Page 89 of The Duke of Desire
Chapter Twenty
Heart pounding and breathless, Ivy rushed along the corridor into the vestibule.
“Miss Breckenridge—Ivy!”
The sound of Lady Dunn’s voice made her slow. Lucy’s touch on her arm gave her the barest sense of security. But it was fleeting. She needed to get out of there. Now.
They waited at the entrance for Lady Dunn to catch up to them. She gestured toward her coach, which was one of a few parked right outside. Most people walked to the Assembly Rooms. This evening, however, Lady Dunn hadn’t wanted to walk that far, though it was only a short distance.
Silence reigned as they made their way to the coach. Lady Dunn climbed in first and sat in the front-facing seat, while Ivy and Lucy sat opposite her.
Lady Dunn looked a bit pale as she regarded Ivy. Her lips pursed briefly before she asked, “What was that about? Does Clare really wish to marry you?”
Clearly, since he’d said so in front ofeveryone. “Yes.”
Lady Dunn sagged back against the squab as the coach began moving. “Thank God for that, at least.”
Except Ivy didn’t want to marry him. “I refused him.”
Lady Dunn blinked at her while her jaw dropped for a moment. “Why on earth would you do that? Don’t be silly, Ivy.”
Anger swirled in Ivy’s chest. She wasn’t silly. “If you knew what I have been through, you wouldn’t call me silly.”
Lady Dunn tapped her cane once on the floor of the coach. “Then perhaps it’s past time you tell me.”
Yes, perhaps it was. Ivy glanced over at Lucy, who gave her an encouraging look. She took Lucy’s hand and gently squeezed.
“I grew up in Yorkshire. In the town of Pickering, to be exact. I’m the eldest of four children. My family enjoyed a comfortable life, and I was expected to marry someone prominent in the area.” That seemed like someone else’s life. Indeed, telling this felt like it had happened to someone else. Almost. “I went to an assembly when I was seventeen, where I met Bothwick. He wasn’t the viscount then, but he was certainly prominent. In hindsight, he wastooprominent. I should have set my sights a bit lower. But I was instantly enthralled with him. And he with me.”
She swallowed and took a deep breath, her hand gripping Lucy’s with tense ferocity. “He claimed to love me and said we would be married. I believed him and allowed him to be familiar.”
“He ruined you,” Lady Dunn said flatly.
A tremor of disgust shook Ivy’s frame. “Yes. He got me with child and refused to marry me. My parents blamed me and didn’t even try to force a marriage. They cast me out instead.”
“Oh,Ivy.” Lucy’s throaty exclamation nearly undid Ivy, but she closed her eyes for a moment and willed herself to continue.
“I went to a workhouse.” She steeled herself to reveal the next part and nearly failed to push the words forth. “The baby was born dead.” She had to stop and take another breath, and she trained her gaze on the corner of the carriage so that she couldn’t see either Lady Dunn’s or Lucy’s faces. Their sympathy—assuming they offered it—would crumble her resolve completely.
“After that, I moved to another workhouse so that no one would know that I’d had a child. There I made the acquaintance of the benefactress, Lady Breckenridge. She recognized that I was not like the other inmates and helped me find employment as a companion. I changed my name and started a new life. I’ve never looked back. Until now.” Anguish clogged her throat. She finally looked toward Lucy as the coach pulled to a stop in front of the town house. A tear fell from her friend’s eye, and Ivy quickly looked away again.
The footman opened the door and helped Lady Dunn out. Ivy and Lucy followed, and they traipsed into the house as if they were marching in a funeral procession. Which Ivy supposed was an accurate description, since the life she’d built—the life she’d worked so hard to earn—had just died.
Lady Dunn asked the butler to send brandy to the drawing room, then preceded them up the stairs. She pulled off her gloves and took her favorite chair near the fireplace.
Ivy sat down on the settee opposite, and Lucy took a position right next to her. It was strange to have someone at her side. Ten years ago, she’d been completely alone. If she thought about how different things might’ve been if just one person had shown her support… It didn’t bear consideration.
“A tragic story to be sure,” Lady Dunn said, not without an edge of sympathy. “However, that is the distant past, and truly, thanks to your ingenuity, it happened to another person. Now you are Ivy Breckenridge, paid companion, and the Duke of Clare wishes to make you his duchess.” She leaned forward, her brown gaze lively and direct. “Why in God’s name would yourefusehim?”
“Because—” She was going to say because of her past, but Lady Dunn had just said that didn’t matter. Hadn’t she? “Are you saying my past transgressions don’t matter?”
Lady Dunn made a sound in her throat. “Not if you marry a duke.”
The butler arrived with a decanter of brandy and poured three glasses, leaving them on the tray. He bowed and left.
“But everyone heard what Bothwick said.”
Lady Dunn waved her hand before she picked up her glass of brandy. “None of that will matter.” She sipped her brandy. “Unless there’s some other reason you don’t wish to marry Clare. In which case, I would tell you to get over it, because if you don’t marry him, you’ll be ruined. Either way, I suppose your employment with me is at an end. Pity.” She gave Ivy a sad smile.
