Page 37 of Taming Ivy
“Smartly done,” Alan murmured.
“Do you imply I lost on purpose?” Sebastian’s lips quirked.
“You know damn well what I’m talking about. Although, I should have seenthatcoming. Bancroft has not lost the tendency to get deep in his cups. I hope this will not put a damper on the remainder of the weekend.”
“It won’t. He can sleep off his stupidity, and you can be glad I do not have to kill him. That would have surely ruined the party.”
Alan’s smile widened. “There’s little doubt you’ve staked your claim now. First, the incident at the archery range, now this. And, I hope you appreciate my efforts on your behalf. Good God, I’ve never played at whist so terribly in my life.”
“Nor have I. However, I had complete confidence in my ability, and yours, to lose gracefully without arousing suspicion.” Sebastian played very hard to lose. As Ivy’s groom, there was the opportunity to touch her quite often. Hell, he’d muck out a stall or two if the possibility existed of stealing a kiss, or more, from her. She could not know what she wagered. Or did she?
“I should have made a similar bet with Sara,” Alan mused in regret.
“You’ve no need for such underhanded methods, Alan. Lady Morgan gives you no cause to devise such elaborate schemes. I must press any advantage to overcome Lady Kinley’s suspicions.”
“Should she suspect your motives, Seb? I cannot allow any harm to come to her. She is quite dear to Sara and Sara is dear to me, so naturally, I have an interest in their mutual contentment.”
At the disapproving undercurrent in Alan’s tone, Sebastian shuttered his eyes. “Considering our circumstances, is it any wonder the countess harbors some degree of suspicion? I hold her in the highest esteem, and she intrigues me. She appears to enjoy my company. I delight in hers. What is wrong with a bit of contrivance if it accomplishes the chance to spend the afternoon close to her?”
“Do not hurt her, Seb.”
“I’ve no intention of doing so.”
Giving Sebastian a silent, thorough consideration, Alan wordlessly clinked his glass to his and returned to Sara’s side.
Bentley was becoming quite fond of Ivy. He would not stand by and allow her destruction. He would be heartbroken to discover the truth later. Sebastian felt a twinge of apprehension to realize he might lose another close friend because of a woman. A strange wistfulness abruptly overcame him as Nicholas March, the absent piece to the former trio of the friendship, rose to mind.
The three of them became men together, experiencing adventures and surviving the various scrapes young gentlemen of leisure were wont to find themselves in. Sebastian foolishly believed nothing could destroy that bond. Then, Marilee twitched her tail, pitting friend against friend. Nicholas attempted to explain his betrayal only once; the dreadful night Sebastian discovered his fiancée’s unfaithfulness. He cut Nicholas’ excuses short in a fierce rage. While Alan struggled to pull them apart, they brawled like commoners on the steps of Nick’s London townhouse.
Two days later, they met on a misty field in Regent Park. Sebastian had Alan and Timothy for seconds, but Nick stood resolute and alone. He refused to name seconds, remarking with a rueful smile only two men were worthy enough to serve at his side, and unfortunately, they stood on the field opposite him. Alan, pale and visibly shaken that morning, lamented the loss of their friendship while Timothy spewed curses and insults, threatening to shoot Landon himself if Sebastian did not.
To his credit, Nick ignored the brash young man, and seemed strangelywillingto die in Sebastian’s quest for satisfaction. True, he fired his weapon first, but into the air and not at his target, while Sebastian missed his aim at the last second, the bullet skimming the outer edge of Landon’s upper thigh.
Afterward, Sebastian wondered why Nicholas never corrected the gossip or laid the blame for the duel at his feet. Nick merely smiled whenever the three of them encountered one another, those dark, green eyes of his glittering with something oddly resembling pity. His manner, considered cold by those outside their tight circle, evolved into something cruel and mocking. Six months after the duel, he set sail in his private yacht to various ports for the next two years. The departure, without a word of explanation, nearly drove the Duke of Richeforte, into an apoplectic fit of rage. It put the old man abed for close to a week and from all accounts,thatpleased young Nicholas immensely when he learned of it.
Maybe it was due to the incident with Bancroft, or maybe it stemmed from seeing Nick the night of the opera, but Sebastian could not ignore the bizarre spasm of nostalgia for his deceitful friend. The walls of his chest clenched, an uncomfortable, hot tightness rattling his bones. He dismissed it to seek out the countess, finding it far easier to forget old betrayals and the disloyalty of those once trusted in the sunshine warmth of Ivy’s smile.
CHAPTER 9
During a restless night of tossing and turning, Ivy reached a conclusion. Sebastian playing at groom was an awful idea; he would inevitably turn the situation to his advantage. Before she was hopelessly muddled in a tangled mess, before he mucked one stall, or bridled a single horse to use as leverage, she must forego the bet. At three in the morning, her concession speech, complete with an appropriate level of sarcasm and humor, was concocted and rehearsed until it sounded perfectly believable.
Ivy intended to grab a scone and a gulp of tea in the dining room on her way to the stables, but a few guests, uninterested in the ride planned for the day, lingered around the table. She politely avoided questions regarding the activities planned for the earl, vastly relieved when no one ventured to make an inappropriate remark. Lord Bancroft stumbled in, sullen and bleary-eyed, to sit at one end of the huge table, studiously ignoring her.
A small crowd milled about the stables when Ivy arrived. They called out encouragement to someone inside. More people trickled into the courtyard as she weaved her way through and coming to a stop outside the double doors, she groaned. She was too late.
“I say, you missed a spot,” the Earl of Granger remarked. “Rightthere,Ravenswood.”
“Oh. Many thanks, Granger.” With a quick scoop of the muck rake, the offending bit of matter flew out of the stall and onto the polished boots of the stocky blonde earl. There were howls of amusement, echoed by the chuckles of a few stable boys gathered in the aisle ways. Fascinated to see a member of the nobility undertaking their task, each secretly hoped Ravenswood might undertake the mucking of all fifty-five stalls.
“Damnation, Ravenswood, you got me with that one!”
“Hmm,” Sebastian murmured. “That was the point.”
It was impossible to see all of Sebastian through the iron bars. Only the top of his head and those broad shoulders were visible as he labored within the box stall. While Ivy debated what to do, one woman detached herself from the group to walk toward her.
Touching Ivy’s arm, the lady grinned. “Who knew Ravenswood might stoop to such efforts to gain a woman’s favor?” Lady Caroline Robertson was a lovely woman with dark brown hair and even darker brown eyes. A young, wealthy widow, she was popular and well thought of, and discreet in her affairs, enjoying a favorable reputation among interested gentlemen. Ivy believed the widow’s estate bordered Beaumont, Sebastian’s country estate, but she wasn’t certain. A tiny flame of resentment licked her with the thought.
“How lucky you are, my dear, to have the earl attending you today.” Caroline’s warm eyes touched on the stall where Sebastian worked so diligently then drifted back to meet Ivy’s.
