To Desire a Wicked Duke (2 page)

“You were testing out a new role, then?”

“What may I do for you, Rotham?” Tess asked, ignoring his jibe. “We have only just concluded the dress rehearsal and still have a great deal to accomplish before this evening’s performance.”

They had constructed a stage at one end of the ballroom of her godmother’s country mansion for the theatrical—the crowning entertainment of the charitable benefit Tess had organized. Tess had engaged Hennessy and his troupe to put on the one-act play and direct the houseguests in their respective acting roles.

“I doubt your preparations entail kissing the hired help,” Rotham drawled in that annoyingly cynical tone of his.

Tess stiffened. “It is hardly any of your business whom I kiss, your grace.”

“I beg to differ.”

Renewed ire rose in Tess. She would not allow him to dictate to her, as he was regularly fond of doing. Indeed, they had had similar arguments before. The Duke of Rotham was head of the family she would have married into had her betrothed not tragically perished two years ago at the Battle of Waterloo. But they had no real blood ties, and Rotham was mistaken in thinking that he had any say over her affairs. Particularly her amorous affairs.

Shifting his attention, Rotham turned his piercing gray gaze on Mr. Hennessy, who still seemed wary
and on edge. “I expected better of you, Hennessy. You were supposed to be protecting her, not assaulting her. Is this how you fulfill your duties?”

The actor shot the duke a chagrined look of apology. “I beg your forgiveness, your grace. I fell down in my duties disgracefully.” Rather sheepishly, he turned to Tess. “A thousand pardons, Miss Blanchard. I was vastly out of line.”

Tess started to respond, but Rotham interrupted her. “I’ll thank you to leave us, Hennessy. I shall deal with you later.”

Her jaw dropped at Rotham’s arrogant dismissal, but before she could voice her objection aloud, Hennessy gave her a brief bow, then pivoted with alacrity and disappeared through a part in the curtains.

She remained speechless as she listened to him bound down the stage steps and hurry away across the ballroom. It was hardly chivalrous of him to abandon her to the mercies of the duke, Tess thought resentfully. No doubt he preferred not to challenge a nobleman of Rotham’s station and far-reaching influence.

However, when she at last gathered her wits enough to protest, Rotham held up an imperious hand, forestalling her. “You should know better than to indulge in trysts with libertines such as Hennessy.”

Prickling with indignation, Tess returned a mutinous look. The nerve of him, scolding her for a sin she had not even committed. “I was not indulging in any
tryst
, your grace. It was just a simple kiss.”

The corner of Rotham’s mouth curled. “It did not look at all
simple
to me. You were participating fully.”

He sounded almost angry, although why he would be angry with her for returning the actor’s kiss, she couldn’t fathom.

“What if I
was
participating? It is no crime—”

Realizing how high-pitched and flustered her own voice sounded, Tess took a calming breath and forced a cool smile. “I truly cannot believe your gall, Rotham. How someone of your wicked character can deride another man for rakish behavior—or criticize me for something so innocent as a mere kiss—is the
height
of irony. Do you even recognize your hypocrisy?”

A hint of satirical amusement tugged at his lips. “I acknowledge your point, Miss Blanchard. But I am not the only one concerned about your relationship with Hennessy. Lady Wingate is worried that you have become overly attached to him. In fact, she sent me to find you.”

That gave Tess pause, as doubtless Rotham knew it would. Baroness Wingate was not just Tess’s godmother but chief patron for her various charities. She could not afford to offend the noblewoman whose generosity impacted so many lives for the better.

“I have not become attached to Hennessy in the least,” Tess finally replied. “He is a valued employee, nothing more.”

“Do you make a habit of kissing all your employees?” Rotham taunted. Before she could reply, he shook his head in reproach. “Lady Wingate will be severely disappointed in you. She arranged a lavish house party solely for your sake, so you could dun her guests for your assorted charities. And
this
is how you repay her?”

Unable to refute the charge, Tess regarded Rotham in frustration. Her godmother had long disapproved of her endeavors to promote her charitable organizations and had only recently relented and invited some four dozen wealthy guests to a weeklong house party, thereby providing Tess with a captive audience. She’d spent the past week attempting to persuade each one of them to contribute to her causes.

“Do you mean to tattle to her?” she asked Rotham.

His answer, rife with mocking humor, disturbed her. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not you intend to continue your liaison with Hennessy.”

“I tell you, I am
not
having a liaison with him! You have completely misconstrued the matter.”

“Who initiated the kiss?”

“What does that matter?”

“If Hennessy took advantage of you, I will have to call him out.”

“You cannot be serious!” Tess stared at him, appalled to think he might not be jesting. The last Duke of Rotham, Laurence Sutherland, had ended his licentious career when he was killed in a duel over a married woman by her jealous husband. His son Ian had followed a similar reckless path all through his youth, generating wild tales of gambling and womanizing. Ian Sutherland’s scandalous endeavors had earned him the nickname “the Devil Duke” when he came into the title eight years ago. But surely he would not actually
shoot
Hennessy for the mere act of kissing her.

“You know very well that dueling is illegal,” Tess
objected, “in addition to being dangerous and possibly even lethal.”

Rotham’s mouth tightened again, as if he too had recalled his sire’s ignominious end. “Indeed.”

When he said nothing further, Tess suddenly recalled the confusing remark he’d made before ordering the actor from the ballroom. “What did you mean when you said Mr. Hennessy should have been ‘protecting’ me?”

Rotham waved a careless hand in dismissal. “It is of no import.”

“I should like to know.” Tess fixed him with a stubborn gaze, determined not to back down.

He must have sensed her resolve, for he gave a shrug of his broad shoulders. “When you began spending so much time at the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden in preparation for your last charity event, I charged Hennessy with keeping an eye on you. The theater district is a dangerous area, especially for an unescorted young lady.”

Her eyebrows lifted in puzzlement. “So you asked him to look after me?”

“Yes. I paid him a significant sum, in fact.”

So
that
explained why Hennessy always insisted on escorting her to and from her carriage, Tess realized, and why he had hovered around her whenever she attended rehearsals. She had thought it was because the actor was growing enamored of her company. Irrationally, she couldn’t help feeling a prick to her self-esteem.

“My companion usually accompanies me to the theater,” she pointed out to Rotham.

“Your companion is an aging spinster with all the substance of a butterfly. She would be no help whatsoever if you were confronted by trouble.”

That much was true, Tess conceded. Mrs. Dorothy Croft was tiny and gentle and soft-spoken, in addition to being a bit scatterbrained. The impoverished friend of Tess’s late mother, Dorothy had needed somewhere to live after being widowed, so Tess had opened her home in Chiswick to her. The relationship had also benefited Tess. With a genteel, elderly lady to lend her single state respectability, she had much more freedom to conduct her charitable endeavors.

“I have a sturdy coachman and footmen to provide me protection should I require it,” Tess argued.

Rotham’s vivid gray gaze never faltered. “Even so, I thought it wise to ensure your safety. And you would not readily have accepted any edicts from me.”

That was also certainly true. They had long been at odds—which is what made Rotham’s current interest in her safety so startling. That he might be seriously concerned for her welfare had never crossed her mind.

“Well, you needn’t worry about me, your grace. I am capable of providing for my own protection.”

“Then you should refrain from kissing the likes of Hennessy. And he had best keep away from you. If he dares to touch you again, he will answer to me.”

At the edge of possessiveness in the duke’s tone, Tess’s eyebrows narrowed in disbelief. He could not possibly be jealous. No doubt he was merely angry at
Hennessy for disobeying a direct order, and at her for daring to contradict him.

“Your transgressions are a thousand times worse, Rotham.”

“But I am not an unmarried young lady, as you are.”

“I am not so young any more,” Tess rejoined.

Instead of replying, Rotham hesitated, as if suddenly aware how sharp his tone had become. Shaking his head, he seemed visibly to repress his emotions, as if distancing himself from their argument.

His succeeding laugh was soft and laced with real amusement. “You are hardly ancient, Miss Blanchard. You only just turned twenty-three today.”

Tess eyed him with suspicion. “How did you know it was my birthday?”

“As head of the family, it is my business to know.”

“You are not head of
my
family.”

“For all practical purposes, I am.”

There it was again, that ironic drawl that convinced her he was deliberately attempting to provoke her.

It was infuriating, how Rotham always seemed to get under her skin, Tess reflected. Particularly when she was normally serene and even-tempered.

She had always thought him vexing—and deplorably fascinating. Rotham not only had a wicked reputation, he even
looked
wicked. He had striking gray eyes fringed by dark lashes, with lean, aristocratic features that were handsome as sin. His hair was a rich brown shot with gold threads, several shades lighter than her own sable hue, and held a
slight curl. He possessed the muscular build of a sportsman, but with a lethal elegance that proclaimed his nobility.

Yet it was Rotham’s powerful personality that made him utterly unforgettable.

At the moment his features were mainly in shadow, since it was barely noon on a dreary, rainy autumn day and they were shrouded by stage curtains. Yet he still had the strange ability to affect her, Tess acknowledged.

She’d felt that same magnetic allure the first moment of meeting Rotham during her comeout four Seasons ago, when he’d deigned to dance with her. But shortly afterward, she’d fallen in love with his younger cousin Richard.

Ever since, she had felt guilty for her forbidden attraction to the Duke of Rotham. He was every inch the fallen angel. And lamentably even now, she felt his hypnotic pull as his gray gaze bored into her.…

In an effort to break the spell, Tess abruptly changed the subject. “What are you even doing at this house party, Rotham? You never attend my functions, even when you are invited.”

“Lady Wingate requested my presence for your birthday celebration this evening.”

“So
that
is how you knew my age. She told you.”

“No. I’ve known for some time. Richard was third in line to become my heir after two of our uncles. When you became betrothed to him, I made it a point to learn a great deal about you.”

It made Tess profoundly uncomfortable to think that Rotham had such detailed personal knowledge
of her, or that he was privy to any of her secrets. But his next statement disturbed her even more.

“Given your history with my cousin, Miss Blanchard, it is only reasonable that I feel a certain responsibility toward you.”

Her tone was sweetly spirited when she replied. “I told you, you needn’t concern yourself with me.”

“But Lady Wingate has every right. She fears you have been spending more time with Hennessy than is wise. It appears she has ample justification. What the devil were you thinking, kissing him?”

Tess’s vexation returned full force. “I was experimenting, if you must know,” she retorted defensively. “I have grown another year older without any prospects of romance or passion, and I wanted to see if I could change my fate. The sad truth is, I had forgotten entirely what it feels like to be kissed, and I thought Hennessy could remind me. Is that so wrong, your grace?”

A strange look settled over Rotham’s face. She was surprised that he didn’t return a mocking rejoinder. In addition to being impossibly arrogant, he possessed a cutting wit that could slice an opponent to ribbons. She’d seen victims of his acerbic tongue quail from him in tears. And more than once she herself had been on the losing end of their verbal battles. Normally it was all she could do to hold her own with him.

“I lead a very tame existence,” Tess added grudgingly. “All very proper. My charities are extremely rewarding, but on the whole, my life is not particularly fulfilling.”

When still he made no reply, Tess bit her lower lip. How could she explain to a man like Rotham the restless yearning inside her?
He
had never been hemmed in by stifling rules of conduct, forced to subjugate his very nature to propriety. Even her charitable endeavors were subject to censure. Because she was a woman—and a lady, at that—even her dear godmother objected to her efforts. All she wanted was to make a difference in people’s lives, but she had to fight for every single success.

Yet the chief source of her dissatisfaction went far deeper. For the past two years, her life had been barren of passion and joy. It was primarily her own fault, of course. She not only had gone into mourning for Richard, she’d practically buried herself with her late betrothed. But now she was determined to return to the world of the living.

The fact that this particular day was her birthday only made her more defiant than usual.

“In all honesty,” Tess resumed her confession more quietly, “I suppose I was indulging in a touch of melancholy. I am practically a spinster, languishing on the shelf while life passes me by—a rather lonely way to live.”