And then she made her departure, running once again for Castle Keyvnor, only this time she wasn’t running from rain, or anything else. She was, she hoped, running toward her destiny.
Ethan had just gotten comfortable in his bed, eager to sleep away the afternoon, when he was disturbed by an infernal pounding on his door that rivaled the pounding in his head. “What the devil?” he shouted, not caring who was on the other side, but simply wanting them to go away.
“Your Grace,” came a familiar voice from the other side. “There’s been an accident.”
Four of the worst words in the English language.
Heart racing, Ethan sprang from the bed and rushed to the door. Stephen the Footman stood on the other side, and it was only then that Ethan remembered he wasn’t fully dressed.
“What’s happened?” he demanded, reaching for his shirt and sliding his arms into it.
“It’s your sister, Your Grace. It seems Lady Ivy fell down the stairs. The Duke of Markham found her and deposited her in her chambers, then sent me to find you. He’s sent for Doctor Fairfax as well.”
Bloody hell. “I’ll be there straight away.”
He closed the door on the footman and finished dressing himself as best he could, wondering all the while how the devil Ivy could have fallen down the stairs. She might be many things, but clumsy wasn’t one of them.
Minutes later, he was racing down the corridor toward his sister’s chamber. Outside her door, Markham’s heels clicked back and forth along the corridor.
“Markham, what happened?” he demanded of the man.
Markham stopped his pacing, his eyes wide as they settled on Ethan. “I wish I knew,” he replied. “I heard her scream and then found her at the bottom of the stairs, lifeless.”
“But breathing?”
“Yes,” Markham confirmed with a nod. “Breathing, thank God.”
“I will send word of her state once the doctor has seen her.” He looked toward the door, took a deep breath, and turned back to the duke. “Thank you, Markham.”
Ethan left Markham in the corridor and pushed through the door into Ivy’s room. A maid stood by the bed, wringing out a cloth, which she then placed to Ivy’s forehead.
He drew closer. “Dear God,” he breathed. Her face was a mottled mess of black and blue. Seeing her in such a helpless state sparked fear in his heart. Ivy drove him to madness almost on a daily basis, but if anything should ever happen to her, he’d never recover from it.
Ethan had plenty of time to ponder what might have been while he waited for the doctor. It seemed as if hours had passed by the time the man finally arrived, but Ethan was in such a state, it could have only been minutes. But finally, the doctor came through the door, spectacles in place and a large black bag in hand.
“Dr. Fairfax?” Ethan stood to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you for coming.”
“What happened to her?”
“She fell down the stairs and hasn’t so much as stirred.”
“Those stairs, just down the hall?” the doctor asked, gesturing vaguely out the door. Ethan nodded, and the older man shook his head. “She’s lucky to be alive if she took a tumble down those.”
“Indeed,” Ethan said, soberly.
The doctor set to work with his examination, and Ethan turned away for his sister’s modesty. After a while Dr. Fairfax let out a sigh and Ethan turned to find the man packing his bag again, Ivy still lying there, helpless and battered.
“Well,” the doctor began, “she’s breathing normally, but she has a concussion. You need to keep an eye on her, make sure there’s no change to her breathing.”
Ethan let out a long breath – one he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding all this time. It could have been worse. Much, much worse. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Doctor.”
“’I’ve been tending to the Duke of Markham’s daughter. So if there’s any change with Lady Ivy, do send for me.”
Ethan vaguely remembered hearing something about Markham’s daughter being ill. The poor man was under enough stress without having to rescue a young lady from a horrific fall.
“Ouch,” came a faint whisper from the bed.
Relief flooded through Ethan at that simple utterance. “Oh, thank God,” he sighed as he dropped into a chair beside her. “You scared me half to death.”
“Sorry,” she muttered, and then she looked around the room, as if trying to place where she was, before her eyes landed on something – or someone – over Ethan’s shoulder. He glanced behind him to find Lord Michael Beck standing in the doorway, his brow marred with worry. Ethan knew exactly how he felt.
“Her words aren’t slurred,” said Dr. Fairfax. “That’s a good sign.” Then he leaned over Ivy from the other side of the bed 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 he refused to take his eyes off his sister. Thank God she was going to be all right.
“Of course, of course,” the doctor replied. “Now I’d best go check in on Lady Lucy.”
Ethan waited until the doctor was gone to ask, “What in the world happened, Ivy?”
She winced. “I was going to ask you that.”
“Markham heard you scream and found you lifeless at the bottom of the stairs,” Beck said, coming further into the room. “No idea what happened?”
Ivy thought for a moment and then started looking about the room, as if someone hadn’t just asked her a question. Clearly, she hadn’t been altered too much in her fall.
“Ivy!” Ethan grumbled.
“Yes?”
“Lord Michael asked if you knew how you ended up on the stairs.”
She took a deep breath. “I was headed here and…someone pushed me.” She looked toward the doorway, though Ethan wasn’t sure why. There was no one there to look at. “Or something,” she finished.
“You were pushed?” Beck asked, frowning. “You don’t know by whom?”
“I have no idea. The whole thing is slightly hazy.”
Ethan took a deep breath in and let it out on a sigh. They were getting nowhere here. “I’d like to speak with Banfield. I’ll ask Frannie to sit with you.”
“I don’t need to stay here.” Ivy pushed up to a sitting position, and Ethan saw the flicker of discomfort in her eyes. She was as headstrong as they came. But thankfully, Beck stepped forward.
“I can stay with her for a while,” he said. And then he winked at her. “I’ll even stay forever if you’ll let me.”
Ethan shook his head. Beck certainly had his work cut out for him. “How about just until Frannie arrives?” Ethan suggested.
“Honestly, Ethan!” Ivy whined. “I don’t need to stay here. I’m perfectly fine.”
He narrowed his eyes on his stubborn little sister. “You’ll stay here until Doctor Fairfax says otherwise.”
“He said I’m perfectly fine.”
“And you,” he said, turning to Beck, “can stay until Frannie arrives.”
Ivy fancied herself skilled in the ways of the Dallimore scowl, but to Ethan, she just looked like a little girl throwing a temper tantrum. Her stubbornness was doing nothing for his aching head. “So you’re not going to listen to me?”
“Ivy…”
She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest as best she could in her condition. He didn’t care if she was happy about conceding, she’d at least conceded.
With a nod at Beck, Ethan quit the room, intent on finding the Earl of Banfield. He didn’t hold out a lot of hope that the earl would be able to do anything about the situation. After all, Ivy didn’t know who pushed her and Markham hadn’t seen anything. It was possible they’d never know what really happened, but Castle Keyvnor belonged to Banfield, and at the very least the man should know that Ivy had been pushed in his household.
Blast his head hurt! And his nerves were on edge. He needed a drink, and he ne
eded Angel. Nothing would be right in the world until he had both of those things.
Chapter 16
Ethan’s valet couldn’t work fast enough for his taste tonight. He wanted to get to the ballroom as quickly as possible. He wanted to see if Angel had returned, and if she could remain upright in his presence. He wasn’t necessarily the praying sort, but tonight he was in a state of constant prayer. He needed something to go right in his life. This headache was threatening to drive him mad and he was still on edge after Ivy’s fall. He’d thankfully gotten a bit of a nap that afternoon, and had even taken more of that powder Stephen the Footman had brought him. But nothing helped. Only she could fix him. Only she could take away this blasted pain.
He tried not to be surly with his valet, but this was getting ridiculous. “What is taking so long with those buttons, Griffith?”
“Sorry, Your Grace,” the valet muttered. “It’s a bit cold tonight, and my fingers aren’t working as fast.”
Now Ethan felt awful for snapping at the man. “Is it?” he replied, trying to dulcify his tone. “I hadn’t noticed, but I suppose you’re right. The chill is more permeating this evening, isn’t it?”
“There.” Griffiths turned him toward the long mirror in the corner of the room. “I think that is everything, Your Grace.”
Ethan stared at his reflection. It was blurred from the pain, but he could still see that he cut a very nice swath in his black evening clothes. The festive red vest was a nice touch Griffiths had suggested for the occasion.
“I’m very pleased, Griffiths. Thank you.”
The man nodded, a small smile on his thin lips. “My pleasure, Your Grace. And Happy Christmas.”
Ethan smiled back. “To you as well, Griffiths.”
He made his way to the great hall, his eyes scanning the crowds as he did so. It was a lively atmosphere – a bit too lively for how Ethan was feeling this evening, though he wished more than anything that he could enjoy the festivities. He’d spent the last few days in a complete fog, his temper and sanity teetering on the edge, and he’d been beside himself with worry after learning someone had pushed his sister down a flight of stairs. He just wanted to feel normal again, to—
“Your Grace,” a voice said as a hand clapped to Ethan’s back. “Might I have a word with you?”
Ethan turned to find Anthony Beck, Viscount Redgrave beside him. “Evening, Redgrave,” he said, shaking the man’s hand. “What can I do for you?”
But Redgrave wasn’t really listening to him. He was watching Holly as she made her way to them from across the room.
“I told you it was meant to be,” Redgrave said as Holly approached. And then he opened his hand to reveal a bit of mistletoe.
Ethan was not in the mood to play guessing games with the two of them, so he bluntly inquired, “Why the blazes are you carrying mistletoe, Redgrave?”
“For this, Your Grace.” Then Redgrave held the blasted mistletoe above Holly’s head and leaned in to kiss her.
Good God. “Excuse me.” Ethan cleared his throat and Redgrave had the good sense to pull away from Holly.
Neither one of them looked at Ethan, but Redgrave answered, “Yes, Your Grace?”
“Is there a matter that you’d like to discuss with me?”
Holly dragged her lower lip between her teeth and looked away, her cheeks aflame.
“I’d like permission to marry your ward,” Redgrave announced, not bothering to be discreet in any way.
Ethan looked to Holly, a bit of excitement bubbling in his belly. If Holly accepted Redgrave’s suit, and Ivy accepted Lord Michael’s, then Ethan would finally be free. After years of looking after his sisters and Holly, he would be free. “Is this your wish as well?” he asked.
“Yes, Ethan.”
Ethan barely hesitated. “Then how could I possibly object? As long as you are happy, Holly, so shall I be for you.”
Holly gave him a bright smile. “Thank you, Ethan.”
Then he turned back to Redgrave. “Shall we meet, say, the day after tomorrow to discuss details, since tomorrow is Christmas and not a day for settlements?”
“With all due respect, Your Grace, Holly and I will be traveling to Gretna the day after Christmas.”
Damn it all to hell! How had this happened again? Wasn’t once enough? And after his sister Ophelia had been forced into a hasty marriage, he would have thought that Holly would have learned from the experience. But while he’d been incapacitated and chasing down his Angel, Holly had gotten herself into the same kind of trouble, apparently. “Is there a reason for such a rush,” he demanded in a hushed tone.
“No!” Redgrave and Holly blurted out in unison.
“We simply don’t wish to wait,” Redgrave assured Ethan, taking Holly’s hand in his. “You see, we’ve waited nearly three years and don’t wish to wait any longer.”
“Three years?” Ethan asked in disbelief. Not once in that time had he seen any indication that there was anything between Redgrave and his ward. Had this – whatever it was – truly been going on for three years? “Why so long.”
Redgrave laughed. “A mere misunderstanding, and a story suited for a more convenient time.”
Ethan frowned and turned to Holly. “Are you certain? Your brother would have wanted you to find happiness and have a grand wedding.”
Her eyes grew misty and Ethan wanted to kick himself for bringing up David on a night that was supposed to be happy and joyful. But it was his duty as her guardian and as David’s friend to ensure that Holly was well cared for.
But then Holly looked up at Redgrave, with obvious love in her eyes, and said, “A wedding is not important.”
Ethan wasn’t about to stand in the way of what seemed to be true love, and besides, he had his own heart to follow this evening. So he nodded to Redgrave and smiled at Holly. “Then you shall have your wish.”
The happy couple ran off, leaving Ethan standing in the doorway of the great hall alone. The fact Miss Quinn wasn’t here began to weigh heavily on him. In fact, all the odd events of the last few days were weighing on him. He wasn’t one for self-pity usually. Adversity was to be met with fortitude and faced head on. One did not run from their problems, but rather found solutions to them. But all the platitudes in the world couldn’t help him now. Castle Keyvnor had lived up to its reputation and effectively broken his spirit in doing so. In the wake of his emancipation came the stark realization that he was going to be alone soon. Beck was going to propose to Ivy, of that he was certain. And with both girls married off…
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the talisman Holly had given to him. It was supposed to help him find love. A love that was true and pure and that didn’t rely heavily on his title or overflowing coffers.
He scoffed at the small black bag. “True love indeed,” he muttered, and then, just as he was tucking it back inside his coat pocket, the cloud of pain and despair lifted.
“Angel?” he whispered turning in a circle. He could feel her, but he couldn’t see her.
And then, like a mirage in the desert, she appeared to him, all in white, like the angel she was. She stood in the midst of the crowd and everyone became a blur around her. Swirling shapes and colors surrounding her radiant, white light. All his pain was gone, all the sadness he’d felt moments earlier. He felt only joy.
She walked toward him, and thank heaven for that, because Ethan was far too astounded by her beauty to even move.
“Have I died?” he asked once she finally stood before him.
At this, she burst into a gentle, lilting laughter that echoed through his heart. “I promise you, you are quite alive,” she said.
“Good,” he replied. “Then may I have this dance?”
Chapter 17
“My aunts will never believe that I allowed a man to dance with me,” Angel said as she turned in a circle, palm to palm, with His Grace. “Let alone a duke.”
He smiled at her, and she felt as if her heart was going to burst. It wa
s the first time she’d be able to look at him, to truly appreciate the contours of his face, the gleam in his eyes, the kindness of his smile. Wouldn’t it be nice if she could gaze upon him for many years to come?
“I will accompany you to your home so as to make it easier to convince them of my existence.”
She faltered a bit, missing a step. Thankfully she recovered quickly, at least as far as the dance was concerned. “That really isn’t necessary, Your Grace,” she said. If he met her aunts, that could be the end of this fairytale courtship that had barely just begun. It was one thing for him to accept her, being magical and all, but to accept them. They didn’t quite assimilate into society as she did.
“Please,” he murmured as the dance brought them closer together. “You must call me Ethan.”
She gave him a shy smile. “If we are ever in a private setting, Your Grace, I will be most happy to do so.”
“Then I must get you to a private setting as soon as is humanly possible.”
The dance wasn’t over, but for them, it seemed it was. Ethan pressed a hand to the small of her back, seamlessly sweeping her from the dance floor, across the great hall, until they were in the corridor. He glanced about before grabbing her by the hand and pulling her away from the crowd. It got quieter as they walked. And colder.
“Where are you taking me?” she wondered aloud.
He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. He was so close, and his hands were on her elbows, sending warmth and chills simultaneously through her body. She tipped her chin up to look at him, to look into his eyes. They were a dark shade of blue-gray, like summer storm clouds, and they pierced right through her, right down to her soul. She felt exposed and vulnerable, feelings that used to frighten her and make her feel weak. But not with him. Not with Ethan.
“We hardly know each other,” he began, searching her face. “Yet I feel as if I’ve known you my whole life.”
She couldn’t disagree with that. There was a level of comfort with him that she scarcely felt with people she actually had known her whole life.
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