Forbidden to Love the Duke(70)
“I might well be daft,” Oliver said. “I can’t think of any other explanation for the risk I’m taking.”
She was so upset the words tangled in her throat. “It’s rash and dangerous for you to come to this house, let alone sneak into a private room. How did you find your way inside?”
His lips thinned. “I waited for hours outside the garden walls. I hoped I would see you in your window.”
“The duke will fly into an understandable rage if he catches you here.”
His gaze drifted over her with a sly knowledge that felt like a violation. Her hair needed to be brushed and bound. She had not bothered to refasten the buttons at her nape. She was relieved that he did not remark on her unkempt appearance.
“The duke is ill, isn’t he?” he asked, his voice mildly taunting.
“What makes you think that?”
“I saw a physician leave the house.”
“The children often beg treats from the kitchen and suffer for it.”
“The children were playing in the summerhouse in the dark. Without their governess.”
“Leave this room right now, Oliver.” She couldn’t control the quiver of panic in her voice. “If the duke discovers you here, he’ll kill you and I don’t think anyone would blame him.”
He looked down at her bare feet. “Why would the duke come to your room this late at night?”
“That is not your affair. Nor did I say he would. The issue is that you are here, a trespasser and intruder.”
He gripped her by her upper arms. “I want to marry you. Don’t you feel anything for me at all?”
“At this moment exasperation is the kindest emotion I can muster. Let me go.”
“Let me kiss you. Or at least arrange to meet me tomorrow.”
“What if someone sees you here? He won’t tolerate an insult, Oliver. You’re the most stupidly impulsive man I have ever met.”
He laughed. “I was half-mad before I met you. When are you coming back to Fenwick?”
“Aren’t you listening to me? No, you are not. I might as well be talking to the wall. Fenwick will belong to a stranger before long if my sisters and I can’t scrape together enough money to pay its upkeep. You aren’t plump in the purse, and we don’t know each other.”
He lowered his head to hers. “We could save Fenwick together. I know you won’t believe me, but in the short time I’ve been living there, I have fallen under its spell.”
“You’ve been living there?”
“If you had read my letters, you would have already known.”
“What letters?” she asked in bewilderment.
“Ah. That’s what I thought. The duke has intercepted your correspondences. The devil.”
The devil, indeed. Ivy wasn’t at all surprised. James had made no secret of his possessive streak. “How can you be living at Fenwick? Who gave you permission? It needs to be put to a vote.”
“It was. Lilac voted yea, and Rosemary nay.”
“Well, I wasn’t asked.”
“You were. You didn’t reply. Nor did Rue. Quigley was the deciding vote, and a hard one to win. The lease on my London lodgings ran out at the end of the month, and I have moved into your gatehouse.”
Ivy shook her head, stunned by her sister’s betrayal. “Why would Lilac agree to this? I don’t believe you.”
“She agreed because Rosemary almost killed me. Yes, it’s true. She pushed me into a hidden passageway and left me there to rot. If Lilac hadn’t rescued me, I would be dead.”
Ivy felt as if she were frozen in the moment. Part of her wanted to be back in James’s arms. Another part wished she could return to Fenwick with its secrets and her sisters and no problem more complicated than surviving another tomorrow. The familiar, no matter how painful, called for her to return. But the duke needed her, and where or why Oliver stood in the middle of this muddle, she hadn’t the patience to discern.
“I’ll come to Fenwick as soon as I can.” And she would not take Oliver’s word on anything until she had talked to Lilac and Rosemary for herself. “Now escape this house before either the duke or I kill you, Oliver. This is a provocation that no gentleman would excuse.”
He released her. His mouth quirked in a triumphant smile that tempted her to slap his face. “Just kiss me once.”
A cry rent the silence. A hinge creaked. Ivy turned instinctively, half-expecting to discover a naked duke standing in the door. Oliver, for all his high-flown nonsense, had retreated back into the dark. But it was not the duke who darted into the room and flung her arms around Ivy’s waist. The diminutive intruder was Mary, loud sobs shaking her body.