Page 67 of Taming Ivy
Sebastian did not venture out, unsure of his composure if he should happen to encounter Ivy at any one of the social functions taking place around London. No illusions existed as to the sudden influx of invitations garnered upon his return from the wilds of Scotland. Hostesses and society matrons speculated if the two most notorious members of thetonappeared at the same place, fireworks would forthwith commence.
Of course, no one knew fireworkshadalready commenced. Sebastian hated himself for taking advantage of Ivy’s inebriated state, but an inner voice mocked the faint sense of chivalry. He’d do it all over again if the opportunity presented itself. He tasted her kiss even now…
There was still the matter of regaining Ivy’s trust. Winning her love again. He encountered no trouble when it came to obtaining the special marriage license; his level of power ensured its relative ease of procurement. But it did take longer than anticipated. The magistrate owing him a favor had only just returned from Paris two days before, the license arriving at Ravenswood Court that very afternoon. Now, the difficulty lay in convincing the bride to marry him, a bride who hated the very sight of him.
“Only yourself to blame, Ravenswood,” Sebastian muttered, flopping into an overstuffed leather chair. It was pouring rain and the steady drum of raindrops combined with his mood to make for a bleak, miserable evening.
Tomorrow would be better. It must be. Because tomorrow he would claim her. Tomorrow, he began the journey of regaining her trust and her love. Tomorrow could not come quickly enough.
Sebastian barely noted the melodious chimes of the doorbell down the long hall. Even the sounds of a scuffle and raised voices in the foyer failed to intrude on his melancholy. Only when the door to his study flew open, crashing against the opposite wall, did he acknowledge the intrusion.
Soaking wet, furious, Lady Sara Morgan stood in the doorway. Aunt Rachel hovered behind her, face pinched in outrage at the young lady shoving her way into their home in the midst of a thunderstorm. Sebastian regarded his friend’s fiancé with a puzzled frown. What the devil was she doing?
“Get up,”Sara snapped.
Sebastian smiled then realized her seriousness. The girl’s coiffure was a saturated mess; a blonde curl drooping over one eye, the rest hanging in a tangled mass down her back. Her dark rose silk evening gown was hopelessly rain-soaked and most certainly ruined; the matching slippers splattered with mud and sopping wet. She'd catch her death of cold if she didn't get out of those garments and into something warm and dry.
“She barged in, demanding to see you. Jackson informed her we were not receiving guests, but she pushed her way through.” Rachel sputtered with rage while Sara, sweet, gentle Sara, wore the countenance of an avenging angel. Or a rampaging murderess. Either possibility was terrifying. Neither boded well.
Other than to lift a sardonic eyebrow at her soft-spoken, steely command, Sebastian did not move.
Sara swung toward Rachel with clenched fists. “I won’t repeat myself, Lady Garrett. Be silent.”
The older woman’s thin lips clamped shut.
“As for you, my lord,” Sara snarled, advancing on Sebastian with deadly intent. “I told you to get up.”
“To what do I owe this little visit?” Ignoring the directive, Sebastian extracted a cigar from the ornate humidor on his desk. Lighting it with an unhurried air, he reclined in his chair, drawing deep then exhaling so the smoke swirled high overhead.
Just beyond Sara, Gabriel Rose appeared in the doorway, huge and menacing. His brows raised in silent query. Should he remove the girl or allow her to stay?
Sebastian gave a subtle shake of his head. He had no desire to see his friend’s fiancée manhandled from his home.
“Ivy…” A shimmer of fear flitted in Lady Morgan’s gaze. She glanced at Rachel then focused on Sebastian, her voice stronger. “It’s Ivy.”
One would never know by looking at him, but every nerve in his body drew up tight as a bowstring at the mention of Ivy’s name. For a moment, he believed Sara had come to exact vengeance, either for his most recent seduction, or that terrible night in Lord Kinley’s study. He certainly deserved punishment for both. Indeed, there were many things he was guilty of, things he would most likely burn in hell for.
Did Ivy tell Sara of his misdeeds? That others might learn of his brutal treatment caused a moment of concern before calmer reasoning prevailed. No, she would not share those private matters, those intimate details and heartbreaking moments. She would keep their secrets. God help him, Sara came for something far worse, something very frightening. It must be if she was desperate enough to beg his assistance.
“Yes?” Sebastian drawled, a portrait of casual indifference. “Pray continue?”
“I don’t know what else to do, where to go. She’s been taken.” A widening puddle of raindrops formed at Sara’s feet. An expensive rug hung in a state of imminent ruination. Her shoulder’s slumped in despair. “Lord Ravenswood, she’s been abducted.”
Sebastian felt as though someone kicked him in the stomach. Exhibiting an aura of calm he did not feel, he knocked ashes from the cigar into a heavy cut crystal dish, his gaze meeting Gabriel’s above Sara’s head. The man immediately departed to begin gathering necessary items.
“Are you sure Lady Kinley is not with Edwardson? I hear she discovered a new appreciation for boxing and he recently obliged her. Or, perhaps she’s taking part of the gambling at Madam Cheverly’s with Lord Grantville.” The acid in Sebastian’s tone was harsh enough to etch stone and directed inward.My God, Ivy…is it true? Have you already turned away from me?Perhaps you flew from me of your own choice. To escape my cruelty.“There appears to be a great number of gentlemen providing the countess with an escort lately. Perhaps “abducted” is too a strong word.”
“That’s not Ivy!” Sara cried out. “That pale, hollow, glittering creature is not Ivy!” Rushing around the corner of the desk, she grabbed Sebastian’s arm, frantically seeking an answer in the slate-hued gaze regarding her so calmly. “That girl staring through me with those brittle eyes is not the sister of my heart. That vacant girl walking about as though dead inside is not my dearest friend. Can’t you understand? She’s not been the same since that night of the Pack’s last dinner. Whatever you did to her, whatever you said, whatever happened between the two of you,youdestroyed her. I don’t know if she will ever come back, if she will ever be the same. Or if shecancome back, but do not dare pretend to be indifferent, Ravenswood. Iknowyou care. Dear God in heaven, youmustcare.”
Rachel’s laugh sounded shrill and oddly cold in the cozy warmth of the finely appointed study. “What interest could he have in that trollop? What a twisted plot you devised together, now that the earl tossed her to the side. She’s always been one to seek attention.”
Sara released Sebastian’s arm, turning to the older woman. “You don’t know anything about Ivy. You have only your hate of her, but you are wrong. Wrong! You think Timothy was so blameless, so innocent? You have no idea what he did to her…no idea at all.”
“I know she drove him to his death!” Rachel sneered. “She teased and tormented him until he took his own life!” Latching onto Sara’s arm with a cruel hand, fingers biting into the soft flesh, she tried yanking the younger woman toward the door.
Sebastian stood to intervene.
“Let go, madam!” Sara pushed with enough force to send the woman stumbling. Rachel landed on her backside, her head knocking against the mahogany wall with a hard thud. Too stunned to react immediately, she moved with slow, careful movements, rising from the floor on unsteady feet to stare at Sara with newfound respect.
