by Alexia Praks
There was a rhythm of three knocks at the door. It must be Donald, he thought, and called out, “Enter.”
The door opened and there standing before him was an angel indeed.
She took his breath away as she stood there, bathed in the golden morning light. Her raven hair was braided loosely and rested over her right shoulder. Her face flushed rosy and her violet eyes were bright. That, however, was not the reason why he had forgotten how to breathe. It was the fact that she was smiling at him. It was a very beautiful smile that would have brightened any dark, stormy day in winter.
She came toward him with a small plate in her hands. Once she was near his desk, her smile broadened. When he stared at her for quite a while, she got a bit nervous and licked her lips.
Max stared at those glistening red lips and had the sudden urge to kiss them.
Hesitantly, she placed the plate on his desk. He shifted his eyes to look at the plate and saw a piece of cake with white icing on the top, shaped in such a way that it looked like a flower with little nuts sprinkled about everywhere on the top.
“’Tis for you, your grace,” she said. “I do hope you will like it.” She blushed when he just stare at her. “I...I just want to thank you for not sacking them,” she told him quietly, gave him another smile and rushed out the door.
He looked at the cake, frowning and wondering why she looked so please with herself. He cut a bit of the cake with the small spoon and popped it into his mouth. He tasted carrot, icing sugar and almond. It was delicious. He closed his eyes as he savored the beautiful taste.
In his mind’s eye, he saw her smiling up at him, offering him the cake—and her with it. She was naked.
He snapped his eyes opened. Curse her for disrupting and taunting him with her damn beauty. Tonight, he thought, with his hands fisted.
CHAPTER 16
It had been four days since that night she had went into the duke’s bedroom and she…
Ivy shook her head. No, no, she must really stop thinking about that. She must stop thinking about the duke and way he had made love to her. Suddenly, she cheeks redden at just the mere thought of Max kissing her.
Then she thought about that day when she had given him the carrots cake that she had made for the first time. She hoped he like the cake. It was a simple thank you to him for not sacking the servants even though she had scarified herself for the bargain. He was, after all, a man with power. He could have taken her and still sacked the servants.
“M’ lady?”
Ivy looked up at the maid standing there at the door, all smiling. “What is it?” she asked.
“Lord and Lady Mornington are here, m’ lady.” The maid kept bobbing her head up and down. “Lady Hartland is here, too.”
“Oh no,” Ivy gasped, worried that the duke would get angry with her for not telling him of their intended visitation. She had certainly forgotten about them. She put the novel of Sense and Sensibility down and rushed out the library toward her own bedroom.
“They are in the drawing room, m’ lady.” The maid hurried after her.
“Oh no, I just wanted to tidy myself up, that’s all,” she said as she quickly limped across the corridor to her own room. “Now, where is that brush,” she said as she searched about the table containing her few possessions.
“M’ lady, you look fetching as you are already,” the maid said.
“Meg?”
“Aye?” the maid said brightly because her lady remembered her name.
“The duke, he...” She turned to look at the maid, her heart started to hammer in her chest with the mere thought of him.
“Aye, m’ lady?” The maid raised her brows when Ivy did not continue with her sentence.
“The duke, he...he is not here, is here?” she asked, knowing very well that he was still in this castle the last time she saw him and that was only a mere three hours ago at lunch.
“The duke is with the guests right at this very moment, m’ lady,” the maid replied.
“Oh!” Her heart felt as though it had dropped into her shoes. She was hoping to avoid him today as she had done for the previous four days except for when she couldn’t like at lunch and dinner in which they had their meal in quietness.
“You must hurry, m’ lady, they are waiting for you,” the maid said, breaking into her thought.
“Oh, yes.” She nodded and hobbled out of the room. She limped down the grand stair as she tugged in her hair, but the strands simply disobeyed her and fell back into its preferred place about her face. As she walked toward the door, a footman opened it for her and announced her presence.
“My dear, there you are.” Lady Hart stood up and walked to her. “How is your foot, dear? Now, don’t you rush about, it probably hurt very much,” she warned and then hugged Ivy.
“Hello, Lady Hart,” Ivy said breathlessly. She darted her eyes around the room and saw the duke standing by the hearth. He was looking at her.
“Ah, this must be Ivy Michaels.” Lady Mornington came around to where Ivy was standing.
“Good afternoon, my lady,” Ivy said politely and curtsied.
Lady Mornington looked at her and nodded with approval. “Very well done, my dear,” she said, turning her eyes to the duke. “Your cousin, your grace, is indeed a beauty. When, might I ask, will you present her to the ton. She will be snatched up in no time at all I tell you, with a face like that.”
“The ton?” Ivy said, at a lost as to what they all were talking about.
“Ah, the ton indeed.” Max turned his sharp eyes to Ivy.
Ivy turned, and incidentally, her gaze collided with his. She glanced away when she saw his eyes pierced into hers. He looked as though he wanted to kill her, right in front of the guests.
“The ton,” he repeated, came to stand beside her, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. To the guests it looked as though a big brother had just wrapped his arm around his fondly little sister. But to Ivy she felt threatened.
“What do you think, Ivy? Do you want to attend the season? Go to endless balls and dinner parties?” he asked her, his voice gentle and soft.
Ivy knew those words held a deeper meaning. She tried not to look at him, but his stare seem to have a power of its own, commanding her to look back at him. She bit her trembling lip and said quietly to the general audience, “I don’t think I want to attend the season just yet.”
“But, my dear, you do not want to be a spinster now, do you? How old are you?” Lady Mornington asked in outrage.
“Err...”
“Now don’t be shy, dear,” the earl of Mornington said from the sofa, “I’m sure you’re not so young that you can’t attend the season as such. It’s very gay I tell you, you wouldn’t want to miss it for the world,” he said for the effect that he knew his wife would want though he himself found such things a waste of time.
“I err...” Ivy lowered her eyes. She didn’t know what to say because all that she was aware of was the duke’s hand still wrapped around her shoulders. It burnt hot into her being at the spot.
“Aye, dear, that’s how I met my husband,” Lady Hart said, smiling and thinking of her happy past, “during the season.”
Was that how young woman meet their potential husband? Ivy wondered and felt a lost so deep that she wanted to cry out in anguish. Her mother would never allow her to attend the season and nor would the duke.
“Do you love your husband?” she whispered to the woman.
Lady Hart smiled sadly, and in her eyes, Ivy could see the sad love there. “Aye, I loved him, my dear, but he is dead now, two years ago after my son was...and he couldn’t...”
“I’m sorry.”
“Lady Hart is trying to forget, my dear,” Lady Mornington said, nodding her head, “she’s not giving up.”
Ivy shifted her body slightly, causing Max’s hand to slide from her shoulder. He gave her a quick glance and moved his hand back to the same spot. She wanted to shove him away but she couldn’t, could she? Not in front of the
guests.
“Is that how young lady meet their husband?” she asked naively because she could think of nothing else to say.
Lady Hartland and Lady Mornington looked at each other.
“Why yes, dear,” Lady Hart said, and she turned to Max. “Your grace, are you telling me that Ivy does not know the way of a young lady in society?”
Max squeezed Ivy’s arm tighter.
Ivy bit her lip to suppress the pain and said, “I’ve been living very quietly all my life. I do not know much about the society’s way of life.”
“Dear, this is not at all the thing, your grace,” Lady Mornington said. “How old are you, my dear?”
“Eighteen, my lady,” Ivy replied promptly.
“My, just the right age,” Lady Mornington said, looking at her friend knowingly.
“Aye.” Max looked at Ivy.
She stared up at him. Their eyes locked.
“You are all grown up now, a woman,” he said softly with a hint of meaning.
Ivy caught her breath at the back of her throat. She closed her eyes for a second and turned to look at the pianoforte, avoiding his gaze. She tried not to think about that night, but the images kept appearing in her mind. She kept seeing him kissing her naked skin, kissing her breasts, taking her, and making her cry out into the night. She blushed.
Max laughed aloud when he saw her blushing.
“Good Lord, what is so funny, your grace? ‘Tis no jest at all that Ivy does not know the way of society. She must learn in haste if she wants to attend the season next month,” Lady Mornington said, frowning at Max. “She, of course, needs a chaperone, and you are not suitable, your grace. Ivy needs a woman’s touch.”
“I’m sure Ivy’s mother would do just fine,” Lady Hart said. “Is she here at all? I would really love to meet her.”
“Nay, Lady Hart, she is not here,” Max replied.
“Good heaven, and how do you suppose this would sound if anyone knows?” Lady Mornington said. “’Tis not at all all right, your grace, Ivy needs a chaperone.”
“Ah,” max said, rising his blonde brows and looked at Ivy, “but she is my cousin. My very beloved cousin, she does not need a chaperone,” he said, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at her. His words carried a wealth of meaning.
“Dear me, Ivy, why don’t you sit down? Your leg, I believe, is still sore?” Lady Hart looked at her. “And, err, the hot water, I’m afraid, is getting rather cold,” she added as she looked at the beautifully decorated, large Wedgwood urn sitting on the table.
“Yes,” Ivy said and quickly limped toward the empty seat next to Lady Mornington, leaving Max to stand there watching her with amusement. She avoided looking at him knowing very well that he still had his gaze on her.
“Why don’t you make tea, dear?” Lord Mornington said.
Ivy looked at the earl in surprised. “Me?” she asked in astonishment.
“What do you mean? You are the lady of the house, are you not, my dear?” Lady Mornington added.
“I, err...” Ivy lowered her eyes.
“Make the tea, Ivy, the water is getting cold,” Max said his eyes softened toward her.
She looked up at him and nodded. She brought the urn over and poured some water into the delicately designed Wedgwood teapot.
“Why don’t you try some cake, my lord?” she suggested to the earl.
“Don’t mind if I do.” He chuckled and grabbed for one. “Hmm, this cake is very delicious,” he said, taking another bit.
“Oh, I’m glad you like it,” Ivy said, smiling at the earl as she handed Lady Mornington and Lady Hart their tea.
“It’s very delicious. I must tell Mrs. King to prey the recipe from your cook, your grace.” The earl laughed loudly.
“Now dear,” his wife slapped his arm, “don’t you be greedy, leave some for Catherine.”
“Aye, I know, dear, it’s just hard not to be greedy,” he said, picked another piece from the plate, and he handed it to Lady Hart.
“Why thank you, Will,” Lady Hart said, taking the offered cake. She took a bite and savored the softness. “Hmm...”
“See Cath likes the cake too,” the earl said, nodding his head.
“Err, about the season, your grace,” Lady Mornington insisted. “I do truly believe that Ivy should attend as soon as possible. Next month perhaps? If Ivy does not have a chaperone then I’m glad to be one, and I’m sure Catherine would be glade too. Isn’t that right, Cath? I mean we are neighbors and have known each for ages,” she said, nodding her head.
“Oh, indeed, what do you say, Ivy?” Lady Hartland turned to the young woman beside her.
“Well, err...” Ivy was lost for words as she stared at her hand resting on her lap.
“There is plenty of time yet,” Max said, “Lord Mornington, about this American business you were telling me the other day.”
“Men, they always have to talk business,” Lady Mornington muttered, shaking her head, and she in turn took Ivy to one side and told her all about the season with its gay atmosphere and lovely food. She also told Ivy of the various balls and parties she had gone to in the past years or so, and insisted certain important people Ivy must meet such as the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, Spencer Perceval the Prime Minister, and the Prince Regent, in which the woman assured her that she would be introduced to at court. It was a full hour later that the guests were ready to depart.
“Now, Ivy, don’t walk too much, won’t you? Your ankle is still tender,” Lady Hart warned as they walked out the door.
“That’s right, my dear. You must look after yourself. That ankle needs to heal before the season starts. You couldn’t possibly dance with a sore ankle, you know,” Lady Mornington added.
“I won’t,” Ivy replied, “have a safe journey.”
“Indeed,” Lady Hart turned toward the carriage, “Mr. Oliver came up to Mornington Hall yesterday, Mary was ill and there was simply no doctor around the town you see. He was asking about you. Now next time I see him, I will tell him that you are fine.” She smiled.
“Thank you, Lady Hart, give him my regard, won’t you?” Ivy smile, when suddenly, she felt the duke’s hand on her arm. He squeezed her none too gently. She tried not to take notice of his imposing presence beside her.
“Have a safe journey,” Max said to Lady Hart.
“Yes, thank you, your grace,” the woman replied.
“Why, your grace, do you expect guests?” the earl said from behind as he stared into the distance.
Max turned to look at the courtyard. There were three carriages approaching the castle. He released Ivy’s arm and made his way toward the slowing coaches.
Ivy saw him smile. It was a genuine smile, and it was the very first time she had seen him did so.
First Ivy saw a very handsome man with dark hair came out. When he stood, he was as tall as the duke himself and was as muscular though their appearances in comparison were very different indeed. One looked as dark as the devil, and the other, as she shifted her eyes to the Duke of Lynwood, was as golden as an angel. When she shifted her eyes back to the dark hair man, she saw a woman standing beside him.
My God! The woman was enchanting indeed with her chestnut hair and petal white skin. Who were they? She wondered.
Then she saw them walking toward her. Suddenly, she felt as though she was in the wrong place with these important, grand people and stepped back to hide behind Lady Hart.
A woman dressed in dark grey dress came out last with a baby in her arms. Donald and Mrs. Price came out of the castle at that moment, followed by various footmen and maids who marched like armies to the carriage and started to untie ropes and unload the bags. Ivy glanced to the other carriage and saw two maids coming out, and they, too, helped the others to unload the bags.
“Do take him inside, Pat,” Christine said as she gently caressed the baby’s cheek.
The nurse nodded, and Mrs. Price led her into the castle.
“My Goodness, my lady,” Lady Morni
ngton said as she stared at the new comers.
“Ah, Lady Mornington, how are you?” Christine greeted.
“I’m doing very well, my lady. I haven’t seen you for quite sometime. How are you? Yes, you look fine. Ah, let me introduce you to my dear friend, Lady Hartland.” Lady Mornington turned to her friend. “Cath, this is the Count and Countess of Huntingdon.”
“Very nice to meet you,” Lady Hart said, nodding at the count and turned to take the countess’s hand.
“Very nice to meet you, too,” Christine replied, “and err...?” She looked behind Lady Hart to Ivy who was biting her lip shyly and stepping even further away from everyone else.
“Oh, Ivy, do come forward, this is Ivy Michaels, the duke’s cousin,” Lady Hart said.
“Cousin?” Christine turned to look at her husband and then glance at Max. “You did not tell me you have a cousin, your grace. How marvelous. Just look at her, she isn’t at all much younger than me. Do come here.” She reached for Ivy’s hands and pulled her forward. “Why, just look at you, what a beauty.”
“We must depart now, your grace,” Lord Mornington said to Max. “The weather doesn’t look like it’s going to hold. There’s a storm coming. Don’t want to be stuck in the rain. Dangerous these roads,” he muttered.
“Do have a safe journey home,” Max replied.
“Won’t you all stay a bit for tea?” Christine asked, looking from Lady Hart to Lady Mornington.
“Nay, we just had tea. Do try the carrot cake, it’s very delicious,” Lady Mornington said, patting the countess’s arm. “Perhaps we should have a dinner party one evening.”
“That would be marvelous, isn’t that right, Merrick?” Christine said to her husband over her shoulder.
“Indeed, my love,” Merrick replied lightheartedly to his wife.
Ivy darted her eyes to Merrick and then back to Christine. She saw the love they shared in their eyes. Her heart felt heavy. Would she ever find love like they do?
“Good bye, my dear,” Lady Hart said to Ivy, and she turned to climb into the coach. “I will give Mr. Oliver your regard.”
