Page 90 of The Duke of Desire
Ivy stared at her, uncertain if the viscountess was happy for her or not. “He’s the Duke of Desire.” She nearly choked on the stupid nickname. “I don’t want to be married to someone like him.”
Except he was also someone who’d done very heroic things. He said she’d changed him… Maybe that was true. Only time would tell, and if marrying him was her only option…
The room seemed to crowd in on her, and her vision tunneled. She lowered her gaze and saw the brandy glass. Leaning forward, she snatched it from the tray and took a long, fortifying drink. Until it was gone.
She set the empty glass back on the tray. “I’m not sure I can manage it—being the center of attention like tonight.” The shame she’d buried had come right back, crippling her.
“Nora overcame it,” Lucy said. Their friend Nora had married a duke—the Forbidden Duke—five years ago. She’d returned to Society after being ruined nine years earlier.
Ivy saw the similarity and yet didn’t think they could quite compare. “Nora was caught kissing some reprobate. My situation is abitmore scandalous.”
“You’ll manage it too,” Lady Dunn said sharply. “Even if your background was without reproach, you’d still be talked about. People will always gossip. Only you can decide what you want, dear. What you’llendure.”
That was the question. She’d endured a great deal and had hoped all that was behind her.
Lucy touched her arm. “He seems to genuinely care for you. He met with Andrew and Ned yesterday to hatch a plan.” She glanced toward Lady Dunn. “While you were at tea with me tomorrow, he was going to ask Lady Dunn for permission to court you.”
Ivy’s throat tightened with emotion.
“Well, now that’s terribly romantic,” Lady Dunn said, her lips curving up. “And while I can’t condone his behavior tonight, I will privately admit it was romantic too. Bothwick deserved every bit of it.”
“But a duel?” Lucy asked, picking up her glass of brandy to take a sip.
Ivy wrapped her hand around the front of the cushion of the settee as her body tensed.
Lady Dunn frowned. “That is a problem. Hopefully we’ll be able to talk some sense into him. However, male pride and honor are difficult combatants.”
“I don’t want him to fight a duel.” Ivy was fairly certain he’d win against Bothwick, but the thought of losing him… A crushing pain ripped through her. “I do love him.” She said it the moment the realization surfaced in her brain.
Lucy finished her brandy in one swift drink and jumped to her feet. “Come, let’s get back to the Assembly Rooms and put a stop to this nonsense.”
Ivy joined her, feeling a surge of anticipation that wasn’t entirely cloaked in dread. For the first time in ages, she saw a glimmer of hope.
Lady Dunn beamed up at them. “An excellent idea. Will you walk? Take one of the footmen with you.”
“Thank you,” Ivy said. She went to stand next to Lady Dunn’s chair and crouched down so she could look her in the eye. “I’m so sorry to have brought all this on you.”
“Don’t worry about me, dear. This is more excitement than I’ve had in years.” She touched Ivy’s cheek. “I’ve come to care for you a great deal. You are a very strong young woman, one I’ve been proud to have in my employ. While I’m sad to lose you, I’m so very pleased to see you have a happy ending.”
Ivy kissed the woman’s soft cheek and stood. As she and Lucy made their way quickly from the town house, she hoped a happy ending was still possible.
After Ivy fled, two gentlemen steered Bothwick into the tearoom. West longed to follow them and perhaps conduct the duel now. The tearoom was quite large enough. Since they were indoors, they could use swords. They just required weapons…
Dartford nudged him. “Clare?”
“Hmm?”
“Perhaps we should go.”
West was aware that people were still staring in his direction. They were now also whispering, some not so softly. He turned to Dartford. “You’ll be my second?”
Dartford nodded, albeit somewhat reluctantly. “If I must.”
West wished Axbridge were here. “I need you to go and settle the arrangements. I’ll wait for you in the octagon room.”
“If I must,” he repeated, letting out a long breath. He went into the tearoom.
West walked from the cardroom, heedless of the unabashed scrutiny that followed him. As soon as he reached the octagon room, he began to pace.
