by Darcy Burke
Satisfied with that small assault, West bid the man good evening and took his leave rather hastily. If he didn’t, he was going to beat the man into an unrecognizable pulp.
As he made his way out of the Assembly Rooms, he thought about his plan to see Ivy tomorrow. He still wanted to, but now the meeting would be something altogether different. He just had to think through what that would be.
Chapter Fifteen
After all of last night’s excitement, sleep had been elusive for Ivy. She’d finally dozed off sometime before dawn, and as a result had risen quite late this morning. Exhaustion and stress had frayed her nerves, leaving her feeling agitated and anxious.
She looked at her half-eaten biscuit and pushed the plate away. Then she picked up her teacup and set it down without finishing the brew.
The dizziness and subsequent nausea she’d experienced last night continued to assault her whenever she thought of what had happened. She’d never imagined she’d see Peter again, and especially not while she was dancing in the arms of a duke at a bloody ball.
Why had she fainted?
She curled her fingers into a fist as self-loathing washed through her. She’d worked so hard for so long to make a new life for herself, and everything she’d accomplished had been tossed away in an instant. She’d reverted to that foolish girl who’d ruined her life.
Closing her eyes, she told herself it was the past, that she was here now and safe. But if Peter had recognized her…what would he do? If Lady Dunn found out who she really was, what she’d done…
Ivy opened her eyes and abruptly stood, as if she would run. Her muscles were tense and ready to flee, her nerves strung tighter than bow strings.
No, nothing bad would happen. She had friends who would support her. They’d been incredibly kind and solicitous last night. Neither Lucy nor Aquilla had pressed her about what had happened, but she could tell they had questions. And when they learned the truth—if she told them—they would understand, wouldn’t they? But if her secrets were leaked, could they continue to stand with her? They were countesses now. And she was no one.
Lady Dunn walked into the sitting room. She wasn’t using her cane and seemed nimbler than usual today. “I heard you were finally up and about.” She came toward Ivy, her features creased with concern. “Are you all right, dear? You gave me a bit of a fright last night.”
Ivy took a deep breath that only slightly lessened her tension as she sat back down in the chair she’d abandoned. Lady Dunn perched on the end of the settee that was adjacent.
“I’m feeling better today, thank you,” Ivy said, surprised at how even she sounded.
“Good.” Lady Dunn scrutinized her as if she didn’t entirely believe Ivy’s assessment. “I’m sorry your evening was cut short. You looked so lovely. And you danced with a duke.” Her eyes sparkled with delight. “Did he recognize you from the house party?”
“Yes,” Ivy said, because at least that much was true. “He was just being kind.”
Lady Dunn waved her hand. “Bah. I daresay he saw a beautiful woman and simply asked her to dance. He is the Duke of Desire after all.” She let out a low, throaty chuckle.
Ivy winced at the name. She certainly desired him. But she’d never planned on seeing him again either. At least not any closer than across a crowded ballroom in London. Yet here he was in Bath. Because he wanted to see her. Because he didn’t seem to want their association to be at an end.
So he’d come to Bath to continue their affair. But no, it hadn’t been an affair. Not really. It had been an occasion. A singular event that filled Ivy’s dreams and made her perfectly satisfactory life feel suddenly inadequate.
Lady Dunn glanced toward the windows. “The sun is out today, can you believe it? I thought we might go to Sydney Gardens for a promenade.”
Ivy wanted to go back to bed and hide under the bedclothes. She instantly grew angry with herself. That was the girl she’d been—frightened and paralyzed. She refused to become that pathetic creature again. Besides, it was her job to accompany Lady Dunn. And she’d do it with enthusiasm. “That sounds splendid.” Actually, it did. A brisk walk in the sun would greatly benefit Ivy’s mood. She eyed Lady Dunn. “You look as if you’re getting around well today.”
“I am, thank you. A fair day does wonders for my mobility.” Lady Dunn rose to her feet, slowly but with little effort. “Can you be ready shortly?”
“Indeed.” Ivy stood, glad for something else to focus on besides last night. She felt better after talking with Lady Dunn. The viscountess didn’t seem to regard it as a terrible occurrence, which only served to confirm that it was only terrible in Ivy’s mind. No one knew who Peter was, and if he hadn’t recognized her, all would be well.
An hour later, they entered Sydney Gardens via the Sydney Hotel. “You should see this during a summer gala. It rivals Vauxhall, but then it was designed with that in mind,” Lady Dunn said.
Ivy hadn’t ever been to Vauxhall and didn’t imagine that would change. They walked along a path as Lady Dunn told her about the various entertainments that occurred here. “The labyrinth is particularly amusing.”
They passed several people along their promenade, many of whom Lady Dunn knew. She was delighted to run into her friend, Mrs. Shilton, whom she hadn’t seen since last fall.
“I just arrived in town,” Mrs. Shilton said. “My daughter recently had her first child.” The woman beamed with joy.
Lady Dunn smiled widely. “You must tell me all about it. Come, let’s sit for a bit.” They went to the nearest bench. Mrs. Shilton’s maid offered Ivy a tentative smile, which Ivy returned. She didn’t start a conversation, however. Ivy was quite content to stand to the side and simply enjoy the sunshine.
The sounds of birds, of feet along the crushed shell path, and of the breeze periodically rustling the leaves in a gentle song lulled her into a welcome trance. She let her eyes close and immersed herself in the present, a trick she’d learned long ago to restore her nerves if she became too overwhelmed.
“Miss Breckenridge.” The deep, husky tone joined the melody of sounds around her, and for a brief moment, she welcomed it. But then recognition brought her to full awareness, and her eyes jolted open.
West stood a foot away from her, his dark eyes gleaming from beneath the brim of his hat. He was a vision of the stylish gentleman with his dark green coat, buff pantaloons, and gleaming boots. “I went to Lady Dunn’s house and was told you’d come here,” he said.
“What do you want?” she glanced toward Lady Dunn, whose back was to Ivy. She was still deep in conversation with Mrs. Shilton.
“Many things, but let’s start with your well-being.” He moved just a bit closer, his gaze pinning hers with an intense stare. “I was quite concerned last night. You look well today.”
“I am, thank you.” She looked away, unable to bear the way he was regarding her. He wasn’t touching her, but she felt crowded by him—and not in a bad way. Except it was bad. Or wrong. Or something. She didn’t want to feel what she felt for him, this overwhelming attraction.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” Lady Dunn called from the bench.
Ivy stiffened and moved toward her employer. West followed her—she could sense him behind her.
The Duke went to stand before the bench and bowed before both ladies. Lady Dunn introduced him to her friend.
“It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said to Mrs. Shilton with his usual excess of charm. He turned to Lady Dunn. “Might I take your companion for a brief promenade?”
Lady Dunn darted a look at Ivy, and the surprise in her gaze was brief yet clear. There was also a hint of question. “Yes, if she’s amenable.”
Ivy could say no. She could put an end to this farce with West right now. But when he offered his arm, she took it. “We won’t be long,” she said to the viscountess.
Lady Dunn inclined her head, and West led her away.
“You can’t just take me for a promenade,” Ivy said with
probably too much acid.
“Why not? Am I breaking some law I’m unaware of?”
“You’re being purposely obtuse. We went to great pains to…disguise our…association at Greensward. Why are you publicizing it now?”
“I’m publicizing nothing. I’m escorting a lovely woman on a promenade.”
“I’m walking on the arm of the Duke of Desire. I do not wish to be presumed your latest conquest.”
“Conquest? When did I become a warrior?” He shook his head. “Never mind. This is not the way I meant for this to go.” His lips pulled into a frown.
Of course he had a plan. He always had a plan. And this one involved her. Last night, he’d told her that he’d come to Bath to see her. “What do you want?” she asked again.
“I wanted to talk to you about the workhouse—Walcot.”
She slowed as she turned her head to look at him. That was the last thing she’d expected. “Walcot?”
“I visited there yesterday, and I’d like to pay for the repairs to the entry hall. I understand you’d like some of the inmates to learn how to do such work.”
Ivy came to a stop and stared at him. “I would,” she said slowly. “I’m surprised you became involved.”
“I am too, to be frank.” His mouth curved into a small smile. “You’ve had quite an effect on me, Ivy. I admit I went to the workhouse in search of you, but I was inspired to offer my assistance.”
She pursed her lips. “To flatter me.”
His smile faded. “Why must you always think the worst?”
Because she was used to that. “That is not my intent.”
“But it’s your nature.” He looked past her for a moment and then found her gaze with his. “You have a dark past. I want to understand it.”
Ivy turned from him and started walking, pulling him along with her. “It’s the past. I prefer it stay there.”
They walked in silence for a moment until he said, “I made the acquaintance of Lord Bothwick last night.”
Another surge of nausea flared through Ivy. She clutched his arm and slowed her pace again.
He wrapped his hand over hers and turned his head. “Ivy.”
She stiffened her spine and squared her shoulders, picking up her speed once more. “I’m fine, but we should turn back.”
He guided her off the path, beneath a tree and partially behind the wide trunk. He turned so that her back was a few inches from the tree, and he stood in front of her. “He’s the man from your past.”
Ivy hoped the color hadn’t drained from her face, but she felt nearly as dizzy as she had last night during their waltz. “Why would you think that?” No, she didn’t want the answer to that question. She didn’t want to discuss this at all. “Lord Bothwick is not the man from my past.” That was somewhat true. He hadn’t been Lord Bothwick then.
West’s eyes narrowed, and he advanced on her so that she pressed her back against the rough bark of the tree trunk. “Devil take it, Ivy. I care about you.” His face came too close to hers, and she could feel the heat and frustration radiating from him. “When will you let down your guard with me?”
He looked at her and spoke to her as if he had a claim, and he didn’t. “Never.” She threw the word at him like a knife, hoping to frighten him away, if not wound him. “I don’t have your protections, your privilege. All I have is the wall I’ve constructed to keep myself safe from further harm. And I will not let you or any other man breach it.”
“Ivy—”
She cut him off, unwilling and uncaring to hear anything he wanted to say. “I’m weary of being a curiosity to you. I didn’t invite you to Bath. I would be pleased if you would leave me alone.” Her heart twisted as she said the words. She wanted something else…some intangible feeling of security that she couldn’t even name.
He stared into her eyes. “That would not please me.” He threaded his fingers through hers.
For a moment, she basked in his touch. Until she reminded herself that none of this was real. It was a waking dream that would surely end, and probably badly. She jerked her hand from his and slid away from the tree.
He moved with her but didn’t come close again. “I’ll walk you back to Lady Dunn.”
“And then you’ll go?”
“Yes.” The word came out slow and halting, as if it took him effort. “For now.”
She shook her head. “Forever. We cannot continue.”
“There’s the workhouse.”
“You can make the arrangements with Mr. Alves, I’m sure. There’s no reason for us to continue our association whatsoever.” She could see that he wasn’t ready to capitulate. “West, if you care about me, as you say, you’ll leave me alone. That is what I want.”
“I’m at number twelve in The Paragon for at least a few weeks. If you change your mind…”
“I won’t. Farewell.” She turned and stalked away from him on legs that threatened to give way and send her sprawling to the earth. But she didn’t because she was strong, and she’d survived far worse than this.
She held her head up, as she always did, and didn’t look back.
West watched her go in abject frustration. He clenched his hands at his sides and swore under his breath. That had gone as poorly as he could’ve imagined. She truly wanted him out of her life.
He ought to return to Stour’s Edge. And yet he couldn’t. Things felt too unfinished, even if she wished they weren’t. No, he’d stay and see about repairing the workhouse—and hopefully have occasion to see her again.
Then there was Bothwick. She hadn’t admitted that he was the man who’d ruined her, but West didn’t need her to. He’d seen her reaction, felt the tremor catapult through her frame. He knew it was Bothwick, and he would find a way to punish the man.
Perhaps he should write to Axbridge and ask for his assistance. He could be West’s second. Wait, was he really considering calling the man out?
West shook his head and exhaled some of the agitation from his body. He took the path and strode back the way he’d come. Lady Dunn was still on the bench with her friend, and Ivy stood off to the side. She didn’t look at him. In fact, he couldn’t tell if she was even aware of his presence.
He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from her as he willed her to look in his direction. So intent was he, that he nearly walked straight into Lady Lamberton.
Her soft laugh whispered over him. “My goodness, Clare. Are you in a hurry?”
Not really, but he’d seize the excuse to avoid a prolonged encounter. “Yes.”
She introduced her friend, and West paid no attention. He looked over toward Ivy. Now she was looking at him. Her lips had nearly vanished into a thin, disapproving line. She abruptly turned her head in a swift and vicious dismissal.
West realized Lady Lamberton was touching his arm. Damn it all to hell. He took a step back.
“Walk with us, Clare,” Lady Lamberton urged. She curled her arm around his. “Whatever you’re rushing off to can wait, can’t it?”
West saw Lady Dunn stand up, and Ivy hurried to her side. They turned and made their way toward the hotel.
“Yes, I suppose it can,” he murmured.
“Oh, good.” Lady Lamberton pulled him along, and her friend took his other arm. If Ivy was looking at him, and he doubted she was, he certainly presented an ideal picture of philandering rake. Being seen that way had never bothered him before, but now he wanted to divorce himself from that reputation.
What was happening to him?
Ivy had changed him. He knew that. He just didn’t realize to what degree. He only knew that he wasn’t looking forward to a future liaison. And he wasn’t interested in Lady Lamberton’s advances.
He wanted the attention of a sharp-tongued, strong-willed companion who could shred him to pieces with one withering stare. Just as she could bring him to his knees every time she uttered his name.
When she’d called him West a short while ago, he’d nearly clasped her to him and kissed her. And moments
before that, when he’d nearly pinned her against the tree, he’d longed to stroke her face and press his lips to hers, show her how much he’d missed her, how deeply he cared.
But he hadn’t, and it was likely he never would.
West finished his mindless promenade and wondered what hell he’d invited upon himself.
Chapter Sixteen
As they crossed the Pulteney Bridge on their way back to George Street, Lady Dunn asked Ivy about West. “The duke seems interested in you.”
Ivy tensed. She couldn’t seem to think of him and not react. “Not particularly. He was just asking after my welfare. He called at the house to inquire.” Ivy wanted to share that bit since Lady Dunn would learn of his call when they arrived at home.
Her lips lifted into a satisfied smile. “Did he? He could’ve written a note or, more likely, he could’ve done nothing at all.”
“He was merely being polite.”
“I suppose. Despite his reputation, I’ve always found him most charming and kind.”
Ivy couldn’t argue with the viscountess’s assessment, but neither would she encourage this topic by agreeing.
As they turned up Milsom Street, Lady Dunn rested her head back against the squab. “Ah, but wouldn’t it be lovely if he were interested. You could have your own Cinderella story.” She turned her head to look at Ivy.
“I could never marry a duke, my lady.”
“I agree it would cause a stir, but it could happen.”
“Just because it could doesn’t mean it will,” Ivy said. “Anyway, I’ve no wish to marry or to leave my employment.”
Lady Dunn patted Ivy’s knee. “It would be terrible to lose you, dear.”
The coach rounded the corner and quickly came to a stop in front of their town house. Ivy exhaled in relief.
The footman helped the viscountess down and then Ivy. As Lady Dunn climbed the steps, she told Ivy that she’d be going upstairs to rest. Ivy had expected as much. She would work on the stockings she was making for a few of the girls at the workhouse.
