Page 6 of Taming Ivy
Sara swallowed another laugh. “Such a gaudy little peacock. I’ve never seen a man strut with such a complete lack of humility.”
“I rather like how the count dresses.”
“Only because you believe it takes attention away from you.” Sara stood on her tiptoes; the better to scan the entire ballroom.
“If I thought it would help my cause,” Ivy grumbled, “I would gladly sponsor his tailor.”
Rocking onto the balls of her feet, Sara shot her an exasperated glance. “Attempts to disappear only makes others that more rabid to seek you out. You might as well hang a sign about your neck begging people to poke and prod at you.”
Ivy said nothing. Sara could not fathom the depths of her desire to escape, to become invisible to the threat stalking the elegant ballroom. Despite the feeble attempts at lightheartedness, dread prodded her. She should rip away from her friend’s grasp. Run as though the devils of hell chased her. One hunted her now. What would she do if he caught her?
Her free hand twisted the folds of her skirt. Nervous energy brimmed and bubbled inside her, causing her stomach to rope and twist into hangman knots.
Candle light blazed from every available corner while high overhead enormous chandeliers illuminated the vast room in a romantic glow. Glittering people filled the space; some danced, while others stood in clusters, sharing on-dits of gossip. Liveried servants in red and gold slipped in and out of the crowd, trays of champagne held high overhead. In the midst of it all, the Earl of Ravenswood waited to materialize.
“Do you realize who is here?” Ivy muttered. Rumors galloped in wild abandon from one end of the ballroom to the other. It seemed impossible Sara did not know.
“Perhaps not…”
“Oh, he is. Somewhere. Much like the plague. Just because one cannot physicallyseethe disease does not negate its existence.” Ivy’s foot tapped in agitation.
“That’s hardly complimentary of you,” Sara laughed softly. “While true he’s not a man to be crossed, I doubt Lord Ravenswood has anything in common with infectious diseases.”
“I’m not so certain. The rumor is…”
“I’m well aware of the rumors andyou,darling girl, will not run. You have done nothing wrong. If you show even the slightest weakness, these heartless vultures, otherwise known as our friends, will rip youapart.” A mischievous grin spread across Sara’s lovely features when Ivy’s tightly pressed lips acknowledged the wisdom of her words. “Besides, those doors there are locked. I witnessed three -” Sara held up three fingers, ignoring Ivy’s tiny groan of frustration, “three-mind you, love-silly couples discretely attempting to pry them open. Just within the last five minutes. Lady Sheffield always locks them, remember? Lord, she is an eccentric creature, although I wonder how we might escape a fire or some other disaster.”
“Locked terrace doors certainly impede our chances of survival,” Ivy sighed. “Although such a distraction, while quite tragic, would be welcomed.”
Sara’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s said she hides the key in the depths of that ample bodice of hers. No one, not even Lord Sheffield, dares any attempt to retrieve it.”
Ivy’s lips twitched with a reluctant grin.
Sara giggled. “See? A bit of humor exists in this deplorable situation. Now, chin up, darling. And won’t you smile even a little for the poor count? Oh, blast it. Smiles for the entire Pack, for here they come running. I vow they track you with the bloodlust of a passel of prized foxhounds.”
“Given a chance, I fear they would tear me apart and fight over the pieces.” Smoothing her features into a cool mask of pleasant acceptance, the smile Ivy granted Count Phillipe Monvair was one that gossip columns recently declared to rival the sun. Which was utterly ridiculous. This smile was the same as her others. Only romantic fools saw a difference. “And does it matter if I smile? The entire lot of them can’t seem to raise their eyes any higher than the area of my chest.”
“That’s not completely true.” Sara grinned when Ivy’s turquoise eyes narrowed. “Why, just the other day, I heard Lord McLemore comment what a lovely shade of gold your eyes are. Or perhaps he was speaking of your inheritance?”
“Mon chers, I bring refreshments,” Monvair exclaimed in his thick accent. He ignored the stoic servant standing nearly shoulder to shoulder beside him holding a full tray of beverages.
Ivy and Sara exchanged annoyed glances. The garishly dressed count proudly bore champagne as though it were fresh water in the depths of an endless desert. Six other men quickly completed the circle surrounding the girls, including the previously abandoned, fiercely frowning Viscount Basford. Since Brandon rarely moved at a pace beyond a dignified stroll Ivy knew he was truly vexed to have reached her in such haste.
The Pack overtook the conversation as Ivy accepted the glass Monvair offered.
“My lady, might I be so bold to request the next waltz when the orchestra returns? The viscount must have stomped your toes. I vow I shall not.”
“Will you sing for us, Lady Kinley? Your voice is much sweeter than Lady Tremayne’s daughters, lovely though they are.”
What a boldfaced lie. Ivy knew full well she sang like a canary with tail feathers set aflame.
“You must honor me with your company at supper. Please, do not say no. You’ve denied me the last three times-”
“Lady Kinley, a bit of cake, perhaps? Some fruit? Champagne?”
Ignoring them, Ivy wiggled her toes, resisting the urge to pour champagne over the head of the man foolish enough to suggest more champagne. Maintaining a bland smile meant she was about to chew the insides of her cheeks raw. Lord, but these new slippers were a dreadful torture. She should make her way to the ladies’ retiring salon to slip them off while the musicians took a moment to retune their instruments and the Tremayne Twins demonstrated how singing might possibly net one a husband.
A smile twitched the corner of Ivy’s lip. What a perfect excuse to escape this madness. Even Sara would not suspect. Yes...she should do just that. After all, what choice did she have? Wait to be slaughtered by Ravenswood? Oh! What was she thinking, coming to this ball? Knowing the danger, knowing the earl would most likely attend, she should not have come tonight. She could not say why she had.
