Page 56 of The Duke of Desire
Three to be exact. “Yes. But this is not of that nature.” But, oh, how he’d like it to be.
Really? He wanted Ivy to be like the rest? Because she wasn’t. Not in any way.
Hemphill looked perplexed.
“She’s a…friend,” West explained, perhaps unnecessarily. “I met her at the house party and provided assistance.” He’d meant by arranging for the schoolmistress’s transportation, but of course he’d done more than that. He’d changed her life, hadn’t he?
Or maybe she’d changed his.
“A friend?” Hemphill sounded nonplussed.
West looked at the man and scoffed. “I have female friends.” He considered most of the women he’d had affairs with of the friend variety. They were certainly on friendly terms.
“Of course.”
West ignored his secretary’s skepticism.
“Have you made your plans for the fall yet?” Hemphill asked.
Around this time West typically made arrangements for a fall liaison, often tied to a long house party, or he’d go to London. He’d received multiple offers—the letters tucked into his desk. However, he wasn’t interested in any of them. All he could see was red-gold curls and bright, seductive green eyes. His body heated at the thought of her.
He glanced at the letter, hating the finality of it. She’d wished him well in the future, which meant she didn’t expect to see him again. Well, the hell with that.
“Yes, I’m going to Bath.”
“Do you already have arrangements?” Hemphill asked.
West leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “No. I will require a house.”
Hemphill inclined his head. “Just so. When do you plan to depart?”
“I should like to leave within the week, the sooner the better.”
“And how long will you be staying?”
West stared at the window for a moment. He couldn’t begin to guess because he still wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing. He just knew he wasn’t content to have their association be at an end. “I don’t know. It depends on the lady.”
“The lady? Am I to understand that you’re undertaking a new liaison?”
“No. She’s not—” He dropped his hands to the arms of the chair. “She’s different.”
“Different how?” Hemphill cocked his head to the side. “Have you decided tocourtsomeone?”
West didn’t mind that Hemphill had asked—the man had worked for him for years. But he felt oddly protective of Ivy and didn’t wish to reveal too much. Anywaycourtshiphadn’t even entered his mind.
And why not?
Because she was a lady’s companion, and he had no interest in marrying. Nor did she.
West folded her letter and shoved it into the top drawer of his desk. He picked up another letter in an effort to communicate that the interview was over. “I’m not courting anyone. I’m merely going to Bath to visit people.”
Hemphill stood. He wasn’t stupid—he knew he was being dismissed. “Very good, Your Grace. I’ll make the arrangements.”
“Thank you.”
After the secretary had gone, West surrendered to thoughts of Ivy once more. He pulled the letter from his desk and read it a second time. Then a third.
Each time he hoped to glean something new, but it was still the same terse, impassive communication. What had he hoped for? That she would wax sentimental about their time together? That she’d beg to see him? That she’d thank him for the best night of her life?
