“Three, nearly four.”
Ian saw her making the mental calculations … determining that Jamie had been born the year after her London Season and that he’d lost his mother in December of 1814, the same hard winter that Tess had lost her own mother.
“I don’t know why I am surprised,” she added quietly. “Richard always said you were a wicked rake.”
It irked Ian that she would leap to conclude he was the one who had sinned. It irked him more that Tess had always relied on his cousin’s account of events to make her judgments of him. But he clamped his lips shut. He didn’t intend to offer her meaningless defenses, nor would he shatter her illusions. Prevarications would hurt her much less than the truth.
“Do you mean to acknowledge Jamie as your son?” Tess asked.
“No,” Ian answered carefully. “He has a father, although one who doesn’t want him.”
“Who is Sheila, the owner of the pet lamb he mentioned?”
“The young daughter of one of my tenant farmers, I believe. I charged Mrs. Dixon with finding regular company for Jamie. It is lonely here at Bellacourt for a young boy, and I want him to have children his own age to play with.”
“Is that why he breakfasted in the kitchens this morning?”
“Yes. He usually takes his meals there. The nursery is too secluded for a child. My cook and her staff dote on him, so he considers eating in the kitchens a special treat.”
Biting her lower lip, Tess shook her head as if still trying to come to terms with Jamie’s existence. “Your kindness toward him does surprise me, your grace,” she remarked, pointedly returning to her irksomely formal form of address. “You are not generally known for your softheartedness.”
It was not only softheartedness that had made Ian decide to take the boy in, although he couldn’t tell her so.
Tess reclaimed her fork to resume eating her breakfast, but she only toyed with her food. Watching her, Ian felt a sharp ache twist in his chest. He didn’t want to feel this fierce need to comfort her, yet he did.
He wasn’t being exceptionally noble, though, in desiring to shield Tess and spare her pain as long as possible. She was the kind of woman that men instinctively respected and protected.
At the thought, Ian repressed a humorless smile. Tess had always aroused contradictory impulses inside him, with her paradoxical images of both strength and vulnerability.
She could take care of herself quite well, however. Jamie could not. Ian was determined to protect the young lad and provide a real home for him. He himself had never had love in his life, and he wouldn’t let Jamie grow up the same bleak way he had.
“I suppose your vices simply caught up to you,” Tess commented when he was silent.
“I never claimed to be a saint,” he pointed out more curtly than he intended.
“I know. And what you do with your own life is your own affair. But it troubles me when innocents suffer for it.”
“Jamie is hardly suffering, Tess.”
“But he has no family who will even acknowledge him.”
A muscle in Ian’s jaw clenched. He well knew Tess’s opinion of him. She thought him selfish and wicked, a dissipated nobleman who had wasted his entire life. It was not too far from the truth. He was known for his many deliberate youthful indiscretions. As a young man, he’d spent his days pursuing reckless adventures and his nights indulging in wild carousing. He deserved her condemnation in most instances.
Ian attempted to swallow his frustration, knowing his young ward was just one more strike against him in Tess’s eyes. Whatever progress he’d made last night with his overtures toward her had been wiped away in a single moment.
Indeed, the air between them practically vibrated with suppressed tension as she studied him.
“What do you expect of me in regard to Jamie?” she asked. “Do you wish me to accept him as my own son?”
“No, I don’t expect that of you,” he answered honestly. “I would like him to continue living at Bellacourt—although I would understand if you wish him to leave.”
“I don’t wish him to leave. This is his home. A child is innocent of his father’s sins.”
Ian felt a strong measure of relief. He should have known she wouldn’t take her wounded pride and resentment out on a child. Tess was too tenderhearted and kind. She would never banish a young boy from the only home he remembered.
He had little doubt that Jamie would take to her quickly. Tess had always drawn people to her because of her warm nature. It was also an indication of the kind of mother she would be when she had children of her own—
Ian quelled the unwanted thought, but didn’t try to conceal his sardonic humor. It was unlikely they would be having children any time in the near future, not when even the consummation of their nuptials was in doubt. Apparently their marriage bed would be as contentious as the rest of their relationship.