Page 8 of The Duke of Desire
Miss Forth-Hodges shifted in her chair, angling herself toward Ivy. “I have not.” She cocked her head to the side. “However would I manage that? My parents would die of apoplexy.”
Ivy could well imagine that. Anyone’s parents would probably do that. Except hers, of course. Again, she pushed that into the abyss of things she never wanted to think about.
Once upon a time, before she’d met Dartford, Lucy had wanted that. She’d been working to buy a cottage for herself and her grandmother. The notion that men were a requirement for happiness or fulfillment was absolutely absurd. However, that hadn’t stopped her from falling head over heels in love with Dartford, and her entire plan had changed. Ivy didn’t begrudge her for it, but she realized now that she felt as she had five years ago—alone.
“Yes, your parents would be a problem. However, you could ignore them. After all, it is your life, not theirs.”
Miss Forth-Hodges shook her head. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. It’s not as if I can go out and start up my own household. And the scandal that would follow…” Her shoulder twitched in a gentle, ladylike shudder.
Yes, there was always that to consider. Unless you were Ivy. She didn’t have to worry about shaming a family or her marriageability. Still, she took care to behave with the utmost propriety—her employment, and therefore her livelihood, depended on it.
The men entered the drawing room, and the air instantly charged. The noise level increased and the tone deepened with the addition of male voices, and the women almost universally adopted a pretense—sitting straighter, casting provocative glances,preening. Or so it seemed to Ivy, and she’d made an occupation of observing people. What else was there to do when you were on the outside?
Miss Forth-Hodges exhaled. “I should go sit with my mother so that she can play matchmaker.”
“Why? Then she’s choosing for you, and that’s no way to select a husband—if you’re certain that’s the path you want.” Ivy couldn’t keep from reminding her that she did have choices. They weren’t easy, but they existed. Ivy had long ago learned that nothing in life worth having was easy.
Miss Forth-Hodges’s blue eyes lightened, as if a curtain had been pulled back and now she could see more clearly. “You’re right. They were the ones who wanted me to marry Sutton. I must admit that I was a bit relieved when he moved on. I expected him to, of course, given his history, but my parents were insistent that I was different, that I would be the one to lead him to matrimony.”
“So you don’t harbor any ill will?” Ivy asked.
“Not at all. I’m quite pleased to see that he’s finally happy. And I’m glad it’s with your friend. She was on the shelf, was she not?”
“Apparently. That sentiment makes no sense to me. It’s not as if we turn sour.”
Miss Forth-Hodges giggled. “What an excellent comparison. No, we do not curdle or mildew either. Goodness, I will never hear that phrase in the same way.”
Ivy smiled, something she didn’t do very often. “I’m glad.” She felt as though she’d accomplished something with her new friend, and that was important to Ivy. Wait, were they friends? She was surprised to find that she hoped so. “Well, if you’d like any more amusing comparisons, I hope you’ll come sit with me again.”
“I’d be delighted.” She inched forward in her chair as she prepared to stand. “Will you be going on the walk up Wendover Hill? It sounds invigorating.”
Lady Dunn had encouraged her to do so. “Most definitely.”
“Perhaps we can walk together.”
“I’d like that,” Ivy said.
Miss Forth-Hodges darted a glance toward her mother and winced. “I’m getting the stare of consternation from my mother. I’d better go.”
Ivy smiled again, liking that description. “May I borrow that? Stare of consternation, I mean. It’s devilishly good.”
Miss Forth-Hodges grinned as she stood. “With my full endorsement.”
Ivy inclined her head and watched her glide elegantly across the drawing room. She also noted how many of the men watched Miss Forth-Hodges’s progress.
Except Clare. He stood near the fireplace staring at Ivy. She frowned at him and immediately transferred her attention to the opposite side of the room.
After he’d driven her from the library that afternoon, she’d retreated to the dressing room while Lady Dunn had snored in bed. Ivy had continued to read, but intermittently the damnable duke would invade her thoughts with his dark-as-sin eyes and his arrogant smile. How she had managed to gain his attention, she would never know.
Surely he wouldn’t continue to bother her. She wasn’t the type of woman he spent time with. She was neither married nor interested in his…offerings.
Hmmm, the Damnable Duke was an excellent name for him.
Lord Wendover addressed the group. “We’re setting gaming tables up in the hall if that interests you. If not, the countess will be playing at the pianoforte soon, and dancing will commence.”
Lady Dunn stood, and Ivy was certain she’d be going to the hall. Ivy rose and joined her.
“I’m going to play for a while,” Lady Dunn said. “What do you plan to do, dear?”
