"Arundel," he said, focusing his unblinking interest on Valerie. "I've often considered lecturing in Arundel. Are there any appropriate lecture houses there?"
Lucy's relief that he was not offended swiftly deteriorated into another sort of dismay when Valerie proceeded to monopolize the conversation with Sir James. No, that was not an entirely accurate assessment of the situation. Sir James actually did most of the talking. Valerie only supplied brief responses as needed, as well as many admiring glances at the scholarly fellow. And he sent as many admiring looks back at the lovely young girl.
Lucy had never before experienced the unpleasant emotion of jealousy. But she experienced it now. In spades.
"Will you discuss your theory on discipline during one of the coming lectures?" Lucy inserted when Sir James paused to take a breath.
"That is the subject of my third lecture in the series," he answered, finally looking over at her. Then he turned back to Valerie. "Will you be in attendance, Miss Stanwich?"
"Lady Valerie," Lucy muttered. She was immediately ashamed of her petty response. Sir James, however, appeared not to have even heard her. Neither did Valerie as she answered him in the affirmative.
At once Lucy's jealousy was joined by alarm. Surely Valerie was not forming an attachment to Sir James Mawbey. Surely he was not smitten with a girl of such limited intellectual interests.
Surely, Lucy prayed, surely she was mistaken!
"Appears to be a match made in heaven."
Lucy flinched at the words—at the voice. So unmistakable. So mocking. What was Ivan Thornton doing here?
She turned her head, just enough to see him standing right behind her. "Go away," she muttered.
"What? And allow you to circumvent my grandmother's plans by pairing my esteemed cousin with a radical scholar? I'm afraid I would be doing my family a grave disservice should I abandon her now. Don't you?"
Lucy turned fully to face him. He was teasing her, of course. If she doubted it, the gleam of humor in his dark eyes gave it away. She suspected he would find it uproariously funny should the eminently marriageable Valerie make a match with so unsuitable a fellow as Sir James. Though Lucy was aware of the conversation continuing behind her, Ivan was now the focus of her attention. "What are you doing here?" she hissed. "Are you following us?"
"I'm following you, Miss Drysdale. Just you."
Lucy's heart lurched, then lodged stubbornly in her throat where it proceeded to pound with painful force. "Me?" she squeaked, then immediately gritted her teeth. She sounded like a fourteen-year-old in the grips of her first crush.
She cleared her throat. "You have no business following me."
He arched one brow in a maddening display of male arrogance. "I'm an earl. I can do anything I bloody well please."
"Including curse in polite company?" she snapped, regaining her senses at last.
"That's my poor upbringing again."
Lucy sent him what she hoped was a withering glare. "That's no excuse. Now, if you don't mind?"
She turned away from him, determined to break up the conversation between Valerie and Sir James. But she was excruciatingly aware of Ivan's presence behind her. Then he whispered in her ear. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"
Not if she could help it.
Unfortunately Valerie noticed Ivan just then and the choice was no longer Lucy's to make.
"Why, Lord Westcott," the girl exclaimed, no trace of her previous nervousness apparent. "Have you attended Sir James's lecture as well?"
"I regret I arrived a little late and did not hear all of Sir James's comments on the negative effect of primogeniture." He extended a hand to the silent scholar. "Ivan Thornton. Lady Valerie's cousin."
Sir James returned the greeting. Then he added, "Lord Westcott? You are the Earl of Westcott?"
"The same."
"A first son, I take it," he said, a hint of disapproval in his voice.
"An only son, and an unacknowledged one at that," Ivan retorted in a tone Lucy feared was deceptively pleasant.
The two men took one another's measure for a long, chilly moment. Then Sir James nodded. "Yes, of course. Of course. I wonder, would you and Lady Valerie and Miss Dinsdale—"
"It's Drysdale," Lucy corrected him.
"My pardon," he absently replied. "Would the three of you join me for supper? I never eat before I lecture. Now I find myself famished," he added, shifting his gaze back to Valerie.
"Thank you, Sir James. But I'm afraid that will not be possible," Lucy replied before either of the others could. "We are expected at Westcott House," she added, when Valerie turned a pleading gaze on her. "Lady Antonia would be quite put out should we be late."
If Valerie appeared crestfallen, Sir James seemed doubly so. "Perhaps on Thursday, then. You will be at my Thursday lecture, won't you, Lady Valerie?"
"I'll see to it personally," Ivan answered for her. "Meanwhile, we'd best be on our way."
Without warning he tucked Lucy's hand under his arm. "I'll see the ladies home, Mawbey. See you on Thursday."
"Very good, Lord Westcott. Ladies." He bowed to Lucy first, then to Valerie. When Valerie extended her hand, an infatuated expression on her young face, Sir James took it and pressed a fervent kiss to her fingers.
Lucy could only stare at the scene being played out before her, her emotions in a shambles. He was supposed to be captivated by her, not by Valerie. He was supposed to be impressed by her knowledge of his work, by her empathy with his ideas. He was supposed to invite her to dinner so they could continue their conversation.
He was most certainly not supposed to become infatuated by a girl fresh from the schoolroom, one without an original thought in her head.
"Don't they make a lovely couple?" Ivan whispered.
Lucy would have roundly denied it except that his breath tickled her ear, and her heart made another lurch.
No, no, no! She was not supposed to respond this way to Ivan Thornton. It was Sir James she was interested in.
But it appeared Sir James was not interested in a spinsterish bluestocking. Like every other living man in England, he was interested in a fresh-faced innocent with a title and an inheritance to go with it.
Stifling a very unladylike oath, she disengaged her hand from Ivan's hold, then took firm grasp of Valerie's arm. "Good evening, Sir James." Then without allowing Valerie room to protest, she practically hauled her out of the lecture hall.
As they exited into the gaslit street, Valerie was silent, caught up in her thoughts. Ivan, however, was not. "How fortunate I am to happen upon you two lovely ladies tonight."
"Happen upon?" Lucy snapped. Though she knew he was not the source of her anger and disappointment, he was an awfully convenient focus for it. Besides, he'd followed them. Her, that is. She felt a silly thrill run though her but brutally suppressed it. Her emotions were too raw right now to be trusted. "If you wanted to accompany us, you could simply have asked to do so."
"And you would happily have agreed, right, Lucy?"
"Don't call me that!" she hissed. When Valerie looked up at her short tone, Lucy had to force herself to calm down. "If you wish to make yourself useful, my lord, you will hail our carriage."
"By all means," he said, giving her a wink. A wink, blast the man!
But at least he did as she asked. In the few moments she and Valerie waited on the front landing of the lecture hall, Lucy contemplated how best to deal with Valerie's new infatuation. She wanted to tell the girl in no uncertain terms to stay away from Sir James. That he was not the right man for her and that, furthermore, her family would never allow her to marry a poor scholar.
But that would probably only serve to entrench Valerie's fledgling feelings more firmly. No, Lucy decided. It would be better to treat Valerie's quick infatuation for the intense young scholar as exactly that: an infatuation. A passing fancy. Men had them all the time. There was no reason why a woman couldn't.
Just to be sure, though, Lucy would have to keep the girl far
away from Fatuielle Hall on Thursday, and every other night of Sir James's lecture series.
As if she divined the direction of Lucy's thoughts, Valerie sighed. "I can hardly wait until Thursday night."
"I'm not sure we'll be able to attend every one of the lectures," Lucy cautioned, adopting a calmer tone. "We'll have to see what Lady Westcott has planned for you."
"Oh, but you must convince her," Valerie pleaded.
Whatever else she said Lucy did not hear, for the carriage pulled up, and to her vast dismay, Ivan had hitched his handsome steed to the back. Did he mean to ride home with them?
Despite the evening cool, Lucy felt a bead of perspiration trickle down between her breasts.
She could not deal with him tonight. She simply could not! Her feelings were too unsettled. First her disappointment over Sir James. Then her worry about Valerie's attachment to the man. Added to that was the perverse reaction she had to Ivan's presence. She detested him and yet he managed to arouse the most primitive feelings inside her.
And now he seemed set on promoting Valerie and Sir James as the ideal couple. Like a homing pigeon Ivan Thornton had the uncanny ability to pinpoint the areas of her greatest vulnerability. Without a doubt the possibility of Valerie capturing Sir James's affections was precisely that.
But whether or not Lucy could deal with Ivan, it was clear that Ivan meant to share the carriage with them.
He helped Valerie in first and the girl gave him a rather absent smile. She was no longer intimidated by him, it seemed. That was because he'd turned the force of his iron will away from her and onto Lucy instead. But why? Did he think to thwart his grandmother by paying more attention to the chaperone than to his pretty young cousin?
Oh, but she was so weary of both the grandmother's and the grandson's endless plotting!
Lucy was already frowning when she approached the carriage doors; the frown turned into a downright scowl when Ivan caught her lightly around the wrist.
"You look displeased with this evening's turn of events. I hope you did not find Sir James's lecture disappointing."
"Quite the opposite," she stated, raising her chin to a belligerent angle. "I was fascinated by his denigration of our national preoccupation with class differences."
"You are a part of the very system he vilifies."
"As are you."
"Only by default."
"That can be said of anyone who inherits a title, or estate, or even a decent amount of money. Everyone who inherits does so only because no one else has as strong a claim."
"Yes. But you refer to people who fight and claw to claim what they see as their rightful inheritance. My situation could not be more different."
"But the outcome is the same, isn't it? I must say, my lord, that you wear the mantle of your office as well as anyone I've ever seen."
He raised his brows at that. "What is this? A compliment? I can scarcely believe my ears."
"It's only a compliment if you consider arrogance a virtue," she replied, hiding her confused feelings for him behind a mask of irritation. "If you'll excuse me, Lord Westcott?" She turned to mount the carriage step.
But he would not release her wrist, and when she tried to yank it free, his fingers manacled her all the tighter. "It's Ivan," he reminded her in a low, husky tone.
He bent to kiss her hand before allowing her to enter the vehicle. Only it was not her gloved knuckles he kissed. Somehow he found the exposed skin of her wrist, where her sleeve and the stylishly short glove did not quite over lap. He kissed the tender skin where her pulse raced so alarmingly. He kissed her with both lips and tongue—as he'd kissed her mouth in the McClendons' library.
At once bubbles of effervescent emotion surged through Lucy, zinging out from that tiny location on her wrist to every other portion of her body. She nearly swooned from the impact of it.
Any thoughts of Sir James flew right out of her head, usurped by a total awareness of Ivan. Only Ivan. The feel of his lips; the warmth of his touch. The scent of soap and tobacco and some other unidentifiable something that was uniquely him.
She was falling under his spell, even though she knew all the reasons why she should not. He was all good looks and insincere charm. Yet even knowing that, she was succumbing to him like some green country miss newly introduced in town.
"Please. Don't," she whispered, unaware she'd spoken.
When he raised his head and stared at her, she knew her feelings were transparent. Unwisely so. But she could no more tear her eyes away from his than she could remove her hand from his grasp.
It took Valerie to break the unbearable moment. "Miss Drysdale? Aren't we returning home?"
This time when Lucy pulled away he let her go. Furious with herself, she climbed into the carriage, avoiding his proffered hand. She perched stiffly beside Valerie.
Blast it all. Why did she always have this perverse reaction to him?
Ivan came in right behind her, pulled the door closed, and settled himself opposite the two women. With a sharp rap on the front panel he signaled the driver to start up and at once the carriage lurched forward. Then Ivan stretched his arm across the seat back and studied both women through the inky darkness of the carriage interior.
The small lantern had not been lit, and Lucy thanked her lucky stars. She did not want him reading anything further into her expression, neither the anger nor the creeping terror. She'd forgotten, however, the effect of his low, silky voice in the dark.
"I take it you both enjoyed the lecture."
"Oh, very much so!" Valerie exclaimed. "Wasn't Sir James simply marvelous? He was ever so enlightening. I'd never before considered why my brother Claude has always criticized Harry so. But Sir James made it perfectly clear. Wasn't he simply marvelous?" she repeated.
Ivan chuckled. Lucy heard the amusement in his voice. "And what of you, Miss Drysdale? Did you also find him marvelous?"
"I did," she answered in a cool tone. "And you?"
"Quite interesting. More so than I expected. I believe I understand now why you were so adamant about attending his lecture." He paused, just long enough to make Lucy question the meaning in his words.
"What I cannot understand," he continued, "is why you brought Lady Valerie along. Sir James's incendiary ideas will not help her make a good match."
"Making a good match is not everything," Lucy retorted. But inside her heart was sinking. He knew. He'd deduced her interest in Sir James and witnessed her awful jealousy of naive Valerie. She wanted to die!
But she could not allow him to get the upper hand. So she went on. "Making a match is not everything. I, myself, am far more content in my solitary state than I would be were I trapped in an unhappy marriage."
"As am I," he said. "Take heed, Lady Valerie. Marriage is not an admirable goal."
"That's not what I said," Lucy snapped. She clutched the window post as the carriage made a left turn. "For some people marriage is the right choice, for others it is not. In any event, you are hardly the one to be advising her on such matters."
"Nor are you, it would seem. Not if you are as content in your current state as you profess to be."
Ivan knew he was irritating Lucy. She had a sharp tongue and a ready temper that took little enough goading. Why he should take such pleasure in goading that temper was a mystery to him. But take pleasure in it he did.
"Be honest, Miss Drysdale. Sir James was not at all what you expected, was he?"
He heard the sharp intake of her breath and it confirmed what he already knew. She had deeper feelings for the gaunt Sir James than she let on. The man's immediate interest in Lady Valerie had caught his hot-blooded little bluestocking entirely by surprise, and she was having a hard time dealing with her jealousy.
Ivan had to stifle a laugh. Any man who would select a silly twit, no matter how lovely, over a woman as smart and stimulating as Lucy Drysdale had dust for brains.
"Sir James was every bit as enlightening as I anticipated," Lucy vowed in a voice he could on
ly describe as pinched.
Was he now? Ivan turned to Valerie, who had been silent the whole time. Probably thinking of Sir James. "He certainly seemed smitten with you, Lady Valerie."
The girl started to giggle, then abruptly stopped when Lucy laid a stern hand on her arm.
"I'll thank you not to tease her," Lucy said in the censorious tones of a chaperone hard at work. "Sir James was polite, but I'm certain he knows, as does Valerie, that she and he move in vastly different circles."
"So they do. So they do," Ivan agreed. But not for long, he decided. Sir James Mawbey was sadly in need of a little excitement in his life, and Ivan was just the man to provide it.
* * *
Chapter Eleven Lucy did not sleep well. She kept waking, thinking she heard a knock at the door.
Ivan?
But no one was there, and as she struggled with sleep, restless despite the comfort of the luxurious bed, her stubborn thoughts refused to focus on anything but him.
He was not at her door—and she was mighty glad of it, she told herself. But was she? In the quiet of the night her mind wrestled with a new sort of demon. A part of her had been thrilled when Ivan whispered to her through the door—right into her ear, it had seemed at the time. She'd become dizzy and filled with violent and frightening emotions when he'd kissed her at the McClendons' party.
Now even his lips upon her wrist made her faint with the most improper sort of desire.
What on earth was she going to do? Nothing was work ing out as she'd intended. Even Sir James, whom she'd so longed to meet, was a disappointment. Though she'd enjoyed his lecture well enough, his unexpected attention to Valerie had taken Lucy aback. And he was too pompous by half.
In all honesty, however, she knew that her disappointment over Sir James was not the primary source of her discontent. Ivan Thornton held solitary claim to that honor.
Feeling too warm for comfort, she kicked the covers down then rolled over, punching her pillow, trying to find a position that would allow her to relax.
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