Forbidden to Love the Duke(30)

Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and after the scandal her sire had created, she ought to be grateful that a man of Oliver’s renown would consider reintroducing her to society. True, it was half-world society, and his motives might be tainted, but if by his deep thinking he discovered in this house a fortune, then everyone would benefit.

He shuffled his feet, staring past the sisters, who were studying him as if prepared to torture him with one of the weapons on the wall.

Where in this house would he began to search for a treasure?

A half minute later Ivy stood before him, looking not as grateful as he would have hoped. He had rescued a family heirloom. Perhaps she did not remember him? He rose, bowed.

“Sir Oliver,” she said in a hoarse voice that sent a prickle down his spine. “How unexpected to see you at Fenwick.”

He straightened in surprise. Her condescending manner challenged him. It was a good thing she was fair on the eyes. He might enjoy this match. “Lady Ivy,” he said, flicking back his coattails. “I am enchanted to see you again.”

She turned and inhaled as if to breathe in—what? The odor of mildew rising from the floor? Did she think he would be dismissed that easily? He stood back in amusement. Her sisters divested her of her cloak, revealing a figure that took no deception to appreciate. A smattering of servants appeared in the passageway to rejoice at her return.

“Lady Ivy,” he said, clearing his throat. “If this is not a convenient time to call, I understand.”

She glanced back at him as if she had forgotten his presence. In a fortnight’s time, he swore, he would have her eating out of his hand.


* * *

Ivy had been dying for a private welcome and a chance to divulge all that had happened to her at Ellsworth Park. Now she had to entertain Sir Oliver—and was she supposed to repay him for the necklace? Yet, after an hour of small talk, when she broached the subject, he became incensed.

“That was atonement for the accident, and a chance to deepen our friendship.”

“So you do want to court her,” Lilac said gleefully from her chair in the corner.

“Honestly, Lilac,” Ivy said, choking on the bite of biscuit she had taken. “Must you always speak your mind?”

“It’s quite all right,” Sir Oliver said with a laugh. “I don’t have a family of my own. I was an orphan, you see. This is quite pleasant for me.”

“It’s pleasant for us, too,” Lilac said. “Some people think the four of us are dangerous, if you can believe it.”

Sir Oliver glanced at Ivy. “Dangerous to the heart, they must mean.”

“No, no,” Lilac said, shaking her head. “‘Dangerous’ in an unpleasant way.”

He smiled thinly. “I assure you, no one will insult you in my presence with impunity.”

“How unpoetic,” Rosemary murmured.

Lilac frowned at her. “Were you really an orphan?” she asked Oliver, returning her attention to him.

“Yes. But don’t waste your pity on me. How can I regret my life when it has brought me to this present place?”

At that point Rosemary excused herself to work and left the hall without looking at Oliver.

“Work?” he said into the silence that followed her departure. “Is she a seamstress?”

“She’s a writer,” Lilac said.

Sir Oliver’s remark reminded Ivy of her other “family.” What if the duke’s soon-to-be mistress had arrived during Ivy’s absence? She might gratify the duke, but her arrival would also pique the children’s curiosity. Ivy ought to be there to act as a moral barrier, so to speak. Of course Ivy didn’t care if His Grace diddled a spoon while she was gone. But she had promised to oversee Mary and Walker’s upbringing.

She frowned, trying not to picture what the duke might be doing while she drank tea with an attractive rascal who had just scooted his chair closer to hers. She flinched at the unsubtle scrape of wood against stone. Oliver’s eyes moved languidly over her face. He started to talk about London. She didn’t listen.

Surely the duke would wait until dark to bed that woman.

What a naive assumption.

He had kissed Ivy just after sunrise on his study floor.

“What time is it?” she asked in alarm, noticing the lengthening shadows on the carpet.

Sir Oliver consulted his pocket watch. “It’s not gone six yet.”

“Six o’clock? I have to return to Ellsworth before it’s dark.”

“Is the duke that strict?” Rue asked in sympathy.

No. He was that unstructured. “It’s the children, you realize,” she explained, handing Lilac her cup and rising for the cloak and gloves she’d removed what seemed only minutes ago.