“Tess Blanchard, how could you?” Lady Wingate admonished in continued fury, pinning her appalled gaze on her goddaughter.
Swearing under his breath, Ian glanced down at Tess. Her cheeks were hotly flushed as she stood frozen in consternation. Despite the difficulty of covering his own aroused state, he stepped protectively in front of her to draw the baroness’s fire.
Consequently, Lady Wingate shifted her fierce gaze to him. “And you, Rotham … I trusted you with her, yet you betray me in this scurrilous fashion.”
At the charge of betrayal, Ian’s jaw muscles tightened. Yet he couldn’t h
onestly argue against the allegation. Not in front of an audience, at any rate. Particularly such notorious gossips as the Perrys.
Noting the avid interest of the spectators, he spoke evenly. “This matter is best resolved in private, Lady Wingate, wouldn’t you agree?”
As if recalling her surroundings, the noblewoman gave a start. “Yes, of course.” Compressing her lips in a tight line, she turned to her houseguests. “If you please, I should like to speak to the duke and my goddaughter alone.”
“Certainly, Judith,” Lady Perry said curtly, taking her husband’s arm. “Come, dear, we are obviously de trop.”
Sir Alfred seemed reluctant to leave—or at least the disdain on his florid face had lessened to something resembling intrigue. “Must we go? I fancy this will provide better entertainment than the play we are to perform tonight. A theater haunted by spirits cannot hold a candle to a real-life scandal.”
Lady Perry shot her spouse a sharp glance of disapproval and tugged on his arm, compelling his obedience. When she led the way back across the ballroom, the other guests trailed after them.
The moment they were gone, Lady Wingate resumed her chiding. “I expected so much better of you, Tess. How is it that I find you behaving like a trollop in that indecent manner—and with Rotham of all people?”
“I am wholly to blame, Lady Wingate,” Ian interrupted, wanting to shield Tess from her wrath.
“Oh, I have no doubt you were the instigator, your grace,” her ladyship snapped, her tone caustic. “I was willing to forgive you for being a rakehell, but I can never forgive you for this.”
He couldn’t forgive himself either. In a moment of blind temptation, he’d let his damnable desire for Tess Blanchard flare out of control, and then he was caught seducing her.
Ian voiced another low oath, although this time his curse was directed at himself rather than the intruders. He should have exercised more restraint, but he’d been unprepared for his body’s reaction to the tantalizing taste of Tess, to the yielding softness of her mouth and form. The jolt had been electric. She’d felt it too, judging from her shiver of startled awareness the moment their lips touched. Against the shouted warnings of his conscience, he’d given in to the fierce rush of primal lust she aroused in him, unable to stop himself.
The baroness regarded him with scorn. “Of course, you will do the honorable thing, Rotham.”
Ian narrowed his eyes momentarily. He knew what she meant by “honorable.” His gut tightened, yet he nodded solemnly. “Naturally I will. You needn’t worry.”
“There is no hope for it,” Lady Wingate added, so there would no misunderstanding. “You must wed her at once.”
“I agree.”
Behind him, Tess gasped. Stepping out from his protective shield, she stared up at him in stunned dismay. Ian suspected her distress now was not merely because she had disappointed her godmother and patron.
Her mouth opened and closed as she struggled to find her voice. Ian might have felt a measure of amusement at her response had the circumstances been less serious; it was rare that he rendered Tess speechless. Clearly he had shocked her by agreeing to wed her without a word of protest or debate.
Yet there was no need for either, Ian knew. He had exposed her to scandal and ruin, so he was obliged to make amends—and quickly, before she became mired so deeply in shame that she could never recover. Whatever his feelings about wedding Tess, he intended to protect her from hurt. She had been hurt too much already.
Tess apparently was not of the same mind. Her voice was hoarse, but held unmistakable adamancy when she spoke. “There is certainly no need for such drastic measures, your grace.”
Ian left it to the baroness to reply, which she did with alacrity.
“There absolutely is a need,” her ladyship insisted. “Marriage is the only way to save you from ruin. You will indeed wed Rotham.” Before Tess could reply, Lady Wingate held up an imperious hand. “You, miss, are nearly a spinster. More than two years have passed since Richard’s death, and it is time that you secure a husband.”
“My lady,” Tess said with heightened distress, “You cannot truly expect me to marry Rotham—”
“You will, or I will withdraw my support for all of your charities and leave you to face the scandal alone. Just see how quickly your organizations shrivel without my patronage.”
At the harsh ultimatum, Tess flinched as if struck by a blow. She gazed back at Lady Wingate in stunned disbelief, but the baroness returned her regard without mercy.
The silver-haired noblewoman was every inch an aristocrat—tall, regal, commandingly haughty, and accustomed to getting her own way, but Ian knew she was deeply concerned for Tess’s welfare. What was more, the baroness understood how vicious society would be in rendering judgment on an unmarried young lady who had sinned in a public display of wantonness.
When Tess remained mute, Ian stepped into the breach once more. “Lady Wingate, if you will allow us a moment alone, perhaps we can come to a resolution on our own.”