When Fanny remained silent, Ian raised an eyebrow in query. “Is there something else you wished to say to me?” he prodded.
She looked oddly on edge. “Well, yes. The thing is … I saw you with Tess from my bedchamber window this afternoon. And well … Do you love Tess, your grace?”
His stomach muscles tightened; it was a question Ian didn’t want to ask himself. His first instinct was to deliver a sardonic retort, but he settled for drawling mildly, “That is hardly your concern, is it?”
The courtesan hesitated, then offered a conciliatory smile. “I know I am vastly overstepping my bounds with my presumption,” she admitted, resorting to her famed charm. “But as you said, I am Tess’s friend, and I care for her a great deal. I only want her happiness.”
“As do I, Miss Irwin.”
“Is that so?” she asked softly, searching his face. Whatever Fanny saw in his expression must have satisfied her, for she nodded. “I thought you might. I cannot help but notice how you look at Tess sometimes … as if you harbor some deeper feelings for her. If that is true, then I may be able to help you.”
Curiosity warred with irritation inside Ian. “Help me how?”
“To break down her defenses and overcome her resistance to loving you. It will not be easy, given the pain and loss she endured her first time around. But Tess needs love in her life, your grace. Even her dearest friends are not enough to fill the hole in her heart left by her betrothed’s untimely passing.”
Fanny’s expression turned solemn. “I do not think I would be betraying Tess’s trust if I were to aid you, since I believe her future happiness depends very much on you. So if I might be permitted to offer some advice, your grace.…” She paused again, giving him time to reject her counsel.
“I am listening,” Ian said curtly.
Finally she launched into the main purpose of her visit. “You may not have considered the question of love before, since your marriage was so sudden, but for a woman like Tess, the issue can be fundamental. A woman needs to feel wanted, but even more crucially, she needs to feel loved.”
“So you wish me to admit to loving her?”
The courtesan lifted her shoulders in a graceful shrug. “Not to me, no. But I think you must at least admit your feelings to yourself.”
“Love is not an easy matter to comprehend, Miss Irwin.”
At his evasion, Fanny’s lips curved in a wistful smile. “On the contrary, your grace. As I have just recently come to realize, love is fairly simple, and you need only ask yourself some elementary questions. Does Tess make your life worth living? Would you feel desolate without her? And the opposite side of the coin … could she feel the same about you? I repeat, Tess needs to feel loved, not only desired, and if you truly love her, then you would do well to show her.”
Ian leaned back in his chair, unprepared to make such an admission just yet, to Fanny or to himself. “I appreciate your good wishes for Tess, Miss Irwin, but I will deal with my wife in my own way.”
“As you wish, your grace. But if you decide otherwise … I wanted you to know I will do everything in my power to help you.”
“I will keep your offer in mind.”
After Fanny was gone, Ian sat unmoving for a long moment, contemplating the courtesan’s bold, blunt query. Did he love Tess?
Would he even recognize the sentiment if he felt it?
He had never had much love in his life, Ian reflected. His mother had died giving him birth, and by the time he outgrew his childhood, he’d felt neither respect nor love for his libertine father.
He felt a measure of affection for Lady Wingate and a particular few of his other relations, and a much stronger love for his young ward, Jamie. But he had never been in love, nor had he ever wanted to experience the affliction. The prospect of giving up control over his own will to someone else was even more intimidating than marriage, Ian believed.
Before wedding Tess, he’d enjoyed his solitary existence. He could do as he pleased, live as he chose. Now he had to take his wife’s feelings and interests into consideration, even before his own.
Yet strangely enough, he found himself wanting to place Tess’s interests before his own. He couldn’t deny, either, that he was exhibiting some of the symptoms attributed to love; not least were the riotous emotions she stirred in him. Protectiveness, possessiveness, jealousy …
Was that love? Admittedly, his feelings for Tess hadn’t been rational since he saw her kissing Hennessy behind the stage curtains at her godmother’s house party. And without question, she made his blood surge and his heart beat faster. Yet he knew his attraction was driven by far more than lust. He felt happier in her presence. He missed her when she was away. He found himself craving just to be near her, whether they were sparring or conversing about serious matters or making love.
So yes, Ian acknowledged regrettably, he might just be past the point of no return.
And if he was willing to admit that Tess had invaded what passed for his heart? What the devil would he do about it?
Was he a fool to wonder if he could rouse similar feelings in her? Given his sinful past, he was as far from her ideal mate as possible. He didn’t believe he could ever live up to her image of a proper husband, not with her memories of her saintly Richard to provide constant competition for her affections.
Still, there was no longer any question that he wanted to prove himself worthy of Tess. And no question that he wanted to make her forget her late betrothed. Unless he could manage that, he never stood a chance of winning Tess’s love.
A muscle in Ian’s jaw worked. Was her love what he wanted? Without question, he could make Tess desire him, but as Fanny Irwin had pointed out, desire was not the same thing as love.