A Garden for Ivy (The Wednesday Club Book 3)

by Sahara Kelly

  Instinctively she parted her legs and he settled between them, something hard rubbing most pleasantly against some sensitive spots.

  “Oh Colly,” she sighed, giving in to an impulse and lifting her hips toward him.

  “Ivy,” he murmured, his eyes roaming her face.

  A tap on the door froze them both.

  Ivy watched the muscles in her husband’s cheeks tense as he clenched his teeth. “One moment,” he called.

  Then he dipped his head and dropped a kiss on her nose. “This will be continued, sweetheart. I promise.”

  She nodded, trying to understand the need welling inside her. It was as if his touch had ignited an odd but exciting fire low in her belly. This must be desire, that longing for the intimacy of lovers, that filled poems, songs, plays and novels.

  She lay there, watching Colly grab his robe and tie it, then open the door and take the tea tray from the maid with muttered thanks.

  A strange moment, but one she’d never forget. Her first morning as a wife, and a duchess, and her first morning as a married woman with every right to explore her husband.

  “Tea. Come on, it’s early but we have a lot to do this morning.” He fussed over the tray.

  Ivy sighed. He was right. She pushed away all the other things she’d rather be doing at this moment and slid from the bed.

  He glanced out the window where dawn had already filled the sky with rays of faint early light. “Looks like we’ll have clear skies for travelling.”

  “That’s good.” She helped herself to tea. “I’ll dress quickly and say goodbye to Grandmama. I know she and Elvina will be up and about. They’re always early birds. But I expect everyone else is still sound asleep.”

  He nodded. “Excellent.”

  “I’ll dress in my own room,” she put down the tea, “and meet you in the hall in…say…half an hour?”

  “Yes, that will be excellent,” he approved. “Ivy?”

  “Yes?” She turned back to him.

  He walked to her, put his arms around her and kissed her soundly. “Good morning.”

  She sighed with pleasure. “Mmm. And good morning to you too.”

  He grinned. “Go. Half an hour.”

  Both of them were of the same mind, it seemed, since it was almost exactly thirty minutes later that they met in the front hall. Ivy had a couple of small bags next to her and was fastening her bonnet as Colly came in through the door.

  “The coach is ready. Have you said your farewells?”

  She nodded. “I have. And Grandmama sends her warmest affections. I’m hoping to talk her into a visit to Hartsmere House perhaps in the autumn…” she hesitated. “If that’s acceptable?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Of course it is. We’ll talk about all that soon. Is this everything?” He picked up the heaviest bag.

  “Yes. For the time being.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  The dew glazed the landscape with a glitter that made Ivy blink as she stepped out into the early sunshine. “It does look as if it will be a lovely day,” she commented, letting a sleepy footman hand her into the coach.

  “We’ll make good time.” The Duke followed her with a smile and murmured thanks to the lad.

  She noted his politeness. It was innate, she realised, not something he had to remind himself to do. Perhaps that was the mark of excellent breeding? The ability to be pleasant to everyone who did something deserving of thanks, regardless of rank.

  She had the feeling Colly would be every bit as polite to the maid polishing his bureau as he was to the Patronesses of Almack’s. It was just part and parcel of who he was.

  Reserved? Yes, very much so. And, as people always said, rather a cold fish. Well…she could personally attest to the fact that that wasn’t so. Beside her own intimate observations, she’d watched him with the other gentlemen at their wedding. He’d laughed and chatted with Miles and Matthew, even listening to Mowbray and engaging him in some discussion that they obviously both enjoyed.

  As they pulled away from Siddington Castle, she accepted that she now had a husband who might be described as contradictory in more than a few ways. But overall she was rather delighted to discover such facets of his personality. And she couldn’t help but wonder what more would be revealed as time went on.

  He leaned back as the carriage set off at a good pace for London.

  “Well, I have to say I’m rather sad to be leaving the Castle.”

  “Really?” Ivy raised her eyebrows. “Why is that, Colly?”

  “You never showed me the dungeons.” He sighed dramatically. “I was truly hoping to see the dungeons. It would have made my visit complete.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You got a wife out of it. Be happy with that. Perhaps next time we come here, I’ll take you down to the depths of Siddington.”

  “Promise?” He turned with the eager enthusiasm of a four-year-old promised a treat.

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Time to face London, your Grace. And for me to learn to call you Maidenbrooke in public, I suppose.”

  He took her hand and curled his fingers around it. “It won’t be easy, I’m afraid. Both of us will need to adjust, as is the way of things after marrying. But we’ll be doing it all beneath the curious and prying gazes of Society. And that…well, that’s something that curdles my insides.”

  She nodded. “Agreed. But I’m sure we shall come about.”

  “I admire your optimism,” he smiled. “Keep it going if you would? I have a suspicion we’ll both need it over the next few weeks.”

  She squeezed his hand, but stayed silent, turning to look out the window at the passing countryside.

  And offering a tiny prayer that they were both strong enough to survive what lay ahead.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mr Oliver Franklin was not terribly surprised to hear that his Grace the Duke of Maidenbrooke had arrived and was asking for a few moments of his time.

  “Show him in, Streeting. Show him in.” The young clerk nodded and retreated with alacrity.

  He’d expected a summons to Hartsmere House, but his Grace liked to take matters into his own hands and waited for no one. Thus here he was. Franklin swallowed, straightened his simple cravat and rose from his chair as his door opened to admit the Duke.

  “Good day, your Grace.” He bowed formally. “I cannot say this is a surprise. I was hoping to see you at your earliest convenience.”

  “I just arrived back in town,” said the Duke. “My wife and I are putting off our honeymoon for a while until matters are straightened out. And to that end, I am starting with you.”

  His gaze fixed coolly on Franklin’s face and left the other man in no doubt as to what was about to be discussed. It was likely that neither looked forward to the conversation, and Franklin sighed as he followed the Duke’s example and took his seat.

  “My congratulations upon your marriage, your Grace. You’re probably wondering…” he began.

  The Duke held up his hand. “Let me say one thing right now, Franklin. You have never given me cause to doubt your integrity or your commitment to the successful managing of the Maidenbrooke financial matters that lie within your purview. So I’m not here to berate you. I am here to find out what you know about the situation in the north and if there could be any connections at all between those circumstances and what we have in the way of investments.”

  Hiding his sigh of relief, Franklin reached for a set of books that occupied one side of his desk.

  “Here are the Maidenbrooke accounts, your Grace. I’ve been through them most scrupulously since the first hint of that damned rumour reached my ears.” He frowned at the ledgers. “I’ve been through them twice, actually. And each time I’ve found nothing that would indicate any involvement with any enterprise that might be of a dubious nature. Your charitable contributions are scrupulously administered and categorized. Absolutely none of your investments are linked in any way with the reform movement, if you want to call it that.” />
  The Duke nodded. “That was my belief as well. So I’m happy to hear you verify my conclusions.” He leaned back in his chair. “But that leaves us—or at least me—with one very large problem. How did this rumour start, and how has it developed sufficiently to become a genuine threat to my name?”

  Once again, Franklin was struck by the cool and penetrating gaze of this aristocrat, and the intelligence lurking behind it. He was no dilettante frittering away his fortune at the card tables. Nor was he a pedantic scholar, immersing himself in ancient tomes. He was sober, well-informed and determined. All traits that Franklin had admired in their first meeting close to a decade ago. There’d been nothing since to change his mind, and today’s conversation merely confirmed that the Duke was still in possession of all his faculties and God help whoever had put him in this uncomfortable position.

  On a deep breath, Franklin folded his hands in front of him. “Rumours can grow from tiny whispers, your Grace. I don’t need to tell you how they develop once they’re interesting enough to be repeated. And embellished.”

  A nod was the only response.

  “As for the starting point for this particular rumour…well, we’ve given that some thought as well.” He unfolded his hands and gestured to some notes next to the ledgers. “I sent out a few messages as soon as this matter broke. The actual situation in the north is deteriorating, with ever louder calls for political reform. There are reports of so many people barely surviving; starvation is not uncommon, and with the price of bread continually increasing, one can only assume that things are going to get even worse.”

  “And there isn’t anybody to speak for them, is there?” mused the Duke. “They have no recourse at all. It must be…well, to say frustrating is to understate matters considerably.”

  “It’s a complex situation, your Grace,” answered Franklin carefully. “And there are many traditionalists who are, shall we say, less than willing to see the old laws changed.”

  “In a way that would not benefit them,” added Maidenbrooke dryly.

  “Quite.”

  “So the old guard Magistrates keep their pockets lined, while the workers starve, and the scarcity of any kind of political representation leaves a large portion of the populace helpless.”

  “As I understand it, yes.”

  “And yet somehow funds from a Maidenbrooke account have been alleged to be supporting this reform movement which is starting to sound like a rebellion of sorts.”

  “That’s what I heard,” answered Franklin.

  Silence fell for a few moments while both men thought over the matter.

  “Well,” said the Duke, rising from his chair. “I see no other alternative.”

  “Your Grace?” Franklin stood, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

  “I shall have to go north.”

  Franklin’s jaw dropped and hadn’t risen until well after the Duke had nodded and left the room.

  *~~*~~*

  “You’re what?”

  The exclamation was not quite a shriek, but Ivy knew it was probably closer than it should be. She glared at her husband across the dinner table.

  “I’m going to have to travel north. I’ve made arrangements to leave tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” She snapped her mouth shut. Then opened it again. “This is all about the rumours?”

  Colly nodded. “Franklin is as puzzled as I am. And we both agree there’s nothing in the way of any kind of connection between the Maidenbrooke estates and investments, and any uprising. So something is going on up there that involves my name. It’s up to me to take care of it.”

  “Can’t you send an agent? Wouldn’t your Mr Franklin go?” She fought to keep her voice steady.

  “Under normal circumstances, yes. But this is a matter of my personal reputation, Ivy. I need to find whoever is talking, look them in the eye and make them tell me why.”

  She fell silent, understanding his perspective, and seeing an expression on his face that did not bode well for whoever was behind the whispers.

  “Very well,” she said finally, touching her napkin to her lips. “I’ll have Barnes pack for me, and I’ll be ready to leave when you are.”

  “Er, no.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why not? We’ve been married barely more than a day. What would it say about our status if you go haring off to northern parts, leaving your brand-new bride behind?”

  “That rumour is much easier to deal with, my dear,” he soothed. “I have to travel difficult and possibly dangerous roads into an area that is rife with civil unrest. Were I to take my bride with me, I’d be branded a horrid wretch with little thought for his most precious treasure.”

  Her eyebrow rose in a sardonic expression of disbelief. “Really? Is that the best you can do?”

  He chuckled. “Honestly, Ivy, if I could see my way clear to taking you with me, I would. But it won’t be an easy trip. And yes, there is a lot of unrest, plus a proliferation of social ills that I’d rather you not see.” He leaned toward her over the syllabub dish. “People are starving. Literally starving. And I know you well enough to understand how hard it would be for you not to help. And right now the problem is too great for just two people.”

  Ivy swallowed. “I’d heard about it.”

  “Plus, Prudence will return at the end of the week. I’d feel a lot better if I knew you were both here at Hartsmere. It will help matters if we are seen to be acting as is to be expected. I am responding to the unpleasant whispers, and you are here to care for Prudence and Hartsmere House, as the new Duchess.”

  “Hmm.” She thought about that.

  “In fact, it would be of great benefit if you could continue planning for Prudence’s birthday? That’s not far off now, so anything you can to do appear as if nothing untoward is happening…well that would help a lot.”

  Ivy sighed and pushed her plate aside. “I know you’ve a library. I suggest we adjourn and indulge in a brandy. I refuse to leave you alone, I don’t want tea and I think we both need chance to discuss all this comfortably.” She glanced at the servants standing quietly at the far end of the room. “And privately.”

  He nodded and stood. “Brandy in the library, if you would,” he told the head footman.

  “Yes, your Grace. At once.” He signalled to another man and the process began, amusing Ivy somewhat with the smooth ease and immediacy that appeared in response to the merest request from the lord and master of the house.

  She rounded the table and took the arm he held out to her. “Your staff is to be applauded, Maidenbrooke,” she said, trying out the formality of his address. “They’ve also been very kind.”

  “I would not expect otherwise,” he approved.

  “Colly?” She leaned against his arm. “Don’t be pompous.”

  “Shh,” he grinned. “I have to be pompous. The staff expects it.”

  Sure enough, a tray holding a decanter of brandy and several glasses awaited them, along with the butler, poised to pour.

  “We’ll care for ourselves, thank you, Woodleigh.” The Duke nodded at the lad.

  “As you wish, Your Grace.” A rigidly correct half bow followed. “Please ring if you require anything else.” He turned to Ivy and executed another flawless bow. “Your Grace.” After which he departed.

  “Goodness,” observed Ivy taking a chair. “It is going to take a bit of getting used to—all this formality…Woodleigh is quite intimidating.”

  The Duke shrugged. “He’s been here as long as I can remember. And he’s probably more familiar with the requirements of being a duke than I am. But it is the way of things, Ivy. It’s what’s expected of us.” He poured a liberal amount of the richly deep liquid into a glass and passed it to her.

  She eyed it. “You’re anticipating a difficult conversation, I see.”

  He took a seat across from her and lifted his glass in a silent toast. “Only if you insist on accompanying me north.”

  She acknowledged the gesture with one of her own a
nd sipped, sparing a moment to enjoy the excellent liquor as it eased its way down her throat in a warm river of decadent flavours. “I should insist, Colly. I really should. Since I’m your wife now, I should be at your side, no matter the circumstances.” She sighed.

  He watched her, remaining silent, his gaze on her face.

  “But…and yes, you knew there was a ‘but’ coming…what you said before, about Prudence and carrying on normally in the eyes of the world. Those things are also correct and I can see the value of both of us behaving as if nothing is amiss.” She paused to collect her thoughts. “Some will wonder that we’re not enjoying a few weeks together in the country or something.”

  “At Maiden Shore?”

  “Where?”

  “My house on the south coast. Lovely place, especially in the summer. We have a beach, and a dock. I don’t sail much, but I always enjoyed a holiday there.”

  Distracted, Ivy sat up straight. “You know I’ve never asked about your other properties.”

  The Duke smiled. “I know. And in an odd way I find that both charming and satisfying.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, my sweet, I am encouraged to believe that you wed me not so much for my estate or my assets, but for myself.”

  “Well of course I did,” she shot back. Somewhat unwisely.

  His expression changed, his eyes narrowing as he stood, put down his glass and held out his hand.

  “What? What is it?” She took another quick sip of brandy and then put her glass down, rising to put her hand in his.

  “It’s this…”

  He pulled her to him, his arms going around her, clasping her firmly against his chest. “We haven’t had our wedding night yet, Ivy. I’d like to believe that we’re about to remedy that situation.”

  He put his hand beneath her chin, lifted her face, and then kissed her, softly at first, but then more passionately, encouraging her lips to part and grant his tongue access to hers.