“Oh, thank God,” Ethan breathed out as he dropped into a chair beside her bed. “You scared me half to death.”
“Sorry,” she muttered. She was in her borrowed chambers. She recognized it now. Ivy glanced around and immediately spotted Michael just in the threshold, looking more than anxious with her mysterious pirate ghost right by his side.
“Her words aren’t slurred,” said a man in dark clothes with a black doctor’s bag in his hands. “That’s a good sign.” Then he leaned over Ivy and looked very closely at her face. “Her eyes look good too.” He straightened, glanced back at Ethan and said, “I believe she’s perfectly fine.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Ethan said, though his eyes where focused on Ivy.
“Of course, of course,” the doctor replied. “Now I’d best go check in on Lady Lucy.”
Ethan waited until the doctor brushed past Michael in the threshold, making his departure before he asked, “What in the world happened, Ivy?”
But she had no idea. She would have shaken her head, but it ached. “I was going to ask you that.”
“Markham heard you scream and found you lifeless at the bottom of the stairs,” Michael said, stepping further into her chambers. “No idea what happened?”
She had been dashing up the stairs in her haste to glance over her chambers before she let Michael have use of the room. So much for making certain there was nothing embarrassing for him to find, as he was right there. Ivy glanced around her borrowed chamber again. It looked in order, thankfully.
“Ivy!” Ethan grumbled.
“Yes?” She turned her attention to her brother.
“Lord Michael asked if you knew how you ended up on the stairs.”
Yes, he had asked that. Ivy took a deep breath as the memory played about the edges of her mind. “I was headed here and…” Her memory became clearer. “Someone pushed me.” Her gaze returned to the pirate ghost, still in the doorway. “Or something,” she amended. Not that it was particularly fair to blame the nautical specter, but he was scowling again and he had done something quite terrifying to scare Lord Hayfield away the night before. Of course, he hadn’t done anything to Ivy, or…Well, perhaps he had.
“You were pushed?” Michael asked, his dark golden brow furrowing. “You don’t know by whom?”
“I have no idea.” Ivy hadn’t seen a thing, at least not that she remembered. “The whole thing is slightly hazy.”
“I’d like to speak with Banfield.” Ethan heaved a sigh. “I’ll ask Frannie to sit with you.”
“I don’t need to stay here,” Ivy complained, pushing up to a sitting position, but she instantly wished she hadn’t. Her whole right side ached as though she’d hit each and every stone step with that side of her body as she’d fallen down the stairs. But she refused to even flinch. Ethan would make her stay in bed all day if he thought she wasn’t well enough to move about on her own. And while she might not be, she’d rather make that decision herself instead of having it decreed by her brother.
“I can stay with her for a while,” Michael said. And then he winked at her. “I’ll even stay forever if you’ll let me.”
Ethan shook his head. “How about just until Frannie arrives?”
“Honestly, Ethan!” Ivy whined. “I don’t need to stay here. I’m perfectly fine.”
But her brother simply narrowed his eyes on her. “You’ll stay here until Doctor Fairfax says otherwise.”
“He said I’m perfectly fine.” She’d heard the man with her own ears. Was Ethan deaf or just that irritatingly stubborn?
But her brother paid her no mind at all as he cast Michael a glance. “And you can stay until Frannie arrives.”
Honestly, she could scowl just as well as her brother, and so she turned that Dallimore scowl right back around on him. “So you’re not going to listen to me?”
“Ivy…”
She blew out a breath in annoyance. Ethan was worse than Papa had ever been. It was pointless to argue with him. So she’d wait for her brother to leave and then she’d do exactly what she wanted. Honestly, she wouldn’t have to resort to such things if he was somewhat reasonable. But as always, Ethan was exactly himself.
Michael’s heart had finally begun to return to its normal pace. When he’d heard that Ivy had been found in a heap at the bottom of the staircase, fear had gripped his heart and hadn’t let go until she’d blinked her eyes open.
He counted himself fortunate that Westbury was letting him remain, but the duke did know that Michael loved Ivy, he did know that Michael had been beside himself with worry.
Just as soon as Westbury quit Ivy’s chambers, Michael made his way to the side of her bed and his heart ached again to see the purple bruising along her right cheek and jaw. She must have taken an awful spill. How in the world had someone pushed her and not gone for help? If Markham hadn’t heard her scream…
Ivy swung her legs to the side of the bed as though she meant to go somewhere. Michael frowned in response. “Exactly where do you think you’re going?” Hadn’t she taken enough years off his life that afternoon?
She scowled up at him. “I am not going to sit here all day and do nothing, Michael.”
“Your brother said—” he began.
But her scowl darkened. “That I had to stay until the doctor said I could leave, but the doctor said I was perfectly fine. I’m certain you heard him just as well as I did even if Ethan did not.”
Michael blew out a breath. “Take pity on the man. He was worried about you.”
She scoffed in response.
He dropped into the chair beside her bed. “I was worried about you too. So if you won’t take pity on him, then at least take pity on me, Ivy.”
“I can’t stay here, Michael. I need to have my things moved to Frannie’s room so you can move your things in here, and—”
“The last thing I’m going to have is you moving around when you shouldn’t because of me.”
“And the last thing I’m going to have is you spending one more night in that broken Gypsy wagon when I have a perfectly fine room you can have.” She looked him directly in the eye with such a sweet stubbornness, he couldn’t help but smile in return.
She did care for him. She might not admit that even to herself, but she did. She wouldn’t be so adamant about securing decent lodgings for him in her current state if she did not. Michael released a sigh. “I will make you a deal,” he began.
“What sort of deal?’
“If you let me carry you to your cousin’s chamber and promise to stay abed after that, I’ll take care of having our things shifted from one place to another.”
“You want to carry me?” She lifted one imperious eyebrow.
Michael quirked her a grin. “I’d like to do a lot more than that, but in your current state, I think I’ll have to settle for simply carrying you.”
Ivy’s cheeks pinkened just a bit as she said, “I do not need the assistance of a known libertine.” And then she slid off the edge of the bed and pushed down to her feet.
A half-second later, she gasped and the expression on her face contorted to one of sheer pain.
Michael caught her about her middle to keep her from collapsing to the floor. “Good God, Ivy,” he breathed against her hair, relieved he’d caught her in time.
“I think I twisted my ankle when I fell down the stairs.” She clutched onto him.
“Stubborn girl,” Michael said as he bent slightly and scooped her up into his arms. “Now, where are we going?” Not that he necessarily wanted to go anywhere. He’d have been quite happy to stand there, holding her all day.
Her pretty blue eyes met his and Michael felt it all the way in his soul. “You don’t have to carry me.”
She truly was stubborn. Michael shook his head. “Should I let you crawl to your cousin’s chambers instead?”
“It might be safer.” She grinned at him. “I mean, what if someone saw us like this?”
“It would be far better if they saw us like th
is instead of watching me trailing after you as you crawled all the way to your cousin’s chambers.”
She laughed then. “Frannie’s chamber is just next door.”
Was it? “So there’ll only be one wall separating us this evening?” Michael asked. “How will I ever get to sleep when I know you’re so close by?”
“You are ridiculous.”
Michael agreed with a nod. “Alas, no one is perfect.”
Ivy rested her head against his shoulder and a sigh escaped her. “You don’t mind carrying me?”
“Not in the least,” he assured her. “I’d carry you to the ends of the Earth if you asked me to.”
She smiled up at him, making heat course through his veins. “I think just next door to Frannie’s will do.”
“Deal.” He smiled back.
Just as Michael stepped from her chambers into the corridor, Miss Dallimore nearly barreled right into him. “Oh!” the dark-haired girl blinked up at him in surprise. And then she flicked her gaze to Ivy. “Ethan said he wanted me to sit with you.”
“Oh, Frannie,” Ivy began. “I hope it’s all right if I share your chambers this evening. I told Lord Michael he could have mine.”
Chapter 12
Ivy smiled as her maid pinned Frannie’s hair in a very becoming fashion. Her cousin looked like an angel, a Christmas angel, in a white gown with tiny white rosebuds in her dark hair. “You will be the prettiest girl at the ball,” she said from her spot in the middle of their shared four-poster.
Even in the reflection of the mirror, Ivy noticed Frannie’s cheeks pinken. “That’s hardly the truth.”
But it was. Her cousin was truly a radiant girl, if only she had a bit more confidence in herself. “You’ll have to tell me all about it in great detail in the morning.”
“I doubt there’ll be anything to tell.” Frannie bit her bottom lip. “Just hoping I’ll be asked to dance at least once. I do hate to hold up the potted palms against the walls all night.”
“You shall have any number of fellows lined up to dance with you,” Ivy vowed. “And if for some reason you do not, just tell Ethan’s he’s required to stand up with you once. That should get the ball rolling.”
Frannie snorted as the maid finished pinning the last little rose in Frannie’s dark hair. “I’m certainly not going to beg my cousin to dance with me.” Then she narrowed her eyes on Ivy in the reflection of the mirror. “And neither will I beg my brother. So you can refrain from suggesting Oliver with your next breath.”
“I wasn’t going to suggest any such thing.” Any man worth his salt would know how wonderful Frannie was. Unfortunately, there were quite a few gentlemen who were not worth their salt. But Michael Beck was. She knew that in the core of her soul. “Lord Michael—”
“Is so in love with you, I hardly doubt he’ll attend a ball you won’t be attending yourself.”
Ivy’s cheeks stung just a bit. “I hardly think he’s in love with me,” she protested, even though she thought he might actually be as in love with her as she feared she was with him. She still wasn’t sure how any of that had even happened or what she should do about it.
“Then you have gone quite blind since we arrived at Keyvnor.” Frannie spun away from the mirror and looked rather nervous. “I don’t look too awful, do I?”
“You’re beautiful!” Ivy gushed. “I do wish I was going with you tonight just to watch all of those eligible gentlemen fall all over themselves to reach you.” But even if she hadn’t twisted her ankle, the big purple bruises on the side of her cheek and jaw would keep Ivy from attending such an event. She looked affright.
A knock came at the door and Frannie jumped slightly at the sound. “Yes?”
“Are you ready, love?” Uncle Frederick asked through the door.
“Yes, yes! Just one second, Papa.” And then Frannie hurried to the bed, hugged Ivy quickly and then left the chambers to join her father and brother in the corridor.
The maid glanced at Ivy and said, “Do you need anything, milady?”
An untwisted ankle. An unbruised face. Certainly nothing the maid could acquire for her. Ivy shook her head. “Thank you, that will be all.” She did, after all, have the book Ethan had brought her, and she could while away the next several hours reading all about Gulliver’s adventures, at least until sleep found her.
She opened Gulliver’s Travels and flipped to chapter one.
My Father had a small Estate in Nottinghamshire; I was the Third of five Sons…
Michael was the third of four sons, and his father had a rather grand estate in Suffolk instead of Nottinghamshire.
Blast it!
She couldn’t even escape thinking about Michael Beck when trying to read a book that was nearly a century old. Ivy closed the tome and looked up at the ceiling above her. What in the world was she going to do about Michael? She’d been determined not to be foolish like Ophelia. She’d been determined to do the sensible thing, to keep her wits about her and make the best possible decisions about her future. But whenever he was near…
A knock sounded at the door.
“Yes?” she called.
“Ivy?” Just the sound of Michael’s voice made her heart beat a little faster. Goodness, had just her thoughts of him conjured him up? “May I come in?”
That was the very last thing she should allow. “Yes,” she replied before the sensible part of her told him no.
Her door opened, and there he was, standing in her threshold, looking more dashing than any duke she’d ever met. Michael grinned at her, making heat pool low in her belly. Then he stepped into her chambers and lifted up a deck of cards in his hands. “Thought I might keep you company for a while.”
So Frannie was right. Michael didn’t intend to go to the ball that evening. There was some part of Ivy that thrilled at that news. “And you thought we’d play cards?”
He shrugged slightly. “I am a gambler by nature, my dear.”
Yes, he was. So much so that his winnings were going to allow him to purchase a copper mine. She inwardly winced at the thought of him going into trade. He was almost completely perfect in every way. Almost. “As I know half of the gentlemen here owe you money from one bet or another, I would be quite foolish to gamble with you at all, wouldn’t I?”
Michael dropped into the chair across from her bed and smoothed his dark blond hair from his brow. “Afraid I’ll bankrupt the Westbury dukedom in one evening?”
She couldn’t help but laugh at such a ridiculous suggestion. “Ethan would hardly be happy with me.”
“Then I’ll take pity on you.” His smile widened. “We won’t play for money.”
That sounded even more dangerous. “No? Then what shall we play for?”
“Kisses. Truths. Whatever the winner wants, I suppose.” Then he leaned forward and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, and with the softest caress, he outlined the edge of the bruise on her cheek. “Is it terribly painful, sweetheart?”
Not when he touched her like that. Somehow Ivy managed not to sigh. Sighing would get her into a heap of trouble with him. She was more than certain of that. “I’ve suffered worse.”
“Have you, indeed?” His blue eyes bore into hers and nearly made her mouth go dry.
“I fell from a tree once when I was very young. At Westbury Court. It was Oliver’s fault. My cousin,” she said, her words all coming out in a jumble with him looking at her like that. “After I’d climbed it, he threw stones at me until I fell. I broke my leg on the way down.”
“I just saw Oliver Dallimore a moment ago.” Michael frowned. “Would it be bad form to thrash him this many years later over his treatment of you?”
Ivy couldn’t help but laugh. “Uncle Frederick beat you to it, Michael. I don’t think Oliver sat for a week.”
“He got off easy.”
“Have you had any broken bones?” she asked.
And that easy smile of his spread even further as he shook his head. “You’ll have to win a hand if you want to a
sk me any questions, my dear.”
Win a hand? Ivy frowned at him. “I told you my story.”
“Completely unsolicited,” he agreed with a wink. “I will not be so careless.”
“Careless?”
“Mmm.” He nodded. “I have not been lucky in my wagers by letting my guard down.”
Oh! He was going to lose whatever game they were playing. “What game are we playing?” she asked.
“Vingt-et-un,” he replied, opening his deck of cards. “It gives you the fairest chance of beating me.”
She’d never played Vingt-et-un. “You wouldn’t rather play loo?” She’d at least played loo before.
“With just two of us?” he teased. “Shall I go gather up some servants who aren’t attending the Yule ball?” Then he shook his head. “Vingt-et-un is simple to play, Ivy. You’ll have it in one hand.”
“All right,” she said, not sure if she believed him or not.
He shuffled the cards and then placed one face down in front of her on the counterpane and then one face down in front of his spot. “Now look at your card. But don’t show me.”
The Eight of Clubs. Was that good or bad? She couldn’t imagine it was good.
Michael glanced at his card and then he dealt a card face up for Ivy and one face up for himself. She had a Three of Diamonds and he had the King of Hearts. She was fairly certain his King of Hearts was better than her Three of Diamonds.
“You are trying to reach a grand total of twenty-one without going over. Face cards are worth ten. Aces can be either one or eleven, whatever is most advantageous.”
Ivy was sitting at eleven with her eight and three, and Michael had a ten showing. “So if you have an Ace—”
“Then I’d have what is called a ‘Natural’ and I’d win automatically.”
“I can’t win automatically?” she asked.
Michael shook his head. “If you have an Ace, the highest you could be at is fourteen.”
That made sense. “Do you have a Natural?”
Goodness! The look he cast her warmed Ivy to her toes.
“If I do have a Natural, then I win the hand and…”
Kissed at Christmas Page 19
