“I realize that. But my bigger dilemma is to make T
ess love me as much as she loved my cousin.”
“So how can we help you accomplish your aim, your grace?” Arabella asked genially.
His attention shifted to the eldest sister. “I am willing to entertain any suggestions you might have.”
“I should hope so,” Lily muttered. “We know Tess better than anyone. You would be wise to take our advice.”
Ian couldn’t help but be amused by her reluctant about-face. “I agree, Lady Claybourne. I am accustomed to putting experts in charge of my business enterprises, and you are certainly more expert than I when it comes to Tess.”
The four women glanced at one another, before Roslyn answered for them all. “Fanny is right, your grace. First and foremost, you must tell Tess that you love her. She is too wary to give her heart when her love is not returned. If you like, we can speak to her and ascertain her feelings, to see what you are up against.”
Ian nodded, relieved by her offer.
By the time he left Crawford Place, the sisters as well as Fanny had all pledged to do everything in their power to aid him, including pleading his case for him with Tess if necessary. Most surprisingly, he had managed to convince even the dubious Lily that he was serious about winning Tess’s love.
Ian still felt anxious and apprehensive about his prospects for success, but their counsel had given him reason to hope. Moreover, he’d faced and conquered enormous challenges before, although none where the stakes were so high.
Therefore, he directed his coachman back to Cavendish Square rather than go after Tess just then. He would give her the night to come to terms with her new knowledge of Richard’s shortcomings. But first thing in the morning, he intended to head for Chiswick.
His restlessness didn’t abate, however. Before his marriage, Ian might have dined at his club or invited friends or colleagues to his home for dinner. Having no desire for the company of mere acquaintances, though, he ate alone at his empty dining table.
He missed Tess badly. Missed her warmth and her verbal jousts. Missed her sweet smiles and even sweeter touch. Realizing how swiftly he’d shed his bachelor ways, Ian laughed softly at himself.
Most assuredly he was in love. Why else would he be craving his wife’s presence the way a parched man craved water?
After finishing dinner, Ian drank his port in front of his drawing room fire. It was perhaps ten minutes later when Phyfe informed him that the duchess had returned home.
Ian’s heart started thudding erratically, but before he could do more than set down his glass and stand up, Tess appeared in the doorway.
Phyfe bowed himself from the drawing room and shut the door for privacy, but Ian scarcely noticed.
His heart felt lodged in his throat as he drank in the sight of her. She was no longer weeping at least, although she looked pale and her expression was gravely serious.
Ian started to speak, but Tess interrupted him by holding up a hand. “Please, let me say something first, Ian.”
She bit her lower lip, then hesitated. Her dark eyes looked huge in her face.
He forced himself to wait, hardly daring to breathe for fear of what she might be planning to tell him.
Finally, she murmured in a low voice, “I did not mean to give you the impression that I am still pining after Richard. I am not.”
“You aren’t?” he managed to ask, his throat tight.
“No, not at all.” Tess twisted her hands together, as if gathering her courage. She looked nervous, anxious, fearful even. At last she broke the silence again. “I love you, Ian, and I want you for my husband.”
Joy slowly burgeoned inside Ian, although he wondered if he could trust the feeling. “You love me?” he repeated rather densely.
“Yes. And I want a true marriage with you.”
The fearful ache inside him eased for good. “I suppose that is just as well, Tess, since I have loved you for years, even if I never acknowledged it to myself until very recently.”
She stared, searching his face with a fierce intensity. After another long moment, hope lit her dark eyes. Then the same joy Ian was feeling swept over her beautiful features and with a glad little cry, Tess launched herself into his arms.
I never believed I would know such joy.
—Diary Entry of Miss Tess Blanchard