by Sahara Kelly
“I live here, silly,” she scolded. “I am not going to get lost walking the few feet down the hallway to my room. And best we not be seen together en déshabillé, Colly. You know that.”
He’d nodded.
“Good night.” The words had come out as a soft endearment.
Ivy had shivered in response and gently touched his hand as he held the door open. “Good night.”
And here it was, morning, and she felt…renewed. Revitalised. Ready to face the day with the knowledge that she had changed last night; learned about herself, her body and her responses to a man’s touch.
The right man. For her, anyway.
What lay ahead, she didn’t know, but as she rose and completed her morning routine, she remained firm in that she had no regrets whatsoever about what had happened.
She spared a hope that Colly felt the same as she walked downstairs to breakfast.
“Good morning.” Elvina smiled as Ivy entered the parlour. “I recommend the scones. Cook has done an extraordinary job with them today and there’s our own blackberry jam to go with them.”
“Oh lovely,” answered Ivy, joining Elvina at the sideboard and adding eggs and slices of ham to her plate, as well as some scones.
“You must have worked up an appetite yesterday,” remarked Elvina.
Ivy hoped she hadn’t blushed. “Must be all the fresh air,” she replied, then bit into a scone to prevent any further conversation along those lines.
Lady Siddington arrived. “Oh, that scent. Fresh baking always makes my mouth water.” She smiled as Elvina rose, and Ivy came to her side, placing a soft kiss on her cheek.
“Good morning, Grandmama. You have to try the scones. They’re delicious.”
Settling at the table, she allowed a footman to serve her as Elvina and Ivy resumed their seats. “And where is his Grace this morning?”
“Right here, my Lady. Good morning to you.” Colly walked in and bowed to his hostess. “I see I’m not the only one lured by that delightful fragrance.” He moved to the sideboard and helped himself to a hearty breakfast.
“I trust you slept well, sir?” Lady Siddington glanced at him over the rim of her teacup. “Did you dream of knights and battles?”
He chuckled. “No, I have to admit I slept like a log. But the chamber itself is magnificent. It was an honour to be there, let alone pass a night there.”
“You wouldn’t say that in the winter,” laughed Elvina.
“I think I mentioned that as well,” smiled Ivy.
The conversation turned general, with Ivy and the Duke conversing easily, acceptably, over the morning meal. It was a relief in many ways, since she was able to relax and enjoy the light discussion of various matters.
Elvina contributed her mite, now and again, but pleaded letters to write and left after she’d finished her breakfast.
The friendly exchanges ended with the arrival of a footman who dipped his head correctly to Lady Siddington.
“Your pardon, my Lady. An urgent message has arrived for his Grace.” A note lay sealed on the silver platter in his hands.
Lady Siddington nodded. “Then his Grace must have it immediately.”
With a puzzled frown, the Duke took the note with a murmur of thanks. “Excuse me for a moment…” He turned in his chair a little and broke the seal, reading the missive.
Ivy noticed his expression change, shift into hard lines. It was what she’d come to privately refer to as his “public” face; cold and devoid of emotions.
“Colly, is everything all right?” A thought flashed through her mind, stopping her heart for a moment. “It’s not Prudence, is it?”
He lifted his head and looked at her, his gaze icy. “No, no, thank God. This isn’t about Prudence.”
“But it would appear to be bad news…”
He nodded. “It is. Grave news. And I have to admit I’m uncertain as to how to proceed.” He folded the note and put it on the table beside the plate. Then he turned to Lady Siddington.
“My Lady, I believe you might be in a position to guide me at this time. A situation has arisen in London that I find most distressing and I have to confess I’m unsure of how to go forward…”
“Of course, sir. How can we help?”
He paused, looking around at the serious faces turned to him. Then he sighed as his gaze rested on Ivy. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such trust and kindness, but I thank you for it.”
“Tell us, Colly.”
“Very well.” He picked up the note again. “I have received notification that London is now buzzing with the rumour that a sizable portion of my fortune has been pledged to the rebels who are apparently gathering in the north.”
“What?” Ivy’s jaw dropped. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Of course it is,” he shot back. “Utterly outrageous.”
“But you cannot deny it because…” prompted Lady Siddington, her eyes fixed on the Duke’s face.
“Because I have, in the recent past, been quite vocal in my condemnation of what’s happening to the workers up there.” He shook his head. “I cannot abide the thought of starving children.”
“No feeling gentleman should,” said Lady Siddington quietly. “But I have to assume that your comments are now being twisted into a weapon to be used against you.”
“You have no holdings up there, Colly. You told me that, yesterday.” Ivy added her mite.
“And I was correct. I do not have any direct holdings. But some of the estate finances may well be tied up in some of the businesses. Mines, mills, whatever.” He looked at Ivy. “You must be aware that my estate is a large one and I cannot keep track of all the investments. I trust my man of business, Ivy. But even he may be unaware of the end of the line on some of the financial dealings.”
She frowned. “How can he not know?”
“It’s not surprising, my dear,” answered her grandmother. “Lord Such and Such forms a consortium of investors and the financial pool is split diversely between various ventures. If it’s successful, then it begins to earn a reputation as sound, and more and more investors are lured into putting money into it. At some point it become a very large fund, and few of those holding shares in it know what is actually involved.”
“Exactly, Ma’am.” Colly agreed. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”
“Well, I found out the hard way,” she sighed. “An uncle of your grandfather’s, Ivy. He was in one of these funds. Turned out the majority of the profits were coming from a very famous brothel.”
Ivy couldn’t help a gasp of laughter. “Oh no.”
“Had a devil of a time living it down, too,” her grandmother chuckled. “But that’s neither here nor there.” She turned back to the Duke. “So this rumour is causing a bit of an uproar, I would assume…”
He nodded. “In the worst of ways.” He turned his gaze back to Ivy. “This is more than a mere scandalous murmur. This could very easily destroy the name of Maidenbrooke.”
“Surely not,” she countered. “A rumour? An unproven rumour?”
“I’m afraid his Grace is right, my dear,” answered Lady Siddington with a worried look. “When politics are involved, and especially in such a tense situation as this, such matters transcend society’s views and can wander into territory awfully near treason.”
“What?” Ivy’s muted cry of shock caught in her throat.
The Duke nodded, his expression sombre. “That is true. I shall have to return to London, of course.” He gazed at Ivy. “And this means that I cannot marry you, Ivy. We must formally end our engagement.”
She blinked, then found a wave of hot anger spreading through her. “Nonsense. Utter and complete nonsense. Of course we shall wed.”
*~~*~~*
The discussion continued unabated between them for some time, as the Duke tried to explain the unpleasant ramifications of the situation to his fiancée.
Finally, Lady Siddington tapped her teacup with her teaspoon.
&n
bsp; Everyone paused and looked at her.
“I’ve listened to everything you’ve both had to say and you both have raised valid points. I have reached a conclusion, and it is quite important, so pay attention.”
She turned to the Duke. “You have an excellent reputation, sir, as does the name of Maidenbrooke. Yes, this rumour will damage it and tarnish it considerably. But in my view, it would only worsen matters were you to run back to London, end your engagement to Ivy, and begin to try to refute the accusations.”
He frowned. “Ma’am?”
“You say that you do not wish to damage Ivy’s reputation so badly. That this nastiness would, coming on the heels of the business that resulted in your engagement, damage her even further. That is a logical assumption, but only if you decide to call off your marriage.” She leaned forward. “It would give every appearance of being an excuse to escape your engagement, which would damage you both.” She tapped her fingers on the tablecloth. “Listen to me now. In my opinion, your best course of action is to continue as you have been doing. You must rise above this rumour, your Grace, rather than try to fight it. And in doing so, you will demonstrate your complete innocence in this whole absurd situation. Or at least give people pause to wonder if they are making unwarranted assumptions…”
“Hmm.” The Duke’s expression turned pensive as he considered Lady Siddington’s words.
“In fact,” she continued, “I think it would be an excellent notion for you to return to London in a few days’ time, with Ivy as your wife.”
The silence that greeted that comment was profound.
“Er, Grandmama?” Ivy croaked.
The old lady grinned. “Thought that would catch you by surprise. But just think about it for a moment or two. You get married here, under the cachet of the Siddington name, at the well-known Siddington Castle. The union is blessed by your family, Ivy, and performed by Bishop Farborough to add a touch of clerical propriety.”
“Good lord,” Colly straightened in surprise. “You can get him? The man who turned down an Archbishopric offered by the King?”
Once again, Lady Siddington allowed herself a moment of delighted pleasure, and smirked. “He still holds a wee bit of a tendre, I think.”
Ivy couldn’t help a smile. “One day you will have to tell me of your adventures, Grandmama.”
“One day, perhaps. Not for a long time yet.” Lady Siddington reached out and put her hand over Ivy’s. “But I believe you must wed the Duke, my dear. It’s the best way to dampen these silly fires someone is trying to light.”
“I have to admit that your proposition has a great deal of merit,” sighed Colly. “I was not looking forward to returning to a sea of inquisitive faces and questions I cannot answer.” He turned to Ivy. “You and I both know how Society thinks. Were we to return as a married couple, the focus would be on us, on our union, rather than the Maidenbrooke financial situation. At least from the gossipmongers’ point of view. It would buy me time to find out what on earth is going on and who has instigated it.”
Ivy straightened in her chair. “I don’t need to be persuaded, Colly. It’s what I have been saying all along. I’d never turn tail and run from such a problem as presents itself here. And together we shall find out who is behind it all. And…and then…”
“And what?” he asked, with an amused smile curving his lips.
“Well, we shoot him.” She closed her mouth with a snap.
“Don’t be so bloodthirsty, my dear,” reproved her grandmother. “If you two can find out who started all this, I should expect nothing less of your future husband than to plant him a really hard facer or two, and then utterly destroy his reputation, both personally and financially.”
“Hmm. Well, if I can’t shoot him then I could go along with that idea.” She clenched her fist and looked at Colly. “I’d like to do a bit of punching as well. Or perhaps I could just hit him with something very hard. Several times.”
The Duke shook his head. “I never realised the potential for violence that lurked beneath your charming exteriors, ladies. Stop now, before I question the wisdom of joining such a family.”
“That’s the best part, your Grace.” Lady Siddington looked at him. “You will be joining the family. And so will your dear Prudence. We’re not large, but we’re a close-knit group, and I so look forward to welcoming you properly as my grandson-in-law. And giving you all the support you need during this trying time.”
“Well then,” said Ivy, standing and straightening her skirts. “Let’s get on with it. We’ve a wedding to arrange.”
Chapter Eleven
It was decided that two days hence would be the ideal date for the nuptials of His Grace the Duke of Maidenbrooke and Miss Ivy Siddington.
The groom, who prided himself on his efficiency and speed when it came to matters of great import, was completely floored by the developments that were taking place in the following hours.
Once the decision had been made, it seemed as if an army of Siddington servants arose and invaded the countryside, charged with their various duties.
One headed for London with the notice for the Times that Colly had carefully penned. He had done so with many hints and suggestions from Ivy, who leaned over his shoulder the entire time. Others might have found themselves forcibly ejected from the room, but she was his soon-to-be wife. And she smelled wonderful.
So he did his best to ignore her helpful suggestions, enjoyed her presence, and contented himself with a very brief statement of fact.
Ivy pursed her lips as she read the final version.
“His Grace the Duke of Maidenbrooke is pleased to announce his marriage to Miss Ivy Cyrene Siddington, daughter of the late Ronald Francis Siddington, of Vine Place. The Most Reverend Bishop Farborough officiated, and Lady Alice Siddington, the bride’s grandmother, pledged the union, which took place at Siddington Castle.”
She looked up. “What does that mean? Pledged the union?”
“It’s an easier way of saying stood proxy for your father and gave you away.”
“Oh.”
“I am correct, am I not? You will be given away by her Ladyship?”
Ivy smiled. “Yes, that’s right.” She sighed. “I can only hope my parents will be watching and be happy for us.”
Colly slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him as he sat at the desk. “I’m sure they will, my dear. I’m sure they will.”
Once the announcement was on its way, other messages were sent, riders were summoned, and Siddington Castle seemed to become a massive hive of activity. The Duke was, more often than not, caught in this female-directed bustle, so with everyone’s enthusiastic permission, he took himself off to a small library on the far end of the castle’s west wing. Filled with light from the mullioned windows that caught the sun, it also contained enough books to keep him content for about ten years or so.
He was thus able to peacefully write notes to those who needed to be informed about his upcoming change in status; the legal firm who represented the Maidenbrooke interests was first on his list, followed by his man of business. He promised a visit very shortly and added a few words of reassurance. Poor Franklin was probably much concerned about the whole rumour mess.
He wrote a more correct missive to a distant relative, although since they’d not seen each other in at least a decade, it was simply a formality. Also his cousin lived in Scotland, on a delightfully huge estate of his own. He would not be worrying too much about losing an inheritance upon the appearance of an heir to Maidenbrooke, which might be expected to follow the marriage.
Just the thought sent a bolt of desire into Colly’s breeches. He clenched his teeth and fought it down, admitting that this response to Ivy was unique. He’d never reacted quite so physically to a woman in his life.
Staring from the window at nothing at all, he pondered how everything was about to change. But before he had chance to fully engage in that line of thought, a tap on the door drew his attention.
He shrugged, knowing his solitude was probably about to end.
“Come in,” he said, expecting a servant, a maid, Ivy, the cook or Lord-knows-who.
“What ho, your Grace.”
The grinning visage of Lord Miles Linfield peered around the door. “We come bearing suitable gifts…” He pushed his arm past the jamb and waved a decanter.
“Well don’t just stand there, man, get in here and pour.” The Duke beckoned to Miles and then blinked as he was followed by Mowbray Linfield and Matthew Davenport.
“Good God. Is the entire Wednesday Club here?” He stared at Miles, who was already making himself at home with the decanter and the glasses he found on a side table.
“Not quite. But Sir Laurence and Lady Maud are arriving later today and the Withersbys are on the way.”
“This place has a dining room, right?” Matthew crossed the room to shake hands with the Duke. “Going to be quite a crowd for dinner.”
“Since this is obviously a castle built in the early Middle Ages, Matthew, I think you can rest assured that not only do they have a dining room, but it would probably seat at least a hundred people, if not more. Plus a small herd of goats.” Mowbray looked around him. “I’d hazard a guess at perhaps the fourteenth century, maybe, give or take a hundred years either way…”
“Fun, isn’t it?” The Duke, feeling the warmth of the brandy settling nicely into his muscles, sat down in a large leather chair and smiled at Mowbray.
“Not sure about the fun, but my goodness. A real live castle,” answered Mowbray, his eyes sparkling.
“And the most excellent thing about it is that there isn’t much he can break or trip over,” quipped Miles, knowing his brother’s reputation for clumsiness.
“Just keep him away from the suits of armour and all will be well,” promised Matthew.
“You know, I haven’t actually seen any of those,” mused the Duke. “There are some interesting paintings and shield designs in the gallery, but no armour.”
“Is there a dungeon?”
The general groan at Matthew’s question gave way to additional conversation about castles, knights, and dungeons. The level of the brandy lowered as the general tone of the discussion warmed nicely, and Colly was astonished to see how much time had passed with his convivial companions.