THE DEFIANT LADY

by Samantha Garman

  “Ignore them,” the Countess whispered. “They will forget about it soon.”

  “Let us hope,” Ivy mumbled.

  “We should start a rumor so everyone has something else to talk about!” Willow suggested.

  “Such as?” the Countess queried.

  “How should I know?”

  “You really have not thought this plan through, have you?” Ivy said with a smile.

  Willow grinned. “Not even a little bit.”

  ***

  The Sinclair sisters chatted vivaciously with the Countess of Langley, as Emily’s hazel eyes narrowed on the stunning and elegant redhead. The young woman with entrancing green eyes laughed, and it made Emily dig her nails into her palm.

  Emily hated her.

  The garden party guests were abuzz, conversing about the duel that the Earl of Stanton had fought against Lord Caldwell. No one was completely clear on the facts, and Emily was dying to find out the entire story. Perhaps she would enlist the aid of Mathilda and Alyssa to find out the truth.

  Wanting to officially meet the woman who had managed to lure the Earl away from her, Emily approached the group of women and pasted a smile on her face, glad she had dimples that made her appear sweet and nonthreatening. She had worn a lilac gown that showed off her coloring and emphasized her youthful, curvy physique.

  “Good afternoon, My Lady,” Emily said pleasantly to the Countess, giving an effortless curtsy. She turned her attention to the redhead, abhorring the woman’s brazen hair that made her glow like a candle in darkness. Though Emily knew herself to be lovely, she could not compete with the outright beauty of Miss Sinclair.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Fitzgerald. I thought you were in Paris,” the Countess said.

  “I only just returned,” Emily explained and then turned her attention to the two women who she had yet to meet.

  “Miss Emily Fitzgerald, may I present Miss Ivy Sinclair and her sister, Miss Willow Sinclair.”

  Emily flashed what she knew was a dazzling smile and looked at the Earl’s fiancée. “How lovely to meet you both. I have been dying to make your acquaintance since you arrived. Are you enjoying your time in London?”

  The redhead opened her mouth to reply, but her sister interjected and answered for her, “London is wonderful. We have recently been to the opera, and it was a most enjoyable experience.”

  “I do love the opera. And London.” Emily’s voice cooled considerably when she said, “One can find many passing diversions in the city.”

  It was a subtle cut, but a cut nonetheless. Emily wanted to draw blood, and eviscerate the woman that society claimed the Earl loved. There were rumors of how he looked upon his fiancée; and it made Emily tremble with fury.

  The Countess smiled sweetly and said, “Miss Fitzgerald, have you read about Miss Sinclair’s engagement to the Earl of Stanton?”

  “I think I skimmed it…Engagements can be broken, you know. Congratulations. I do hope you both find some measure of happiness.” She turned and swept away.

  The rest of the afternoon, Emily fumed. She was unable to keep her attention off of Miss Ivy Sinclair. The woman was only welcomed into polite society because her grandmother was the Duchess of Cavehill. Ivy Sinclair was nothing more than the illegitimate daughter of a duke! How had she managed to snatch the Earl away from Emily, the daughter of a wealthy baron? Anger twisted in Emily’s stomach. She loathed the woman for taking the Earl from her, but she hated the Earl for his rejection and choosing a woman so clearly beneath him.

  Emily was an only child, and her parents doted on her. With the exception of the Earl, she had gotten everything she had ever wanted. With Miss Sinclair’s appearance, Emily had lost a fiancé and the potential title of a countess. It was an insult she would not forget.

  “Miss Fitzgerald! How lovely to see you!” Lady Baker said in greeting.

  “It is lovely to see you as well,” Emily replied politely.

  “We missed you at the Greek Ball, but I do know how much you love Paris. Is that a new gown?” Lady Baker spouted a series of mixed statements and questions as she linked her arm through Emily’s and began walking with her.

  “It is,” Emily said, feeling temporarily soothed and somewhat distracted. “Brand new from my recent trip.”

  “You must show the Countess of Hartford and Lady Essex. They will want one just like it.”

  Emily smiled, and feelings of happiness were restored as the compliments continued, but then she caught a glimpse of Miss Sinclair engaged in conversation with the Duchess of Cavehill and Lady Stanhope.

  Stewing in resentment, Emily glared at the woman, wishing for revenge.

  ***

  Late that night, back in the Duchess’s townhouse, Willow sat on Ivy’s bed talking about their afternoon. They were eating apple tarts snuck from the kitchen and drinking hot chocolate. The moon glowed through the window, and Ivy lit candles so they could move around without bumping into things.

  “Can you believe Miss Fitzgerald?” Willow asked as she took a sip of her chocolate.

  Ivy shook her head. “Only women of quality can give an insult without it sounding like an insult. They prefer to deliver snide comments, each like a small lash against you. One or two does not hurt, but after many, you feel the pain.” They were silent for a moment and then Ivy said, “She is pretty.”

  “She is, yes,” Willow agreed tentatively.

  “It is hard to believe Cy was ever engaged to such a woman.”

  “The engagement was barely an engagement,” Willow reminded her. “Besides, I think the Earl is quite fond of you.”

  “Hmmm,” Ivy said. “I am quite fond of him.”

  “Only fond?” Willow pressed.

  “More than fond,” Ivy allowed. “He is wonderful. Protective, charming, sincere, witty, urbane. He is everything a woman could hope for in a future husband.”

  “You are looking forward to the wedding,” Willow stated with a smile.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Has he kissed you?”

  Ivy’s face heated as she nodded.

  “You love him, do you not?”

  “I do,” Ivy admitted.

  “Mother would like him.”

  “Very much.” She paused in thought. “Do you ever think Mother resented the fact that the Duke could not marry her?”

  “She never said anything about it if she did,” Willow responded, reaching for Ivy’s uneaten tart. “She seemed content with life. She enjoyed ballet and she loved us.” Willow stared hard at her sister, whose face was a canvas of conflicting emotions. “She knew you did not mean it, Ivy.”

  Ivy’s green eyes were troubled. “At the time, I meant every word I said. I thought she was nothing more than a beggar awaiting scraps. I suppose one cannot look back and wish for things to be different. Look where we are now.”

  “It is hard to believe, is it not? I do not know what we would do if we were still in Paris.”

  Ivy sighed. “I never would have met Cy and fallen in love.”

  Willow looked at her sister. “Have you told him?”

  Ivy chuckled. “I thought I would let him fully recover from the duel before I clobber him with my declaration of feelings.”

  Willow laughed. “Timing really is everything, is it not?”

  ***

  An ornate, antique vase hit the wall with a resounding crash, shattering in a thousand pieces like a dream lost when one is startled out of a sound sleep. The young woman who threw it breathed heavily, her face flushed and her hazel eyes alight with anger.

  “Bitch!” she spat furiously.

  Footmen and maids who heard the commotion did not even raise an eyebrow at the foul language or tantrum being thrown by their young mistress. They were accustomed to her fits of rage and were compensated enormously by the girl’s parents as a means to ensure that word did not spread about her behavior. Society was under the distinct impression that she was a polite, well-bred girl, almost to the point of being bland and uninterestin
g. Underneath the façade, however, was a spoiled rich child with a high level of self-entitlement and lack of self-control.

  The door to the salon opened and a stout, matronly woman entered the room.

  “What is it, my love?” Emily’s mother, Lady Fitzgerald stood in the doorway, immune to another daily episode.

  “This!” Her daughter held up an invitation. “The Countess of Langley is throwing a ball in honor of the engagement between the Earl of Stanton and Miss Ivy Sinclair.”

  “The Countess of Langley throws lovely balls,” Lady Fitzgerald said innocently.

  Emily’s color deepened as her fury raged. “I know. It should have been me!”

  Her mother blinked owlishly. “What should have been you, dear?”

  Emily gritted out, “The ball should have been in my honor! The Earl of Stanton should have a fought a duel on my behalf!” Emily had finally learned the story in its entirety through Mathilda, who had heard it from an impeccable source.

  Lady Fitzgerald did not reply to the statement, choosing instead to ask, “Am I to assume you will not be attending?”

  Emily glared at her mother. “Of course I am going.” She smiled malevolently. “And I intend to make it the most interesting event of the Season.”

  ***

  Ivy was reading in the corner of the Cavehill library, enjoying her solitude while Willow and their grandmother were out shopping. It seemed like such a long time since Ivy had any spare time to read for pleasure and relax in the confines of a comfortable room. At the moment, there were no demands on her time, and she was enjoying every minute of her freedom.

  The Count and Countess of Langley’s Ball to celebrate Ivy’s engagement to Cy was that evening, and Ivy was looking forward to dancing the night away with her fiancé. His wound was healed, and she wanted him to hold her tight, whirl her around the room, and kiss her until she was senseless. Her blood heated at her dangerous thoughts.

  “Miss Ivy,” Benson said. He unintentionally startled her from thoughts of Cy, but then announced, “The Earl of Stanton is here.”

  Stomach fluttering, Ivy closed her book, not at all surprised Cy was paying her a visit. It had become customary for him to call in the early afternoon, and then come again at night to escort her and her family out for the evening’s festivities.

  “Hello,” she said with a smile as Cy walked into the library.

  “Good afternoon. Your yellow gown is as sunny as your disposition.”

  “Thank you,” she replied breathlessly due to Cy’s appreciative gaze. “I am happy to see you.”

  He looked pleased by her pronouncement. “You are?”

  Her cheeks flushed and she nodded. “I also think you look quite handsome in your brown jacket.”

  “Stop,” he said with a teasing smile. “Your compliments are going to my head.”

  “What if I admit that I want you to take me into your arms and greet me with a kiss?”

  He shook his head even as he stalked towards her. “You are sinful.” He leaned down and gently brushed his lips against hers. When he pulled back, she was frowning.

  “Much too short, My Lord.”

  Laughing, he said, “You are distracting me from my real purpose in coming here. I have a present for you.”

  Ivy protested lamely, “You have given me so many gifts already.”

  “This should have been given to you the moment we became engaged.”

  He pulled out a small, black leather jewelry box and handed it to her. She opened it, revealing a beautiful solitaire diamond with small diamonds encircling a gold band.

  “I had it commissioned in France. That is why it took so long to get here,” Cy explained when Ivy failed to react.

  Slowly, she raised her eyes to his. They were shining with tears. “It is so beautiful,” she whispered.

  He took the ring and gently slid it on her finger. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips.

  When they parted, he grinned and said, “If you cry at receiving your betrothal ring, I shudder to think how you will react when I give you the jewels that belonged to my great-grandmother.”

  She smiled with tears still in her eyes and asked playfully, “Are they worth crying over?”

  “Bawl worthy,” he corrected.

  She laughed, wiped a tear from her face with her hand and then stared at the ring again. “It really is quite stunning.”

  “Not as stunning as you,” he responded, as he peered into her eyes.

  Her cheeks flamed under his intense gaze. Their tender moment dissolved as they heard voices in the hallway. Ivy watched footmen carrying dress boxes past the open door and up the stairs.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” Cy said to the Duchess and Willow who came into the library. “Productive outing?”

  Willow grinned. “Very.”

  “Glad to hear it. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some things to see to before the ball tonight. I will come at seven to escort you to the Langleys’.”

  When he left, the Duchess asked, “Did you two have a nice visit?”

  Ivy nodded and held out her hand to display her ring. “He came to give me this.”

  Willow gasped in awe, and the Duchess peered at Ivy’s engagement ring and nodded as she said, “Exquisite.”

  “It will go perfectly with the dress you are going to wear to the Langleys’ Ball,” Willow said.

  “I imagine it will go well with every dress you own,” the Duchess remarked with a laugh.

  Ivy’s grin stretched from ear to ear. It was going to be a wonderful night.

  ***

  Cy walked into White’s, planning to meet the Count of Langley and his cousin, Lieutenant Beaufort, for a few hours before the ball. He saw two other likable men in his circle and said, “Good afternoon, Hargrove, Essex. Would you care to join Langley, Beaufort and me for a few rounds of cards?”

  Essex fingered his cravat and said, “So sorry old boy, but I am afraid we were about to leave.” They got up quickly and scampered out the door.

  Cy’s brow furrowed in confusion. News of the duel had finally died down, and Cy wondered what could have caused the two men to run away from him like he had an incurable, catching disease.

  He found Langley and Beaufort in the corner enjoying a quiet afternoon brandy. “I just tried to invite Essex and Hargrove over for a few hands of cards, and they could not leave my company fast enough.”

  Langley and Beaufort exchanged a look.

  “Is there something I should know?”

  Langley sighed and said, “May I speak frankly in front of Beaufort?”

  “Of course.”

  “Word got out about your father’s debt.”

  Cy cursed.

  Beaufort cleared his throat. “It seems people think you are living entirely on credit, and that you do not have any means to pay off his debt.”

  “That was never true. I could have liquidated everything I own to pay the debt, but then been left with nothing,” Cy explained. “When I became engaged to Ivy, the debt was forgiven.”

  Beaufort leaned back in his chair and thought a moment. “And now there is no refuting the rumor without telling the world the intimate details of your situation?”

  Cy grimaced. “Not without Ivy finding out that I originally planned to marry her to rid myself of a long-standing family debt. It would destroy our relationship, not to mention Ivy’s fledgling relationship with her grandmother.”

  “Who could have known about the debt aside from the Duchess of Cavehill and Langley? Did Fitzgerald know?” Beaufort asked.

  Cy nodded. “We had discussed the situation in great detail. He knew I was no spendthrift. I was going to use his daughter’s dowry to pay the debt. My business investments are turning a profit. It would only be a matter of time before my former wealth was restored.”

  “Do you think it was Fitzgerald himself that told?” Langley queried.

  Cy shook his head. “Fitzgerald assured me of his discretion, and when I told him about the Duch
ess’s offer, he agreed it would be best to dissolve the engagement with his daughter.”

  “Do you think he explained to Miss Fitzgerald why the engagement was called off?” Beaufort inquired.

  “I do not think so, since it was none of her concern. Honestly, I did not think she cared one way or the other. She never showed me any partiality.”

  “Maybe the chit really wanted to marry you,” Langley offered.

  “Perhaps, but I still do not think Fitzgerald would be so careless as to entrust information about my personal finances with his young, title-chasing daughter,” Cy said. “And you are correct. I never felt that she cared one way or another about me, but it is possible I was mistaken. It is also possible she was upset about not becoming a countess.”

  “Absolutely,” Beaufort remarked cynically.

  Cy knew Beaufort had become a bit jaded due to women fawning over him for his potential title. His grandfather was still trying to make him his legal heir, but Beaufort refused to live a life of hypocrisy. He did not want to marry a woman who wanted nothing more than the prestige of what his title would bring her.

  “I still think it started with Fitzgerald. If not him, then possibly his daughter,” Langley said.

  Cy thought for a moment. “I suppose it is possible, but I really doubt it.”

  “We must find out,” Beaufort said.

  “Yes,” Cy agreed. “Ivy cannot know about this.”

  “You love her, do you not?” Langley asked.

  “Yes, I love her,” he replied simply.

  Beaufort quirked an eyebrow. “Did you tell her?”

  Cy threw his friend a look and replied, “One problem at a time, my friends.”

  Chapter XIV

  London, England, July of 1815

  Cy’s eyes scanned the ballroom, his mind barely registering the splendor of the decorations. Long tables set with food and drink and the whirling couples dancing to a waltz did not distract him from his cause. He was looking for the Duchess in hopes that he might have a few minutes alone to inform her of the situation that had arisen.