To Desire a Wicked Duke (Courtship Wars)

“Very well, your grace. I trust you will talk some sense into her. I should like to announce your betrothal this evening, before the performance. Meanwhile, we will have to devise a story to explain your transgression in hopes of minimizing the damage.…”

Her voice trailing off, she frowned, deep in thought. “I have it. Rotham, you can say that you have been enamored of Tess for some time now, but that you properly waited until she was out of mourning for Richard before asking for her hand. When my friends and I interrupted your lovers’ tryst, you had just proposed and Tess had accepted. In your delight, you were both carried away by passion. The fact that you were overly eager to celebrate your nuptials will perhaps be more forgivable if you adopt the pretense of being in love with each other.”

When Tess made a faint sound of protest, Lady Wingate shot one last glance at her. “I know you will not fail me, my dear, after all I have done for you.”

With that she turned away and disappeared beyond the stage curtains. Eventually Ian heard the faint echo of the ballroom door shutting. Otherwise, the resulting silence was deafening.

Tess still stood frozen, looking as if the sky had come crashing down upon her unwitting head.

To fill the uncomfortable void, Ian strode across the stage and flung the curtains open wide.

“What are you doing?” she demanded in low voice, her tone suspicious.

“Making it harder for anyone to eavesdrop again. I should think you’ve had enough of bystanders sneaking up on you for one afternoon.”

She had no retort for that, yet Tess’s defenses rarely were lowered for long. Deciding it was best to take advantage of the moment, Ian came straight to the point. “You heard Lady Wingate. Are you prepared to be sensible, Miss Blanchard?”

“I am always sensible,” she retorted with a hint of her usual spirit. “But you are quite mad if you think I will wed you.”

“Perhaps I am mad.” Ian shook his head, a short mirthless chuckle escaping him.

“Surely you do not find this abominable situation amusing!”

In truth, he found a measure of cynical humor at their predicament. He most definitely had not expected to be making a proposal of marriage when he set out this morning to drive the five miles between Wingate Manor and Bellacourt, his family seat. It was even more ironic that after all his amorous liaisons in the past, coupled with all the years of eluding grasping matchmaking mamas, a simple bout of kissing should prove his downfall. Although there had been nothing simple about kissing Tess …

“Amusing?” Ian murmured. “Somewhat. Frankly, I find it unbelievable that I was so inept as to be caught kissing you. I must be losing my touch.”

Her sniff was eloquent. “Well, I find it unbelievable that you would allow yourself to be coerced into matrimony,” Tess rejoined.

“There is no coercion involved.”

“Then why would the threat of scandal concern you? You have never cared one whit what polite society thinks of you.”

He didn’t give much of a damn about respectability for himself, but Tess was another matter entirely. “I care what happens to you. Lady Wingate is right. Your reputation will be in ruins if you don’t marry me. The Perrys will see to it.”

Her frustration, her utter dismay, was manifested in Tess’s expression. Backing up a step, she sank down on the chaise and covered her face with her hands. “I assure you, I am not laughing,” she muttered. “I only want to cry.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

Tess stiffened, as he had meant her to do; her chin snapped up so that she could glare at him. Ian was rather relieved by her feisty reaction. Needling her had always been the surest way to maintain the upper hand with her.

“If you mean to turn into a watering pot,” he continued in a pleasant drawl, “I advise you to indulge now so that you can recover your appearance. If your eyes are red and swollen when you become a blushing bride, you will convince no one that we are making a love match.”

Tess’s glare deepened. “You are without a doubt the most provoking creature alive,” she said through gritted teeth.

“I suppose that depends on your perspective.”

“Mine is the only perspective that counts with me!”

“You are forgetting arbiters of the ton such as Sir Alfred and Lady Perry.”

She hesitated, even though her dark eyes still glittered with helpless anger. “I should think you would want to help me get out of this awful predicament, Rotham.”

“I suspect it isn’t possible.”

His fatalism seemed to disturb her even more. “How can you remain so calm?” she demanded in disbelief.

“I assure you, I am far from calm, but there is no use bemoaning fate if it can’t be changed.”