Page 14 of Taming Ivy
Inside the envelope was a letter instead of the usual florist card. Ivy’s gaze went to the scrawled signature. What bloody game was the man playing with her? Eyes narrowing, she unfolded the paper completely and began to read.
My dearest Countess,
Please accept these roses in humble apology for my abysmal behavior last night. In light of such boorish behavior, I cannot fault you for seeking to escape my company. Please understand had no desire to wound you. Although this is a paltry- and commonplace- offer of a treaty, it is one I offer just the same.
I shall call at two o’clock this afternoon to convey my sincerest apologies in person. If you wish not receive me, I will understand.
~ Ravenswood
The thorns were no mistake. They were a restrained cannonball in a burgeoning war. Her fists clenched with apprehension. Oh, this was going to get quite messy.
“An undesirable acquaintance, milady?” Brody asked, still disgruntled and now frantically blotting at the stains on his handkerchief with a cloth he’d found near the fireplace. “Obviously provincial, judging the manner in which he sent these roses. I wish to know the florist he used. I intend on sending a strongly worded letter. With your permission, of course.”
“Undesirable, yes. Provincial, no.” The delicate fragrance of the creamy blooms prompted memories of death and sorrow, stark reminders of her mother’s illness and the long-standing rift with her father. “I don’t believe he used a florist.”
The roses were stunningly beautiful. There was something quite arresting about them, something intriguing. Perhaps because they were so different from what she typically received. As well as the manner received. Ivy almost smiled. “The Earl of Ravenswood wishes to call today. At two o’clock.”
Brody’s gray eyebrows flew upwards in disbelief. “The devil you say.”
“The devil, indeed.” How ingeniously the earl worded his challenge. He did not request permission; instead, he left the decision in her hands. If she refused, she’d be forced to act the coward, and he bloody well knew it. Ravenswood practically dared her notto receive him - a brilliant tactical move. One she might admire if it did not pose such impending danger. “I have no alternative but to accept.”
“The scoundrel,” Brody breathed in grudging admiration before continuing with precise briskness. “I shall remind your father of his club meeting this afternoon. Will you wish to receive Lord Ravenswood here? Or the front parlor?”
“This will be fine, Brody. Thank you.” Ivy folded the letter, smiling when the butler chucked her under the chin. Such familiarity between servant and employer might be grounds for immediate dismissal in another household, but Brody enjoyed a highly trusted status.
“Do not fret, milady. I daresay His Lordship has met his match in you.”
CHAPTER 4
Antagonizing Ivy Kinley with such blatant animosity was a tactical blunder. And short-sighted. The path laid with such carelessness must be erased, and set again, this time with roses and persuasion. How could he claim victory if he hacked at her with such brutality? He must gain Ivy’s trust and affection, all while maintaining distance. Not a drop of empathy for the countess was possible, not when her destruction was the goal.
Sebastian knew why things went awry. Her beauty caught him off-guard. She wore an air of sweet vulnerability like a warm cloak. Used to great effect, it made a man want to protect and shield her from all harm. She blinded him. For a moment. But, not now. Oh, not now. He knew what must be done, and he steeled his heart for the battle ahead.
He was prepared this time. She wouldn’t see him coming until it was too late.
The clock struck half-past two o’clock with dual, solemn tones and along with it, the heavy notes of the Kinley House’s door chimes echoed.
Standing on the front steps of the elegant townhome in Mayfair, Sebastian frowned when the doors did not swing open to admit him at once. Granted, he was a half hour late, but the butler should have been in attendance. There were the muffled sounds of footsteps moving away, the murmur of low voices from deeper within, and the tattoo of rapid, heavier footsteps hurrying toward the front of the home. They slowed to a measured pace, but several seconds passed before entrance was granted.
The very same Kinley butler from seven years before, now with a headful of silver hair and imperious eyebrows, bowed to him.
“Good afternoon, milord.” Void of emotion, the man’s tone was level, save for a curious, breathless quality to his voice. Sebastian did not know for what purpose, but the elderly butler had just raced to the end of the hall and back.
“Good afternoon.” Handing over his card, Sebastian waited for him to move aside. For a good thirty seconds, the thick ebony square was silently studied and carefully examined as if it were evidence in a murder case.
Sebastian’s brow creased.
“Very good, sir. I shall inform Lady Kinley you have… arrived.” The slight pause indicated displeasure at Sebastian’s tardiness, and without another word, the butler strode away, shoes clicking on the polished marble floor. Reaching a door at the far end of the spacious oval foyer, he gave the lightest of raps before swinging it open.
His boot steps deliberately silent, Sebastian moved into the foyer.
“My lady, His Lordship, the Earl of Ravenswood has arrived.”
Music trickled from the room as the announcement went ignored. The butler repeated himself, louder and bit more dramatically.
“The earl?” Above the music, Lady Kinley sounded out of breath. “Of Ravenswood? I’d forgotten he was to call, but I suppose you must show him in.”
Standing in the center of the oversized magnificent foyer, surrounded by ornate, floor to ceiling columns, where masterpieces by the finest artists known to the civilized world adorned the walls, and priceless vases occupied solid marble display stands, Sebastian grinned with anticipation. Ivy’s voice reeked of feigned boredom and disinterest.
