by Regina Scott
Denied her prize, Sophia turned in his arms and blew bubbles at Alex again. He looked no more pleased by the second attempt than he had the first.
Kendall stood, lifting Sophia higher against his shoulder. “Have a care, Alex. My wife deserves nothing but respect from you.”
Alex held up both hands. “I mean no disrespect. But as your solicitor, it is my duty to counsel you on financial matters. And as a friend, I feel it my duty to counsel you on matters of the heart.”
“This isn’t a matter of the heart,” Kendall told him. “Ivy and I have an agreement. She has already more than surpassed her side. I intend to do no less.”
“Very well,” Alex said, lowering his hands. “Just be careful. I would not want you to allow this woman into your home, into your daughter’s life, only to regret it.”
Chapter Eleven
Ivy left her apron in the kitchen and started for the door. Still a half hour before she must accept Sophia back from Kendall. She was highly tempted to take a quick nap. She hadn’t cared for a baby in nearly ten years. She’d forgotten how exhausting it could be.
And how exhilarating.
Sophia had stopped crying for the most part. She regarded the world with bright eyes. And not only could she sit on her own, but she’d tried to crawl. Amazing! Ivy could hardly wait to see what tomorrow brought.
She hadn’t expected today to bring trouble.
She found Kendall and Sophia in his study, an unlikely place for a baby he’d refused to allow in the library. She was further surprised to spot another man with them. He was heavily built, with black hair and well-tailored clothing nearly as dark. He climbed to his feet at the sight of Ivy, as did Kendall. Sophia waved her arms in greeting.
“Ivy, allow me to introduce Sir Alexander Prentice, our solicitor,” Kendall said.
The older man swept her a bow. “Lady Kendall. A pleasure. I’ve heard a great deal about you.”
Normally the phrase suggested praise, but there was something about the way he said it that made Ivy wish she’d worn a better dress than her blue cambric today. As she moved closer, she saw Kendall’s smile waiver as his gaze brushed her cheek. Her hand reached up to touch her face and came away white with flour.
“I seem to have misplaced my puff,” she said brightly, brushing the telltale signs away and hoping none speckled her gown or Percy would sigh in vexation. “Powder can be so time-consuming.”
Both men smiled politely. Sophia blew bubbles at her.
“I wonder, your lordship,” the solicitor said smoothly, “if perhaps Lady Sophia could be surrendered to her nurse so that I might discuss matters with Lady Kendall.”
Kendall lifted Sophia higher. “Either Ivy or I attend to Lady Sophia’s needs. If we are both needed, she stays.”
Ivy beamed at him.
Sophia screwed up her face, cheeks turning red.
Kendall’s smile faded into alarm. “What’s wrong with her?”
Ivy came to take her from his grip, feeling the warmth against her arm. “Lady Sophia requires a change.”
Kendall looked positively horrified.
His solicitor’s face wrinkled, like Sophia when she had tried the peas. “As I said, perhaps it is time to call for her nurse.”
Kendall squared his shoulders. “No need. I will take her to Becky. I’ll return shortly.” He accepted his daughter back from Ivy with only the faintest of flinches at the scent wafting up and bore her from the room.
“I see you and Lord Kendall have worked out an arrangement,” the solicitor said in the silence that followed.
Did he know theirs was a marriage of convenience? Ivy merely smiled, dropping her gaze as she went to sit opposite the man.
“I have seldom seen his lordship so besotted,” the solicitor said.
He wasn’t besotted in the slightest, but if Kendall had given that impression to his man of affairs, she would not attempt to change it. She met his gaze and was surprised to find his look calculating.
“What did you wish to discuss, Sir Alexander?” she asked.
He leaned back and clasped his hands over one knee. “Straight to the point. Always my preference. Lord Kendall neglected to have me draw up the necessary papers for your dower arrangement. I will bring them to you to sign within a week’s time. I’ll make sure you have the use of the dower house as long as you live and suitable funds to support yourself.”
Ivy waited, but he did not continue. Indeed, he was smiling amicably as if he’d granted her a boon she could not possibly deserve.
“And dowries for my two sisters,” she said.
His smile broadened. Why did it feel as if he had patted her on the head? “I know a gentleman promises many things while courting. If you had come to me, I could have explained that such gifts are not necessary when a lady has a brother who should be responsible.”
But what a burden to put on Matty, especially now that he’d married Charlotte. The money they saved should go to their own children one day.
“I did not realize it was an unusual arrangement,” Ivy said. “Lord Kendall offered it, and I accepted. I would expect him to honor his word.”
“And it is my duty to prevent him from overexerting himself.”
Overexerting? Was the estate mortgaged? She glanced around at all the gilding and marble. Had his forebears squandered their money to build such a palace, to protect that Roman pavement?
Ivy squared her shoulders. “I will economize if it means providing for my sisters. I can cook and clean. I need no fancy dresses or jewels.”
He stared at her. Then he barked a laugh and wagged a finger at her. “Ah, I can see you will have your little joke, but I must insist. Lord Kendall had no business offering you such a fortune. You brought nothing to this marriage. You received a gracious home, more pin money than you could possibly spend.”
She had brought far more than that, but Ivy seized on two of his words. “Pin money? How much pin money?”
He paused, then cautiously named a sum as if he expected her to bargain over the amount. It was more than Matty had made as a bodyguard in a year.
“A month?” she pressed.
“Yes,” he allowed, frown gathering on his dark brow.
She calculated quickly. If she kept her expenses to her usual amount, she’d have a fine dowry for Daisy in two years’ time. Think what she could save for Tuny and Sophia.
Ivy smiled at him. “Then I will be delighted to sign your papers, sir. Thank you for explaining things to me.”
For some reason, his charming smile looked strained as he pushed to his feet. “Always glad to be able to assist Lord Kendall. Good day, madam.”
He left the room, and Mrs. Sheppard glided in. Surely she hadn’t been listening outside the door. Ivy felt her cheeks heating nonetheless.
“Where did you wish tea to be served this afternoon, your ladyship?” the housekeeper asked.
Ivy nearly asked for a cup in her room as she had taken it the last two days, but an idea beckoned. “Where does Lord Kendall generally take tea?”
“In the emerald salon, your ladyship, at precisely three.”
It was nearly that now. “Then I will take it with him after he has bid farewell to Sir Alexander. That will make less work for you.”
Mrs. Sheppard nodded, started to turn away, then paused and looked back. “You do realize, Lady Kendall, that we serve you, and not the other way around. You have no need to tailor your life for our convenience.”
She’d always been the one to cook and clean at home, first for her ailing mother, then her spiteful stepmother. Even though she’d set her sisters chores, the responsibility had fallen to her, especially after they’d moved to London and she’d begun caring for Matthew’s home. She knew how hard it could be. She wasn’t about to increase the burden on others.
And if the estate was struggling, all the more reason not to add to the staff’s woes. Small wonder Mrs. Sheppard had feared Ivy might discharge some of the staff. It must cost a fortune to house
and feed all these people, let alone pay them their quarterly wages.
But the housekeeper might not know how tenuous their standing. Ivy certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell her.
“Do unto others,” she said to Mrs. Sheppard. “My mother insisted on it, and I have made it my habit as well. So, today, I will take tea with his lordship, as a wife should. Please have Becky find me if Sophia needs me in any way.”
The housekeeper agreed, and Ivy went to the emerald salon.
The room was empty as she entered, so she had a moment to wander past the patterned silk wall hangings that had given the room its name. She seemed to recall Mrs. Bateman turning down similar material once as being too costly. Here it covered from the ivory wainscoting to the gilded cornices of the high ceiling, except where the white marble fireplace and wide windows overlooking the drive interrupted the expanse of green. All the furnishings were gilded too. If they needed money, she could see doing without half of the dozen chairs sprinkled about the room and perhaps those massive gold urns between the emerald-draped windows.
And who was she to make such arrangements, even in her mind? Only when Charlotte had come into their lives had their sitting room furnishings looked even half as fancy. If Ivy hadn’t married Kendall, she might well have been the one scrubbing the floors or shining the windows, not sitting on the grand sofa before the marble hearth as if she was a lady to the manor born.
Still, she sat a little taller as Kendall appeared in the doorway.
From the moment she’d met him, at a ball hosted by the Countess of Carrolton more than a month ago, she’d been awed at the elegance of him. Even now, after tending to Sophia for more than two hours, he was calm, in control. Not even a hair of his mustache was out of place as he walked toward Ivy and offered her a bow. His poise had its appeal, even if she had never lived a life that would allow such perfection.
“Do I take it you’ll be joining me for tea?” he asked, straightening.
“Sophia is cared for, so yes, if it pleases you,” Ivy replied.
He flipped up his coattails to sit beside her. “It pleases me a great deal. Thank you for suggesting I spend time with Sophia this morning. I begin to see the challenge I’ve given you.”
“She is a darling,” Ivy assured him.
The mother-of-pearl-faced clock on the gilded mantel chimed three.
Mrs. Sheppard moved into the room with a footman who was wheeling a tea cart. The fine china cups patterned in blue and copper like the Roman pavement chimed as he positioned the cart near Ivy and withdrew to stand by the doorway in case he was needed. The teapot was silver—of course—and so polished she could see her reflection in it.
That would fetch a pretty penny, if they needed it.
Mrs. Sheppard curtsied to Ivy. “Shall I pour, your ladyship?”
Ivy had usually poured for Matthew and her sisters. But she didn’t want to disrupt Kendall’s routine any more than necessary. “Yes, thank you.”
The housekeeper dispensed the brew. Ivy watched her. She served Kendall first, a full cup of the rich amber tea, no sugar, lemon, or milk.
“How do you prefer your tea, your ladyship?” she asked.
“The same,” Ivy said.
Kendall smiled, but he waited until she had been served to take a sip. Ivy blew away the steam before bringing the cup to her mouth. As the tea touched her tongue, she drew back with a frown.
Mrs. Sheppard must have been watching her too. “Something amiss?” she asked.
Kendall glanced at Ivy as well.
It was wretched tea, bitter and speckled with leaves. Matthew had had better, on his limited income. Couldn’t they afford to do the same? She almost protested, then erased the frown from her face. She should not complain if this was the best the housekeeper had to offer.
“I just wasn’t expecting this variety,” Ivy explained. “Is this what you prefer, my lord?”
Mrs. Sheppard transferred her gaze to Kendall.
“I have become accustomed to it,” he said.
So, someone else had introduced it to the house. His late wife, perhaps? That would explain the red rising above his beard. She made a note to discuss the matter with the housekeeper.
“Would you serve the biscuits, Mrs. Sheppard?” Ivy asked. She certainly needed one if she was to get through this cup.
Now Kendall frowned. “Biscuits?”
Mrs. Sheppard’s hand froze in the act of reaching for the snowy platter on the tea tray. “Yes, my lord. Lady Kendall’s choice.”
His brow cleared, and he selected one of the thin Naples biscuits from the platter. Ivy accepted one as well, but she waited for him to take a bite, heart starting to beat faster.
He bit into the crisp rosewater-flavored biscuit. His brow went up. He took another bite and finished the biscuit with the third. “That was very good. I’ll take another.”
Beaming, Mrs. Sheppard extended the platter again.
Crumbs clung to his mustache—creamy white against the sable. Ivy hugged her cup close to keep from reaching out and brushing them away from his lips. He ate through a second and a third biscuit, tea forgotten.
“In my family,” Ivy ventured, “we often dip them in the tea, like this.” She suited word to action, then brought the dripping sweet to her lips.
Just in time to see Mrs. Sheppard’s eyes widen in shock.
Apparently, marchionesses didn’t dunk their biscuits in their tea.
Yet Kendall was willing to try. He cautiously inserted his biscuit into the cup, then brought it out and took a bite. “Interesting,” he said after swallowing. He finished the biscuit, then sipped at his tea. “And it improves the taste of the brew as well.”
Ivy relaxed against the sofa.
But not for long. Kendall set aside his tea and reached to take the platter of biscuits from the housekeeper’s grip and position it on the table in front of him, as if intending to finish the batch himself. “These are marvelous. My compliments to Mrs. Grunion. An experiment, I take it?”
Mrs. Sheppard busied herself straightening the teapot. “Yes, my lord.”
“Then it is a smashing success,” he said. “I don’t ever recall anyone baking like this before.”
Mrs. Sheppard met Ivy’s gaze, and for a moment Ivy thought the housekeeper would tell him the truth of the biscuits’ origin. But she merely turned to Kendall with a smile. “We have a new baker. She is quite talented.”
Ivy’s cheeks felt as warm as her heart.
Kendall picked up his cup again. “A new baker, eh? What do you think, Ivy? Is there something you’ve craved?”
A kiss from you?
Goodness, where had that thought come from? There would be no kisses shared between them. She’d known that when she’d married him.
“These are among my favorites,” she confessed. “But what of you, my lord? Did you have no treat that thrilled you as a boy?”
He pursed his lips as if considering the matter. They were a soft rose, in keeping with his dark coloring. She could lean forward, capture his lips with her own.
Why did she persist in thinking of kisses!
“I seem to recall an overindulgence in anise biscuits,” Mrs. Sheppard put in.
He laughed. “Oh, yes. Right before Eton. Father wasn’t pleased when he discovered a full dozen missing.” He turned to Ivy. “They were his favorite too, you see. We had quite a discussion on the importance of putting the needs of others before your own.”
And his father’s words had obviously made an impression. He had even pledged his life to a near stranger so Sophia could have a mother.
“Would it be possible to procure some anise seed, Mrs. Sheppard?” Ivy asked.
The housekeeper smiled. “I’m certain it can be arranged, your ladyship. I’ll be sure to alert our baker as soon as they arrive.” She curtsied and left them then.
Kendall leaned back, cradling his cup in his hands. “Do you know, I never thought about the tea before. It’s rather wretched.”
He hesitated, then set his cup on the table. “Yes, thank you.”
Now Ivy hesitated. “If there’s an issue of cost…”
He waved a hand. “Whatever you like. Mrs. Sheppard can see that it’s ordered the next time we send to London for meat.”
Ivy eyed him. “You send all the way to London for meat? Isn’t that expensive?”
He turned and took her hand in his own. “Ivy, you needn’t worry about cost. Look around you. I would spare no expense to make you and Sophia happy.”
Perhaps, but might that have been the thing that had caused the estate to struggle? Still, she knew a man’s pride. Her father had refused to discuss money with his daughters, to the point that she had had no idea what he had left them when he had died. Mrs. Bateman had claimed they were penniless and lucky that she was willing to allow them to keep living in their home, which she now owned. Matthew had been similarly tight-lipped about his income, though he had given her a specific budget in which she had to confine her spending for the house.
And she had pin money. She would use it to help Kendall, the staff, and her sisters.
Kendall rose beside her and glanced out the window. “Lovely afternoon for a stroll. Would you be interested in joining me, Ivy? We can have a footman run out if Sophia needs you.”
A walk on his arm, sunlight bathing his face, gleaming in his dark eyes. What more could she want?
“I’d be delighted, my lord,” she said.
Chapter Twelve
Meredith smiled at the pile of responses on the secretary before her. Something soft and feathery, most likely a tail, brushed her ankle below her lavender skirts, and she glanced down. Fortune was eyeing the open desk.
“You know very well it won’t bear your weight,” Meredith reminded her pet. “We’ve already repaired it twice since I purchased it six months ago.” She shifted to block the cat from making a third attempt.
Fortune leaped up on her lap instead and raised her head over the edge of the drop-down desk as if covertly studying the enemy. One white-tipped paw reached up to bat at the paper there. Meredith caught the parchment before it could fall.