Page 106 of Taming Ivy
"I spent the day at my clubs. Then an hour or so with my barrister, seeing to the responsibilities and duties required of an earl.” Sebastian stressed the term, “duties”, but Ivy failed to react. "I'm not entirely drunk, my dear, but I am bored with this conversation. I prefer to be engaged in other activities, if the truth is known.” He hated the almost petulant note his voice carried. "A pity I currently have only one viable option and must settle for it.”
Ivy’s form, displayed so enticingly in a champagne-hued ball gown, was subjected to his scorching appraisal. The fabric glittered, an intricate design of crystals and seed pearls sewn throughout the satin and the decadently low bodice displayed her assets to exquisite perfection. She had begun wearing the filigree butterfly every day; sometimes as a brooch, sometimes even as a hair ornament, fixed into her coiffure. Tonight, a gossamer piece of bronze ribbon threaded through the pin mechanism so it could be worn as a choker. It glittered against the pulse of her neck and Sebastian swallowed hard. She was so lush and seductive. His wife, oh, his beautiful, heartless wife managed to affect every one of his senses and it was infuriatingly magical. With an arm wrapped about her waist, he yanked her onto the ballroom floor where a waltz was just beginning.
Rather than struggle in his steel-like grip, Ivy allowed herself to be dragged along. She seemed to understand resisting would only create further scandal. Setting her focus somewhere over Sebastian's shoulder, she refused to meet his gaze as other couples joined them.
"Aren't you happy to see me?" His tone remained bland as he maneuvered her through the steps. It grated upon his nerves that she would not look at him.
"I’d be a great deal happier had you troubled yourself to escort me tonight.”
"I am unavailable to attend your every whim, madam.” Damn her for pointing out his transgressions, especially when he knew the full measure of each one. He should have been by her side. That was his duty. Just as hers was to provide him a son.
Ivy's gaze collided with his. With a choked sob, she said, "I cannot pretend to know your mind, Sebastian. Indeed, I find it difficult to understand what occurred from this morning, when you held me so tenderly, to this moment when you slice me to ribbons with your cruelty.” She attempted to pull away, but he jerked her back, their bodies molding in a manner so indecent, Ivy gasped out loud.
Their behavior was snagging the attention of others, whispers spreading like wildfire. Sara hovered on the edge of the floor, eyes wide with uneasy anger. Bentley, arms crossed, a frankly concerned frown on his handsome features, seemed to debate what course to take. Either step between the couple, risking even more gossip or allow the crisis to play out.
With a moan of desolation, Ivy drew back.
"Don't you dare walk away from me, Ivy,” Sebastian ground out between clenched teeth. He hated himself for the tears welling in her aqua colored eyes. He hated causing her pain. He would let her go in a moment. As soon as he explained things. He promised... promised he would let her go.
But something had snapped inside Ivy. Something frightening. The heat of her skin nearly burned his palm. She trembled in his hands.
“You are truly unbelievable,” Ivy breathed. “Why should my humiliation come second to your embarrassment when I walk out on you, Sebastian?”
Several couples on the ballroom floor, attempting to eavesdrop before, now began to twirl in widening circles away from what appeared to be an impending explosion.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Sebastian growled. “It is your duty -”
Ivy’s eyes flared with murderous intent.
"My duty? My duty!Don’t you lecture to me about duties. You forced me into this marriage. You made promises you never intended to keep. And now you speak of duty? Do you know what you can do, Ravenswood? You can go straight to hell, you... you bloody liar!"
A wooden heeled slipper stomped the top of his foot with enough force to dent the polished ebony boot. Sebastian lurched back, losing the grip on her arm.
In a spinning flurry of champagne colored satin, Ivy escaped, her stony glares spawning enough heat to send guests skittering every whichaway. Whispers of a fire-breathing countess trailed in her wake, the crowd parting as if sliced with a sword and knitting back together just as quickly.
Infuriating barricades hampered Sebastian’s pursuit. Those same guests who were so careful to steer clear of Ivy now crowded about him and even after shoving his way through a tangle of elbows and full skirts, Sebastian found himself drowning in a handful of debutantes.
Little birds of white surrounded him, all chirping high voices and dancing hands, intent on preventing the chase of his wife. His murderous stare cleaved a path through them, but one girl was determined to bar his way. Whenever Sebastian made to step around her, she glided in the same damn direction.
“We’ve not been introduced, my lord.” She gave a soft laugh as they performed this strange, silent dance three times. “But, perhaps now is not the opportune time to point out our familial connection.”
“Excuse me if I cannot linger.” Sebastian muttered, barely comprehending the young woman’s words. Peering over her head, he spied Ivy’s gold gown disappearing through a side door.
The blonde blockader smiled. “I have only recently arrived for the remainder of the season. It is expected my guardian shall arrange introductions but I hoped to circumvent matters.” Looking past him, the girl abruptly scowled, dipped an almost mocking curtsey and stepped aside. Sebastian saw a pretty brunette, a horrified expression etched on her face, barreling toward them. Upon reaching them, she clutched the blonde’s elbow in a severe grip, and a fiercely whispered conversation ensued.
Sebastian, with a sigh of thankfulness, brushed past them both.
A formidable gang of five matrons threw themselves into his path next, clinging with offers of refreshments and frivolous conversation. Gritting his teeth, he responded with terse politeness to varied questions regarding rainclouds in Kent and the heat in London, and did he think the lemonade required more sugar. Only when he nearly tossed a full glass of lemonade back at one determined old hen, muttering a foul curse, did they finally relent and allow him to pass.
Only one gauntlet remained.
Sara.
Sweet, calm Sara. Sara, armed with words that sliced like knives and that fierce temper she kept hidden beneath a beautiful, china doll exterior.
She declared him an ass of magnificent proportions; a heartless cad who did not deserve a treasure like Ivy Kinley. He was unfit to lick her boots; too lowly in nature to clean her chamber pot. The attack was scathing, the girl holding tight to his coat sleeve, forcing him to hear every word before letting him loose with a scowl of disgust. Half of the ballroom bore shocked witness to the set down and it was only by the grace of his friendship with Alan that Sebastian did not physically remove the petite woman from his path. Eventually, Lord Morgan came to his aid, pulling his daughter away from him with a murmur.
Snarling with frustration, Sebastian burst into the main gallery. He must find Ivy. Somehow, he must undo this unholy mess.
