Forbidden to Love the Duke (5 page)

A cry went up. “Is
she
the one? The
first
one?”

“He never heard about my experiences working in Siam.”

“She isn't much to look at.”

“Which is a benefit, you ninny.”

“Well, I'm ordinary, too!”

Ivy quickened her step. The applicants had multiplied like rabbits since the time she had arrived at the estate.

Her heart sang with guiltless joy. This early bird had caught her worm, although nothing about the duke reminded her of a measly creature she could crush beneath her foot. In truth, she had signed a contract pledging her subservience to him.

Strange that he had already put his signature to the document. What made him so sure of her? What if one of the other applicants proved more qualified than Ivy and pleaded the chance to prove herself the better governess?

He had chosen her.

And if a long-ago kiss and her door knocker—she stopped in sudden realization, turning slowly. She had
left her reticule and dragon behind in her rush to escape before he could change his mind.

The dragon would have to wait.

She wasn't about to brave those parasols.

Or face the duke alone again.

*   *   *

Carstairs closed the door on Ivy's rather graceless exit and approached the desk. “I hope you will not make a habit of that,” James said.

The steward stared at the floor. “Of what, Your Grace?”

“Of eavesdropping, you rapscallion.”

“I was only standing guard in case you required my assistance.”

“Against a governess?” James asked, grinning at the thought.

“You haven't seen the mob in the reception room, Your Grace. There must be a hundred of them, and more arriving by the minute. Some of the ladies are poking one another with parasols in such antagonism I fear hostilities are about to break out.”

“Well, tell the parasols that the position has been filled and send them on their way.”

“Sight unseen?” Carstairs glanced down again at the floor. “Excuse me for asking, but what is that by your desk?”

James looked down at his feet, laughing quietly. “Damn me. She forgot her reticule, and her dragon.”

“Oh, dear,” Carstairs said. “Shall I run after her with the items?”

James went down on one knee. “Don't bother. I shall return them to her myself.”

“But she hasn't left the property yet.”

“Are you suggesting I subject myself to a horde of hostile umbrellas?”

Carstairs shuddered. “I will brave them for Your Grace. Stay hidden until the grounds are cleared.”

“Take reinforcements. I can't afford to lose you, Carstairs.”

R
osemary ran down the garden path ahead of the others to greet Ivy at the gatehouse. She took a long look at Ivy's flushed face and drew back in disappointment. “It didn't go well, did it? You didn't get the job? Cook heard that a parade of carts left the village carrying applicants for the job to his estate. Never mind, Ivy. They'll be other positions.”

“Not in the duke's house,” Lilac said, staring at Ivy in chagrin. “I was hoping you'd come home with a basket of food.”

“I forgot my muff and reticule,” Ivy explained. “His Grace is really going to think I'm absentminded, practically dropping the door knocker on his foot and then leaving it there after all the fuss over it.”

Rosemary grinned. “I understand why he didn't hire you.”

“But he did,” Ivy said, taking a deep breath.

Lilac blinked in disbelief. “Then why do you look so unsettled?”

“Because—oh, what does it matter?”

Rue gasped. “Congratulations.”

“You must have made quite an impression,” Rosemary said, looking her up and down. “Either that or he has impeccable taste.”

“It's a miracle is all I know,” Ivy said, eluding further questioning. “And I have to start on Monday, which means one of you has to come with me to London to sell the pearls so I can buy a dress and food to see you through until I'm paid my wages.”

“I'll go with you,” Rue said, slipping her arm around Ivy's waist. “That way Rosemary can keep on writing and Lilac won't be jostled around in the streets.”

Ivy turned to Rue. She looked so wan that Ivy started to say she would be fine with the footman. But Rue, reading her mind, would have none of it.

“Nonsense, Ivy. If you're willing to make a sacrifice, then so am I. This is good news, isn't it?”

She felt a niggle of uncertainty about Rue's offer, but she let it pass. It wasn't a long journey, and they had just enough money for lodgings. “I'll be grateful for your company.”

*   *   *

The evening of that same day, Rue was helping Ivy pack their bags for their journey when they heard rain on the roof. Seconds later they hurried into one of the upper halls with oil rags to stuff the broken panes. The branches of the ancient oaks quivered in the rising wind.

“It's not raining heavily yet,” Rue said, scanning the moonlit sky through the window. “And there aren't many clouds.”

“It has to pass by tomorrow morning,” Ivy said, and turned, her eyes widening, at the momentous shudder that rent the lower regions of the house.

“What is it?” Rue whispered, slipping her icy fingers over Ivy's hand.

Lilac materialized at the bottom of the staircase with Quigley in tow, three puppies following at his boots. “There are two men hammering something onto the door,” she said. “Shall I have the servants shoot them?”

Ivy went to the stairs, descending in uneven steps. “It must be a lien against the manor. And no, we can't shoot agents of the court, as much as I would cheerfully do so if I could.”

“A notice?” Rosemary had emerged from her room, stuffing one arm into her robe. “At this time of night? In the rain? I don't believe even a bailiff would brave this weather.”

Ivy marched toward the door, her voice echoing to the dark beams above. “Rue, put down that sword or we shall be arrested for—inciting a riot.”

“In our home?”

“Perhaps it is no longer ours,” Ivy said, swallowing hard. “To think I spent the morning convinced I was our heroine.”

And convincing herself that, despite his questionable behavior, she had found sanctuary in the duke's employment. What would he think of her now? He could not be expected to keep a governess who had spent time in debtors' gaol. Would he show her any kindness?

The hammering at the door had stopped, and the house was plunged into a profound silence. Cook had been awakened to appear from her bed with a candle stub that threw the chaotic scene into relief. “Don't open that door, my lady. They might spirit you off in your nightclothes.”

“I sold my soul this very morning to the devil,” Ivy muttered, lifting the heavy bolt. “If I'm taken away, perhaps one of you can explain to him why I will not be available for work on—”

She opened the door to the collective gasp of those gathered behind her. Rain splattered her face, temporarily blurring her vision. Even so, she recognized the nobleman in the black hat and greatcoat who stood before her, two menservants bearing hammers at his side.

“Your Grace,” she said in disbelief, conscious of his warm gaze and the damp air traveling over her at the same instant. “What do you think you're doing here at this hour?”

His smile was the stuff that sent maidens to the couch, an act Ivy might have considered had she been capable of movement. The effect of darkness on his chiseled face gave her the quivers. In fact, if not for the rain, she might have stood there forever, a prisoner of his dark charm.

But it was cold, and above all else she was practical.

She lifted her arm to stay the gun that Quigley had raised in her defense. In the middle of the stairs hovered Rosemary, clutching, of all despicable weapons, the mate to the dueling pistol that had failed their father on the night of his death.

“Put down those guns,” she said over her shoulder. “It's only the duke.” She turned back to him in time to glimpse another smile that amplified his general manly appeal. “May I ask Your Grace what you are posting on my door with enough clatter to awake those at eternal rest in the family vault?”

He removed his hat, rain sloshing around the black rim and dribbling to the step. He would stand there and
be soaked for all Ivy cared. If he had tricked her into signing a contract today to test her desperation, only to sink his talons into Fenwick, then she might order Rosemary and Quigley to fire a few shots in his direction, after all.

“It's very wet out here,” he said, shifting his feet. “My men are getting cold.”

There wasn't any point in manners. If he planned to seize her property, then he could find another governess to kiss and mislead.

It was a heartless deed, she thought, that had brought him out on a night like this. She felt Rue trembling at her side although, knowing her sister as she did, Rue was more liable to be shivering from fury than apprehension. “What were you posting on my door?” she demanded.

“Oh, yes. That.” He grinned, rain sliding down his broad cheekbones to his jaw. “The sanctuary hold, of course. You forgot it. And this.” He withdrew her reticule and muff from the folds of his coat. “I assumed you would want these to travel to London. You said you were leaving tomorrow?”

She opened her mouth in astonishment, staring briefly at her reticule before she stepped outside, braving the rain, and looked at the other side of the door. “We'll leave if the weather improves.”

“Ivy,” Lilac whispered in embarrassment, “you aren't dressed for company.”

To which the duke replied, casting a surreptitious glance at Ivy in her night rail, “It's my fault. I shouldn't have called on you without notice. But I'm a bit superstitious. I fancied that the dragon wanted to be home. He's a protector.”

“And are you?” Rosemary asked rather dubiously from the position she had taken behind Quigley.

“I certainly hope I am,” the duke said, gallantly removing and shaking off his coat before he placed it around Ivy's shoulders as if to prove his claim.

Ivy's breath caught. The wool enwrapped her in his warmth and a sense of ownership she was defenseless to fight. She felt as if he'd put his mark on her. “Please put your coat back on.”

“It's no inconvenience. My jacket and gloves are sufficient. Let me draw it around you a little tighter.” His big hands cocooned her in the coat. “That's better. What do you think of our dragon?”

She lifted her hand to the sanctuary ring, tracing her bare fingers over the dragon's unfriendly face. Tears came to her eyes. It was a dramatic gesture. She did not completely trust the duke's motives, knowing how he coveted the manor, and how, in less than a week, he had thrown her life into chaos.

“It's wonderful,” Lilac said, poking her bright head around the door. “Very kind of you, Your Grace. We're falling apart at the seams, you know. I'm not sure whether Ivy told you, but you were our last hope. Won't you come in and take shelter from the storm awhile? We don't have much to offer in the way of refreshments, but Cook usually saves a bottle of sherry for Christmas. You will have to excuse the condition of the house. As much as we adore it, we are not blind to its faults. Still, there is no place like Fenwick Manor. If you're lucky, you might even meet a ghost tonight who is grateful for your good deed. Quigley, please take the duke's men to the kitchen. We can at least offer them a bit of warmth by the hearth.”

*   *   *

James didn't look at Ivy. He didn't dare. She removed his coat, handed it back to him as if it were a castoff, and curtsied with a resigned sigh. “Welcome to Fenwick Manor, Your Grace. I'm surprised that you survived the garden at night.”

He allowed himself a covert glance at her curvaceous form before one of her sisters brought her a dressing robe. The damp air had moistened her night rail so that it clung to what appeared to be a lovely pair of full breasts and a rounded belly. It wasn't a long enough look to appease his curiosity, but he felt uncomfortably hard and looked forward to a restless night. However, with a chorus of suspicious sisters and servants in the wing, he would simply have to keep his carnal longings for the governess to himself. Fenwick Manor would help distract his fancies.

While his servants melted away to the kitchen fire, he entered the house that had sheltered the four noblewomen in secret if shabby glory.

What a magnificent study in English architecture, both the manor and its mistress. What a sin that Fenwick had suffered from the lack of care it deserved. The quartet of impoverished sisters should receive accolades, not condemnation, for keeping the manor in the family's hands.

The fireplace loomed empty and bleak in the great hall. James guessed it cost too much to light coals, even on rainy nights. He noted the absence of a fire screen and iron firedogs. In days past the family would have gathered before a robust blaze in comfort.

Lavish carvings of roses and dragons covered the walls between linenfold paneling. Ivy followed his stare
and said, “There used to be tapestries where you are looking.”

“They fell,” Lilac said eloquently. “Then we sold them.”

“It's incredible.” He shook his head.

“Yes, it is,” said the tall, dark-haired woman with the gun hidden in her skirts. “And it belongs to us.”

He blinked. The four of them couldn't possibly hope to maintain this house much longer on what he would pay Ivy as a governess. Brave spirits wouldn't carry anyone to the bank. It would be a tragedy to watch this manor and its beautiful gardens come to sorrow all for a want of funds. The urge to protect rose inside him, only to clash with his possessive nature. What could he do, knowing any benevolent act might cover a selfish motive?

“I've returned the sanctuary hold to its home,” he said, lowering his stare to Ivy's face. How lovely she appeared in the candlelight. Her dark green eyes had turned hazel. He saw her gaze lift guiltily from his mouth and felt a sting of gratification. She would not forget him again. “I should have come earlier in the day. Or sent my servants alone, but I thought I'd at least look familiar. I shall leave now.”

The palpable relief in the room amused him. He had made a poor impression. Never had he been so aware of the power he held and so uncertain of how to use it.

“Thank you,” Ivy said with a thin smile. “Perhaps you might call at a better time and tour the back gardens.”

“In the daylight,” Lilac added.

“Perhaps next spring,” Rosemary said, making no attempt to hide her distrust or her pistol. “The rose walk shows beautifully in May.”

He granted her a cynical smile. “I'll wait for the invitation, then.”

He turned to the door.

“Your coat isn't even dry, Your Grace,” Ivy said hesitantly behind him.

“That's fine,” he said, his servants reappearing at his side. “My carriage is supplied with coal braziers and brandy. As you'll learn when my coachman collects you on Friday. Until then, ladies, I bid you good night—with apologies yet again for the intrusion.”

*   *   *

Ivy stared at the family portraits lining the hall while Rosemary stood at the window, watching the duke's coach disappear into the rain. One painting of a Restoration ancestor seemed to smile at Ivy in understanding. Ivy's father had insisted he was a rogue courtier who didn't belong to either side of the family. Her mother contended he had slipped into the gallery because his ghost could not give up flirtation. He stood with a sword at his side, and even though his eyes sparkled with questionable integrity, the sisters had decided to adopt him. His mischievous presence lifted their spirits.

Ivy smiled up at him. The duke uplifted her, too.

“I swear he's winked at me more than once,” Rue said, putting her head on Ivy's shoulder.

“I believe that.” Ivy smiled. “You're beautiful enough to stir a ghost's passions.”

“Speaking of passions,” Lilac said. “I do believe he desires you, Ivy. I can still feel it in the air.”

Ivy turned to see Lilac propped against the balustrade at the top of the stairs. “The rogue? He's never winked at me in his life. Or death, I mean.”

Lilac shook her head. “I mean the duke. He wants
you. It was ever so obvious. For a moment when you opened the door, I thought he had come to abduct you. It would have been terribly romantic except for the rain. What a pity he couldn't have met you when you were on the market as a wife and not governess. You might have mentioned how handsome he was. He's truly a magnificent man.”