A wagon pulled by two enormous horses barreled toward them. The driver held tight to the reins, his hat pulled low and the collar of his jacket turned up, hiding any glimpse of his face and neck. He continued on his breakneck course, pulling the horses roughly to the side as they reached the women, causing the wagon to careen crazily into the carriage with an enormous crash.
Ivy shoved Sophia to the side as the entire carriage toppled, yanking the horses askew and spooking them thoroughly as they thrashed at the air and screamed. The falling conveyance knocked Ivy to the ground, and her head spun madly as she stared into the road where the offending horses had entangled themselves in a crowd outside a shop, the wagon hanging off one axle. The driver himself was nothing more than a figure in the distance, fleeing down the street and away from the scene.
“Are you hurt?” Sophia asked Ivy and gasped as she put her gloved hand to Ivy’s temple. She withdrew her hand to reveal a smear of blood, and Ivy wondered why she didn’t feel any pain. She also wondered why Sophia had doubled, and there were now two of her friend swimming before her eyes.
“Hold this,” Sophia ordered and placed Ivy’s fingers over a handkerchief against the side of her head. “Are you injured anywhere else?”
Ivy frowned as her temple suddenly began to throb.
“You awright, miss?” a young boy asked as he surveyed the damage and another man attempted to right the flailing horses.
“We need to summon a cab,” Sophia told the boy and rose unsteadily to her feet. “Did anyone recognize the wagon driver?”
There was now quite a crowd gathered around the overturned carriage, a sea of faces that Ivy didn’t recognize. Voices blended together; nobody seemed to know who the other driver was, and should somebody send for a doctor?
Ivy looked up at Sophia, trying to focus on her face as Sophia conferred with the man who had been acting as their guard throughout the day. He tripped all over himself in apologizing to Sophia, who waved a hand at him impatiently. “Fetch us a cab,” she told him, “and then give the driver my brother’s address.” He dashed off to follow her orders.
“Come, Ivy.” Sophia stooped to help Ivy stand, tugging at a portion of Ivy’s dress that was trapped beneath the carriage. She tore it free with a rip of fabric and then put an arm about Ivy’s shoulders, guiding her to the roadside, where a cab pulled up.
If only she weren’t so dizzy. Ivy fought a wave of nausea and leaned heavily against Sophia as their frantic guard helped them into the carriage.
“Would you rather go home, Ivy?” Sophia asked her after insuring that the driver had Jack’s address.
Ivy squinted and then closed her eyes, leaning against Sophia’s shoulder. “Nobody at home; my mother is at tea with Lady Dresden,” she mumbled. The cab lurched into traffic and maneuvered past the mess they were leaving behind.
Ivy frowned. “I must have the horses and the carriage returned home. My father will be most upset if the horses are harmed.”
“The horses will be fine,” Sophia muttered. “When we get to Jack’s, I’ll have his footman deliver a message to your house. And then perhaps we should send for your Nana?”
“I do not want to worry her.” Ivy closed her eyes and wished the pain in her head would subside. “I must have just been knocked by the carriage—I will be fine.” The fog was indeed beginning to lift, and her thoughts became a little more focused. “Did you happen to see who the man was?”
“No.”
“Well,” Ivy said, trying for a levity she definitely did not feel, “either someone still doesn’t like your brother, or he’s angry at us for opening the school.”
The carriage finally increased in speed as they pulled through the bulk of the chaos they were leaving behind.
“You saved my life, Ivy.” Sophia’s voice trembled.
“Oh, that,” Ivy said and was glad when Sophia chuckled. “I perform such amazing feats on a daily basis.”
The ride to Jack’s town house was quick, and Sophia ushered Ivy up the front stairs. Watkins’s face registered surprise that he quickly managed to squelch as Sophia took Ivy into the parlor, snapping instructions for someone to find the earl as she eased her down onto a settee.
Ivy’s heartbeat quickened at Jack’s entrance, and the look on his face was one of sheer panic. “I am fine,” she said as he sank down to his knees and grasped her hand, which still held Sophia’s handkerchief to her temple.
“Let me see,” he murmured.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Ivy said, shrugging a shoulder. “Truly, it just hurts a bit. I’m no longer seeing two of everything.”
Jack closed his eyes briefly at her pronouncement and shook his head. “Sophia, will you have Watkins send for Lord Blake, please? I want him to hear any details you can recall.” He gently pulled Ivy’s hand away and brushed his finger lightly over her temple. “You’ll have a lovely knot here for a while, but at least the bleeding seems to have stopped. Where was that deuced guard?”
“He was right there with us, my lord.” Ivy wanted to crawl into Jack’s lap and sleep for a bit. “Everything happened so quickly—there was nothing for the guard to do.”
“I’m going to kill him.” Jack’s expression hadn’t changed much, but his tone was like ice.
“There was nothing he could have done,” Ivy repeated.
Jack shook his head. “Not the guard.”
Ivy frowned as Jack rose and gave instructions to Mrs. Harster to fetch a cloth and basin of cold water.
“You cannot kill your cousin, Jack.” Ivy had the wherewithal to be worried he might to do something rash.
“Maybe not today,” he answered mildly as he stood looking at her, but she wasn’t deceived by the neutral expression. His fists were clenched, and she didn’t figure that was a good sign.
He was quiet, his expression grim until Mrs. Harster returned with his requested items. He dipped the small cloth into the water and wrung it out, placing it against Ivy’s head. “Does it hurt much?” he asked her, his tone quiet and again deceptively calm.
“No, Jack, truly.” She grasped the wrist that held the cloth to her temple. “Only just a bit.”
“I shall have Cook put on the kettle for tea,” Mrs. Harster said, and Jack nodded once in her direction. When she left the room and they were alone, Jack reached up and placed his lips to Ivy’s forehead. She closed her eyes, reveling in his nearness and that scent that was so uniquely his.
“This cannot continue.” Jack softly touched the knot that was forming on the side of her head.
“Indeed not,” Ivy said, trying to lighten the mood, “because what will everyone think when I show up at events looking like a pugilist?”
His lips quirked, and she hoped she had taken his mind off the tantalizing topic of throttling his cousin. “Perhaps I should tie Percival’s hands behind his back and let you have the first swing at him,” he suggested.
Drat. The mood was clearly not lightened. “We will get to the bottom of all of this, and you and your family will be finally left at peace.”
“I am concerned that something catastrophic will occur before we can get to that point.” Jack palmed her cheek and frowned. “I could not bear to lose you.”
Ivy shook her head. “I don’t believe I was the intended target, Jack. It was Sophia. I just happened to be in the way.”
He gritted his teeth and looked away.
“Perhaps the goal is to frighten you into giving up the earldom?” she suggested.
“This is a nightmare,” he muttered and dropped his hand. “And I believe the doctor should examine you.”
“That is entirely unnecessary. I am feeling much refreshed.”
Jack stood and left the room; she heard him giving instructions for someone to send for Josephine’s mother. Maybe a little pampering would be fine, she thought as she put her hand to the knot on her temple and choked back a gasp. She was lucky she wasn’t dead, that much was so very true, but now she nearly burst into tears at the though
t of how she must appear. Showing up at ton events with a goose egg on the side of one’s head was just not the thing.
Chapter 28
Betrayal at the hands of one’s relations can be the
bitterest of pills. There are times when one would
be well advised to consider the source.
Mistress Manners’ Tips for Every-day Etiquette
Lord Anthony Blake rang the bell early the next morning. Jack, who was actually up before Watkins, opened the door himself and welcomed the man into the parlor, offering him coffee or tea.
“No, thank you.” Blake eyed him for a moment before moving to the seat Jack had indicated. “I apologize for the early hour, but I do come bearing news. We’ve caught the responsible party.”
“Excellent.” Jack nodded, feeling a sense of relief. “What did the brigand say when you cornered him? What is the plan for prosecution?”
“Well, the identity of the guilty party has come as a bit of a surprise. Your cousin’s wife hired the boy who supplied the poison and also contacted your former groom to orchestrate the sabotaged saddle that led to your accident in the park. She was also behind the attack yesterday on your sister and Lady Ivy. She was having them followed. It was while delivering those instructions that Mrs. Elliot’s servant was captured. It seems that when she realized further attempts would likely be impossible because of the increased security protection surrounding you, she set up the attack on your sister.”
“Clista was behind it?” Jack’s head was reeling, but he wondered why. It wasn’t as though he felt such actions to be beyond his cousin’s wife; Ivy had mistrusted her from the beginning.
Blake eyed him with something akin to sympathy.
“I cannot thank you enough for your quick action in this matter,” Jack told him. “I was becoming alarmed in the extreme for my family’s safety.”
“Under the threat of legal proceedings, to say nothing of their ruin in Society, Mr. and Mrs. Percival Elliot have opted to flee to the Continent rather than face a court verdict and possible deportation to Australia. I will keep you abreast of any new developments, of course, but am hopeful you will now see the end of your troubles.”
Jack hadn’t realized how much worry had been hovering in the back of his mind from the night he’d realized someone had tried to poison him. For a man whose life was well-ordered and predictable, it had been an unsettling heaviness that he had carried without even acknowledging it.
“Again, I thank you,” he told Blake and stood, gripping his friend’s hand in both of his own.
The day of the Norringtons’ ball was fast approaching, and, to Ivy’s immense relief, Lord Blake had saved the day and exposed the woman (woman!) behind the attempts on Jack’s life. Ivy sniffed a bit and took perverse satisfaction at the thought of Clista Elliot sitting in a dank cell at Newgate. It would never happen, of course; she was long gone from the country and could never return, but the image of her clapped in irons made Ivy smile nonetheless.
Jack had received a letter from his mother. She was happy and doing well, and she had even been invited to tea by a few local gentlewomen who were “very amiable” and appreciated Mary’s knowledge of finer fabrics and sewing techniques. Ivy had to admit that she was relieved Mary preferred the countryside and they wouldn’t have to worry about whether someone was going to cut or embarrass her.
“Now, then,” Ivy said as she sat with Jack in the library—with the door wide open to the hallway—“I had intended to review all of the things we’ve learned over these past several weeks, but you, my lord, seem to have become a master pupil.”
Jack grinned at her, and her heart stopped. “Only because I have the world’s best tutor.”
“You are incorrigible.” She smiled in spite of herself.
“And you wouldn’t have me any other way.”
Ivy supposed that was true enough. She found herself drawn to the elements of his character that had nothing to do with manners or breeding and everything to do with just . . . him. “You have chosen your attire for the ball tomorrow night?”
He nodded. “I will look every inch the dashing earl. And might I assume you are ready to point me in the direction of a few eligible ladies?”
Ivy’s heart sank. But what had she expected, really? He wasn’t going to follow her around forever, and she had made it very clear that she wasn’t interested in marriage to him.
“Yes.” she forced a smile. “I’m certain we shall find a few who will not mind the thought of her husband being away at sea for the better part of their life together.”
“Excellent.” He leaned forward and stacked some papers on his desk. “I suppose we are finished for the day, and unless you send word otherwise, I shall see you tomorrow evening at the Norringtons’.”
Ivy opened her mouth to say something and closed it again. She supposed it was wise that he not invite her to stay and have tea or ask her opinion on décor for the town house. Just because that was the pattern they had followed since their first ride together in Hyde Park didn’t mean it was something that should continue. He would soon belong to another woman, and although her stomach turned at the thought, she was at a loss about how to fix it.
He glanced up at her from his desk, one brow raised. “Is there something else?”
“No, my lord.”
It is too late, she realized with a sinking sensation. She had already lost her heart to the man—it didn’t matter whether she married him or not. She had fallen in love with the sailor, and not being near him was going to kill her.
“Good day, then.” She rose and dipped into a quick curtsey before leaving the room. Tears burned in her eyes, but she would never let him see it.
Jack put his head in his hands, elbows resting on his desk. She was crying, and it had taken every ounce of discipline he possessed to keep from running after her, to tell her he was only trying to force her hand, to make her admit that she loved him and that she believed him when he told her he had no desire to return to his life at sea. She was so afraid he might leave that she was denying them both what they wanted most.
Weary to the bone, and still aching from his accident in the park, he wished for a place he could find solace. Before, that place had always been aboard a ship, but he now found himself longing for the country estate on the coast. Even that would do him no good, however, if Ivy weren’t with him.
He would never in a million years tie himself to a woman he didn’t love and who didn’t love him in return. He had already decided that when Sophia married and bore children, he would name one of them as his heir. The thought of trying to produce an heir with someone who was interested in his company only because he was wealthy and titled turned his stomach.
He had found his purpose, he acknowledged as he pinched the bridge of his nose to relieve the ache settling behind his eyes. He was devoted to caring for the tenants on his land and managing the property well with Fuddleston. He wouldn’t be forced to waste his life in London trying to impress his peers. The country estate and other holdings he hadn’t even visited yet needed him after years of his grandfather’s neglect. The expressions of disbelief and gratitude on the faces of his tenants when he and Fuddleston had made their initial visits were burned into his memory, and he was humbled by their plight.
He heard the front door close behind Ivy, and he shut his eyes tightly. He would be forced to maintain his charade of looking for a bride if only to convince Ivy of what they both knew to be true. He would never give up. And Ivy Carlisle was no match for his determination. If it became apparent that she was, he supposed abduction was always an option. He smiled in spite of himself as he thought of her reaction to being trussed up like a Christmas goose and hauled into his carriage for a quick trip to Gretna Green.
Ivy prepared for the Norringtons’ ball with a heavy heart. Standing before the long mirror in her dressing room, she assessed herself and knew she looked very pleasing on the outside. The shade of her dress matched her eyes to perfection, and he
r hair was piled beautifully atop her head in riotous curls shot through with strands of tiny pearls. Her maid had managed to arrange things just so and had even been able to hide the knot on her temple she’d received from the carriage accident.
She straightened her spine and placed a hand at her midsection, determined to be the social paragon she always had been. She supposed every young woman had fallen quite in love at one point or another. But practical was practical and reality was reality. And even though he seemed to have enjoyed her company, and certainly the kissing parts, she knew full well that she had made Jack batty with all of her rules and regulations. He would be better off with a woman who wouldn’t hound him about propriety.
Ivy instructed her driver to take her first to Sophia’s house, and she was genuinely delighted with her friend’s stunning appearance. “Oh, mercy,” she breathed as Sophia descended the stairway to the front hall. “Sophia, you are about to break many hearts.”
“Psh,” Sophia said, but Ivy noted a faint blush of pleasure cross her friend’s features. “This old thing?”
“The lavender was the perfect choice.” Ivy clasped Sophia’s hands and leaned forward impulsively to kiss her cheek. She felt a bit foolish as her eyes burned with tears, and she laughed, clasping Sophia in an embrace. “You are a dear friend to me, Sophia, and I am so grateful for you.”
She pulled back to see Sophia’s eyes also shining, and Sophia shook her head. “Look at what you are doing to us, and on the night of my big debut!”
“Yes, quite right.” Ivy sniffed as Sophia grinned and wiped a gloved finger at the corner of her eye.
“Ivy, before we leave, I must ask you something.”
Ivy tipped her head in question as Sophia took a deep breath.
“I know you love my brother.”
Ivy winced and felt her face flush.
“What I mean to say is that I know he loves you as well, and how often does such a thing come along? Please, won’t you just . . . entertain the notion?”
Ivy softly let out a breath and turned her head, not wanting to meet the truth that was written on Sophia’s face. “I’m certain it must seem foolish,” she admitted quietly, “but, Sophia, he loves being at sea. He was nearly the captain of his own ship before all of this happened, and I couldn’t bear to be the one who might keep him from his one true love. And I couldn’t bear it if he left. As it is, I . . .” She shook her head.
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