A door closed below stairs, and there was murmuring. Ivy tensed and pulled herself against his chest, resting her chin on his shoulder, listening. “Shh.”
Someone, one of the staff, had come home. “Upstairs,” Dominic whispered to her, his tone transforming the word into a question.
She turned her eyes to his, knowing how she should reply…to tell him she should wait outside for the carriage to return. But those weren’t the words that came from her lips. What did was spoken so softly that it was hardly a sound at all. “Aye.”
But he’d heard her. To Ivy’s surprise, Dominic drew back, then bent and scooped her roughly into his arms and carried her up the stairs.
The passageway sconces were not alight this night, but it was clear that he knew exactly where he was taking her. He whisked her down the passage, nudged open the door, and burst into his bedchamber, where he set her on her feet at the edge of his tester bed.
Without Dominic to cling to, she barely managed to keep her balance. She was shivering, as though cold, but she was anything but chilled. Heat pumped through her, surging strong along with her desire.
“There is no need to be afraid.” Dominic reached her and cupped his hand around her lower back, pulling her against him again as he kissed her deeply.
She broke the seal of their lips for a gasp of air. “I’m not afraid.” That much was true. She was just…inexperienced.
This would have surprised him.
He would have heard the rumors. Everyone had. And he would believe that the Sinclair brothers and sisters were every bit as passionate as they were wild.
She had done nothing to counter the notion. In fact, from the very first moment Dominic met her outside The Theater Royal Drury Lane, and she pulled him to her and kissed him, she could have only bolstered the impression that she was a complete hoyden.
But that wasn’t quite the truth of the matter. In fact, he, and the members of the
ton,
would be surprised to learn that despite the gossip that flooded London all Season long, Ivy was, in fact, still a maid.
He kissed her again, letting his hot lips drag over her throat. “I want to kiss all of you,” he whispered oh so seductively. “Would you mind terribly if I did?”
“Nay.” Ivy felt a clench between her legs and a moist warmth growing there.
Dominic drew a finger down her throat and slid it down to where her neckline met the swell of her breasts. He tugged at the satin ribbon between her breasts, the thin cord that cinched her bodice closed.
She gasped as the gown opened, and his hand skittered across her chemise. The heat of his fingers pressed through the wisp of silk, searing her skin like a brand.
Oh God.
She wanted this. Wanted him.
He eased his hand around her, loosened her stays, and released her breasts from their confinement, then eased her back onto the bed. With her knees together, her position on the bed made her back arch. Seeing this, Dominic nudged her knees apart and moved between them.
He leaned over her and molded one bare breast in his hand and kneaded it gently, as he took her other nipple into his mouth. It pebbled at the wet, searing touch, and she writhed, bowing up against him, but this time for a very different reason.
And then, he reached a hand behind him, and she felt it on her ankle, then riding up beneath her gown. His fingers moved up her silk stocking to her thigh and between the part in her pantalets.
He was going to touch her. Right
there.
And she wanted him to. So badly.
She didn’t care what her father might think. What others might. That isn’t why she had never been touched like this before. It wasn’t the reason that her virginity was still hers to offer.
It was because, until now, this moment, it hadn’t been right. But she hadn’t been in love. But she was now.
She could barely wait. Her heart quickened in anticipation as he removed his trousers.
Centering the rough pads of two fingers just between her cleft, he slowly ran them upward between her passion-slickened folds. Suddenly, she felt the pressure of his thumb, and he used it to circle her most sensitive part.
He lifted his head and pressed his mouth to hers as he tantalized her below. Prodding her feminine lips apart, he nudged her knees wider and knelt between them.
She could feel the hot tip of him touching her, could feel him dipping just into her moistness before pulling back. Heat surged within her below. She wanted to feel him inside her completely.
Dominic leaned low over her and slipped his tongue into her mouth, just as he pressed his full tip between her nether lips, pausing for just a moment before thrusting deep into her—breaking through the resistance it met.
There was a sharp sting, and she jerked, gasping at the surprise of the pain.
Dominic ripped his mouth from hers. “Bloody hell!” He shoved up from her and came fully to his feet. He stared down at Ivy, his expression one she could only read as utter horror. “You’re a—virgin.”
She hadn’t expected this to happen. Hadn’t wanted him to stop. She only wanted to be with him. As close as a man and a woman could be.
Ivy leaned forward and shoved her gown down, covering herself. The heat was already rushing into her cheeks. “Aye.” She propped herself up on her elbows. “I
was
a virgin.”
Suddenly, she felt ridiculous and naïve—and as if she was going to cry. But she couldn’t allow that to happen.
Not now. She was a Sinclair after all…and Sinclairs were not weak.
“What of it?” She lifted her chin defiantly and peered up at him. “It is not as though it changes anything.”
“Yes, Ivy, it does!” Dominic was nearly sputtering. “Do you not understand? Nothing can
ever
be the same between us again.
Ever.”
In the light of the crescent moon cutting through the front windows, Nick could see the shimmer of tears in Ivy’s eyes.
He moved toward her, wanting to hold Ivy in his arms, but suddenly the sound of footfalls on the stairs echoed up the passageway. The bobbing light of a chamber lamp cast a glow into the dark hall.
Damn it all.
He’d left the bedchamber door open.
Ivy heard the sound too and scrambled from the bed just as Felix stepped into the doorway. Without taking even a moment to smooth her gown or tuck her stray locks back from her face, she silently marched past Nick, then Felix too, and descended the stairs.
Nick started after her, but Felix braced an arm across the doorway. “I would not advise going after her just now,” he said, more forcefully than Nick would have expected. “I may not be privy to what happened here, but I saw her face. Anything you said right now would be met with a backhander across the face. Believe me.”
Nick batted his cousin’s arm aside, but at that moment the front door slammed. He could just hear the clop of hooves on the square outside.
It had changed everything.
Had he been just a diversion, no matter how he felt about her, Nick would have been able to abide by Ivy’s wishes to follow her father’s dictates and step aside so that she could marry Tinsdale.
But no longer. He could never allow it now.
What happened this night was not folly. Despite the air of nonchalance she now donned, Ivy had given him her body, but more importantly her heart.
He knew this now.
She had
chosen
him.
It was too late.
Damn it.
Ivy stood upon the steps, frantically scanning the passing conveyances on Berkeley Square for the Sinclair carriage. It hadn’t returned for her yet. Why would it have? Her sisters had left her and Dominic on the square perhaps only a quarter of an hour ago. A short few minutes that changed her life forever.
But it was just as well the carriage hadn’t yet arrived. Grosvenor Square was not so very far and, just now, a walk in the night air would do her good. Ivy swiped her palms over her cheeks, wiping away the tears running down them. She caught up her skirt, raising her hem from the steps, and hurried down to the pavers, mindful that Dominic might be in pursuit.
She didn’t slow her pace until she turned off the square onto Davies Street, and even then, she kept walking until she had passed four houses and was sure that she was no longer within view of the Counterton residence. Grasping a wrought-iron rail that ran in front of a stately brick house, she finally paused to catch her breath. But with the air that filled her lungs came the tears she thought she’d left behind in Berkeley Square. Her knees crumpled beneath her, and she slid down the fence to the pavers.
What a fool she’d been, giving in so utterly to her passions, her emotions. Ivy leaned back against the fence and rested her head in her hand.
Why had she done it? Tinsdale was the one she wished to marry—not Dominic.
She didn’t even know who Dominic was, not really. She didn’t even know his true name. Everything about him was an act. It wasn’t real…even the way he made her feel. That’s what actors were paid to do after all—make their audience feel what the playwright wished. Only this time, she had crafted the script. His role was to charm and make his audience fall in love with him.
And she had.
She had allowed herself to fall in love with naught but an illusion—and one of her own creation. How imprudent she was. How gullible. Such a fool.
A breathy laugh pressed through her lips as cold realization overtook her. She’d been drawn in by her own ruse.
Reaching up, Ivy caught a rung midway up the fence and slowly pulled herself to her feet. And though her heart pained her like never before, she straightened her back and willed herself to walk back to Grosvenor Square.
Noon
The Sinclair residence
Grosvenor Square
Her stomach growled and ached as Ivy descended the stairs from her chamber, but she didn’t feel much like eating breakfast. She knew, though, her sisters, and perhaps her brothers too, would be waiting for her in the dining room. Not because of their impeccable manners, though they had been well trained by their governesses and tutors as children. Or because they were deeply invested in the success or failure of her plan to steal back Lord Tinsdale from Miss Feeney.
Nay, Ivy knew it was because of the worried little man who was standing beside the newel post, waiting for her, at the bottom of the staircase had also awaited her return from Berkeley Square last night. “My lady, when the carriage returned without you, I went searching for you myself, and—”
Ivy descended the last three steps and laid her hand on his shoulder. “And I thank you for that, Poplin, but as you can see I am here, safe and quite well.”
The butler peered at her through squinting eyes as if assessing the truthfulness of her last word. He paused for several moments, then gestured for her to follow him to the dining room. “Mrs. Wimpole has set a fine meal this day.”
Ivy lifted her brow. “Really, I am not hungry. I thought I might convince my sisters to join me at the Garden of Eden for tea and cake later.”
He exhaled. “You needn’t fret. She didn’t cook anything…special. Just dished some cold beef, fruit, toasted bread, and cheese.” He bent slightly at the waist and extended his hand again. “Please. Your family is waiting, Lady Ivy.” When she didn’t follow him promptly, he added, “
I-I
might have mentioned that you did not return in the carriage last eve. They know you are at home now, of course—one of your sisters checked your bedchamber this morn—but they seem rather concerned about you.”
Ivy set her fingers to her temples and rubbed as she reluctantly followed him down the passage toward the sound of clinking silver mingled with low murmurs.
Blast.
All of her brothers and sisters, save Sterling, were there at the table…waiting.
“Good noon to you all.” She smiled as brightly as she could.
“Weel, that expression says it all, doesn’t it?” Siusan, who’d come to her feet the instant Ivy entered with Poplin, waved a dismissive hand, and reseated herself.
A saucy smile crossed Priscilla’s lips. “I’ll say.”
Ivy scowled. “And what, pray, are you two implying?”
“I wasn’t implying anything,” Siusan replied, “but then, there is no need. Poplin told us that you did not return in the carriage last eve, but here you stand, smelling of April and May, grinning like a gleeful fool.”
“Whatever it is you are guessing at, you are likely very wrong.” Ivy looked down her nose at her sister. “Rather than waiting for the carriage, I walked back to Grosvenor Square, then I went directly to my bedchamber.” She looked at Poplin. “I apologize if I worried you.”
Killian chuckled and tapped his hand on the chair beside him. “Do sit here next to me, Ivy. I fear our sisters are overly partial to your actor fellow and are quite envious of a plan which allows you to spend so much time with him. Just ignore them.”
Priscilla and Siusan gasped at their brother’s jibe, but, before either could utter a word, Lachlan raised a hand as he swallowed a wedge of beef and washed it down with some weak-looking tea.
Siusan slid the newspaper across the table to Ivy, then pinched the corner, and flipped it open to the second page. She poked at a short column. “I think you might wish to read this—the
on dit
column. I believe the report mentions you.”
Ivy peered up at Siusan, then saw that everyone else at the table was waiting breathlessly for her to do just that. “Nothing…scandalous, I hope.” Certainly the long-nosed columnists could not have learned of what she and Dominic had shared last evening. Good God, she hoped not. But somehow, the blasted columnist seemed to notice everything of late. She began to scan the column when Priscilla complained, desiring her to read aloud.
“Very well. Though I do hope you are not making this request of me to increase my embarrassment.” Ivy let her gaze flit around the table to be sure before beginning. “‘ The fine weather yesterday brought Londoners out of doors by the score, with many Society notables making Hyde Park their destination of choice. There many enjoyed a picnic luncheon along the Serpentine and walks beside the water, while others such as Lord C. and Lady I. S. chose the high excitement of phaeton racing. The victors celebrated with sherry, while those left behind on Rotten Row, Lord T. and Miss F., finished the afternoon with a wash bucket and flannels, cleaning the excitement of the day from the carriage.’”