To Desire a Wicked Duke (Courtship Wars 6)

Thus, when Rotham greeted her with a polite “Miss Blanchard,” she merely inclined her head and murmured, “Your grace” in return. They might have well been strangers.

The guest list was small, but included Tess’s dearest friends: Her godmother, Lady Wingate; the three Loring sisters and their husbands; Tess’s cousin Damon and his lively wife, Eleanor; Dorothy Croft; Jane Caruthers, the spinster who oversaw the daily operations of the Freemantle Academy; and the academy’s original patron, Winifred, Lady Freemantle.

Tess’s women friends flanked her protectively until it was time to begin the ceremony. Rotham evidently noted their concern, for his gray eyes glittered with irony as he led her to stand before the vicar.

Her mind was a riot of scattered thoughts and feelings just then. How many weddings had she attended this past year, watching her friends and neighbors and cousin become bound to their life-mates? The vicar was the same clergyman who had married Arabella and Lily.

He was getting a good deal of practice, Tess thought irreverently as his gentle voice droned on.

The sense of unreality continued to plague her throughout the liturgy. Some while later, though, it was over and Rotham gave her a brief kiss to seal their vows.

His lips were cool, yet they still stirred the same deplorable heat inside her as yesterday, Tess realized to her regret. So did his casual touch at her back when he guided her toward a side table to sign the marriage lines that would make their union official.

She hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and putting ink to parchment. Then glancing up, Tess met her new husband’s eyes.

For better or worse—likely much worse—she was now wed to the Duke of Rotham.

The duke’s own feelings were a perverse mixture of resignation, triumph, and regret.

Resignation because he disliked losing control of his fate.

Triumph because he now had legal claim to the one woman in the world he’d thought he could never possess.

And regret because once again he had driven the laughter from her eyes.

Ian glanced down at the lovely, vibrant woman he had just wed. There was no trace of Tess’s enchanting smile. No expression at all except sadness … and perhaps trepidation.

The last thing Ian wanted was for Tess to fear him.

“You might attempt to lighten your expression, love,” he suggested in a dry tone. “Pretend for a moment that you are not going to your doom.”

Tess’s back stiffened for an instant before she visibly made an effort to relax. “Everyone here knows our circumstances. They would disdain the hypocrisy if either of us feigned joy.”

“Perhaps, but your friends now look ready to draw their swords and skewer me if I dare take a wrong step.”

She glanced around at their audience. The wedding guests were eyeing Ian with various degrees of concern, even belligerence on the part of the youngest Loring sister.

Tess smiled at Lady Claybourne before turning back to Ian. “I believe Lily is u

narmed at the moment, but she has recently become skilled with a rapier and would no doubt be willing to use it in my defense.”

Ian’s mouth curved. “Is that a warning?”

“You might say so,” Tess rejoined with a hint of her usual archness. A moment later, she sighed. “You are right—we should keep up appearances. If you will contrive to say something in the least witty or amusing, I would find it easier to comply.”

He gave a mock wince. “Meaning my usual wit is lacking. You wound me.”

She manufactured a mild laugh, which caught the attention of half the room. Still, there was a spark of humor in Tess’s dark eyes that relieved Ian.

“Where will we go from here, your grace?” she asked. “Bellacourt?”

“Yes. Surely no one will object to me taking my bride to my family seat for a measure of privacy. You may invite your friends to visit you whenever you wish—the sooner the better, in fact—so they can be reassured that I am not beating you or starving you or chaining you away in my dungeon.”

Surprisingly, interest flared in Tess’s eyes. “You have a dungeon?”

“Not at Bellacourt. It was merely a figure of speech.”

“What about your castle in Cornwall?”