “You see, there is a man who will wed you without a penny.”
Oh, God, no. “It is not about my fortune,” she said, hearing the desperation in her own voice. “This cannot happen. The consequences are too terrible to contemplate. It is impossible, and you know it.”
“Tess, you’re shaking. Come sit with me.” He led her over to a velvet bench and took her cold hands in his. “You’re overset, but I will take care of you.”
She started babbling. “I thought you understood. Yesterday was the one and only time for us. I never expected anything else.”
“I dishonored you more than once.” His expression turned resolute. “Your honor and mine are at stake.”
At all costs, she must dissuade him. “We are both worldly. As much as I appreciate your honorable intentions, we did not go so far as to make an irrevocable mistake. No one knows. We will forget it ever happened.”
“Impossible. I have intimate knowledge of your body. As you have intimate knowledge of mine. I can’t pretend it never happened.”
“Tristan, how can you ignore the scandal? Already I am accused of trying to sink my claws into you. It will hurt your family and the girls,” she said, her voice rising.
He smoothed an errant wisp of hair from her cheek. “Last night, I thought long and hard before making my decision. I did not dismiss my obligation to the girls and their families easily. But I had to weigh that against the wrong I had done to you.”
“I consented knowing there could be nothing more between us,” she said. “I absolve you of any obligation to me, and you must accept.”
He squeezed her hands. “Let me finish. I thought about what I would do if your uncle still lived, and I knew I would ask him for your hand in marriage. He is not here, but that changes nothing. Honor must be preserved. It is my duty to wed you.”
His words stabbed her heart. Even though she could never marry him, she loved him dearly. And he’d all but told her he would never have proposed if he’d not felt duty-bound. He didn’t even know he’d crushed her pride and broken her heart.
“I know this is not the fairy tale marriage your parents had,” he said. “But you know as well as I do your uncle would brook no argument if he were here.”
Her uncle’s words spoken so long ago came to her. If a man ever proposes, you must tell him. She could not do it—could not tell Tristan the sordid truth. “We have no choice but to accept we made a mistake and put it behind us.”
“Your fear is understandable under the circumstances,” he said. “I know this is not how you envisioned your life. I cannot promise our marriage will be easy, but we will work it out as we go along. We do it all the time, so you know it’s possible. In return, I offer you my family, my protection and devotion, and children. And Tess, what is between us—the passion—is rare. I never meant to compromise you, but we can be happy together.”
She released his hands. “Can we be happy when such a marriage would cause pain to so many? Have you thought about how Amy and Georgette would feel? They would be humiliated and scorned. And you said you would never bring scandal upon your family. We cannot do this to them.”
He frowned. “You urged me to call off the courtship because I have doubts, but I’ve no doubt about my duty to you. We will wed.”
“I cannot,” she said miserably.
He reared back as if she’d slapped him. “You are refusing me?”
“I am refusing to bring scandal upon you and your family.” Her eyes filled with tears. She’d told him the truth, but he would not understand.
Tristan rose from the bench and stared at Tessa. A numbing sensation crept over him. The moment seemed unreal, as if he were standing outside his own body observing.
She hung her head. “I am so sorry,�
� she whispered.
Tristan remembered something Hawk had said the first night he’d met Tessa. He’d chosen the only woman in the kingdom who wouldn’t wed him.
Damn her! His face heated, and he turned his back on her. Damn her! He was a bloody duke—the most eligible bachelor in England. And she had refused him. He’d offered her everything, and she’d said no.
Running footsteps sounded outside the gallery. “Tristan? Miss Mansfield? Come quickly,” Julianne said, excitement in her voice.
He cleared his throat, unable to look at his sister. “Julianne, please grant us privacy.”
“Mama said you must come downstairs now. A carriage just arrived.” She laughed. “Someone came a day early.”
“We will be down directly,” he said.
After his sister’s footsteps retreated, he clenched and unclenched his hands. Then, with a deep inhalation, he forced control over himself. “Shall we greet the guests, Miss Mansfield?”
• • •
Tessa stood at the bottom of the horseshoe-shaped steps with everyone else. She managed a weak smile and clutched her shawl so hard her fingers hurt. Only the knowledge that others were there kept her tears in check. Oh, God, how could she have done this to him?
The breeze ruffled Tristan’s dark, tousled hair as the guests descended from the carriage. He glanced back at her and then turned away. She bit her lip because she wanted to cry out, but she must not.
She was very close to breaking down. So she made herself watch the others to remind herself that she could not embarrass him. She must be strong for Tristan.
A silver-haired man stood talking to Tristan and Hawk. The Marquess of Boswood, Georgette’s father, shook hands with them. Lady Boswood greeted the duchess. Julianne hugged Georgette. Tessa felt like a servant and was glad everyone ignored her. She stood there unseen, watching, waiting for the moment when she could escape to her room.
The marquess’s voice penetrated her depressed thoughts. “We started out a day early. I wished to allow an extra day for the journey. My daughter is prone to motion sickness.”
“Oh, Papa, must you mention it?” Georgette cried. Not a single wrinkle marred her pristine white skirts.
“Do not fret, daughter.” Lady Boswood smiled at the duchess. “Georgette did not succumb to illness once. I believe she has outgrown the tendency.”
Julianne drew Georgette aside. The two girls chatted and giggled as the footmen carried the trunks away.
“We made excellent time yesterday and spent last night at the Black Swan,” Lord Boswood continued. “I decided to journey on early this morning. I had no wish to expose my ladies further to the rougher classes who patronize country inns. It would be insupportable.”
Tessa thought him far too high in the instep and disliked him for it.
“I hope we have not inconvenienced your family,” Boswood said.
“Not at all,” Tristan said. “My mother and Miss Mansfield have matters well in hand.”
Lord Boswood regarded Tessa briefly with a cold, blank stare. She felt as insignificant as she had at the opera, but this time she was glad of it.
The marquess turned to his daughter and lifted his brows. “Georgette, will you continue to ignore the duke?”
Her smile fled. “I apologize, Papa.”
Tessa watched the girl dip her chin as she approached.
“The negligence is mine,” Tristan said, striding forward to intercept her. With a blush, she offered her gloved hand. When he lifted it to his lips, Tessa looked away, her heart shattering like breaking glass.
She was his worst nightmare. Only he had no idea. Must never know.
After luncheon, Tessa escaped to her bedchamber and leaned against the door. She would give back every farthing of her fortune for the chance to change the past. But she’d known for eight years what she’d given up. Stupid girl that she’d been, she’d not even realized until Uncle George had told her.
There wasn’t a single moment that she’d accepted her fate, but rather a gradual acknowledgment that it was real and irrevocable. Mostly, she remembered trying to atone by nursing her uncle, giving of herself in a silent plea for forgiveness. When he was near death, he’d asked her to forgive him. She’d cried so hard she couldn’t see for the tears.
After that, she’d taken one step, one day at a time.
Disgusted with her self-pity, she walked to the bed and sank onto the edge of the mattress. She’d done the right thing, the only thing she could do, by refusing Tristan’s proposal. Of course, it would never have been necessary if she’d not wronged him yesterday. And all the days before. All the days she’d selfishly led Tristan on by making herself sparkly and witty so he would spend more time with her. So she could pretend he was her beau. Yesterday, she’d crossed a line. Today, she’d humiliated him.
For years, she’d avoided gentlemen who expressed even the slightest interest in her, knowing she could never marry. It had been easy until he’d walked into her life. She’d fooled herself, even though Anne had warned her repeatedly. And she’d fallen headlong in love with him. Utterly, hopelessly, in love with him. She loved him too much to ruin his life.
Her eyes misted. Drat it all, she could not afford reddened eyes and a stuffy nose. In a few minutes, she must walk downstairs to the drawing room.
She pushed to her feet, found her fan, and waved it near her hot face. Soon she must face everyone and pretend nothing was amiss. And she must do so again and again. All week.
Georgette’s muffled voice sounded through the wall adjoining their rooms. The girl most likely. The most beautiful girl. The one he would marry. She had no right to be jealous. No right to begrudge Georgette. No right to love Tristan.
Tessa glanced at the bedside clock, knowing she must leave shortly. With a deep breath, she resolved to sit as quiet as a mouse and avoid bringing undue attention to herself. She had no wish to do anything except disappear while sitting with everyone else.
Georgette’s door opened and closed. Tessa listened for retreating footsteps. Instead a knock sounded, startling her. When she answered, she found Georgette and Julianne standing there.
Georgette smiled. “If you are ready, we thought you might wish to walk with us to the drawing room.”
“Thank you.” After retrieving her fan, she joined them in the corridor. She would remain calm. Whenever she felt the slightest bit discomposed, she would apply her fan.
As they strolled toward the stairs, Georgette looked at Julianne. “I wish Amy were here.”
“She will come tomorrow,” Julianne said. “I am so happy you both will be here this week. We shall have such fun together.”
“You both must come to my bedchamber at night,” Georgette said. “We can gossip for hours, as we did at Amy’s house last week.”
Tessa wondered if she’d been wrong all along about their friendships. Was Georgette sincere? Only time would tell.
The blond beauty turned to Tessa. “You must join us.”
“I would not dream of interrupting,” she said.
Julianne’s blue eyes glittered with mischief. “Now that my brother eliminated that nasty Elizabeth and her lapdog Henrietta, we can tell you all the horrid things they did during the courtship.”
Evidently Amy and Georgette had confided to Julianne.
They had reached the landing when Georgette halted. “I fear Miss Mansfield will think us cruel gossips.”
Julianne regarded Tessa. “Perhaps Elizabeth managed to win you over as she did the other girls.”
Despite all her heartache, Tessa managed a weak smile. “To borrow a phrase from your mother, do I look like I just fell off the vegetable cart?”
The two girls snickered behind their hands.
“We’d better be on our way,” she said.
As they walked downstairs, the two girls talked about all the jolly times they would have during the week. They made plans to try on each other’s gowns, alter the trims on their bonnets, and tell ghost stories at night. At
first, Tessa felt relieved that the friendship seemed true and honest, but as they approached the drawing room, she realized they’d completely ignored the courtship. They’d not mentioned Tristan once.
She told herself it was only natural for them to make plans for themselves, but she worried anyway. Perhaps they didn’t want to discuss Tristan in her presence. Tessa would feel awkward if they did talk about him. And her wounds were too raw to listen to Georgette speak of him.
Tristan had asked her why she didn’t like Georgette. Tessa had taken an instant dislike to the girl and judged her when she didn’t even know her. But on that first day, she’d seen Tristan’s interest in the beauty. And then Tessa had unwittingly set out to malign Georgette, just like Elizabeth. On some deep level, Tessa had known the girl most likely would win him. And every moment afterward, Tessa had done all in her power to draw him to herself.
She had seduced him, whether he believed her or not. She’d led him to betray the girls he was courting. And he, honorable man that he was, had offered to marry her because he did not want to be a scoundrel like his father.
Tristan stood at the sideboard in the drawing room, so numb his hands felt like ice.
“Old boy, do you need help pouring the brandy?”
Hawk’s amused voice reminded Tristan to keep his wits about him. He flexed his hands twice and poured two brandies. He did not trust himself to imbibe in his troubled state.
Fixing a stoic expression on his face, he handed drinks to Hawk and Boswood. While the marquess pontificated about a speech he intended to make next week in Parliament, Tristan nodded occasionally, but he paid scant attention.
Tessa had let him kiss and touch her. Touched him, by God. Given him all but her virginity. And then she’d told him they must forget it ever happened. She had given him a way out. Prevented scandal. He ought to be relieved. He wasn’t.
How to Marry a Duke Page 24
