“As if you did not already know,” Jane turned and flicked her fan past Wolfram. “You are as coy as you are debonair. Why didn’t you tell me you were summoning neophytes to slake our need of a governess?”
“I would hardly admit that I am coy,” Jane saw Wolfram continued to look down at the grounds. “Though you are correct. You father Rycroft has tasked me to find your younger sisters Linnea, Marigold, and Violet with suitable instruction. They are only a year between them, are they not?”
Jane sipped tea at her reading table and she added a spoonful of crème. “They are six, seven, and eight. Goodness Wolfram, come away from the window. Anyone will see you are Machiavellian in sprit instead of mind. Come. Sit and entertain me. Come,” Jane patted her teal and overtly padded chaise lounge.
“You know I cannot,” Wolfram said looking past the beveled curtains at the grounds. “Though I do not know why these three are guests at manor.”
“The governesses I am expected to see do not arrive until a fortnight,” said Wolfram.
“A fortnight?” Jane joined Wolfram.
Jane returned to the window to look at her father who had gone outside to greet the trio.
“Hmm, father does have guests indeed,” Jane said. “Though if they turn out to be maids, we’ll have to loan them some of the hand me downs. The assorted hodgepodge of bodices and gathers they wear are ridiculous!”
*****
Petunia presented her daughter Marguerite and Minerva to Rycroft Lankenshire, Duke of Avondale.
“Your Grace,” Petunia and her girls curtsied.
The lean, older benefactor bowed. He looked at Petunia’s daughters mindfully, appraising each girl’s countenance and features.
“Hmm, let us talk. Your daughters can have tea in the main hall while you and I attend to matters of purpose.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” said Petunia. She motioned for her girls to hurry. Marguerite bustled behind while Minerva sauntered with a frown.
“I dare say, they are a motley lot. How do we know them? Wolfram enquired.
“How should I know? You know I have few interests other than the languages, our private family affairs, or Parisian fashion. I must satisfy my carnal indulgences,” Jane touched tiny mole on Wolfram’s right cheek.
Wolfram turned to Jane. “So they are. Will you be accompanying to meet your brother in France?”
“It seems you have other obligations as of late,” smiled Jane. “Or am I amiss that there are things my father Rycroft has not made you kin about yet. Hmm?” Jane left the window and she rapped Wolfram’s tall shoulder with her fan.
“I believe you are right,” Wolfram said with a raised dark brow. “I will see to your trip with me to Paris. As for now, there are matters to attend.”
Wolfram bowed but not before Jane touched her finger to her cheek. Wolfram gazed up and bent to give a peck. Jane turned her face to Wolfram, causing their lips to meet with a kiss.
Wolfram stood pertly and Jane smiled, coquettishly. “You are incorrigible,” Wolfram said with a gleam in his eye.
“You would not have me any other way,” Jane naughtily smiled.
*****
“Your Grace, Lankenshire, you cannot mean this,” Petunia Castleberry perched on the edge of a gilded lounge seat.
“Nevertheless you will present them,” Rycroft said.
“They have not the proper accoutrements to go into society. You know my husband Efron passed suddenly. His monies from the parish dwindled as I ensured my daughters were tutored in the basic instructions.
“Yes, and you have done respectably adequately,” said Rycroft. “As the liege to Avondale, you are my duchy,” Rycroft reminded.
“Yes, Your Grace,” said Petunia.
“The daughters will present to society, at my behest,” Rycroft held up a hand when Petunia prepared to protest.
“I see two of your offspring are here. Was there not a third?”
“Why, yes,” Petunia nervously picked a strand of lint from her Godey, quiet mumbling.
“Heavens, woman, don’t fidget,” Rycroft sat beside Petunia. “As you know, I can be a generous constituent. However, following the outlandish marriage and divorce of your eldest daughter Solette, I cannot condone such acts from another within my duchy!
Petunia sniffed into her handkerchief. “Yes, Your Grace.
“For goodness sakes, you may call me Rycroft. Your father and I were friends since time immortal,” scoffed Rycroft.
“Yes, Sire,” said Petunia.
“I want you to send for your youngest. What is her name?”
“Ivy,” sniffled Petunia.
“Yes, Ivy. Send word for her to join us at Greystone Manor. She is who excels at the modern romances, and in art, and in song, yes?”
Petunia nodded.
“I will have my stepson Wolfram see to her addition to the house. Here she will earn the finances I can give to help you at your home in Avondale. Pemboroughley, is it?. In the meantime, you will have your daughters to present at the next gathering at Devonshire. Do you agree?
Petunia blew her red nose into her hanky. “Yes. It’s just. It’s—.”
“Yes, woman, spit it out,” said Rycroft.
“Ivy is my pride and joy. She isn’t plain, like my other two daughters, yes, but to no fault of their own.
Rycroft absently took Petunia’s hand. “I have seen your youngest. She is quite pleasant, if I recall.”
“Well, she has, changed,” cried Petunia.
“Changed? Rycroft frowned.
“Yes,” said Petunia. “She has filled out in all of her places. Her bosom and features are the envy of everyone around our shire,” Petunia began to cry.”
Rycroft retrieved a handkerchief from his vest and handed it to Petunia.
“Thank you,” Petunia blew her nose into the hanky and she gave it back to Rycroft.
“It’s just that she has—.” Petunia shook her head.
“Yes?” His Grace, Rycroft said sitting on proverbial pins and needles.
“She has, blossomed!” Petunia threw her grey haired head into her hands. “She will be the focal point of every eligible young man and rake in Avondale and Strathern across England. She’s not yet 18,” wailed Petunia.
“How will she present to society if she is caught up and soiled before she has her first coming out!”
Petunia burst into tears.
Rycroft looked at his former friend’s wife compassionately and stood.
“I see your predicament.” Rycroft motioned for a servant. “Send word to the Castleberry home in Avondale.
Call upon Ivy Castleberry to come to Greystone Manor immediately. I will send personal envoy. Send for Wolfram.”
Rycroft smiled empathetically at Petunia.
“It is what I desire.”
*****
The halls of Devonshire Manor were filled with denizens from every corner of the province.
Ivy Castleberry could see only the long tails and impossibly long trains that dotted the steps of Devonshire Hall. Lady Clarissa Mooch butted Ivy with a balsa fan, stepping from her carriage with the train of her gown billowing onto the ground.
Ivy stepped down in awe. “Is it true, are we really here? She had been summoned to attend the Devonshire debutante regale, though she herself was not presenting. Ivy looked through the opened door the driver unlocked, staring at the immaculately kept meeting hall.
“Yes, girl. Don’t dawdle,” Lady Clarissa Mooch touched her sienna dyed hair that gleamed in the twilight like copper. She flung her train behind her warning Ivy to mind her gait.
Ivy circled to stand beside Clarissa. Her amply shaped figure attracted the gaze of more than several unattached, and otherwise engaged men.
Clarissa spied that her young consort held every man’s eye—and a few of the wolfhounds that trekked the grounds, undoubtedly male too, she surmised.
“Child, stay close to me. We don’t want you going off and getting snatched your first arrival in Lon
don!”
“Yes, Lady Clarissa.” The women and men were dressed so pretty and smartly. Ivy had to pinch herself to make certain she was not dreaming.
Ivy tried to walk around Lady Clarissa’s train along the cobblestone gravel. She slid from the opened door of the carriage and bumped into her chaperone.
Lady Clarissa turned. “Gracious child. How can you be so developed and so out of carriage at your age?”
“I’m 17,” Ivy said. “Soon I will be 18 and then you won’t be able to accost me so wickedly,” Ivy sweetly smiled.
“Don’t get fresh with your aunt,” said. Clarissa. “I told you father he was not to indulge you girls in the languages and the arts without proper instruction. Then your mother Petunia had to go and pull each of you out of boarding school. Now look at you. Your mind is open and have yet to fill it. Remember, you are at a gathering by invite. If nothing else, do not bring attention to yourself.”
“Good gracious, Ivy, are you coming? Lady Clarissa stood five-feet and an inch high if she was giant. Ivy trailed her escort, staring at the painted creature on Lady Clarissa’s hideous fan.
The red dragon snarled fiercely on the matte décor and Ivy sidestepped about Clarissa’s to avoid its piercing stare.
Lady Clarissa turned back to climb the steps of the Devonshire Manor when her train caught beneath Ivy’s shoes.
Ivy bumped into a couple climbing the steps to the manor and she slipped. She barreled towards the ground with a holler, squealing on the way down.
“Heavens, sake, girl. Get up.” Lady Clarissa reached for Ivy the same moment a male hand caught Ivy and lifted her to solid ground.
Ivy unraveled the train nervously giggling. “Thank you.”
“I fear if you hadn’t come when you did, I would have died from wanton embarrassment.” Ivy stood, hearing the guests’ whispers, and brushing gravel off her own train.
Ivy looked into the face of dashing older man. His dark long coat and crème breeches fit him snugly. Ivy could see the gentleman was well-proportioned. His cowlick bobbed over his temple repeatedly as he pushed his hand through his thick blond hair.
When Ivy found she was ogling, she averted her eyes to her dress.
“What you lack in grace, you make up more than adequately in sincerity.”
“I dare say I am more gazelle than lady,” Ivy murmured low.
Lady Clarissa ordered Ivy to hurry, startling Ivy like a doe in the wood.
Ivy looked up and smiled. “Are you always this kind to damsels in distress?”
“Only with fine ladies attending Devonshire,” the gentleman bowed.
Lady Clarissa spun to see whom Ivy was dawdling with, and found her standing alone, fiddling with her dress.
Ivy wondered where the man had gone.
Who was the man who looked at her like they had been long lost consorts, rescued her from wanton embarrassment, and then disappeared?
Clarissa frowned. “We are staying only for your introductions. You must meet the Duke at Greystone manor within the week.”
Ivy swirled in front of Lady Clarissa. “You cannot mean that, aunt. If I were to meet the Duke, it would mean I was somebody of, great importance. “
Lady Clarissa pursed her lips, undecided if her niece was as put together as her developed body suggested. “That, remains to be seen. Come along now, we don’t want to hold up your sisters presenting.” Lady Clarissa leant to Ivy. “They are here, did you know?”
Iyy leapt. “What?”
“Yes. They were sent by Duke of Lankenshire to meet the crème of London Society. Granted it won’t be anything as clandestine as the royals at St. James, but the grist is that your mother’s progenies, Minerva and Marguerite, are present to find an engagement betwixt them.”
“You fib!” Ivy loudly said.
“Shh. We don’t want to make another spectacle. Though the one made by your sister Solette continues to be the scandal of the province, God rest her soul. Now, let us find your siblings,” Clarissa said, “and see which of them looks ghastlier in a formal evening dress than I did when I was their age,” she whispered.
“Oh, auntie, you are horrible!” Ivy walked in steps, carrying her train.
“Even so, truth,” Lady Clarissa held her head high. “Now, let us see what trouble I can keep you out of. I haven’t become Lady Mooch of Cumberland because your uncle Hubertus thought I looked good in a bodice, many times removed!”
Ivy giggled, her long blond locks bobbing around her pert face as she and her aunt joined the Devonshire Gala.
*****
“Oh, this is marvelous!”
Ivy sashayed around the marbled manor floor, spinning to the strings and harpsichord to a four-time tempo. “Why did not anyone tell me galas could be so much fun!”
“Heavens, girl, quit bouncing. Clarissa took a seat among the older families in the Avalon duchy. She waved her had at her peers, whispering to Ivy what a bore they were, and smiling prettily.
“There are more patched up marriages here than a dog has fleas,” Clarissa said between sips of her rum punch.
“Ivy! Stop that this instant.”
Ivy twirled in a circle to the beat of strings. “The music is so lovely.”
“Girl, quit bouncing, immediately. Do you want to tell the whole manor you are as innocent as a plucked rose? Go and find your sisters. I’m sure they are upset you haven’t gone to greet them on this auspicious day.”
“Oh, like I haven’t tried to command their attention? I know I could if I owned land and I wore a starched pair of breeches, though. Couldn’t I, aunt?” Clarissa spit up her punch with, snorting with glee. Ivy stopped twirling to help her aunt dab up some of the liquid.
“Now I remember why take you out in public,” Clarissa beamed. “You are the only one in the family who enjoys a good banter and can hold your own! Go and see your sisters,” Lady Clarissa said. “If you meet a man, remember to speak only after you are spoken to first,” she whispered.
“Yes, aunt. I mean, yes Lady Clarissa. ” Ivy kissed Clarissa and smiled.
“Go on. Quit making such a fuss,” Clarissa frowned. When she saw Ivy was out of view, she smiled to herself happily.
*****
“Eliza, what are you doing here?”
Ivy was enthralled to see her old friend Elizabeth Pembrook-Gordon. “How it is you were not able to tell me you were coming?”
“Would that I could. Ivy the most incredible thing has happened.”
Eliza drew Ivy to the side of the hall. She showed her hand and Ivy’s eyes popped wide. “Oh, that is the most beautiful diamond I’ve ever seen. Oh—.” Eliza covered her mouth, careful not to draw attention to herself or to Eliza.
“You’ve done it?” Ivy asked.
“Yes. I am engaged!”
Ivy and Eliza hugged and Eliza whispered low. “It is you now who needs to be smitten by the proverbial ball and chain.”
Ivy pushed at her friend. “Me? Married? That would be utterly scandalous. I know nothing about love and certainly not a thing when it comes to the sword.”
Eliza squealed with glee. “That is one of the many things I adore about you, Ivy Castleberry. You have a wit that would scathe any man into humble submission. Come, let me introduce you to the Lord of Treviotdale.”
Ivy engaged with Eliza and Lord Francis of Treiviotdale when the room quieted.
Ivy, Eliza and the room bowed when Jane Lankenshire, daughter of the Rycroft Lankenshire, Duke of Avondale, strode through the crowd. Ivy stared at the tall, brooding gentleman at her side. “Who in heaven’s creation is that?”
“The companion of Jane Lankenshire? His name is Wolfram Valentine. Nobody seems to know much about him. Except is richly connected to the Lankenshire family.”
Ivy and Eliza bowed at Jane and Wolfram passed. Wolfram stared at Ivy and she curtsied a second time.
“By rich I mean he is a billionaire. Wolfram is heavily involved with running the Lankenshire businesses in London and in Paris. Rumors
say he is unattached and looking for a bride so can take his rightful place as a second heir to the Lankenshire fortune.
“Second heir,” said Ivy. “I wonder who is the first?
Romance: Stepbrother's Drilling with the Billionaire (A Stepbrother Billionaire Romance with Menage Bisexuals Threesome Historical Romance Collection) ... Menage Historical Romance Collection) Page 7