Chapter 32
James congratulated himself on a successful dinner. He’d accomplished his goal. It had taken every drop of charm he could wring from the imaginary Book of Scoundrels to coax a laugh from Rosemary, but once she had started to entertain him with the history of Fenwick Manor, lustful ancestors and wrathful ghosts included, it seemed she wouldn’t stop. While she spoke of the past, he pondered the future.
Rosemary would be the entertaining aunt his children would adore and beg to visit to escape their governess. Of course the current governess would have to give him children first. There would be the heir and the spare, then as many offspring as grace would grant. If Ivy wasn’t carrying his child, it wasn’t for lack of effort on his part. God knew he was more than willing to try harder. He’d been starved for her ever since she’d walked back into his life. He wanted to raise a family with her. This enormous house wasn’t made for one lonely man.
Rosemary was coming to the end of her story. He glanced at Ivy, who, judging from her frown, had read his mind. Could he help it that he wanted her and couldn’t hide it? He was counting the minutes until he could be alone with her again. Even if only to talk, to hold her.
He hadn’t come this far to stare at her across a table.
“And then she lost her head,” Rosemary said, concluding her long-winded tale.
James considered clapping, but in light of the fact that no one else at the table had raised a hand, he made do with a nod. “What a shame.”
“It wasn’t a shame,” Rosemary said after a long amused silence. “The villainess sent twenty innocent people to the guillotine.”
“Oh. Oh. Then she deserved what she got.” He paused. “Would anyone care for dessert?”
The ladies looked at one another and laughed. At him. His fascination with Ivy hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice. He might have laughed at himself, too, had Carstairs not bobbed into the doorway, his silver hair disheveled, his usual aplomb replaced by an air of consternation.
“Excuse me for a moment, ladies,” James said, leaving the table to lead Carstairs out into the hall.
He heard Wendover scrape back his chair and make his apologies, catching up with James in the middle of Carstairs’s explanation.
“Does this have something to do with what happened today at Fenwick?” James asked in a low voice.
“God, I hope they caught the other bastard,” Wendover said.
Carstairs took a breath. “I’m sorry to say that a messenger has just arrived with news of Your Grace’s brother. The courier is waiting in your study.”
“Thank you, Carstairs. Wendover, I’d be grateful if you would discreetly explain to our guests why I left the table. I don’t think the children need to be told anything yet.”
“We don’t know that it’s bad news,” Wendover said.
James braced himself as he strode to the study. A messenger had not arrived this time of night to announce that his brother had received a promotion. He had just sat down when Wendover reached the room. They waited for the young courier to drink a pint of ale and wipe the travel dust from his face.
“Your uncle Colonel Lord Merrit wanted me to reassure you that Curtis’s life is no longer believed to be in danger. He lost one eye at Vitoria, and I offer my sorrow for that. He’s expected to arrive in London the middle of this month. He’s eager to come home.”
James dropped his head back against the chair. “He has nothing to come home to.”
“He has his children,” Wendover said, beckoning the messenger to the door. “And he has you. We’ll leave you alone now. Shall I tell Ivy or do you want to?”
“I’ll do it. But not for a while.”
“Should I ask Carstairs to make plans for you to go to London?”
James looked up. He couldn’t afford to brood. “Please. Ivy’s sisters have to stay here until we return, their servants, too. There isn’t time to make other arrangements. I’ll send some of the staff to Fenwick.”
“Will you be married in London?”
His brow furrowed. In a matter of days, the household had seen an impending marriage, a death at Fenwick, now his brother’s injury. “Her sisters will miss the wedding, but it will be a small affair. We could have a reception here when everything has settled down. Ivy and I will have to decide later.”
“Things will settle down, James.”
“Why do I have difficulty believing that?”
“Perhaps because our lives have undergone such drastic changes this past year. We both lost our fathers and the chance to return as heroes. At least you’ve found love. The rest of your life will fall into place.”