by Regina Scott
He took one, feeling the strength of it through his gloves. “Ivy, I have seen the care you give your sisters. You make a house a home. I covet that for Sophia. Marry me, be her mother, save her life. In return, I promise to care for you and your sisters. I will sponsor them, introduce them, provide them with dowries to attract any husband they wish. You will be my marchioness while I live, and I will leave you a home and income in my will. None of you will ever want for anything. Will you help me and Sophia?”
Chapter Three
Ivy and her sisters would never want for anything if she could bring herself to accept his offer. She could not deny the attraction of the thought. Matthew had done well by them, but she remembered the years when her mother had gone hungry so her children could eat. Worse, she remembered the day when Mrs. Bateman had forced them to serve in their own home, threatening and berating them while keeping anything good to herself. Stealing was a sin, but Ivy had crept down to the pantry any number of nights and sliced thin pieces off the ham and roast, the day-old hunks of bread, to keep Daisy and Petunia fed. She’d even baked extra treats and hidden them for her sisters. To know such days were forever behind her—what a gift!
But that lovely vision was wrong. She would still want. She wanted now—to hear him say he loved her, not just that he needed her.
Was that selfish? Always she had put Daisy and Tuny’s needs before her own. That’s what her mother had done. That’s what the Bible required. That’s how Matthew lived now. Truly, that was what Lord Kendall was doing. He had no wish for a second wife, but his Sophia needed a mother.
She knew how to be a mother.
She knew what this marriage would mean for her family as well. Daisy fretted so about their place in Society. If Charlotte as the daughter of a viscount could open doors for them, how much more could the regard of a marquess? And dowries! Matthew would do what he could, but this man could give her sisters a future with any man they chose.
Lord Kendall was on one knee, gaze on hers, waiting. Fine lines fanned out from his eyes. It seemed she wasn’t the only one wondering about this proposal. Once she’d dreamed of a proposal from the man she loved, of accepting with joy in her heart. Was it right to accept when she felt no joy? Was it wrong to accept for her family’s sake?
As if determined to protect her, Fortune stalked out from behind the couch, put her paws on Lord Kendall’s knee, and glared up at him, tail swishing.
Ivy leaned back. “Please. Do get up.”
He set the cat gently aside and climbed to his feet. Fortune paced back and forth in front of him, tail in the air, back up, ears tight, as if challenging him to combat.
He returned to the chair and sat. “I take it you decline.”
His voice was so heavy Ivy hurt for him. Twice in the last month he had come to her aid—once by taking her in secret to see her brother box for the prince and once by helping her find Petunia when her sister had disappeared. He had been a true friend then. He had been honest with her now. She could do no less.
“I am not declining,” she told him. As he raised his head, she hurried on. “Neither am I accepting. I understand the honor you have given me, my lord. I never thought to receive a proposal from a gentleman like you. But I had dreamed of a love match. Can you give me no hope of one someday?”
His eyes dipped at the corners. “Alas, Ivy, I cannot. My heart, once given, does not easily give again.”
How extraordinary. She had loved her mother, father, and brother. That love had only expanded with the births of Daisy and Tuny. Now it had grown yet again with the addition of Charlotte to their family. Had he focused all emotions on his dead wife?
What would it be like to win such a devotion for herself?
Dangerous thought. He offered her nothing of his love. Yet she knew love could grow. He clearly cared for his daughter. Might he someday come to care for her as well? Was she willing to risk her future on a chance?
“I understand,” she murmured, gaze dropping to Fortune. The cat had discovered the tassel on Lord Kendall’s boot and had forsaken her military position in front of him to attack it instead. Would that Ivy was distracted so easily.
“Do you at least envision us remaining friends?” she asked her would-be suitor. “Partners in caring for little Sophia?”
“Yes.” The answer was swift and heartfelt, as if he clung to any hope she would offer. “Exactly so. You would in all other ways be my lady.”
A lady. Lady Kendall. It was more than anyone except Charlotte had ever dreamed for her. She should not wish away such an opportunity.
And yet...
“Tell me about Sophia,” she said.
Again, he did not hesitate. “She is as beautiful as her mother and, I fear, as likely to leave us. She cries for hours, and nothing comforts her. She has gained only a few pounds since she was born seven months ago.”
That didn’t sound good. Daisy had doubled in weight the first seven months. Tuny had gained less, but she too had been missing a mother. Oh, Ivy knew families where babies were put out to nurse, away from the mother that bore them. She had never understood why. Except in cases where the mother was sickly or the home unsafe for a baby, why not keep the precious child close? An unsettling number of babies sent out to nurse died. Small wonder Lord Kendall worried for his daughter.
“And when Sophia is strong and healthy?” Ivy asked. “What do you hope for her?”
The smile he gave her was brighter than any she’d seen. “I’ll teach her to ride, to marvel over the constellations, to watch for the changing of the seasons in all their glory. I’ll tell her about the Roman antiquities our family has preserved, explain why we must remember our past. I’ll gown her in silk, whatever color and style she desires, and the softest wool and velvet. I imagine she will wrap me around her littlest finger.”
She likely would. A mother could help prevent him from spoiling the little girl.
And truly, that was what Ivy had loved most growing up—being a mother to Daisy and Tuny. Sometimes when acquaintances learned of her background, they exclaimed over her sacrifice, her nobility. It hadn’t felt noble at the time; it still didn’t. She loved her family. She’d done what she could to keep them healthy and happy. Charlotte had tried so hard to make her into a Society belle, someone who danced and flirted and exchanged pleasantries over steaming cups of tea. But in her heart, Ivy knew what made her happiest, where she was best suited. A house in the country, far from the stress of the London Season, with a little girl who desperately needed her.
And perhaps, perhaps, the answer to her heart’s deepest longing.
She took a breath. “Then I will marry you, my lord, and be Sophia’s mother.”
~~~
She’d agreed. Joy pushed Kendall to his feet, but guilt kept him from reaching for Ivy. He should not feel such delight in taking a second wife. He was marrying for Sophia’s safe, after all, not his own.
“Thank you,” he told Ivy. “I will petition the Archbishop of Canterbury for a special license today. We can be married and back in Surrey within the week.”
Her face fell even as she came to stand beside him. “So soon? Matthew and Charlotte won’t be back from their honeymoon by then. I would not want to marry without them.”
Again, he felt like a churl. He was giving her a considerable amount, financially and socially, but he could not shake the feeling that he was the one most benefitting. “Understood, but every day away from Sophia is one day more that she lacks the comfort she needs. I am told she cries every time I leave.”
She bit her lower lip, which was a warm rosy color that reminded him of the deep pink orchids his mother had planted in the conservatory. He forced himself to gaze into her eyes instead. They were equally warm, inviting him closer.
He stayed where he was.
“Perhaps,” she allowed, “since it isn’t a love match, we can marry without my brother and Charlotte. But I would like Daisy, Petunia, and Miss Thorn to attend.”
“Of course,
” he agreed, relief relaxing shoulders he hadn’t realized were so tense. “And thank you, Ivy. You are more understanding than I have any right to expect. Will St. George’s Hanover Square do?”
“Yes. Let me know the day and time once you’re spoken with the vicar.”
“I will.” Despite the feelings tugging at him, he reached out and took her hand. “I will be a considerate husband. I promise.”
“And I will do my best to be a good mother to Sophia,” she vowed.
He squeezed her hand and released her. “I’ll send word soon.” He moved toward the door, though something urged him to stay.
A grey flash passed him on the stairs. He nearly pulled up before he realized it was Fortune. It wasn’t the first time the cat had followed him to the door. Now she scampered under the hall table and peered out at him.
“Congratulations, my lord,” the butler intoned, offering him his high-crowned hat and walking stick.
What, had the fellow been listening at the door? He tried to imagine that tall, regal frame bent over a keyhole.
“Thank you,” he said, accepting his belongings. As he slipped his hat onto his head, Fortune darted out from under the table and attacked his tassel.
The butler bent to retrieve her. She stared at Kendall accusingly, as if she knew his thoughts were not those of a besotted bridegroom. He let himself out.
The feelings persisted as he obtained the special license and booked the chapel for eight Thursday morning. When he’d married Adelaide, there had been weeks of preparation—a new suit for him, a full trousseau for her. Friends and family had held parties and balls in their honor. They’d ordered vase upon vase of flowers to decorate her parents’ chapel, where they had celebrated the marriage surrounded by all who loved them.
Perhaps he should have waited for Sir Matthew to return. Yet, truth be told, he was a little concerned Ivy’s brother might take exception to the match. How would he react? He was a former pugilist. Kendall had seen him fight. He would not want to face those fists. Better to present the happy bride, fait accompli.
Besides his main reason for hurrying her wasn’t her brother or even Sophia. If they wed quickly, he would not have the opportunity to change his mind.
He could, however, arrange for flowers. He wrote to his land steward, explained the situation, asked him to alert the staff at the house to expect them Thursday evening. The orchids, roses, and gardenias began arriving Wednesday afternoon, and Kendall’s town staff placed them in silver vases and moved them into the chapel before the bride and her party arrived.
Even with all his efforts, he very nearly did change his mind as Ivy and her sisters walked up the aisle to meet him. When he’d wed Adelaide, his brother Weston had stood up with him, proud in the scarlet of his military uniform, newly won. Now Wes was away on the Peninsula, as were many of the men Kendall had called friend at Eton. He could think of no one he wanted at his side. He was only glad Miss Thorn had brought her betrothed, the solicitor Mr. Julian Mayes with her, so that they had the required two witnesses of mature age. The fellow smiled politely as he stood off to one side, hair nearly as red-gold as the candlesticks on the altar.
Kendall and Ivy stood before the vicar. On one side, Daisy and Petunia held bouquets of cream-colored gardenias, their dusky stems wrapped in yellow satin ribbon. Adelaide had married in satin. Ivy wore white muslin, a simple gown with a few ruffles around the softly arched neck and at the cuffs and hem. He’d given her no time to commission a new gown. A fine husband he was starting out to be.
He took her hand as directed, spoke the vows he’d never thought to say again. He wasn’t sure who was paler, him or Ivy. The vicar regarded them with a frown, as if wondering why they had decided to marry in the first place. Kendall straightened, put on his best smile.
“Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
It was a simple response. All he had to say was I will. Yet the words froze on his tongue. Forsaking all other, even Adelaide?
As if she knew his conflict, Ivy squeezed his hand, smile encouraging. Her kindness banished the guilt. She understood. She too entered the marriage with hopes of benefiting those she loved.
“I will,” he said.
The ceremony proceeded through the reading of the psalms, the short sermon. Then the vicar smiled and nodded to those gathered. “May I present Lord and Lady Kendall?”
Miss Thorn and Mr. Mayes stepped forward to shake their hands. Petunia beamed at him. Daisy threw her arms about him and gave him a hug.
“Now I have a brother who’s a knight and a brother who’s a marquess,” she told him.
He smiled at her as she disengaged and caught a movement from the corner of his eye. A shadow slipped across the back of the church, a man heading for the door. Kendall saw only the back of him as he exited, narrow shoulders, shabby coat, tweed cap.
Why had he been attending their wedding unannounced, and why had he left without coming forward to congratulate them?
Chapter Four
On Julian’s arm, Meredith followed Ivy and Lord Kendall down the aisle for the door of St. George’s.
“Thinking about our vows?” Julian murmured in her ear.
Her long-time beau had only recently proposed to her, for all she’d asked him to marry her when they were young. Meredith had never been happier than when she’d accepted him. The banns were even now being read, and they planned to wed at the home of her former client and friend, Jane, Duchess of Wey, in August.
“Actually, I’m more concerned about Ivy’s vows,” she told Julian as they reached the massive wood door. “Some nervousness on the part of the bride is to be expected, but her groom looked as if he was on the way to a hanging—his own.”
“Lord Kendall is a good sort,” Julian assured her. “Sir Alexander managed his father’s affairs, and his.”
The mention of Julian’s mentor sent a chill through her. “Just as well Sir Alexander was off in America for the last few months, negotiating for the King. I do not like to think what he’d say about this match. Or ours.”
Julian brought her hand to his lips as they stepped out into the sunlit pavement before the stone church. “You have no need for concern, Meredith. Nothing he could say would diminish my regard for you.”
She believed that. She and Julian loved each other, had been through much before finding their way back to each other. But Sir Alexander Prentice had helped orchestrate the worst moments of her life. He would likely have stopped at nothing to prevent her from marrying the man he had helped groom as a solicitor. If she never saw the fellow again, it would be too soon.
~~~
She was married. The thought still seemed foreign as Ivy stood before Matthew’s house off Covent Garden, preparing to leave for her new life. She wiggled her shoulders in the green redingote she wore over her soft blue wool travel gown. She didn’t feel any different, for all she’d just pledged her life to another. Her straw bonnet crackled as she turned her head to glance at Lord Kendall, as he waited for her trunks to be loaded on his travel coach. It was a wonder the massive beast fit into the little lane that had been her home in London for the last few years.
“Do you have dogs?” Petunia asked Lord Kendall from the pavement beside them.
Daisy, standing next to her with Miss Thorn, snorted. “All lords have hounds, silly.”
“Actually, I’ve never been much for riding to hounds,” Lord Kendall said. “It always felt terribly unfair to the fox.”
Ivy couldn’t help her smile at that.
“Cats, then?” Tuny pressed as Daisy rolled her eyes.
“Perhaps in the barns,” he allowed.
Tuny frowned as if disappointed in him. “A chicken or two?”
“Possibly.”
“What are their names?” Petunia demanded before Ivy could edge her into another line of conversation. “May I have one of the chicks?”
<
br /> “You may not,” Ivy managed to put in. “There’s little room for Rufus as it is. I don’t want to know where you’d keep a chicken.”
Petunia’s look turned mutinous. A shame Matthew was gone. Ivy would have liked to warn him about this new fascination. Chickens off Covent Garden. What would the neighbors say?
Lord Kendall gave her sister a commiserating smile beneath his neat mustache. “Perhaps you could come visit this summer. We could examine the chickens together.”
Tuny nodded, grin turning up.
“If you’re hosting a house party,” Daisy put in, moving closer with a swish of her muslin skirts, “I don’t see why we must bring the infantry.”
Tuny bristled. Ivy stepped in from long habit. “Lord Kendall is not hosting a house party. I have many duties to learn before I’m comfortable with guests. But family is always welcome.”
He eyed her, and she took a breath. Who was she to make such a pronouncement? She had no right to decide who was and wasn’t invited. But he had asked her to join her life to his. He had to know her family was part of that bargain.
“I look forward to seeing all of the Batemans,” he said, and Ivy nodded, smile returning.
But it was impossible to keep smiling as she took her farewells. She could remember a time before Daisy and Petunia were born, but they could not remember a time before her. Would they miss her as much as she’d miss them?
Tuny seemed to think so. She hugged Ivy hard. “I will think about you every day,” she promised. “Write me letters. I’ll write back.”
“You better,” Ivy teased, blinking back tears. “Daisy won’t.”
“When you host your house party,” Daisy said after giving her a quick hug, “be sure to invite Sir William. Oh, and Chas Prestwick. I hear he’s a lot of fun.”
