A Garden for Ivy (The Wednesday Club Book 3)

by Sahara Kelly

  “Evidence will be provided to validate the Maidenbrooke charges, of course,” continued Rose in a level tone. “Many have said how they first heard of the matter from you.”

  “Here, in my house,” added Maud. “Something which I find most distressing, as does my husband. We will be questioning our guests as to their recollections of your conversations.” She shook her head. “Face the truth, Miss Ringwood. Your goose, as they like to say, is well and truly cooked.”

  With a shuddering sob, Miss Ringwood surrendered. “It was all his plan.”

  “Whose plan?”

  “My fiancé. Sir Timothy Barrett.”

  Four faces glanced at each other as Lady Maud leaned back, satisfied at last. “That’ll do then,” she said. “That’ll do nicely.”

  *~~*~~*

  “After that, we had the hardest time trying to stop her from talking.” Ivy tied the belt of her robe around her nightgown as she emerged from behind her dressing screen and glanced at her husband. “Instead of stubborn silence, she began regaling us with just about every detail of her life, her engagement, all the things her fiancé has done and said—practically since they’d met—and I don’t know about the others, but after a while it all turned into some kind of low humming sound.”

  The Duke chuckled. He was swathed in blankets and tucked into one of the comfortable chairs in his wife’s bedroom. He’d demanded every detail as soon as she arrived home, and so they had ended up here, together, reviewing the evening’s activities.

  It was surprisingly natural, Ivy realised as she sat at her small table and pulled the few pins from her hair.

  “So basically she confirmed that Barrett was the source?”

  Ivy nodded. “In no uncertain terms.” She turned to face him. “This man bears a powerful hatred for you, Colly. And that worries me, since from what she said, he’s not a very stable person.”

  “I heard much the same from Miles,” he nodded. “His conversation yesterday persuaded him Barrett might not be quite sane.”

  “Well here’s another thing.” Ivy straightened her robe. “The connection you mentioned between Barrett and Streatford? It’s of recent date. Yes, it was a matter of gambling that brought them into each other’s orbit. But it seems that like gravitates to like.” She sighed. “Streatford is none too smart and has an axe to grind with you, mostly because you married me. Barrett, apparently, was banking on your marrying Fiona and bringing the Maidenbrooke fortune with you.”

  “It’s not unheard of,” said Colly mildly. “The capture of a wealthy husband often brings a great deal of relief to other members of the family. And you would have been an acceptable match for Streatford.”

  She nodded. “Yes. Agreed. And I can see where Streatford would wish you harm. If Barrett has ever mentioned disposing of you, then his way to me would be clear. Or so he’d think.”

  The Duke snorted.

  “I agree. But given Barrett’s unstable nature, his anger when Fiona married Rolfe was ungovernable, according to what Miss Ringwood either heard or surmised. Rolfe, of course, being a wise man, refused to give him a penny. Which probably aggravated his fury against you even more. All his problems had one focus. One target. You.”

  “In an odd way, it all makes sense.”

  “If you’re a madman,” shot back Ivy. “To be truthful? I couldn’t care less if it makes sense or not. All I want is this man put away somewhere he cannot hurt you or anyone, and to take something very hard to Streatford’s head.”

  The Duke smiled. “Come here.”

  She hesitated.

  “There’s room. This is a big chair. Come here, Ivy. Let’s be comfortable while we talk.” He slid to one side, making more than enough space for her to wriggle in beside him, which she did willingly.

  His warmth, beneath the blankets, was just what she needed. It was reassuring, secure, and snuggling like this was balm to the soul that had stressed about this man so often in recent days.

  “How’s your wound?”

  “So much better,” he answered. “Whatever Mrs Ashrayn is using is working miracles. The pain has almost gone and she tells me the whole thing is healing even faster than she hoped. I could be back to myself on the morrow.”

  Ivy shook her head. “Not yet. Not until we’ve settled the Barrett business.”

  “Ivy, I can’t be an invalid forever…”

  “No, I understand that.” She sighed. “But I will not risk you, Colly. To go out and about again, before we’ve dealt with your assailant…no, I won’t let you do that.”

  He moved a little, sliding his good arm around her shoulders and pulling her head to rest against his chest. “You won’t?”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, because…because…” Flustered, she tried to pull away.

  “No, don’t do that.” He gentled her, stroking her arm. “Stay where you are. We’ve found ourselves in a number of unexpected situations, Ivy. We’re married. We didn’t expect that. I was vilely slandered and then attacked. We didn’t expect that either. Here we are, living as husband and wife in the middle of what sometimes feels like a dramatic play that is more suited for Drury Lane. It’s as good a time as any for us to talk about…us.”

  “Us?” She swallowed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Yes you are.” He gave her a little squeeze.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “I want to know what you think of us.”

  “I…” she paused, unsure of how to answer such a question, and a little afraid to voice the emotions so close to the surface at this moment.

  “Are you sorry to be married to me?”

  “No,” she answered immediately. “No, of course not.” His arm tightened a little and she couldn’t help but enjoy the feel of him so close.

  “I’ve missed you,” he murmured. “I cannot tell you how much I regret having to leave so soon after our wedding.”

  She felt him drop a light kiss on her head.

  “As do I. But the circumstances were unique, Colly. And both our futures were in jeopardy. I’m not sure you could have done anything else.”

  “I could’ve sent Franklin or someone in my place,” he sighed.

  “No you couldn’t,” she shook her head. “Not you. It was a direct attack on you. You’d never let someone else try to solve such a problem. It’s not in your manner to pass things like that to others.”

  “Maybe that’s a flaw in my character.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said, pulling her head back and frowning at him. “You’re not perfect, Colly, but you’re not flawed either.”

  His eyes gazed at her, a searing blue roaming over her face. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

  And he kissed her, softly at first, then more enthusiastically, turning them so that their bodies intertwined, their legs tangled and his hands wandered to the tie of her robe, loosening it and delving within to find the heat of her covered only by the thin fabric of her nightgown.

  “Oh Colly,” she sighed as he stroked whatever parts of her he could find.

  “I wish I was well enough,” he muttered, cupping her breast and teasing her nipple with his thumb. “In a day or so we’ll take this to its conclusion, sweetheart.”

  She moaned as her hips shifted toward him of their own volition. “Yes please. I’d like that.” Scarcely aware of what she said, Ivy lost herself in the touch of his hand. “I love when you do this. Being with you like this.”

  “That’s good to hear, because I’m very fond of it myself.”

  “Oh…” She gasped as his fingers slid down and burrowed between her thighs, “Oh God, Colly…”

  He found her with unerring accuracy, his fingers delving and rubbing all the right places, driving her cleverly toward a peak she knew she herself desired above all things.

  “Colly…”

  Her muted cry was stifled by his lips as he pressed her close against his body, his hand fast agains
t her most intimate places. He pushed her over the edge into ecstasy, drinking her gasps, and holding her tightly as she broke apart in his arms.

  “That’s my woman,” he murmured. “So beautiful, Ivy. So very beautiful…”

  She trembled and sucked in air, overwhelmed by the sensations still quivering within her. “Colly,” she sighed softly. “Oh Colly, I love you.”

  “Thank God,” he whispered into her hair. “I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “I’m not sure how much longer I can go on like this.”

  Ivy stared at her reflection in the mirror as she spoke, not looking at the woman in the glass, but talking more to herself.

  She loved her husband. A wonderful thing indeed, but how much better would it be if he could only say the words and reassure her that her affections were not one-sided.

  Oh he liked her, she was sure of that. He touched her affectionately, was always correct and attentive, and listened to her when they conversed.

  These were all comforting things, and many women would be overjoyed if their husbands showed such pleasant characteristics within their marriage.

  So why couldn’t she be happy with them? Why did something deep inside her demand he say those words? Was she so insecure that she couldn’t accept his displays of affection and leave it at that?

  Sadly, she shook her head at herself. She didn’t know. But there remained a nagging sense of discomfort when she considered their relationship. Matters felt incomplete.

  This, however, wasn’t the time or the place for such introspection.

  Things were coming to a head now that they had a grip on the likely identity of Colly’s attacker. All they had to do was get him to confess. Preferably within hearing of several people who could bear witness to his guilt.

  How to do that was to be discussed shortly, when what Ivy was coming to think of as their little regiment of soldiers arrived.

  No matter her situation with her husband, Ivy never failed to whisper a little prayer of thanks every time she thought of them. Judith, Rose, Lydia…women who never doubted, never failed, and never flinched from honesty. What better gifts could she have than friends like these?

  The fact that Ragnor Withersby and Miles Linfield, not to mention Mowbray and Matthew, had also formed part of the tightly knit group was just beyond wonderful, and she looked forward to the upcoming strategy session with a good deal of interest.

  After all, it was Colly that they planned on saving.

  He would be there, naturally. And probably have a lot to say about allowing others to help deal with a problem that was essentially his.

  There wasn’t much she could do about that, other than hope he would be overruled should it become necessary.

  She had agreed with him that keeping Prudence away from this business as much as possible would be the safest course of action, although the girl herself would have vociferously objected had she been consulted.

  But with a little subterfuge, and the assistance of Lydia’s brother, Prudence would be gone for the day. She and her maid were accompanying Matthew to pay a call on one of his aunts, who had a house just outside town. She was a renowned artist, and there could be no objection to the visit at all, since it was the day Miss Aileen Cholmondeley opened her rooms to friends and displayed her most recent works.

  Ivy would have liked to have gone as well, but had elicited a promise from Matthew that he would take her and Lydia at another time.

  At least Prudence was out of the house as the guests began to arrive, and talk immediately turned to plans and ideas for trapping their villain into a fully-fledged confession.

  “I’m for beating it out of him,” said Lydia. “Give me a garden shovel or a sturdy branch and hold him down.”

  Rose grinned. “I adore you, you know.”

  Miles rolled his eyes. “Ladies, we are not resorting to violence if there’s a better way.”

  “Thank you,” said Ragnor Withersby, eyeing Judith’s crestfallen face. “The voice of reason.”

  “So…other suggestions?” Ivy leaned back. “Ones not involving violence?”

  “Look at the facts,” said Colly, his face concerned. “This man is after me. He wants me dead, apparently, which will set his world to rights. That, as far as I’m concerned, is a pretty good example of someone whose mind is not functioning properly. So logical and well-thought-out stratagems probably aren’t our best approach to this problem.”

  “Agreed,” nodded Mowbray. “It has to be something simple. Something that plays into his desire to see you dead.”

  “But keeps you safe, nonetheless,” interjected Ivy. “You’ve only just recovered from being stabbed. Let’s not add another wound, if we can avoid it.”

  “I agree,” grinned Colly. “I’d prefer to keep my skin whole.”

  “All right then,” said Judith. “With that thought in mind, do you think there’s a way to get you and Barrett together? It would seem to me that he’s more likely to reveal his actions if he has you—the focus of his hatred—in front of him…”

  “No, too risky,” Ivy answered immediately.

  “Well wait a minute now,” said Miles. “Obviously we are not going to put his Grace into a room alone with a madman. Although sometimes I have to wonder if that doesn’t happen to all of us from time to time. We just can’t tell who is actually mad and who isn’t these days, especially at some of these soirées…”

  Mowbray chuckled. “A valid point, Miles, but still…” he glanced at Ivy. “We all understand your sentiments, your Grace. Keeping your husband alive is definitely at the top of our list of things to accomplish. But the idea bears some examination, I think…”

  Silence fell for a few moments as everyone considered the suggestion.

  It was a strange experience for Ivy; she shared a sunny room with her best friends and her husband, and yet the subject under discussion was how to save him from being murdered by a madman. Birds continued to sing outside, although she had to wonder why they too didn’t fall silent at the mere hint of such a heinous crime.

  “How about if I suggest a meeting?” Colly looked around. “I’m not terribly excited at the idea of seeing Barrett face to face, but I can’t think of any other way to get him to talk. To tell me why he hates me so much.”

  Ivy’s skin chilled, but she managed to hold her tongue against her immediate reaction, which was to scream “no” long and loud.

  “I’d like to know what he thinks he’s accomplishing by doing everything possible to assassinate my character, damage my financial credibility and all but ruin me.” The Duke raised his hands in confusion. “He must be under some serious delusions if he thinks I cannot refute each and every one of his accusative rumours. Even the most recent one about the brothels...”

  There was a simultaneous gasp of indrawn breath as the people in the room had obviously missed that one.

  “What?” squeaked Rose.

  Colly brushed it aside. “A ridiculous piece of lurid gossip so far-fetched it doesn’t even bear repeating. Which is why I grow more and more convinced the man is not in his right mind. Meeting him in person might draw that madness to the surface...make him reveal himself completely. Would you agree?” He looked around at the others. “Logically, he has to know that whatever he does to me isn’t going to make a difference to his situation...”

  “If he is truly mad, your Grace, there is no logic. His mind is convinced that his is the only course of action to pursue. Meeting him face to face might be­ risky, to say the least of it.” Rose looked worried.

  “If it could take place in a controlled area…” Ragnor mused. “Somewhere we could all be present, but not necessarily visible…”

  “The garden,” said Lydia with a snap of her fingers. “Ivy’s had the back garden redone for Prudence. It’s quite lovely, there are places where everything is visible, and yet I think that if we were inside we could still maintain surveillance…” She looked around
. “What do you think?”

  “I think we should take a look at it,” Miles stood. “I need to know we can keep an eye on his Grace at all times. If not, then we must think of something else.”

  Everyone rose, looking at Ivy.

  “This way.” She led them from the room and down the hallway toward the rear of Hartsmere House. “I had the window remade into French doors so that we could get outside with a minimal amount of trouble.”

  “This is quite lovely,” remarked Rose. “I’ve not seen it since it was finished.”

  Moving next to her, Ivy gazed out at the bright and sunny garden, featuring several brick paths that wound in and around a delightfully landscaped plot and led one’s eyes to the fountain.

  Three of the walls of the old carriage house had been removed and replaced with brick columns, supporting the roof and creating a shaded walk. Pots of plants had been carefully positioned and already some were blooming in the sunlight pouring past the chimney pots of Hartsmere House.

  Sir Ronan and his men had worked hard, and with an eye to colour; geraniums blazed against green ferns, and shiny rhododendrons that would bloom the following spring already grew sturdy in the centers of several flowerbeds.

  “There are still a few things that need completing,” Ivy observed. “I have to pass the congratulations and the credit to Sir Ronan. He’s been very involved with this project and has offered much in the way of good advice.”

  Miles and the Duke wandered around the room, eyeing the arrangement of the windows and the walls with interest.

  “Here,” said Miles, pausing in one particular spot and squinting outdoors. “You can see pretty clearly from here, and yet anyone outside might not notice you, because of the way the strong sunlight hits the glass …” He aimed a finger and cocked an invisible trigger.

  “Agreed,” the Duke narrowed his eyes. “It’s an excellent vantage point, and with just one of the French doors ajar, you might even be able to get a clear shot off, if necessary, providing I was in the right spot.” He looked around. “And on that thought…who’s our best marksman?”