by Meara Platt
“Send a messenger to Miss Giraud. Let her know I’ll be visiting her this evening.”
Ashcroft’s eyes narrowed and his lips became pinched. “Is that wise, Your Grace? Your wounds aren’t fully healed.”
“No, it isn’t wise. I don’t care.” He needed the scent of a heavy French perfume and the naked warmth of an experienced lover to clear Dillie from his thoughts. Dillie’s first kiss had been spectacular, slamming him to the ground with its innocent power. But this second kiss had sent him soaring into the heavens, lifting him into the clouds higher than he’d ever been before, and then slammed him even harder to the ground.
Every muscle in his body was still taut and twitching with desire. Every damn one. Especially the one between his legs. It was granite hard and painfully throbbing.
Someone had to ease that pain. Chantal Giraud was paid to do just that.
CHAPTER 3
London, England
March 1819
“DAISY, SHE’S SO PRECIOUS,” Dillie said, laughing as she wrapped her ten-month-old niece in her arms and inhaled her sweet baby scent. “I missed you, Ivy. You’ve grown so big.” She hadn’t seen her sister Daisy or her little niece in months, not since Christmas at Coniston Hall, the Farthingales’ country residence.
Now that Dillie and her parents had returned to London, she was eager to catch up with all her sisters. Daisy and her husband, the first to arrive back in town, had invited her to tea, and Dillie looked forward to passing a most pleasant afternoon with both of them. “Where’s Gabriel?”
“He’ll be along soon,” Daisy said with a shrug. “He had to report to the Prince Regent, something about an incident that occurred a few months ago. He won’t tell me what it’s about because he’s afraid I’ll meddle.”
Dillie shook her head and grinned. “Imagine that, accusing a Farthingale of meddling.”
Her sister laughed. “Perhaps we do stick our noses into other people’s business on occasion, but we do it with the best of intentions. Speaking of other people’s business, what have you been up to since I last saw you?”
“Ugh! Absolutely nothing. I’ve been bored to tears.” Dillie twirled Ivy in her arms, and then nuzzled her pudgy cheek, once more inhaling her baby sweetness. Of course, she knew that the light scent of powder and lavender soap would soon give way to the less pleasant odors of burps, spit-ups, and other unmentionable products that routinely emanated from the lower parts of infants. She didn’t care. Children were meant to be loved and fussed over, no matter what came out of them, whether from top or bottom.
She kissed the little angel’s chubby, pink cheek and was rewarded with a heart-tugging smile. Ivy had the look of a Farthingale girl, dark hair and big, blue eyes. Well, right now her hair was more a dark cap of curly fuzz, but she was still young. “Your father’s going to have his hands full chasing the boys away,” she whispered in her niece’s ear.
Ivy burped.
Daisy smiled as she poured a cup of tea for each of them and set a treacle scone on each of their plates. “I think Gabriel will have a few more years before he needs to worry. You’ve caught Ivy on a good day. Usually she’s all squawks and howls at this hour. It’s her nap time, but she seems quite fascinated by you and has forgotten that she’s tired. Watch out for your earrings. She may be little, but she’s fast. Before you know it, she’ll have her fingers wrapped in the loops and tugging until you howl.”
“She’s already pulled out half the pins in my hair.” Dillie nuzzled her niece’s soft neck and got a giggle out of her. “Isn’t that right, you little devil? And what will your Grandmama Sophie say when I return home utterly disheveled?”
Ivy responded with another burp.
Dillie laughed softly and nuzzled her again. Ivy let out a joyful squeal.
“She really likes you, Dillie. She’s rarely content with anyone but me, Gabriel, or Nanny Grenville holding her.”
“And I adore her.” Dillie suddenly felt wistful. Though she loved her family, every last irritating and snoopy member of their boisterous Farthingale clan, she and her sisters had always been especially close. Now, all her sisters were married and starting families of their own. She was the one left behind. She hadn’t really felt the changes until Lily had married Ewan Cameron and settled in Scotland, in the Highlands no less.
She knew Lily was enjoying her life with Ewan, for her happiness was apparent in all of her letters. Would she ever find that same happiness? Dillie wasn’t surprised to be the last to leave the Farthingale roost, for she was the youngest daughter, even though only by a few minutes. She just hadn’t expected Lily to leave so soon.
Now with her twin suddenly gone, she’d had no time to adapt to the inevitable changes and hadn’t quite taken them all in yet. Feeling alone and adrift were new sensations, ones she did not particularly like.
She dismissed her wistful thoughts when Daisy’s husband strode into the parlor. Gabriel headed straight for Daisy and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek. “Missed you, love,” he said with a wicked grin and devilish arch of an eyebrow.
Dillie rolled her eyes, and then tickled Ivy’s chin to gain her attention. “Your parents have been apart no more than a few hours, but one would think they’d been apart for months. Your father is shamelessly ogling your mother.”
Daisy blushed. “I missed you, too. Behave yourself, Gabriel. We have company.”
He turned to Dillie, walked to her side, and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek. Then he gazed down at Ivy, who was cooing in Dillie’s arms, and his expression turned soft and doting. “How’s my little potato doing?”
Dillie grinned. “I hope you’re not referring to me.”
He chuckled. “No, you look great. The winter months at Coniston obviously suited you. John,” he said, referring to her father, “must be in full fret, wondering what surprises this London season will bring. None of your sisters managed a traditional courtship. You’re his last hope.”
“I’ll do my best to get it right,” she assured. “After all, I’m the sensible sister. Dutiful, polite. Perfect.”
Gabriel nodded. “Ian seems to think so.”
Dillie’s heart skipped a beat. “The Duke of Edgeware? I hadn’t realized he was back in town.” She tried to sound casual, but knew she’d failed. Her cheeks were growing hot and so were the tips of her ears, tell-tale signs that Daisy would have noticed had Gabriel’s broad shoulders not been blocking her view.
“Nor had I,” Gabriel said with a shrug, obviously unaware of her turmoil, “but I ran into him at White’s earlier today and invited him over.” He gave Ivy a big, juicy kiss on the top of her head before returning to his wife’s side. “Hope you don’t mind, love.”
“No, of course not.” Daisy shot Dillie a speculative glance. “We look forward to seeing him, don’t we, Dillie?”
She eeped in response. Oh, crumpets! Her winter at Coniston may have been too quiet for her liking, but she wasn’t ready to see Ian yet. Why was he in town and not at Edgeware? It was only late March, and London was not yet at its best. The air was still too cold for satin gowns and bared shoulders. Soot still spewed from hearth fires lit to ward off the wintery chill, and a smoky coating of gray hung over London, blocking the sun and all trace of glorious blue sky.
A light odor of dead fish still wafted off the Thames. Of course, there were always odors emanating off the Thames, no matter what time of year.
“How is His Grace, by the way?” Although she thought of him as Ian, and at his urging would call him that whenever they were alone, he was a duke and his title had to be respected when in the company of others.
“Looking fit as ever.” Gabriel eased onto the settee beside Daisy and lazily stretched his arm across its back. He looked so comfortable and happy. So did Daisy. “He had business in town and had to come down early.”
“Will he be off before the season starts?” Daisy asked. She poured her husband a cup of tea, and then rose to take Ivy from Dillie’s arms when Ivy began to fuss.
Gabriel frowned lightly, as though worried about his friend. “He plans to remain in London, even though he knows it’s dangerous for a bachelor to do so. He’s raw meat and every predatory society mother will be after him for one of her daughters.”
Dillie rocked her niece in her arms to keep her content. “Hear that, Ivy? England’s most eligible bachelor is going to brave the London battlefield. Should make for an exciting few months.”
Ivy let out a squawk. Then another. Then she let out a howl that filled the room despite her tiny lungs. Daisy sighed as she rose again. “Nap time for you. Nanny Grenville’s waiting for you upstairs.”
Dillie once more motioned for her to stay seated. “I’ll take her up. I know the way.” She patted Ivy’s back gently as she continued to rock her. “You two lovebirds seem to need a moment alone anyway.”
Gabriel laughed and nudged Daisy down beside him. “Excellent idea. Let me show you just how much I missed you.”
Daisy lightly swatted him on the shoulder. “Come right back, Dillie. You haven’t touched your tea yet. More important, we haven’t exchanged the juiciest bits of gossip.”
“First of all, I haven’t got anywhere else to go, so you’re well and truly stuck with me all afternoon. Sorry, Gabriel, you’ll simply have to endure. And second, I love gossip.” She made a silly face that evoked another giggle out of Ivy. “I hope you have something thoroughly scandalous to share, because I have no news whatsoever. Life at Coniston has been dull as dishwater.”
She walked into the hallway, singing softly to the squirming bundle in her arms, but hadn’t quite made it to the stairs when Ivy suddenly let out another squawk and decided to get playful. She grabbed Dillie’s hair with one tiny hand, winding her fingers in what was left of Dillie’s once stylish curls and efficiently pulling out several more pins.
At the same time, she raised the other tiny fist and wound her fingers in the loop of her earring. Then, with a demonic grin, she tugged with all her little might. Dillie let out a laughing yelp. “No, Ivy! Let go of Auntie Dillie. You need to—ow!”
Apparently, her niece took Dillie’s pained laughter as a request to continue. She tugged again, taking out more hairpins with one pudgy hand while pulling on the earring with the other. “Ow. No, I—”
Ivy squealed and began a new game called Slap Dillie’s Face. Thankfully, playing that game meant she had to release the earring she’d been holding in a death grip. While Ivy was busy slapping Dillie’s nose, Dillie managed to extricate her little fingers from the strands of her hair, but not before significant damage was done to her fashionable chignon.
“Need assistance?” someone asked from behind her.
She whirled to face the new arrival. Ian.
“Like your new hairstyle.” He gave her a long, lazy grin that warmed her blood and made her heart skip beats. “That crazed, maniacal look suits you, Daffy. Not every woman can pull it off as well as you do.”
She hastily attempted to tuck the stray ends behind her throbbing ear, but she knew she was doing a dismal job of it. He, of course, looked stunning. Dressed to perfection, yet still too big and broad shouldered to carry off the foppish appearance of society elegance. His look was one of dangerous elegance.
His eyes were even more beautiful than she remembered, a misty, summer green flecked with hints of deep gray. They were a true representation of Ian, incredibly handsome and at the same time haunted. The gray was the shadowed part of Ian, the part he always kept hidden. The part that made her want to throw her arms around him and hug him tight. Instead, she shook her head and laughed softly. “Meet my stylist. Her name is Ivy. She’s very much in demand. Do you have a smile for His Grace?”
Surprisingly, she did. A sweet, open-hearted, ear-to-ear smile that stole Dillie’s breath away. And that’s when she saw it, the look of indescribable pain in Ian’s eyes. It was only there for an instant. Had she blinked, she would have missed it.
But it had been there.
She’d thought to toss off a cleverly cutting remark to continue their usual wry banter, but her heart was still struggling with that glimpse of his pain. She couldn’t jest with him now. In truth, all she wanted to do was put her arms around him and draw him close. “You look wonderful. How do you feel?” She hugged her niece instead. It was safer. Ivy responded by letting out a gurgled coo, and then began to contentedly gnaw on Dillie’s chin.
“I’m in the pink. Stab wounds have all healed. Are you going to let your niece chew the flesh off your chin?”
“She isn’t a cannibal. Honestly, Ian.” She rolled her eyes when he continued to stare in fascination, as though infants were unfamiliar creatures to him. They probably were. During their week together he’d never mentioned brothers or sisters, nieces or nephews. She suddenly realized that she knew nothing of his family. Or if he even had one.
Odd that no one had ever mentioned his relations, considering the constant gossip one heard about him. “She’s only teething. The pressure against her gums helps soothe her ache. It doesn’t hurt me.”
“You’re remarkably at ease with her.” He was still studying her and Ivy, taking them in as though they were a portrait hanging in an elegant hall, his gaze following each line and curve to determine how child and woman flowed together.
“How can I not be? Besides growing up with all my Farthingale cousins, I now have a slew of nephews and nieces to adore. They’re all perfect. I melt whenever they look at me with their big, innocent eyes.” She paused a moment, realizing that Ian had never once called out for anyone dear to him, even when he had been delirious in those first days after the attack when his survival had been in doubt. She silently berated herself. Because of her thoughtlessness, he might have died alone in her bed, no loved ones beside him.
She resolved to find out about his family. What if he were attacked again? It wasn’t a matter of snooping. She was simply being thoughtful. However, she couldn’t ask him straight out. He would have spoken of relatives if he’d wanted to during those hours they’d spent together. No, she’d pry the information out of her elderly neighbor, Lady Eloise Dayne.
Eloise, who knew everything about everybody, was a kind and sensible woman, not the sort ever to lie or twist the truth. Indeed, Eloise would be the perfect source since she was practically a part of the Farthingale family. Her grandsons, Gabriel and Graelem, were married to Dillie’s sisters.
Ian continued to watch her and Ivy, drinking them in with his gaze. Ivy was still suckling her chin and her little hand was no longer fisted, but open and resting on Dillie’s cheek, stroking it lightly.
This felt nice, standing here with Ian, cradling Ivy in her arms.
Her heart skipped beats again, as it always did when Ian stood close. She could feel the subtle heat and power radiating off his body.
She shook out of the wayward thought, afraid to allow Ian too close, for he always overwhelmed her senses. He overwhelmed her heart. She couldn’t allow it, for she was about to enter her second London season. She wanted to meet the man she was going to marry and start a family. Ian wasn’t the marrying kind. He’d made no secret of his desire to remain a bachelor.
She cleared her throat. “Did you ever find out who was after you?”
He shrugged and propped his elbow casually on the staircase newel post. “No. It isn’t important.”
She knew him well enough to understand that Ian was never casual. “You’re doing that thing again.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Doing what thing?”
“Carrying around that I-deserve-to-be-miserable chip on your shoulder.”
He ignored the comment, just as she expected he would. But she was a Farthingale, and Farthingales spoke their minds, whether or not anyone wished to hear their pearls of wisdom. “Did you miss me?” he asked instead, obviously wishing to change the topic.
<
br /> “It so happens, I did. It isn’t every day one finds a handsome duke in one’s bed. Life after that can seem deadly dull.”
“You think I’m handsome?”
She rolled her eyes again. “You know you are. Everyone knows you are.” Ivy released her chin long enough to let out a squeal. Dillie laughed. “See, even my niece thinks so. You’re devastating to all women, even those who can’t walk or talk yet.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Nanny Grenville’s arrival. “There you are, my little princess!” said the amiable older woman. “Do you mind if I take her, Miss Dillie?”
“Not at all.” She gave Ivy a kiss on the cheek—in fact, several kisses on her plump, pillow-soft cheek—and then handed her over. “Glad you’re here to rescue me. I’ve been thoroughly mauled by this ten-month-old, as you can see.”
Ivy’s nanny shook her head and sighed. “You aren’t the only one she’s bested. She may be little, but she’s quick with her fists.” She gave her charge a quick hug. “Aren’t you, my little princess?”
Dillie watched niece and nanny disappear up the stairs, and then turned to Ian. She blushed, realizing he’d continued to study her all the while she’d been watching Ivy. “There’s spittle oozing down your chin,” he said, his voice seductively tender.
She winced. “I know. Incredibly alluring, isn’t it?”
He let out an unguarded laugh. “Absolutely. Thoroughly irresistible. I’m struggling to hold back my desire. Here, let me wipe it off you.” He withdrew a handkerchief from his front pocket, tucked a finger under her chin, and tipped her face upward so that she met his gaze.
Holy crumpets! There was something wonderful in the way he smiled at her, in the way that smile seemed to dance in his eyes. Her cheeks and ears were heating up again. So was the rest of her body. Unbearably hot. Melt-one’s-bones hot.
He gently dabbed her chin, and ever so gently wiped the corners of her lips.
His knuckles grazed her lips.
She eeped. Crumpets! He was having far too much fun drying her off. “My hair’s a mess,” she said, hurriedly drawing away. She removed the last of the hairpins, most of which were dangling amid the long strands, and gave her hair a quick twist in order to fashion a passable bun at the nape of her neck. She stuck the pins back in to hold the style in place and hoped it would last through the afternoon, but she wasn’t sure. She hadn’t done a very good job of it.
