by Lauren Smith
And he couldn’t seem to stay away from her.
* * *
Supper at Hampton was an unexpected pleasure for Ivy. As the daughter of a lady’s maid, she had always dined in the downstairs hall with the other servants. Tonight, though, she was a guest, decked out in a blue gown with a yellow chiffon underskirt visible beneath the parting folds at the front of her gown. Her sleeves were made of fine netting and fell to her elbows in a kimono-like fashion she adored. The gown hugged her curves and flared at her ankles in a train, creating a lovely S shape that was all the rage in London.
Her hair was pulled back and up in a loose collection of waves about her face and gathered into a soft roll at the top of her head. Nestled just over the crown of her hair was a glittering band of stars, a piece of jewelry her father had bought during a trip to India a few months ago. Against the darkness of her hair, she knew the stars glinted and shone like the night sky. When she had come down for the evening, Leo’s lips had parted and his eyes had widened.
She had to admit, she did feel rather beautiful this night, but was she beautiful enough? Lacking self-confidence was unusual for her. Her father had raised her to value her mind, her intelligence, her compassionate heart, and beauty, but only to the extent that she did not focus on it beyond reason. She smiled, remembering what he often said: “There’s more to a woman than her figure and face. A man can only love a body so long. ’Tis the mind and heart of a woman that brings him to his knees and makes him love you.”
Did she want Leo to love her? If she was honest with herself, a small part of her did want that desperately, but the rest of her was stoutly against it. She had plans for her life that didn’t include marriage and certainly not love for a man who didn’t believe in her dreams. Still, watching his eyes on her as she had come down for dinner had filled her heart with a foolish hope.
She was seated in the middle of a long mahogany table in the dining room. Light gleamed off the polished silverware, and the flames from the many candles flared and danced. On either side of her sat Owen and Leo. Across from her was the infamous Mildred Pepperwirth with her parents, Lord and Lady Pepperwirth. Leo must have insisted that the Pepperwirths attend the house party because Ivy would have bet her most expensive diamond earrings that the dowager would not have wanted Mildred anywhere near Leo while her scheme to enliven his spirits was under way.
As the courses began to appear at the table, Ivy listened to the conversations around her. She selected a bit of the potatoes with caviar and crème fraîche from a plate offered to her. The Pevenlys and Athertons, both couples a few years older than Leo, were charming and amusing. They shared stories of fun nights with Leo in London that had him blushing and shifting in his seat. Apparently, if Mr. Pevenly could be believed, Leo was tone-deaf and had been forced to sing at a recent social gathering.
“I’m not a songbird,” Leo muttered darkly as everyone laughed.
“Indeed, it seems you are not. Neither am I,” Ivy admitted. “I play much better than sing, but still am only passable. A shame, isn’t it? Not as accomplished as other ladies, I suppose.” Now she was teasing him, and she knew he could tell because the fine lines at his eyes crinkled as he tried to hide a smile.
“Accomplishments are overrated. I’d take a decent conversationalist, even a suffragette, over a woman who could only sing or play. Good heavens, can you imagine?”
They both dissolved into a barely contained silent fit of laughter at the idea of him being married to a woman who only sang and played. It would be a dreadful bore to live a life with someone one could not converse with. She knew she could not survive such a match. Her husband, if she ever changed her mind on marriage, must be able to talk with her on a great many things and, more importantly, listen to her.
With the cold weather outside, the cook had outdone herself with a wonderful creamy butternut squash soup. She caught Leo watching her as she tasted the soup.
“You like it?” he whispered.
“Hmm, yes.” She couldn’t help the little noise of pleasure escaping her lips. Mrs. Beedle had often cooked this particular recipe when Ivy had been a little girl. She desperately wanted to know if the cook still worked here. She hadn’t thought to ask Gordon earlier. The upsetting idea of Leo marrying Mildred Pepperwirth had quite erased all other thoughts.
“Mrs. Beedle has been making this dish since I was a lad. It’s perfect for the weather, don’t you agree? Just the thing for warming up one’s…body.” His whispered words made her shiver a little. She couldn’t help but remember the sinful embrace in the garden, how his body had warmed hers. Butternut squash soup warmed her up, but not nearly as effectively as Leo’s lips upon hers, and she had a strange notion that he meant to remind her of their kiss. He opened his mouth to speak but a footman appeared between them, serving duck confit covered in garlic, thyme, and bay leaves. Ivy took the opportunity to focus on the duck and avoid the temptation of Leo’s focus on her.
Mrs. Atherton and Mrs. Pevenly were entertaining and witty, sharing thoughtful discussions on social news, whilst their husbands touched on the politics of the day. Ivy’s father was lost in an intimate conversation with the hostess, and unfortunately, Ivy was all too well aware that she and Mildred had not uttered a word to each other since they’d been formally introduced.
Ivy shot glances at Mildred. Her hair was a rich chestnut and pulled up in a tumble of delicate knots and waves above her head. A diamond circlet rested in the crown of her hair and she bore it with all the pomp and dignity one could expect from a viscount’s daughter. Yet despite her naturally lovely looks, as even Ivy had to admit she was fair, there was a cold distance in her features, as though the idea of descending from the clouds of Olympus to interact with mortals was impossible. Not only impossible but also distasteful.
It was the sort of attitude Ivy never had cultivated. Whether that was because her mother had been in service, or her father was a Gypsy, a foreigner, she wasn’t sure. The idea of holding herself above others was simply not possible. The silence at their part of the table was starting to draw attention. The two women were focused far too much on consuming the beef Wellington and roasted parsnips.
The food was sumptuous and seemingly endless. Ivy placed a hand on her stomach, all too aware that dessert hadn’t yet been served. Her father ran a tight household, not out of a desire to deny them both of fine dinners, but merely because he didn’t believe in living to excess. Fine clothes were a must, but wasting food was unheard of. As a Romani, he was raised to respect what he had and never to indulge beyond what was necessary. She respected her father all the more for clinging to the values of the life he’d left behind.
When he had first seen her the day he had picked her up from Hampton House, he had treated her like a young lady, not a child, and told her the truth. He’d never known she’d existed. After a secret and wildly passionate affair with her mother, he realized he had to make his way in the world of the Gadjie in order to be able to have a wife. By the time he’d made his fortune, he’d just learned of her mother’s death but hadn’t heard about the child until a month later when Leo’s mother had sent him a letter. Ivy shook off the dark memories of a time that still made her heart ache and tried to focus on conversation with Mildred.
“I hear you were educated in Paris, Miss Pepperwirth. That must have been quite an enjoyable experience,” she said as she nibbled on a dark chocolate truffle.
Mildred turned a caustic eye on her. “Of course.” The barest hint of a cruel smile appeared. “You were not educated there?”
Ivy prayed the heat in her cheeks did not become a full blush.
“No, I was privately educated in London.”
“Oh, that’s a pity. Everyone can benefit from proper schooling.” The way Mildred emphasized everyone came out too patronizing for Ivy to stand. She had inherited more than looks from her father. She had his quick temper and could not suffer fools.
“I agree. Everyone should have such opportunities. I have spent
the last three years attending lectures at Oxford University and have sat for several examinations. I hope someday soon I will be able to obtain a degree.”
Conversation at the table died and Ivy inwardly cursed herself for having made such a foolish comment. A soft, stifled chuckle to her left revealed Mr. Hadley laughing into his glass of wine.
The dowager countess came to her rescue. “Miss Leighton is quite the star pupil, or so I’ve heard. I’m always most excited to hear about her academic progress.” And just like that, the guests were forced to murmur their agreements lest they incur her displeasure. It was expected that no one would quarrel on a subject their hostess was eagerly ready to champion. Leo leaned close, his breath stirring the fine wisps of hairs close to her ear as he spoke.
“You truly are the center of trouble, Miss Leighton. I shall have to dine with an educated suffragette like you more often.”
She shivered as his hand accidentally, or so it seemed, ran the length of her right thigh.
She leaned ever so slightly toward him so she could whisper a reply. “Why would you subject yourself to such a problematic dining arrangement? Would it not be better to enjoy a cold and boring evening with a companion like Miss Pepperwirth?” She shouldn’t provoke him, but damned if he didn’t rile her spirits.
Leo moved back enough that she could see his face clearly as she studied him from beneath her lashes.
“Are you jealous, Miss Leighton? We are but new acquaintances.” There was a thread of insight in his gaze. She certainly didn’t like the idea of her charming prince from childhood settling down with someone like Mildred, but it was not because she was jealous.
“You are!” he accused playfully. “There’s a hint of emerald in your lovely brown eyes.”
She bristled. “I am not jealous, merely confused that you would so quickly turn from distaste to interest where I am concerned. Surely you would have to agree, such an abrupt alteration in your behavior is a little unsettling. Furthermore,” she hissed, with a quick glance about to see if she was being watched, “I believe we have moved beyond new acquaintances; otherwise, I might wonder whether you go about kissing all women you’ve just met.”
He had the nerve to grin, and she was torn between slapping him and…kissing him.
“Distaste? Never. I am merely unaccustomed to such honest discussions by ladies, especially regarding matters of a political nature.” He slid closer, just a threat of invasion of her space, and her skin heated and her breath quickened. “And as for the kisses…you, my dear, were made for kissing. I simply couldn’t resist the temptation.”
Made for kissing? She wasn’t sure if she was furious with him or delighted by the idea. He was made for sin too; that was certain. Just the gleam of more secret meetings when their lips and hands might explore each other again had her heart racing. But she couldn’t let him do that to her again. She had to stay on course and not let Leo distract her from her goals. Letting him seduce her was not something a strong, intelligent young woman would do. Her friends in the Women’s Social and Political Union would be mortified to know she’d let her body succumb to a man’s sensual influence.
“Ahem,” Mr. Hadley interrupted from the seat on the other side of her. They both looked over at him. “You’re drawing attention,” he hummed in a low murmur before smiling at another guest and taking a bite of chocolate truffle. “Best to talk to someone else or Miss Pepperwirth will have your guts for garters.” Mr. Hadley gave the barest hint of a nod in Mildred’s direction. Her scowl was fierce enough to drop a wolf dead in its tracks.
Ivy quickly turned her attentions to Mr. Hadley and allowed him to distract her from thoughts of Leo, until she felt Leo touch her beneath the table. A single fingertip tracing the length of her hand, the whisper of his skin upon her black gloves. The heat of his palm burned deliciously through the silk, and her eyes fell shut for a moment as he lulled her deeper into his subtle enchantment.
“Miss Leighton?” Mr. Hadley’s deep voice broke through and her eyes snapped open. The others at the table were getting up and leaving.
“Excuse me, what were you saying?” she asked. The touch of Leo’s hand vanished and she sensed rather than heard his laugh.
“Would you care to dance?”
Ivy blinked in shock. Footmen were clearing the table. The other guests’ voices echoed down the hall as they headed toward the ballroom. Only she, Leo, and Mr. Hadley remained in their seats.
“She’s dancing with me,” Leo announced. His sharp tone made her look over her shoulder at him.
I am, am I? She huffed and turned back to Mr. Hadley. “Actually, I am not dancing with you, my lord, at least not for the first dance, since you have not officially asked me.” She angled her body away from Leo and toward Owen. “I would be delighted to dance with you, Mr. Hadley.”
She placed her hand in his as they rose and started toward the ballroom. She didn’t have to look back to know that Leo was furious. One kiss didn’t give him any right to her, however she might have wished differently.
Chapter 7
Cursing under his breath, Leo stared at Ivy’s retreating back. What the devil was wrong with him? He was losing himself to the pursuit of this mysterious lady, and his best-laid plans were fast unraveling. Mildred had spent the entire evening staring at him. If she only knew the half of it. Whatever had possessed him to stroke Ivy’s hand? It was ungentlemanly, unseemly, yet…he’d felt compelled to reach out and grasp her. Like a ghost drifting through the mists, she was just out of reach, and he was desperate for a way to connect himself to her.
A newspaperman’s daughter with flashing eyes, raven-black hair, and lips made for a man’s pleasure. She was going to be the death of him.
Maybe…if he slept with her, got her out of his head, his blood would cool, and he could resume his plans with Mildred. He shook his head. What a stupid notion. Ivy was an innocent and did not deserve such mercenary thoughts of him using and discarding her. She was not a woman to be treated thus, and he hated himself for having entertained the thought even for a moment. The worst of it was that it made him just like his father. Chasing the skirts of a foreign beauty and unable to control his lusts. Bloody hell, if he took her to bed and society found out? It would hurt Hampton and everyone who lived here, and they’d lose all hope of keeping the estate together.
I am not my father. It was fast becoming a mantra he was saying daily in hopes that it would be true. He couldn’t let his body dictate his desires or he’d end up in a scandal that would destroy him and his family. Before his father’s disastrous affair and death, Leo had never been overly concerned with the consequences of enticing a woman into his bed. Yet now worries and concerns were all he could think about. The most frightening part was that he didn’t want to simply seduce Ivy; he wanted her to like him as a man and a companion.
I’m getting damned soft…
“Is everything all right, my lord?” Gordon asked, emerging from the shadows. He saw too much, but then again, all butlers did. His mother called a good butler “one’s shadow with a second soul.” Leo was never more thankful that he trusted Gordon with his life, especially his social one, which was arguably more important.
“Yes, sorry, Gordon. Just lost in my thoughts…May I ask you something? I would like your honest opinion.” He left his seat and approached the older man, watching as the butler instructed the footman clearing the table to leave them alone. When it was just the two of them, Gordon waited for Leo to speak.
He studied his wine goblet, fingers tracing the delicate etchings in the glass before he spoke. “If you were faced with two choices, one you knew was sound and logical. Would you choose that, or select the choice that might be as temporary as lightning flashing in the night and certain to cause scandal?”
Gordon considered the question. “I suppose it would depend upon the lightning strike. If it changes you, turns you into something new, something better, then it might be worth the risk. Nothing is ever gained by safe choices.”
“Nothing is ever lost either,” Leo countered softly.
Gordon only smiled knowingly. “You cannot lose what you do not have.” Then the butler nodded, half bowed, and slipped back into the shadows.
Leo pushed his chair back to the table, sighed, and began to walk to the ballroom. Did he want to risk his future to explore a dalliance with Ivy? Would she even agree to it? If she was like the other women he knew, she would expect marriage. But then again…she was an independent woman, a suffragette. Perhaps she would see a love affair as freeing and would not expect a proposal. If he could keep it quiet, then no one would believe he was following in his father’s footsteps. Ivy was nothing like the woman his father had been having an affair with, but people would make the comparison nonetheless. The thought made his stomach roil, but he didn’t like the idea of not going after Ivy either. Something about her called to him on an instinctive level that he still didn’t fully understand.
All thoughts of denying himself Ivy were drowned by the jealousy flooding through him when he caught sight of her waltzing with Owen. They flowed effortlessly across the floor, and Leo’s entire body went rigid. She was laughing at something Owen said, and a red haze descended over Leo’s vision. It took every bit of his control not to storm across the ballroom and snatch her away. Instead, he plastered a smile on his face and joined his mother and Mr. Leighton, standing next to the six-person orchestra his mother had hired for the weekend. A pianist bent over the piano, fingers flying over the keys while his companions played a beautiful accompaniment on the violins and cellos. The Athertons and Pevenlys were dancing, as were the Pepperwirths. Only Mildred avoided the gaiety of the evening. She sat near the window staring at Owen and Ivy, her lips pursed in disapproval.