Yet he couldn’t change the past now. His course had been set years ago when he’d assumed responsibility for Jamie. The ward of a duke would be far better treated than the unwanted castoff of a London footman. More importantly, the boy would have ample warmth and affection in his life.
He’d come to love Jamie as his own son, Ian reflected. He’d had to fight tooth and nail for his own father’s love and attention—futilely, as it turned out—and he’d be damned before condemning Jamie to his same bitter fate.
For now, however, he would keep the details about the child’s birth to himself. There were some secrets that simply could not be shared.
And as he’d told little James, he honored his promises.
Tess managed to continue eating breakfast, but it required fierce determination on her part to maintain a semblance of composure with her thoughts in such turmoil.
She’d woken this morning feeling strangely optimistic. The taste of desire Rotham had given her last night had been sinfully hot, while the emotional aftershock of his lovemaking had left her with an even keener physical awareness of him. She would have difficulty, she knew, pretending that he hadn’t made her yearn to share his bed for real.
His nearness at the breakfast table further addled her already muddled thoughts. And when Rotham had offered to tour his estate with her this morning, Tess had begun to hope they might eventually—someday in the distant future, at least—have a friendly marriage, if not a loving one.
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She should have known better. Her optimism had been dashed the moment his young ward had scampered into the room.
It should not have bothered her, this living proof of Rotham’s licentiousness. She’d always known the kind of man he was. Richard had claimed his cousin was the wickedest nobleman alive.
Rotham hadn’t actually denied the child was his natural son out of wedlock, merely parsed his words to insist that Jamie was not a bastard in the legal sense. But if the boy was not his, why had he not just said so to keep her from thinking so poorly of him? And why would he make Jamie his ward if not to accept responsibility for his profligacy?
It wasn’t that she cared about Rotham himself, Tess vowed to herself. It was just that she’d been taken off her guard seeing this side of him—a side that was both shocking and more endearing at the same time. There was clearly a deep affection between the ordinarily arrogant duke and the adorable, adoring child.
The silence in the breakfast room now was charged and heavy. Rotham’s expression was unapologetic, his countenance implacable, almost as if he were angry at her. Which was as bewildering as it was vexing, Tess thought, annoyed all over again.
Perhaps she should not have ragged him about his hedonistic tendencies. In truth, it was admirable that he had taken in a motherless baby to raise as his ward. His generosity had nearly melted her heart, as had his obvious affection for Jamie—an instinctive, involuntary response that infuriated and dismayed her. She didn’t want her heart softening toward Rotham. She found it difficult enough to resist her deplorable weakness for him as it was.
One thing was becoming clearer. She needed to escape this tightening coil, and soon. Spending the next fortnight or more here at Bellacourt with him would be disastrous to her willpower. Learning of Jamie’s existence had only underscored the danger she was in. She had to get away from Rotham before she succumbed to his tempting offer to show her passion.
Her best course was to go to Cornwall at once, Tess decided. She could take Fanny with her, and Basil, too. Not only would her friends keep her company and take her mind off her irresistible husband, but Fanny and Basil would finally have the chance to be together and fall in love irrevocably.
Convincing Rotham to let her go, however, might prove difficult.
While swallowing the last of her coffee, Tess cast about for the best approach and decided simply to announce her intentions without giving him the chance to argue.
Setting her napkin on the table, she rose. “I believe I must decline your invitation to tour Bellacourt this morning, your grace. I must go upstairs and pack just now.”
His head rose sharply as he surveyed her. “Pack? What do you mean?”
She gave a casual shrug. “I intend to set out for Cornwall this afternoon.”
His lips pressed together. “You are upset at learning about Jamie.”
“I am not upset in the least,” Tess lied through her teeth. “I simply want to implement my plan to help my friend Fanny in her courtship with Basil Eddowes, and I realized there is no reason to wait. Pray, will you write me a letter of introduction to your servants at Falwell Castle so I will not descend upon them unexpectedly?”
Rotham frowned up at her, his gray eyes intense, penetrating. “I am afraid I cannot support your plan, sweeting. It is too dangerous a journey for you to make alone.”
“I will not be alone. I will have Fanny with me.” Or hopefully I will once I write to her and beg her to accompany me. “She knows quite well how to take care of herself. And my coachman and footmen will protect me from any danger. One of my footmen was once a pugilist and employed as a bruiser at a gaming club, did you know?”
“As it happens, I do know.”
Before she could ask Rotham to explain his cryptic admission, he voiced another objection. “I also don’t want you putting yourself in danger at Falwell. There could be trouble if there is any truth to the ghost sightings.”
Tess nodded. “I truly hope there are ghosts. As I told you, a haunted castle will provide the perfect atmosphere and inspiration for Fanny to write her next Gothic novel.”
“Even so, I don’t want you journeying there until I can investigate the matter for myself.”
His refusal struck her the wrong way. “You cannot prevent me from going, Rotham.”