Page 74 of The Duke of Desire
Ivy rolled her eyes. “Please, let’s not go that far. He’s still a reprobate.” Was he, though? An image of the elegant Lady Lamberton hanging on him both last night and today burned through Ivy like acid.
Lucy was regarding her with a narrowed eye. “I still contend it was something more than that. I saw the way he looked at you. You forget that we’re married now. We know what a man looks like when he cares for a woman.”
Ivy bristled. She didn’t want to talk about this. “He’s a scoundrel and a rake. He looks at every woman like that. I saw him in full scandalous behavior at Greensward.” Ahem,firsthand, but she didn’t say so. She’d also seen him rescue Miss Kirkland, arrange for the new schoolmistress to go to the workhouse in Wendover, and ensure Emmaline wasn’t ruined. He might be a rake, but he was no scoundrel. Even so, none of that would change Ivy’s mind about marriage. “Please donottry to pair me off with the likes of him. Don’t pair me off with anyone. Just because the two of you are happily married doesn’t mean I should be too.Mycircumstances haven’t changed. Nor do I want them to.”
Both Aquilla and Lucy stared at her a moment. Aquilla spoke first. “We didn’t mean to do that.”
Lucy shook her head. “No, we didn’t. My apologies. Of course you’re content—you’ve made no claims to want anything more than you have. Before I met Dartford, I envied you.”
“As did I,” Aquilla said. “Remember, I asked you to help me become a companion.”
Yes, she had. But then she’d married Sutton. “You wouldn’t have been happy,” Ivy said. She turned to look at Lucy. “Neither would you. You were both meant to fall in love and marry. I am not.”
“How can you know that?” Aquilla asked.
Ivy lifted a shoulder. “I just do.” She’d accepted her fate, and all this discussion about a future that would never happen—nor did she even want—was making her fatigued. “Now, do you think we could speak of something else?”
“Of course,” Aquilla said. “Oh! Lady Fairfax is hosting an al fresco luncheon at Sydney Gardens next week. Unfortunately, Ned and I must return to Sutton Park before then. Hopefully, you and Lady Dunn will go.”
“Please say you will,” Lucy put in, wincing. “Otherwise, I’ll be alone.”
Ivy touched Lucy’s hand, sorry that she’d grown cross with them. They only meant well, and it wasn’t their fault that she was unbearably sensitive when it came to West. Or, apparently, discussion of marriage. When on earth had that happened? “I would never leave you alone,” she said.
Lucy smiled and squeezed her hand. “Nor would we.”
The following day, West stepped into the dim interior of the alehouse and looked about for Dartford and Sutton. They’d invited him to meet them there this afternoon, and since they were a link to Ivy, he’d taken them up on the offer.
Not seeing them, West found an empty table and sat. A serving maid approached and gave him a cup of ale. She arched a brow at him as she let her gaze wander over him. Her invitation was clear, but West ignored it, and she departed.
He never accepted the advances of serving maids and their ilk, but he typically flirted with them at least. However, he couldn’t even do that. Not when his mind was still consumed with Ivy.
He’d gone to the workhouse that morning to see about the repairs, and she’d been there. They hadn’t interacted, but he’d seen her sitting with two of the inmates, helping them with reading and writing. He’d been moved by her dedication to these people’s plight, and he knew that whatever happened, he would find ways to support workhouses. In fact, he was going to look into the ones in his district as soon as he returned home.
Dartford and Sutton came in, both offering hearty greetings.
“Glad you could make it,” Dartford said jovially.
The serving maid brought them ale, and Sutton offered a toast. “To friends.”
“To friends,” Dartford agreed, tapping his mug against Sutton’s. “I, uh, didn’t really have many of those before Lucy.” He took a drink. “Hell, I didn’t haveany. Didn’t want any either.”
West knew Dartford from around town but hadn’t paid close attention. “What changed?”
“It’s a melancholy story I won’t bore you with, but suffice it to say that Lucy made it possible for me to allow people to get close—to become friends.”
Sutton nodded, setting his mug down. “She changed you. Or love changed you.”
“Both, I guess,” Dartford said. He looked at West and laughed. “You must think us a sorry lot.”
“Not at all. You’re happily wed.” West knew it was possible, had seen plenty of examples of it, but his personal experience with his parents was, of course, quite different.
“Don’t suppose that will be you any time soon?” Sutton asked.
“No, it won’t.” His answer came automatically. The specter of his parents’ marriage was ever present in the back of his mind.
Sutton turned his chair and rested his forearm on the table. “What about the dukedom? You’ve a duty there, certainly.”
“I’ve a cousin, and he has a son.” His mother hated that this was West’s plan for succession. Which was probablywhyit was his plan.
