Forbidden to Love the Duke(72)

Even when incapacitated the duke was a power like no other man Ivy had known.

She hung back as Wendover and the footmen herded him back into the bed, Wendover shouting for someone to call back the physician and James, in response, ranting about the insanity of Napoleon Bonaparte and an intruder in the park.

“Doesn’t anyone believe me?” he roared.

Ivy stood back from the doors to his room. It was improper for her to be present at all in the duke’s extremity. What did it count that he had proposed to her during the height of their pleasure? There had been no witnesses.

He might forget his promise by tomorrow. He might not remember it now.

Despite the uncertainty, she couldn’t regret what she had done. She had given herself to him of her own will. Even if she weren’t bound to him for a year, she knew she wouldn’t leave him by choice. She would love him long after her legal obligation was fulfilled.

For five years she had lived her own life. She hadn’t cared what anyone thought—until he had broken through her isolation and forced her to return to the world that existed outside Fenwick. He couldn’t simply leave her to manage Mary and Walker on her own. What if she had conceived a child tonight? Had he left a will to cover this eventuality? Why was she letting herself fear the worst?

The duke’s roar broke through her reflections. “Why won’t anyone believe me?”

“Believe you about what?” Wendover patiently asked with the measured respect of a lifelong friendship.

“England has been invaded by an army of maids,” James replied, and although Carstairs closed the doors and Ivy heard no more, she knew that this was not the end of the matter.

The duke would live to recover and cause more trouble in her life.


* * *

She was still awake when the sun rose. Mary had come back to Ivy’s room, where they had held a nightlong vigil, each one taking turns to scout the hall and return with news.

“His valet knocked and was admitted at two,” Mary reported.

“The maids brought in boiling water,” Ivy announced at dawn.

“You should have seen his breakfast.” Mary crawled into Ivy’s bed. “It was enormous, and I’m so hungry.”

“So am I,” Ivy said, sighing in relief. “Sneak back to your room, miss. Try to get some sleep.”

Mary turned onto her side. “Do I have to?”

“A good spy can’t be caught in her night rail. I shall commend you to the Alien Office for your intelligence work.”

Mary rolled off the end of the bed. “You’re ever so silly.”

“Be sure to take your passport. Beware of iron spikes in the hall.”

“Lady Ivy?”

Ivy listened to the clatter of activity outside her room. “Later, Mary. I have to wash and dress and look presentable.”

Mary giggled. “Good luck.”

“You—”

Mary darted into the hall and closed the door.





Chapter 25


By morning, word had spread through the house that in the physician’s opinion the bloodletting had caused the duke to run a high fever, which proved that his body had responded to medical treatment. Dr. Buchan had completed an anatomical examination of the duke and declared him fit.

Ivy was astonished when she was called into the drawing room. Smartly turned out in a white muslin shirt with a steel gray coat and matching trousers, James did not resemble the monster she had met in the hall last night. True, he looked a trifle pale. His cheeks seemed drawn. And she was hesitant to meet his gaze. She was afraid she would find his eyes devoid of any emotion for her. She was too vulnerable to have him dismiss what they shared with a look, or worse, to act as if nothing had changed between them at all. Nonetheless, she had known what she risked.

But then courage compelled her and she looked straight up at him. There was a sexual heat in his gaze that she might have attributed to lingering fever—until he strode from the fire to kiss her on the cheek in front of Wendover, Carstairs, and the two footmen who had just entered the room behind her.

“I’ve shared the news,” he said in a hoarse voice that made her shiver in her shoes. “I hope you don’t mind. Wendover is to be my best man. We’ll arrange the wedding plans this week.”

She glanced around, savoring the smiles and murmured congratulations reassuring her that James had remembered his promise. His smug grin also reassured her he hadn’t forgotten the hours of pleasure spent in his bed. She felt as though she’d walked through a storm and emerged in the middle of a rainbow.

How had he managed to return so quickly to his devastating self after scaring the wits out of her? It was a tribute to his unbendable will and stamina and her answered prayers. Now if only she could forget Oliver’s surprise visit and hope that Mary had already put it from her mind.