Forbidden to Love the Duke(62)
A footman passed through the hall.
Ivy turned her head. “That’s all I wished to say. I was only trying to do my job the day you rescued me from the windowsill.”
He realized he shouldn’t tease her. Yet how could he resist? “Do you know what my job is?”
“To taunt every woman you meet?”
He took the hit, reminding himself not to underestimate her. “That was also unkind, Lady Ivy.”
“How remiss of me. I forgot that Your Grace is such a tenderling who must be mollycoddled.”
He smiled. “The worst sin I have committed is to find you irresistible.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “I’m not certain where you have acquired your religious instruction. Perhaps at the Hellfire Club. But if you are curious about the definition of the sins we have both committed, I’m sure the parish church would be pleased to provide you with a Bible.”
“Thank you for the advisement,” he said after a pause to imply that he’d taken her warning to heart. It wouldn’t do a damn bit of good, but he’d play along.
She eyed him narrowly. “My conscience has been bothering me all afternoon.”
He looked at her without blinking. “Mine hasn’t.”
“Well, that’s all I meant to say.”
“Then I’m glad you said it.”
“You’re not taking this seriously, are you?”
“I won’t touch you again unless you beg me. You won’t touch me unless I’m about to be lowered into my grave. If that’s what you want.”
She swallowed. “I think that would be for the best.”
He folded his arms across his chest. It wouldn’t be the best for him, but he could wait, knowing that she’d be worth every damn minute of suffering until he held her in his arms again.
“Then thank you,” she murmured, and dropped a curtsy as if she had read his thoughts and hastened to leave before temptation got the better of him.
It almost did.
But somehow he was able to nod, feigning compliance, and watch her walk away, pretending he had conceded to her wishes, which weren’t unreasonable.
There were times when a man had to toss a lady over his shoulder, give her a good smack on the behind, and master her until the next morning.
This wasn’t one of those times.
But it wouldn’t be long now.
And his blood clamored for the day.
Chapter 21
Ivy had been reading from A Midsummer Night’s Dream to the children before bed. Walker refused to settle down unless Mary stayed until he fell asleep. The one night that the duke had insisted he go to sleep by himself, the boy had been seized with night terrors and was found wandering about in the hall, oblivious to his surroundings.
At last he nodded off. Ivy closed the book. “You may read in your room for fifteen more minutes before you go to sleep, Mary. You know I’m in the next room if Walker wakes up. Heavens, I’m so tired I can hardly move.”
No sooner had she closed her eyes to take a momentary rest than thunder boomed from the fields beyond the house. Five minutes or so later a series of blasts drew her—and Mary—to the window.
“Walker hates thunderstorms,” Mary whispered, wide-awake and scornful.
Ivy studied the clear starlit sky. “I don’t see a single cloud.”
“Isn’t tomorrow your day off?”
“Yes, but I have work to do here. And I’m having my stitches taken out.”
“Did Uncle James forbid you to see your lover?”
Ivy turned to the girl in exasperation. “No. He forbade you to discuss adult concerns. I do not have a lover.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Run off to your room before you disturb your brother. The thunder seems to have stopped now, anyway.”
Another boom resounded from the fields. Walker sat bolt upright and bellowed, “The French are coming! Papa! Uncle James!”
“Dear me,” Ivy muttered, and gave Mary a nudge toward the door. “It’s only thunder, Walker,” she said, drawing the curtains on the starry night before she left the window to console him.
He had dropped back off to sleep before she reached the bed. Mary stared at him from the door. “You told a lie, Lady Ivy. It wasn’t thunder at all.”
“Well, whatever it was, it’s over now. Perhaps there are poachers in the woods.”
“My mother would thrash Walker for wailing like an infant.”
Ivy tucked in the covers and joined the girl at the door. “If your brother asks, which I doubt he will, you are to assure him it was thunder he heard—unless you wish to stand in the corner tomorrow.”
“I shall tell Uncle James.”
“Go ahead.”