“No, I shall seek him out myself. That will be all, Phyfe.”
Ian paused only to clear his desk of his most sensitive business documents before rising and heading for the library. His frustration had reached the boiling point. Sitting on his hands would get him absolutely nowhere, so he had to act.
But the question was how?
He couldn’t let Tess leave him. He wouldn’t. He intended to fight for her. Four years ago, his cousin had had prior claim to Tess, but he’d deferred long enough. Too long, Ian thought, gritting his teeth. He’d kept his promise to Richard even after death, but now it was time to move on. To convince Tess to let go of the past.
He knew there was only one way for her to get over Richard, though. He had to make Tess love him. It was the only reason she would be willing to stay with him as his wife. The only chance for them to have a future together.
Fortunately, he was wise enough to know that he needed counsel—and he knew just the person to ask. Fanny Irwin had attempted to advise him once before, but he had brushed off her good intentions. Now, however, Ian planned to take the courtesan up on her offer, which meant asking where she might be found of her betrothed, who just happened to be his newest secretary.
As expected, Basil Eddowes was in the library, poring over the catalog of volumes he’d made of the collection at Falwell Castle. He jumped to his feet when Ian suddenly appeared, looking strangely solemn. Then, when Ian eyed the open ledger on the table, the secretary started to explain about having begun work on the library at Cavendish Square.
“I am not here about the cataloging,” Ian interrupted. “Just now I wish to know where I can find Miss Irwin. I need to speak with her on a matter of importance.”
Eddowes stared, then nodded. “Certainly, your grace. She has a private residence in St. John’s Wood … Number Eleven Crawford Place.”
Thanking him brusquely, Ian turned to leave, but Eddowes called after him. “Your grace, if I might have a word with you?”
Ian paused to glance back. “Yes, what is it?”
“I am very grateful that you engaged me for such a distinguished position, but perhaps I should not continue in your employ any longer.”
Ian frowned. “Whyever not?”
“Well, you see … I never realized I could be facing a case of divided loyalties. I am loyal to Miss Bl—I mean, the duchess.”
“I should hope so,” Ian replied. “I have no plans to dismiss you, though, unless you give me good reason. Have you done anything to deserve dismissal, Mr. Eddowes?”
“Er … not yet, your grace. But I know you hired me only at the duchess’s behest, so if you should—”
Ian raised a hand, not having the patience to deal with his secretary’s odd themes. “I prefer to continue this conversation at another time, if we may, Eddowes.”
“Of course, your grace. As you wish.”
Ian resumed making his exit, but threw a comment over his shoulder at the last moment. “Oh, and Eddowes? From now on you are to use the front door. You are not a regular household servant, to be relegated to the tradesmen’s entrance.”
The secretary called after him once more. “Thank you, your grace. I will—”
But Ian was already striding purposefully from the library.
His coachman found Fanny’s home with little difficulty. The young maid who answered the front door looked intimidated when Ian said, “The Duke of Rotham to see Miss Irwin.”
The girl bobbed a timid curtsy, however, and showed him into a small but elegant parlor. To his surprise, the courtesan already had company—three ladies whom he recognized as the Loring sisters.
Having walked involuntarily into a den of genteel females, Ian considered withdrawing, but quickly changed his mind. He needed allies in his effort to win Tess, and her friends could probably help him if they could be persuaded to join his cause.
Fanny looked just as taken aback by the duke’s sudden appearance. She rose swiftly from the sofa, her countenance a mix of puzzlement and alarm. “Your grace, is something amiss with Tess?”
“No, nothing is amiss,” Ian hastened to reassure her.
Composing her features, Fanny offered him a doubtful smile. “You honor me by visiting. I believe you have met my guests, the Duchess of Arden and the Ladies Danvers and Claybourne?”
Ian sketched a polite bow to the three beauties. The eldest two Loring sisters—Arabella, Countess Danvers and Roslyn, the Duchess of Arden—were tall, slender, and fair, while Lily, the Marchioness of Claybourne, had dark-chestnut hair and a more compact, although still lithe and feminine, figure.
“My friends are here to help plan my wedding, your grace,” Fanny added in explanation. “But if you are looking for Tess, she is not here.”
Before he could respond, Lady Claybourne spoke up in a tone that was decidedly unfriendly. “Are you searching for your wife, Rotham? I would not be surprised if she has fled you. Indeed, I suspected it was only a matter of time before you drove her away.”