Her look turned guarded. “Do you mean that we would be husband and wife in name only?”
That was not quite his meaning. “The marriage must be consummated for it to be legal, but afterward, we needn’t share a bed or even a home.”
Ian didn’t expound further. He would eventually be expected to sire an heir to carry on the title, but he thought it unwise to mention that obligation to Tess just now.
As for his choice of brides, he had planned to make a marriage of convenience someday, to a gentlewoman with a dispassionate nature and similar background to his.
Not a woman like Tess, who was warm and spirited and filled with passion for her causes. She was no meek, simpering young miss, even if at the moment she was at a severe disadvantage, trying to come to terms with her unwanted fate. Otherwise, she fit his requisites for his duchess quite well. And he suspected that the physical aspects of their marriage could be more than satisfactory.
An image entered Ian’s head of them together in the bridal bed. He could picture Tess’s long, glossy-dark hair flowing around her lovely bare body, her legs wrapped tightly around his hips as he took her—
Cutting off the unwanted vision, Ian said more curtly than he intended, “We will both have to make the best of a difficult situation.”
After a long silence, Tess spoke in a weak voice. “I fear you may be right.”
“We should be married on the morrow, before the gossips can savage your reputation.”
Renewed dismay claimed her features, but at least she didn’t argue. Ian pulled out his pocket watch, noting that it was nearly one o’clock. “I had best leave now if I hope to reach Doctor’s Commons in time.”
“In time for what?”
“I need to procure a special license to wed. I will likely remain in town overnight to visit my solicitor and make the financial arrangements we discussed. But I should return by late tomorrow morning.”
Tess bit her lower lip hard. “You are just going to leave me here to face Lady Wingate and her houseguests alone?”
“You needn’t face them unless you wish to.” He cocked his head. “In fact, you are welcome to accompany me to London if you like, but I should think you would rather remain here and prepare for our wedding.”
She flinched at that. “I expect I should attend the play’s performance this evening if I hope to maintain my contributors’ goodwill, although it will be difficult to carry on as if nothing has happened. And it will be utterly impossible to pretend we are making a love match as Lady Wingate suggested.”
Ian didn’t reply directly, not wanting to delay his departure with a futile discussion about love and love matches. “Where would you like the ceremony to be held?”
Looking stunned again, Tess gazed mutely back at him, as if finally accepting that this was really happening to her.
Rising, Ian said in a bracing tone, “You may decide where the blessed event is to take place. Any of my homes might do … my house in London, the chapel at Bellacourt, here at Wingate Manor, your own house in Chiswick. Or you may prefer a church wedding. I doubt if St. George’s in Hanover Square is available at this late date, but you may have other ideas. If I recall, you planned to wed Richard in the village church in Chiswick.”
“No, not there,” Tess said. “It would be a mockery to wed in a holy church for an unholy union.”
She shuddered slightly, evidently an involuntary response. Even so, Ian couldn’t help wincing again, in addition to feeling another wave of guilt along with a fresh desire to comfort her. It would take a harder heart than his to be impervious to this beauty with the passion-bruised mouth and vulnerable eyes.
Stepping closer, he reached down to touch the backs of his fingers to her cheek. His voice lowered as he gazed down at her. “I truly regret that it has come to this pass, Tess.”
“So do I,” she whispered, drawing back and looking away.
Remorse was Ian’s chief sentiment as he waited in the entrance hall of Wingate Manor for his carriage to be brought around. He deeply regretted forcing Tess to the altar. In fact, he regretted the entire damned morning.
His first mistake was overreacting when he parted the stage curtains to find her kissing Hennessy. He’d felt an instinctive rage, a deep-seated, primal male possessiveness that he’d never felt with any other woman.
Then he’d compounded his error by taking Tess to task for her wanton conduct and revealing the extent of his jealousy.
It wasn’t that he harbored any deep feelings for her, Ian reasoned. He simply wanted to save her from a Lothario. Yet he couldn’t deny that he savagely disliked the idea of Tess giving herself to another man, particularly one of Hennessy’s hedonistic tendencies.
He hadn’t liked the idea of his cousin Richard having her either, Ian remembered. He could still recall his first sight of Tess at her comeout ball. She was laughing with Richard with the intimacy of old friends, the expression on her face one of fond delight.
Her delight had suddenly arrested, however, when Ian stepped forward, as if she’d become sharply conscious of the sexual awareness pulsing between them. When Lady Wingate made the introductions, Tess stared up at him warily through a fan of dark lashes. She wasn’t intimidated by him, Ian thought, merely cautious. And given his wicked reputation, he couldn’t blame her.
He’d wanted her from that first moment, though. When he danced with Tess at Lady Wingate’s urging, the heady sensation of being so near to her had gone straight to his head—and to his loins as well. He’d been immediately, shockingly aroused.
His wild physical response to Tess had no justifiable rationalization. The sensual hunger she stirred in him was far out of proportion to their respective ages and experience.