Page 56 of Taming Ivy
I’m a fool.A blind, arrogant fool…
She would never forgive him. How could she? His plan to ruin her was successful. He could not forget the terrible hatred in her eyes. There was no satisfaction in taming Poison Ivy and revenge, once the sweetest of goals, left a sour taste in his mouth. No amount of alcohol could wash it away.
Sebastian departed the city the following day, stopping at Beaumont before traveling to his far-flung estate on the Scottish border. Unable to erase the self-loathing, he promptly buried himself in the cold, drafty castle rising up out of the moors.
A month slipped by before he could consider returning to London. Remaining at Kleychord Keep posed the very real possibility he might drink himself into oblivion. Or become lost in the mists for all eternity as he indulged in hours of aimless wandering of the desolate, barren heaths stretching to the east of the castle. The servants, superstitious and fearful for their master’s wellbeing, whispered of the earl’s despondency, his tendency to roam both day and night. It would leave him a victim of one of the brackish, ebony lakes dotting the land. The dark bodies of water often took man and beast unawares, swallowed whole and never seen again.
“If it ‘appens,” the housekeeper said, with a hastily signaled sign of the cross, to the cook, who also crossed herself with a shudder, “His Lordship ‘ill be nae but a ghost ‘o the moors, ‘auntin’ Kleychord Keep for all eternity in search ‘o peace.
Sebastian did not scoff the prediction. It held far too much truth to disregard. He already felt like a ghost, and peace was damnably elusive. It could not be found on the moors nor at Beaumont, or any of his lesser estates. It was elusive in sleep, in his waking moments and he’d searched for it at the bottom of countless bottles of bourbon. Ivy’s pale face, as he cut her with words and destroyed her with actions, haunted him at every turn. Never had he forced his attentions on a woman before. How badly had he hurt her? How much did she hate him? How could he live without her?
Because he could not stay away from her.
He would encounter Ivy in their social circles, unless he left England as he’d done before. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. She was as essential to his survival as air, but it was pathetic that the prospect of a confrontation with her was both dreaded and anticipated.
Filled with trepidation, Sebastian arrived in London, accompanied by his silently suffering valet. William found employment with the Earl of Ravenswood to be an exercise in patience. However, the elderly man dealt with his lord’s moody fits with a tolerant smile and a quick and ready wit. The nights Sebastian drank himself into a stupor, his expensive clothes hopelessly wrinkled and often torn during attempts to undress, William met with aplomb and murmured assurances everything would be put to rights.
Ensconced in his study at Ravenswood Court, a bottle of bourbon on the desk between them, Sebastian motioned for Gabriel Rose to begin. It was his first day back in London and the city buzzed with news of his return and Ivy’s possible reaction. It made him weary.
“Do you want the news sober or after a few?” Gabriel asked calmly, eyebrow raised.
“Is it as bad as all that?” Sebastian scowled when the other man tilted his head. “A couple of drinks then, if you don’t mind the wait.”
“If it’s not to excess again.” His friend grinned. “It’s only a month past that I met you at Beaumont before you left for Scotland. You were drunk out of your mind, if you do not recall my visit. You stayed foxed for the better part of a week. Bloody hell, one night you dropped your breeches and proceeded to piss on the fire in the drawing room. Another, well, Iknowyou don’t recall, but you shot the eyes out of nearly every mounted game in the billiards room before I managed to take those damned pistols away from you. You insisted the beasts were accusing you of -”
Sebastian winced, holding up a hand. Leave it to Gabriel to bluntly remind him how spectacularly smashed he was. “There were other factors in play.”
“Ah, yes.” Gabriel nodded. “I gathered that from the scolding Lord Bentley gave you. I had such hopes you would come to your senses, but the moment he left, you decided I must continue my watch over the girl you claimed to care nothing for. That same night, sometime after midnight if memory serves correct, you decreed in a drunken fit of rage that I should repack and return to London at once. There was no arguing the journey could wait until morning. Just so you would think I had departed, I was forced to sleep in the stables.”
It was neither particularly surprising nor outrageous that the man spoke with such blistering candor. Although Gabriel was not recognized as being of nobility, despite being the bastard son of an unknown lord, the two of them had become close as brothers during their travels. He was an equal, a close friend and confidante, and free to speak his mind with Sebastian.
“I apologize for my abhorrent behavior. What did you discover during my absence, my curious, insolent friend?” Sebastian muttered.
“Two sets of opinions, mind you. The first being you ruined a countess. The second, that a countess ruined you. Of course, when you initially set me to the task three months ago, I placed my own wagers and won quite handily.” Gabriel’s smile was serene. “Tell me. Did you anticipate it being so painful?”
Sebastian stiffened. “You overstep your bounds, Rose. I’ll not discuss a private matter between myself and Lady Kinley -”
Gabriel laughed out loud. “Good god, man! What do you take me for? I meantyou!Did you imagineyourruination to be this agonizing torture? The amount of money I won indicates it was.”
“You placed bets. Against me. Why, may I ask? I accomplished my goal. I destroyed her. Without hardly trying, I might add.”
“Ravenswood, I’ve known you for nearly four years and never have I seen you destroyed. I’ve never seen you besotted by a woman, worry about her, worryforher. Drink to oblivion because of her. She haunts you. Ruined you, no matter the lies you tell yourself.” Gabriel shuffled his papers and took a sip of his bourbon. “Now that I’ve diagnosed you, finish that drink and I’ll fetch another bottle. You’re going to need it, although there is a bright side to the information I’m about to share.”
“And that is?” Sebastian growled, tossing back the liquor. Then ignoring the civility of a glass, he grabbed the nearly empty bottle to drink the last of its contents straight from the rim.
Gabriel shook his head in bemused resignation. “As before, there is no evidence Lady Kinley has taken any lovers. Her choice of companions, however? Troublesome, to say the least.” Leaning forward, his brown eyes flashed with ill-concealed sympathy. “Settle in…and do try to control that unfortunate temper of yours.”
Sebastian’s presence at Whites triggered a comical flurry of activity. In the main salon, various gentlemen either tripped over themselves to greet him or studiously avoided his gaze. It was difficult deciding which was worse, as he suffered claps on the back and congratulations on his victory. Destroying Ivy resulted in quite a few tidy sums collected, but some losses were suffered simply because of bets placed against members of the Pack. A glance at the wager books was impossible; to view the list of winners and losers would rip apart whatever heart Sebastian thought he still possessed.
Everyone carried a tale or two of the countess’s exploits. He almost wished Gabriel had not related everything, his blood racing to learn of the activities Ivy was indulging in. Dangerous things. In dangerous places. With dangerous men.
Slipping inside one of the numerous card rooms, his presence went mercifully unnoticed. Men huddled over tables cluttered with a varied collection of glasses and cigars, a lively discussion holding their rapt attention.
“I tell you, it was Lady Kinley at Gentleman Jim’s two nights past. I would recognize those lips anywhere. And she wore roses in her hair. White roses with one red, mind you.” A young rake vowed over a forgotten game of hazard. Several gentlemen snorted in disbelief.
Sebastian froze. That first afternoon he called upon Ivy to set his revenge into motion flashed in his mind. The Thomas Carew poem...
“Read in these roses the sad story, of my hard fate and your own glory. In the white, you may discover, the paleness of a fainting lover; In the red, flames still feeding, on my heart with fresh wounds bleeding.”
