A Garden for Ivy (The Wednesday Club Book 3)

by Sahara Kelly

  Miles chuckled. “That would be Mowbray. By a mile.”

  Thus addressed, Mowbray blushed. “My brother is too kind. But I will say, with all modesty, I do have a minor reputation as a good shot.”

  “He bagged a partridge in full flight when the rest of us could barely see it,” said Miles dryly.

  “And you made me pluck the damn thing.”

  “It kept you humble,” grinned his brother.

  “Well, that’s settled,” said the Duke. “Mowbray, if you would be so kind as to take this spot…”

  Doing as he was bid, Mowbray stood silently as the Duke tried other suggestions, sent a couple of the women outside, and generally experimented with what he considered to be the safest method of deploying his troops.

  At least that’s how Ivy viewed it.

  And when they were done, she had to agree. If they could lure Barrett into the back garden and bring him face to face with the Duke, there wouldn’t be a single spot where he wasn’t covered by someone who would be armed.

  Miles and Mowbray would be indoors, while Ragnor would take up a spot outside, behind one corner of the carriage house wall. It was in the shade during the afternoon, and he could slip behind it and still have an excellent vantage point of the entire area.

  Not to be outdone, Lydia demanded her chance to shine. “I can shoot, too,” she said. “Ask anyone. Last Christmas I was permitted to join the shoot at The Buckles. I will simply say that we wouldn’t have had quail pies had I not been present.” She stared at the group, daring them to disagree with her.

  “How are you with a smaller weapon?” The Duke asked her, his curiosity clear.

  “I’ve handled them. Done some target practice. Duelling pistols mostly, and only because I wanted to know what they felt like when discharging.”

  “Um…” Judith blinked at her.

  “Some weapons have quite a bit of a kick to them.” Lydia imparted the information with a knowledgeable air. “But the pistols I tried didn’t hurt my hand at all.”

  “Well then, Miss Davenport, I nominate you to be positioned here next to this window, just with a duelling pistol. And our quarry will think nothing of it, since you’re known to be my wife’s close friend.”

  “Excellent,” she chuckled, rubbing her hands together. “I shall be very happy to do so, your Grace.”

  “Are you planning on giving her the ammunition to go with it?” inquired Miles.

  Lydia’s scornful glance should have turned Miles into a stain on the carpet.

  “Just try not to shoot any of us.” Mowbray’s lips curved into a smile.

  “I’ll do my best, but if either you make any more remarks like that I might suddenly develop a problem recalling exactly who is my designated target…” Her suggestive retort made everyone laugh.

  “I can’t say this whole idea has my wholehearted support,” Ivy stood and looked at them all. “But I believe it may solve our problem in the only way possible. Barrett has to be stopped. If we hear him confess to slandering Colly, we have him.” She swallowed. “And my obvious concern—that Barrett will attempt violence—will be addressed by our armed observation gallery.” She looked at the Duke. “Please, be honest. Will you feel safe if we attempt this?”

  He walked to her and took her hand in front of everyone, surprising her with the casual informality. “Yes, my dear. If our friends cannot protect me, I will lose all faith in just about everything. I’m not ready to do that, so again, I say yes. I believe my safety will be assured. And I will, of course, be armed.”

  It would have to do.

  “One slight problem.” Rose walked to the windows, then turned around to look at everyone. “We have to get him here, right? Even he is not stupid enough to just walk into the Duke’s garden and confront him, even if he’s invited by a note written in gold leaf on the Duke’s private stationery in the Duke’s own hand.”

  “Do you have private stationery?” Ivy glanced at her husband.

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Good point” said Ragnor. “Yes, we do need to lure him here or all this will be for nothing.”

  “So let’s use Miss Ringwood.” Rose spread her hands wide. “She’s our—conduit, if you will, to Barrett.”

  Ivy thought about it. “She’s quite skittish now, though. She would guess we’re not exactly rolling out a welcoming mat for either her or her fiancé.”

  “She has an ego too,” commented Judith. “And a desire to be see with the right people. If we perhaps offer an olive branch. Tell her we’re rather sorry for the way we behaved, and would like to make amends…”

  “Oh,” blinked Lydia. “Better yet…what about an invitation to privately view the new garden? Before Prudence’s formal birthday?”

  “I like that. It would definitely appeal both to her and probably Barrett too. We’d have to time it right,” mused Ivy. “If Prudence agrees, we could send out the invitations to the actual event early, then after everyone has one, ask Miss Ringwood if she’d agree to tea and an early preview.”

  “She’s clearly eager for social status,” observed Rose. “I think she’d jump at the chance to be beforehand with the rest of the Ton…”

  “Not to mention being able to flaunt a personal invitation from her Grace…” Rose’s eyes drifted to Ivy.

  “Well, of course that would do the trick.” Ivy rolled her eyes.

  “I am not sure about all this,” said the Duke, “because it does fall far beyond my area of expertise. But if you ladies believe this would be a successful way to lure Miss Ringwood, and thus Barrett, here into the garden, then you have my support.”

  “And I’m positive that Prudence will approve as well,” said Lydia. “So that settles it.” She looked at Ivy. “Dates? Times?”

  Ivy’s mind turned over the situation. “Prudence’s birthday is this coming Saturday. What if we extend the invitation to Miss Ringwood at the Wednesday Club?”

  “Do you think she’ll come, after what happened last time?”

  “She will if Lady Maud invites her,” declared Ivy. “But that means we will have to take the Sydenhams into our confidence.”

  “I doubt any of us has an objection to that,” Judith offered. “They’ve been our staunch supporters for so long now, they’re family as far as we’re concerned.”

  “That’s it, then.” Ivy looked at her friends. “We will alert Sir Laurence and Lady Maud. Miss Ringwood will attend the Wednesday Club, where she’ll be personally and warmly invited to take tea and enjoy a private preview of the new town garden at Hartsmere House on Friday.”

  “Which she will mention to her fiancé, who will then recognise his chance to gain information about if not access to the Duke,” continued Rose. “I wonder if he might believe it to be his chance to finish what he started. After all, we’ve told the town that his Grace is still unwell.”

  “Interesting point,” said Mowbray. “We can’t know what his state of mind might be, but I’ll wager he would never miss the opportunity to actually be invited over the threshold of what he considers to be his enemy’s territory.”

  “He’s in for a surprise,” commented Ivy with a curling lip. “There won’t be a Duke lying helpless on the ground, waiting for a knife in the back. Not this time.”

  “Instead, the Duke will be able to engage Barrett in conversation, which will be overheard by all of us. With luck he’ll admit his role in spreading nefarious rumours about his Grace.” Judith raised her chin and smiled. “We’ll have him. Rolled up foot and guns.”

  “Whereupon I shall shoot him.” Lydia’s grin made them all laugh.

  “I do appreciate the thought, my dear,” said the Duke gently. “But try not to. The mess in our new garden would be quite appalling.”

  “You’re right, and I apologise, your Grace.” Lydia dipped a little curtsey. “I shall merely wound him in an unimportant spot on his body. Like his head.”

  Miles shrugged. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, but to be honest, most of us wo
uld be quite happy to put a ball in him, your Grace. So you might want to have a mop and bucket handy, just in case.”

  “At least if I shoot him I won’t have to pluck him,” muttered Mowbray.

  The room rapidly deteriorated into a surprising number of well-dressed members of the Ton howling with laughter.

  It was a good way to end the afternoon. Ivy came to that realisation as she ushered them all back into the parlour for tea. Laughter, the pleasure derived from such pleasant company…regardless of the topic at hand, there was always room for a smile.

  She was going to keep that thought uppermost in her mind for the next few days. Otherwise she might decide that kidnapping her husband and whisking him off to Jamaica would be the best course of action for all concerned.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ivy fidgeted, aware that Hartsmere House felt as if it was on tenterhooks.

  The invitations to Miss Prudence Hartsmere-Drake’s forthcoming garden party had been delivered on Tuesday, and the response had been overwhelming. Of the thirty-five guests invited, forty had already accepted. Which puzzled Prudence.

  “I’m not quite sure how this happened,” she said as she sat in front of a pile of responses and counted them once again.

  “Everyone wants to be here,” answered Ivy. “So although we only invited Lady Celchester, for example, her daughter and her sister have also accepted, since they assume they were also included. Many believe that the invitation extends to everyone in the household, rather than just the addressee.”

  Prudence rolled her eyes. “There are times when I am quite confused and somewhat irritated by London Society.”

  “You are not alone.”

  She chuckled. “And the plans for tomorrow’s er…event? Miss Ringwood has accepted?”

  Ivy waved a note. “I heard from Lady Maud this morning that all went well at the Wednesday Club last night. And here’s the confirmation. A polite acceptance of Friday’s private visit to view the garden from her and a guest, who is—for the moment—unnamed.”

  Prudence nodded. “That is excellent.”

  “You are reconciled to your role in all this?” Ivy asked.

  “Not really,” answered Prudence. “But I don’t want to get in the way of Uncle Colly’s plans to finish this nasty business, and I do understand that this Barrett person is dangerous.” She looked at Ivy. “I’ll stay out of the way as much as possible and keep Miss Ringwood busy when she comes inside. I’m young, but I’m not an idiot.”

  “We know, love,” approved Ivy. “And I, for one, am very grateful.”

  “Be that as it may, the main thing I’m exceedingly grateful for is Uncle Colly’s health. When I visited him today, he was up and about and looking hale and hearty. That is a massive relief, I can tell you.”

  Ivy nodded. “Indeed it is. Although it’s not been the easiest chore keeping him to his rooms. But the less the world knows of his condition, the better things will turn out tomorrow. We need to keep Barrett guessing as to his strength and recuperation. He’ll be more likely to fall into the trap of over-confidence if he thinks Colly is a weak invalid.”

  “We’re also assuming that he is going to be Miss Ringwood’s guest…”

  “Yes,” Ivy’s frown reflected her worry. “Yes, and that’s a big assumption. But we’re betting on the apparent obsession this man has developed for your uncle. If we lose the bet, well…no harm done. We’ll just have to come up with another way to handle the matter.”

  Prudence stood and walked to the window, fidgeting a little. “Some men arrived this morning.”

  “I saw them.”

  “Woodleigh…I heard him announce them as the gentlemen from Whitehall…”

  “Yes,” said Ivy quietly. “Colly knew they would be coming to speak with him.”

  “Ah.”

  “I shouldn’t say anything…”

  “Then by all means don’t.”

  Ivy beckoned Prudence. “Come closer.”

  “All right.” Prudence returned to the table and sat.

  “These men from Whitehall,” began Ivy, her voice low. “I’m not too clear as to the nature of their work, but I do know that they represent someone quite highly placed in our government.”

  “Oh.” Prudence’s eyebrows rose.

  “At first, I worried that your uncle was still at risk for a charge of treason, but he’s reassured me that that is not the case.”

  “Well that’s a relief.”

  “Indeed it is.”

  “So why were they here?”

  “They have, apparently, a developing interest in Barrett that is connected with what’s going on in and around Manchester. He may either have been actively inciting violence, or encouraging others to do so. Whatever the case, he has knowledge of such things that would be useful to Whitehall.”

  “And Uncle Colly told them about what happened to him?”

  “He must have done. He is being rather tight-lipped about the whole matter as it pertains to these gentlemen.” She shrugged. “But it is, of course, quite straightforward. At least that’s what I’m told. Along with the usual nothing to concern myself about. Which is quite silly, when you think about it, since when anyone tells you that, you always concern yourself about it.” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “I trust you both, but I will allow that I feel—not concerned exactly, but more unsettled.” Prudence’s statement was followed by a sigh.

  Ivy glanced up with a smile. “That’s permissible.”

  They worked in silence for a while, Prudence listing names, Ivy opening envelopes and passing the cards across the table.

  Her mind wandered to the night before, when she’d shared those precious moments late in the evening.

  It was becoming a habit for Colly to tap on her door before retiring. Most often she’d already be in her robe, and they’d sit for a while and talk.

  Sometimes he’d hold her for a little while, as he had done on that one eventful night, and these times were the best. She’d lean against him, her head on his chest, listening to the reassuring sound of his heart beating beneath her ear.

  But he hadn’t touched her intimately since that night.

  She wanted to ask him to stay, to be with her in all the ways there were. She knew the desire was there, but her fears kept her silent. Perhaps this was how it would be between them…a friendship, an ability to talk to each other about anything and everything, but nothing of any depth on a physical level.

  Or perhaps he simply wasn’t interested in her that way, in spite of all his comments to the contrary on their belated wedding night. Had she disappointed him? She didn’t think so, but then again she had no experience with men and their likes and dislikes in bed.

  Could she live with a man who would use her when he felt like it? Or decided it was time to breed an heir? How would she manage the rest of the time, when her body ached for his?

  His injuries had taken him away from her physically, she knew, and that was as it should be. He needed to heal. But now, now that he was back on his feet…well, shouldn’t he be returning to his husbandly duties?

  She sighed, knowing this was a fruitless and frustrating mental discussion with herself.

  “Right then. Finished.”

  Prudence’s voice recalled Ivy to the present and the last envelope. “Excellent work.” She passed the card across. “Here’s the final response.”

  Prudence added it to the list. “That makes forty-seven, by my count.” She glanced up. “It is interesting to live in a world where thirty invitations can turn into forty-seven in barely more than forty-eight hours.”

  “A mathematical conundrum, to be sure. We should mention it to Mowbray Linfield and solicit his opinion.”

  Prudence laughed. “Only if we have an hour to spare. He is a charming gentleman, but oh my goodness, get him started on a favourite topic and he has a tendency to lecture, doesn’t he?”

  Ivy had to agree, and then mentally removed Mowbray from the list
of eligible gentlemen she kept lurking in one corner of her mind. Prudence was now her niece-by-marriage, and thus Ivy felt a certain responsibility for her future happiness.

  She was no matchmaker and never intended to be, but should Prudence display a particular preference for any one gentleman, Ivy wanted to at least be aware of it.

  And Mowbray, obviously, wasn’t on that list.

  “If it’s all right with you, Ivy, I’m going to slip upstairs to my room and try on my gown for Saturday. I need to see if it still fits properly.”

  “Of course, love. A good idea. I’m pretty much done here, so I’ll take care of your lists.”

  They parted, each to their own assigned chores, and Ivy cleared the surface of the table where they had worked, wondering if what they had all planned so carefully would achieve their goal. And also what the morning’s visitors were discussing with her husband.

  Perhaps there would be chance to ask him later in the day.

  Fortunately, she had plenty to see to; even though the Hartsmere House staff was beyond excellent, they still looked to her as their new mistress, and she had slipped into the role with a minimum of difficulty. With the private tea tomorrow and the large garden party on Saturday, there were more than a few decisions to be made, and she barely realised how fast time had flown.

  To her surprise, Woodleigh approached late in the day to let her know that his Grace was dining out this evening and would see her in the morning.

  She blinked. “Woodleigh…is that wise? We have tried very hard to keep his recovery quiet…”

  “My sentiments as well, your Grace. But I was reassured that his evening would be spent somewhere that is both private and secure.”

  “Oh.” She chewed her lip.

  “I have never had cause to doubt his Grace’s word, Ma’am.” The butler gazed at her. “I shall continue to do so, even in light of recent troublesome events. If it will be of reassurance…” he leaned toward her slightly, “His Grace is in the company of those gentlemen from the Government.”