To Desire a Wicked Duke (Courtship Wars 6)

Fanny shook her head at Tess’s impulsive proposal. “I understand your worry, but your patrons would not look kindly on you having so notorious a houseguest. It is one thing for me to quietly visit you here, where you can rely on your servants’ discretion. It would be quite another to brazenly batten myself on you so soon after your nuptials. For your sake, Tess, it is best to let the furor over your sudden marriage die down first.”

Tess sighed, knowing Fanny was right. Inviting a famous courtesan to stay with her at her new residence during the initial days of her marriage was not the way to avoid scandal, which was the prime reason for wedding Rotham in the first place. Once she was firmly established as his duchess, she should be able to get away with a good deal more.

“I suppose part of the reason for my anxiety,” Tess said, “is that I have so little experience. I never did more than kiss Richard.”

“I have never really kissed Basil either,” Fanny admitted. “Unless you count the time he helped save me from abduction, when he reacted from relief of the moment.”

Taken aback, Tess raised her eyebrows. “Is that so? You have never even kissed?”

The courtesan’s mouth twisted in dry humor. “I know—it is supremely ironic, considering my profession. And supremely frustrating as well. I had hoped to be betrothed to Basil by now, but he may never offer for my hand. His pride, you know. It is bad enough that I spent all these years sharing my body with other men, but even if Basil is able to overlook my wicked past, I suspect he cannot dismiss that my wealth exceeds his.”

The target of Fanny’s affection was her former childhood neighbor in Hampshire, Basil Eddowes. Basil had been secretly in love with Fanny since their youth, before she set out for London to make her fortune, much to his bitter disappointment. Tess had met him this past summer at Fanny’s London boardinghouse, where he lodged. At the time, Fanny and Basil had sparred and squabbled regularly,

until her abduction by a ruthless gamester had roused the hot fires of jealousy in him and spurred him to hint at his amorous feelings.

A scholar and law clerk by education and training, Basil was presently a junior secretary to a nobleman, but he didn’t earn enough to support Fanny in her accustomed lifestyle, a circumstance that the courtesan feared embarrassed him and made him feel unworthy of marrying her.

“My relationship with Basil is more like yours was with Richard,” Fanny said. “It began as a friendship, not a grand passion, and I am not certain it will ever progress any further. Honestly, I am almost afraid to press Basil by displaying a greater physical affection. What if he doesn’t enjoy kissing me, or worse, making love to me?”

“I cannot imagine that he wouldn’t,” Tess replied faithfully.

As she drank another swallow of tea, she found herself frowning thoughtfully. Listening to Fanny lament her own amorous problems had reminded Tess that as a wealthy duchess, she would be in a position to help her friend as well as her charities.

It was then that Tess remembered what she had learned about her future husband’s castle. “Mr. Hennessy told me about some interesting rumors today, Fanny. Supposedly there are ghosts inhabiting Rotham’s castle in Cornwall.”

“Ghosts?” Fanny straightened, her expression brightening with interest.

“So Hennessy says. If so, it might be an ideal place for you to write your new Gothic novel, since your story is set in a haunted mansion. Even if you won’t come with me to Bellacourt, I could perhaps arrange for you to visit Falwell Castle. Cornwall is a long distance away, at least two full days’ drive, so the ton is unlikely to take offense at your staying there.”

Fanny’s face fell again. “It sounds intriguing, but I don’t want to leave London just now. Basil might forget me entirely in my absence. Even if I remain, I may never be able to persuade him to propose.”

The courtesan suddenly waved her hand in dismissal. “Now enough about me and my romantic troubles, Tess. We need to discuss your marriage to Rotham. Tell me exactly what happened this afternoon when he kissed you.”

Despite the embarrassingly intimate nature of Fanny’s advice, Tess was grateful to have a practical knowledge of carnal relations, and more importantly, ways to fortify her defenses against Rotham’s sensual powers.

After they finished their discussions, Fanny stayed for supper. By the time the courtesan left to return to London, Dorothy had already retired to bed. Tess eventually followed her companion’s lead, but she lay wide awake, feeling a great dread inside.

She didn’t want a cold marriage of convenience. She wanted true love. She wanted to matter to her husband.

Rotham didn’t even believe in love—he’d as much as admitted his cynical sentiments this afternoon. And he certainly cared nothing for her, other than a professed obligation to protect her from the dangers of London.

Then again, Rotham would likely give her the passion she longed for.

She had never known real passion, just a sweet and tender love. Remembering, Tess squeezed her eyes shut.

She secretly regretted never having experienced physical intimacy with Richard. He had wanted to consummate their love before he shipped out that last time, but she was saving herself for marriage and so wouldn’t allow it. She’d been so caught up in appearances, so determined to behave with propriety, that she had missed out on one of the momentous events of womanhood—giving herself to the man she loved. Now she was likely never to know that joy.

Tess rolled over and punched her pillow.

Losing Richard had taught her how trivial and petty society’s rules were compared to life-and-death issues, so it seemed particularly galling that once again she had to conform to the ton’s dictates for the sake of propriety—and even worse, wed a nobleman who was renowned for his very wickedness.

* * *

Tess spent the night tossing fitfully. The next morning, however, she had no time to dwell on her misfortunes since her friends descended upon her to help make her ready for her wedding. In a flurry of missives from Rotham and Lady Wingate, she learned that the ceremony was set for two o’clock at Danvers Hall. So before she knew it, Tess was entering Arabella’s drawing room, dressed in a simple but elegant gown of rose-colored silk, about to speak sacred vows to love, honor, and obey.

When she spied Rotham at the far end of the room, she reluctantly acknowledged the violent fluttering of her heart. He cut a commanding figure, his blue tailcoat molding his strong shoulders and deceptively lean frame, which she knew was all hard muscle. With his devilish elegance, the duke would never be mistaken for anything less than an aristocrat, but the intimidating aura of power about him made him unique.

He moved easily, gracefully, as he approached her. Tess, however, couldn’t help recalling her last sight of Richard dressed in his scarlet uniform the day he left with his regiment to fight Napoleon’s revived army. Nor could she fail to compare this moment with the wedding nuptials she had long expected.