by Lauren Smith
“My God, Ivy,” he whispered, his fingers still moving inside her. She responded with a gasp as little twitches of echoing pleasure shot through her. He slowly removed his hand and held her close to him, as though he sought to protect her.
“That was your first…wasn’t it.” It was not a question.
She nodded and was relieved it was too dark for him to see her blush.
“I am honored that you shared it with me.” His voice was rough. He kissed her soundly, lulling her body into a state of bliss. It would have been so easy to stay there in his arms, enjoying the intimacy, but deep in her heart she knew it couldn’t last, knew it was a huge mistake.
I should never have let him kiss me, let him touch me. She didn’t want to know what it felt like to fall in love with him, not when she knew she could never be a part of his life. We’re worlds apart. Leo couldn’t give up his set ways; the bonds of tradition were too strong for him to shake, and she would never be able to marry a man like that. Her dreams of being independent and having all the rights entitled to men meant she had a lonely path ahead of her. She knew she could never be happy if she wasn’t free and didn’t have a voice about her own life.
Somewhere in the distance a clock chimed. Leo continued to hold her, but she pushed away from his chest. When he let go, she stood, smoothing her gown with trembling hands.
“Would you like to retire to my chambers?” he suggested in a low voice.
She did not miss the hopeful note to his tone. The reality of her actions sank in and she tensed.
“We cannot do this, my lord.” Everything was ruined. She was a fool. Sharing Leo’s bed was a dream she couldn’t afford. He still intended to marry Miss Pepperwirth, and she couldn’t drop passionate work as a suffragette just to embrace a moment of passionate madness. It didn’t matter how wonderful his arms felt around her or how gloriously he kissed. What mattered was that she needed to focus on her future, which did not include falling for a man who would never understand her or believe in her equality. He may have been her Prince Charming as a child, but he couldn’t be her prince now. A lady didn’t need rescuing in today’s society. She deserved more from a man than whispered words of romance. She deserved property rights and voting, and until she found a man who believed in that as strongly as she did, she would stay unmarried even if that meant letting love pass her by.
“Please, I insist you call me Leo.” He reached for her, and she thrust a hand out, warding him off. If he touched her again, it would only remind her of pleasure, and saying no would be that much harder.
“This was a mistake.”
“Mistake?” His lips pursed and his brows lowered over his eyes. “I do not make mistakes, Miss Leighton. We shared something that we both thoroughly enjoyed. Do not deny it.”
It was a challenge but she wouldn’t rise to it. “We ought never to have done it, regardless of enjoyment. Please, excuse me.”
She tried to slide past him but his fingers curled around her arm, dragging her to a halt.
“I’m not finished with you,” he threatened, and tried to pull her closer. “You and I will talk. I will not allow you to walk away after what you’ve said.”
A spike of fury lanced through her, and she slapped him. Hard. His hands dropped and she retreated.
“Never threaten me, my lord, with words or otherwise.”
His eyes widened. “I would never—” He shook his head angrily. “Make whatever judgments about me you like, but I do not ever hurt women, or force them. I wanted you to explain yourself and not just storm off, which clearly you are about to do.”
She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. “I do not have to explain myself to you or anyone.” She spun on her heel and left before he could say another word. If she could get far enough away, he might not hear the sound of her heart splintering.
Chapter 8
Dawn was barely teasing the horizon above the old stone Gothic church when Ivy pressed a gloved hand on the waist-high wooden gate to the church’s cemetery. It creaked in the morning silence. Somewhere in the distance a thrush called out a warning, but Ivy knew she was alone. She’d left Hampton before dawn to come here unseen. Not even her father knew she was here.
Lifting her skirts with one hand, she navigated a path along the graves. The grass whispered beneath her boots as she passed by each weathered stone. Finally she found the one she’d been looking for. Her mother’s name was carved deep into the tombstone beneath the cherubic face of a baby angel with tiny wings peeping out from above its shoulders. She clutched the bouquet of white dahlias to her chest. A deep ache welled up inside her.
“Sixteen years,” she breathed. The words so often thought but never spoken trembled on the tip of her tongue. She closed her eyes, but tears still seeped out beneath her lashes.
“I’m so sorry I haven’t come back until now. I miss you, Mama. So much.” Her throat constricted as the memories she’d locked away broke free. How many nights had she sat on Lady Hampton’s bed while her mother dressed the countess for the evening? The three of them would laugh and smile. She could still recall the faint lemony scent that clung to her mother, clean and fresh as she leaned over Ivy, tucking her into bed. Her mother had always taken care of her, loved her. And Ivy had left her here in this cold bit of earth. Alone. For sixteen years.
Ivy sucked in a ragged breath as her chest tightened.
“I wanted to come back, but it hurt too much. Please forgive me.” Ivy wiped the back of one hand across her cheeks to brush away tears as she touched the gravestone with the other. Her father would come soon and pay his respects to the woman he had once loved, but Ivy had needed to come by herself to grieve. Her mother had inspired her to be the woman she was today. Watching a bright woman live as a servant in an age that was dying out had driven Ivy to become passionate about women’s rights. If she didn’t fight for change, then who would? Women had to work together. If that meant sacrificing a husband and children, she would do that. She owed it to her mother and to the generations of women who would come after her.
We deserve better. You deserved better, Mama.
“Not a day passes by that I don’t miss you, Mama.” She bowed her head. “I love you. Always will.” She let go of the cool stone and stepped back. Squaring her shoulders, she pulled her fur-lined cloak tight about her body and turned to leave the cemetery.
Coming back to Hampton was something she had been dreading and longing to do for years. She only wished Leo could have been there to share it with her. She shook her head at the foolish thought. What would he think when she told him who she was? Would he be furious at her deception? Or would he withdraw and turn cold? She supposed it didn’t matter; her childhood hopes had vanished. He was going to marry another woman. They were destined for separate lives, but it didn’t keep her from wanting him…from loving him.
* * *
Leo silently counted the seconds as he waited for Ivy to exit the graveyard. When she was out of sight, he slipped through the gate and searched the scattered tombs for a glimpse of the dahlias she must have left behind. Guilt at following her was a distant emotion. His curiosity outweighed his violation of her privacy. It wasn’t his fault that he’d dressed early for the shooting party and had seen her slip outside. Concern for her had soon turned to fascination as he trailed behind her and realized she was headed to the cemetery by the old Gothic church. From his hidden spot behind the stone wall near the gate, he’d watched as she touched a gravestone and spoke, her words carried away by a faint breeze.
Why would she come here? Why visit a grave in a place she’d claimed she’d never been? Something wasn’t right. There was deception somewhere in all of this, but he couldn’t fathom how all the pieces of the puzzle fit together.
Leo tugged his hat down a little more snugly and crossed the graveyard, dodging tombs until he found the one where a bouquet of dahlias rested at the base of the stone. He read the name, then stumbled back a step.
Here lies Elizabeth
Jameson. Beloved mother and dearest friend.
That name. One he would never forget. She had been his mother’s lady’s maid so long ago. His mother’s friend and confidante. Cancer had claimed her life sixteen years before…
The blinding truth hit hard enough to make him stagger.
A little girl with large brown eyes and a trembling smile. He rubbed his palm at the memory of how her small hand fit in his when he’d held it. Her clear, joyous laugh and the pert button nose he’d tapped so often with a finger as he’d teased her.
Button. Ivy Leighton was Button all grown up. She had been his one friend at home, the only friend he’d ever had when he wasn’t away at school. She’d been his constant shadow, with a wide-eyed innocence and a sweet little voice. It hadn’t been about romance then, not for either of them. They had been bound together as friends, a trust and love that ran deeper. When he’d come from Eton during the holidays and learned that Elizabeth Jameson had died and her child had been sent away to live with her father…it had broken him. His father had scoffed at his soft heart and informed him he was better off without the little half-breed running underfoot. Leo had stood stoically, listened to his father’s cruel words, and then he’d gone upstairs to his rooms and cried, not caring that he felt like a child and not a young man. Button was gone. His only friend at Hampton gone forever…
He’d buried that love and affection for his missing friend over the years, but to have her back now? Like this? As the beautiful woman who both drove him mad with lust and fascinated him with her rebellious nature and brilliant mind?
My darling little Button…His chest ached fiercely and he swallowed hard as he tried to still the fluttering rush of hope inside him. Ivy was Button. For as long as he’d known her, she’d always been his Button. The name Ivy had never entered into his mind and therefore he hadn’t known who she was, especially since she’d taken her father’s surname. Surely she remembered him, but why then hadn’t she told him who she really was? Had she meant to deceive him and if she had, to what end?
Leo raked a hand through his hair, trying to puzzle out whatever purpose Ivy had for hiding her identity from him, but he could not think of any reason. Was she ashamed of her past? Did she think he would judge her? It was possible; he’d been an arrogant arse from the moment he’d quarreled with her at tea. He’d dashed her hopes and dreams with his foolish opinions. She wasn’t just some chit who wanted to be wild and play the rebel; she was Button, and he wouldn’t have said those things about women’s rights if he had known who she really was.
I shall have to find a way to coax the truth out of her by hook or by crook…or perhaps by kisses. He didn’t know whether to laugh or curse. He’d half seduced her already. The mere memory of it heated his blood anew until he recalled how she’d come here at his mother’s insistence.
“Mother,” he growled.
She had to have known all along who Ivy was and had played him like a hand of faro. Was this part of her plan to distract him from marrying Mildred? By presenting him with a delicious mystery like Ivy? Did she think him discovering her true identity would make him change his mind about proposing? Or did his mother simply want to create trouble? He could easily credit her with either scheme.
He clenched his fists, then unclenched them as he pondered his next move. He wanted Ivy. That hadn’t changed, but it was clear, now more than ever, that having her would come at a price. He could not marry Mildred and have Ivy at the same time. He would not be his father. Yet taking a half Gypsy for his wife wouldn’t stop the whispers and the gossip. That she was also a suffragette was something else he would have to deal with.
It would mean more doors slammed in his face. He would lose all his hope of connections with former friends of his father’s who might have helped him with smart investment opportunities. Leo weighed the options and consequences. He couldn’t let Ivy go. She was his childhood friend, a person who had seen him at his worst moments, someone who had always had the strength to keep his spirits up. As a child, she hadn’t been afraid of his father. Would she be afraid of society if they married? Or would she be brave enough to show him that they could live happily together despite the rumors that would spread? He knew in his heart that she was brave. He would do anything to win her love. His Button wouldn’t vanish again and leave his heart shattered. It didn’t matter how much he would lose, so long as he could have her in his life. His choice was clear.
* * *
Dressed warmly for a day of pheasant hunting, Ivy joined her father at the edge of the field. His dark eyes roved over her speculatively, missing nothing.
“You’ve been crying,” he noted softly.
She offered him a smile, aware that her eyes were likely red from her tears.
“What is it, my heart?” he asked.
My heart. He always called her that. In the last several years he had proved again and again to be a wonderful father, and she never got tired of his innate desire to protect and care for her. She glanced around, noticing the footmen who dodged about, seeing to the needs of the shooters before they left for the day. No one was close enough to hear her.
“I visited Mother’s grave this morning. It was difficult.” When he moved to her, she placed a gloved hand on his arm. “I needed to go alone.”
Her father shook his head, a sad smile curving his lips. “You are always so brave. You don’t have to be.” He curled a finger under her chin and gazed down at her. Warmth and love glimmered in his eyes.
“I want to be.” She found herself grinning as she stood up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Just like my father.”
“Miss Leighton!” Owen walked over to them, a ready smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Would you like to be my partner for the shoot?” She noticed his coat, a fine hunting coat, was a bit frayed at the ends and the sleeves a bit threadbare as he brushed some dust off his trousers. When he realized her eyes fixed on his clothes, he brushed his arms down his jacket and his smile became even more cheerful. Ivy couldn’t help but wonder if Leo knew his friend was suffering money troubles. It was the way most titled gentlemen were these days. Many were hunting desperately overseas for rich heiresses to sustain their estates. It was a relief her father’s own business was taking off and didn’t need land to sustain it the way the old estates did by relying on tenant farms.
“So, will you partner with me? I believe I’d catch more birds with a beautiful woman at my side.” Owen drew closer, his eyes sharply focused on her. Ivy didn’t miss the sudden feeling of being hunted. She shouldn’t have been surprised, though. If Owen was hungry for funds, she would undoubtedly be a woman of interest to him. Unluckily for him she had no desire to marry and therefore wouldn’t fall prey to any attempts of flattery or seduction.
Her father took a menacing step forward, like an alpha wolf, ready to defend his territory. Owen gave him the barest nod of acknowledgment before focusing hopefully on Ivy. Her lips parted, but she had no idea what she ought to say.
“She’s already assigned to me.” Leo’s voice cut through her rapid train of thought. He was suddenly there, next to her, gun ready and hanging loose in the crook of his arm. “Isn’t that right?” His eyes were full of an emotion she couldn’t read, and yet she sensed she should agree and pretend she was to be paired with him. It would keep Owen from entertaining any ideas that he might have a chance with her.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hadley, but it is the truth. He asked me to accompany him this morning at breakfast.” Guilt slithered through her for an instant, but she shoved it aside to allow eagerness to overtake her instead. Last night had left her uncertain as to how Leo felt about her, yet she regretted her harsh reaction to his offer. He had been a gentleman, a seductive one, but still a gentleman. And she did so long to spend the day with him. It might very well be her last chance. Once the house party was over, she and the countess would attend the WSPU meeting and she’d be on her way back to London, likely never to have a chance to be with Leo like this again. He would ma
rry Mildred and be busy with his estate, while she would be following Emmeline Pankhurst in the noble pursuit of suffrage.
“He must have asked you before breakfast, given that neither of you dined with us this morning.” Owen’s eyes narrowed on Leo, one brow arching up in silent challenge. The threat of retaliation was clear, only Ivy didn’t know exactly in what manner Leo’s friend would avenge himself. Men were such odd creatures, completely insensible when it came to fighting for possession of something.
Her father clapped Owen on the shoulder and dragged him back a step. “You and I will hunt together, Mr. Hadley.”
“Good,” Leo answered. “We’re all settled. I believe the gamekeepers are ready.” Leo placed a hand on the lower part of Ivy’s back, just above her bottom. Warmth spread outward from his touch, even though she couldn’t feel the heat of his hand through the thick layers of her clothes. Lord, she would miss feeling this intimacy and heat. He made her want to forget her promise to stay unwed, but she had to hold fast to her dreams lest she fail the next generation of women.
They trudged off toward the woods, the rest of the hunting party behind them. Mr. Atherton and Mr. Pevenly had teamed up, while Lord Pepperwirth had gallantly stayed behind to keep the ladies company. Of the ladies, only Ivy had chosen to brave the cold forest. It had been that or face Mildred’s glowering countenance over the rim of a teacup all morning.
No thank you. I will most certainly pass on that unpleasant event.
