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Forbidden to Love the Duke(54)

By:Jillian Hunter


“Another thing, James—Oliver Linton might act like a fop but he can be quite deadly when he’s crossed.”

“How the devil do you know—”

“Mary isn’t the only one with big ears. I know Oliver. Don’t underestimate him.”


* * *

Ivy had taken a solemn oath at daybreak that she would never be caught alone with another man again—unless the duke appeared before her, in which case she doubted her vow would hold up to his charm. Still, it was better to be prepared.

Mary dragged through her lessons that morning, and if Walker hadn’t whirled around the room like the four winds, Ivy might have dropped her head on the desk and slept from sheer exhaustion. The duke had depleted her emotional reserves.

“Walker, sit in the corner and finish your arithmetic. Mary, come to the globe and put your finger on India.”

Mary trudged to the desk, yawning all the way. “I think it’s here, my lady.”

“That isn’t even the correct continent. It isn’t a continent at all. It’s the sea.”

Mary rubbed her eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Ivy softened her demeanor. She needed to bear in mind the turmoil in the children’s lives. “Neither did I.”

“Because of my uncle?”

“His Grace had nothing to do with it. I heard thunder, and it woke me up.”

“He was furious at you,” Mary whispered. “Especially after what he saw you doing through his spyglass.”

Ivy felt blood rush to her face. Indignation chased away her fatigue. “He used an instrument to spy on me?”

Mary nodded slowly. “He had a proper fit, too.”

Ivy glanced at the longcase clock standing against the opposite wall. “Look at the hour. It’s fifteen minutes until luncheon. I’ll ring for Sally to help you wash and change.”

“It’s twenty-five minutes to the hour,” Mary corrected her, craning her head as Ivy ushered her to the door. Walker hadn’t needed another prompt. He’d already bolted into the hall.

“That clock is slow.” Ivy crossed her fingers behind her back and renewed her oath. After her upcoming confrontation with the duke, she would never be caught alone with a man again.


* * *

James had just sifted through the post in his study when he heard Ivy and Carstairs outside the door. Carstairs spoke in his usual polite monotone while Ivy’s voice rose to a crescendo that signaled a problem in the house. He wondered what the children had done now and wished he could appease them with a letter from their father.

The instant Ivy stood before his desk, he realized that she had come on a personal matter. He should have been focused on her consternation, but instead he was stricken with an insensible desire to take her in his arms and make right whatever had caused the distress in her eyes.

Until he realized that he was the cause of her distress.

“You wicked, unscrupulous duke.”

He stood and came around the desk, grateful that Carstairs had closed the door. “I knew you would have misgivings about what we did last night, but I visited that room this morning, and felt no regret.”

She banged her good fist down on the desk. “I’m not referring to what we did. It’s what you did I cannot forgive.”

“Didn’t we do it together?” he asked cautiously. He reached for her, reconsidered at the glare she gave him, and lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck. “What did I do?”

“You spied on me.”

“I told you I was anxious about your return.”

“You spied on me and Oliver with a spyglass.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s what I get for trusting an eleven-year-old girl who’s already beheaded her first king.”

Ivy gasped. “You don’t deny it?”

He shook his head. “How else was I supposed to keep watch for your arrival? In another few minutes I would have been on my horse and galloping to Fenwick. I told you I saw you through the window.”

“Do you watch the other female servants with your spyglass?”

“What other female servants? The maids who are married to the footmen? Cook, who is old enough to be my mother? Or the housekeeper who once changed my nappies?”

“Are there peepholes in my bedchamber?”

He laughed impolitely. “Not as far as I know. I can have some holes bored in your wall if that’s your pleasure.”

“It isn’t,” she said, her voice almost as deep as it had been in the dark last night. “I can’t believe that you let Mary catch you in the act.”

“Is that right? Well, I wouldn’t have been at the window with the spyglass to be caught by the child if her governess had been home on time. As agreed.”