Page 7 of Taming Ivy
But that wasn’t true. Curiosity and a perverse desire for punishment demanded attendance. Sooner or later, they would encounter one another. It was far better to face the man in this theater of war, where polite murmurs and courteous battle wounds could be exchanged in a civilized manner. At least in this setting Sara provided a shield against any unexpected assaults.
Only now, stomach roiling, hands sweating inside elbow-high silk gloves, Ivy wished she’d heeded her vastly intelligent inner voice. Her scar tingled where the silk clung to the moist surface of her palm and she resisted the urge to scratch it. Yes, she should have stayed home.
Someone pressed a second glass of champagne upon her.Imbecile.In a single fluid motion, Ivy’s hands rose high, only to find both goblets snatched away.
Giving the glasses to a passing servant, Sara shook her head, frowning in amused exasperation while Ivy shrugged. To see the Pack scatter, yelps of confusion at the unexpected soaking would have been a welcomed distraction and a missed opportunity to disappear in the confusion.
“You are truly dazzling tonight, Lady Kinley.” Lord Christopher Andry leaned in. “Prettier than the exquisite butterfly I only recently discovered.”
Freshly graduated from Oxford, Christopher often floundered in painful shyness. It receded if the conversation turned to a scientific explanation of some unfortunate winged insect he’d captured and preserved under glass, stabbed into place with an ivory headed pin. Tonight, emboldened by champagne and a few tumblers of brandy, his hands barely trembled as he smoothed back his pale blond hair.
“What’s this?” Sir Oliver Batten’s smile lay partially concealed beneath a mustache of graying brown. “Andry is giving compliments instead of dissertations on a ghastly beetle collection. What’s gotten into you, sir?”
“Half a bottle of champagne, I suspect.” Monvair stroked the dark goatee lending a rakish flair to his thin features. A few chuckled at his dry humor while Christopher flashed the Frenchman a baleful glare.
“Lord Andry, we shall have a splendid time discussing this latest find over dinner.” Ivy touched the crook of Christopher’s arm before easing away. She’d grown much wiser during the course of this second season, and managing squabbling, jealous men now came as second nature. A shame she became so proficient after destroying one man with so little effort.
The others groaned while Christopher lit up like a firefly.
Although she returned his smile, Ivy intended on escaping long before the announcement of the midnight dinner. To give the impression one was favored over others was unwise, even if she held a soft spot for Christopher. He reminded her of Timothy before things went so dreadfully wrong, before Timothy decided she owed him more than her friendship.
Some manner of disturbance was causing a flurry of activity across the ballroom. It drew the attention of the crowd past the edge of the Pack as two men stalked toward the elevated terrace; an undulating sea of expectant faces bobbing behind the one in the lead.
Ivy’s smile froze. Sara unceremoniously pushed past Christopher to take her hand, giving it a quick squeeze of encouragement as the Pack launched into a new squabble over who might procure fresh champagne for the ladies.
“He’s coming,” Sara whispered. “Dear God. I may be ill.”
“Don’t you even dare, Sara Morgan.” Ivy was surprisingly calm. Her executionerwascoming. He did not carry an axe, but the result would be the same. “One of us must keep our wits, and our heads, about us.” Was it too late to escape? If only she possessed the strength to pry her fingers from Sara’s grip. There must be a way to break through those damn terrace doors…with or without the key from Lady Sheffield’s hefty bosom.
Sara’s brilliant smile flashed from behind clenched teeth.“We will not be ill!”
“You’re hardly convincing when you’ve turned a ghastly shade of chartreuse. I’ve seen that color once before. Came across Lord Paulson tossing his biscuits at the Searcy party a month ago. He lost a fortune at the hazard tables and I overheard him moaning how he’d ever explain it to his father and -”
“Shhh!”Sara’s face took on an even greener cast. “You’re only making it worse. Why are you suddenly so calm?”
Ivy almost laughed at that. Her? Calm? Oh, she was far from that. The nightmares suffered since news of Ravenswood’s return swept through London were coming true. Ivy knew she should move quickly in the opposite direction and yet, a bizarre urge to see the approaching menace seized her. Gripping Sara’s shoulder with one hand to maintain her balance, she lifted up the slightest bit on her tiptoes. And immediately sank back down, shivering, the breath squeezed from her lungs.
The man towered over those around him. Only the Earl of Bentley, almost lockstep beside him, possessed a similar height.Oh God.Sebastian Cain was terrifying. And brutal. A warrior hacking through bodies of vanquished mortals to reach his battle prize, the crowd falling to pieces behind him.
Shewas that prize. A sacrifice of blood in exchange for Timothy’s young life. The sounds of the ballroom faded and an icy rivulet of sweat trickled down Ivy’s spine to settle in the hollow of her back. She was definitely not calm.
“Damn Timothy Garrett,” Sara whispered fiercely. “Damn him!”
Ordinarily, Ivy interjected.“Have mercy for him,”she would say, pleading for compassion. A prayer would be whispered for the charming, pleasant young man she once considered her friend, a hope his tortured soul found peace despite his sad, desperate actions.
Now, Ivy nodded in silent agreement.
Ravenswood was overwhelmingly male, all wide shoulders and lean muscles. He appeared to have no need for discreet padding to aid his form. In fact, it was indecent, the manner in which the elegant clothing clung to his body, stretching but snug in all the appropriate places. Realizing the path of her gaze, Ivy jerked her eyes back up, her cheeks on fire. The stark simplicity of his masculinity made every other gentleman seem a bit foppish by comparison. And his eyes…Good Lord. They were piercing and hot, glimmering silver with promises of sin and dangerous pleasures. And revenge. This man...he’d seen things. Done wicked things. Even in her innocence, Ivy recognized the sensuality burning within him like a lit flame.
Unwelcome memories from seven years prior rose in her mind. Enveloped by girlish purity and despairing grief, Ivy failed to recognize the young lord’s splendid attractiveness that day in her father’s drawing room. She noted it now. Despite her panic, it was impossible to ignore his devastating handsomeness. Thick ebony colored hair curled in ruffled waves against the tall collar of his black, cutaway evening coat. Lightly bronzed angular features were a study in rugged, male perfection, defined by high cheekbones and a bold nose. The square line of his jaw was fascinating, for although clean-shaven, the barest hint of a shadow lent a rakish air. He seemed immune to the women of varying ages trailing in his wake, many of them giggling and whispering, sometimes shoving to get closer.
He was danger incarnate. A predator who would think nothing of devouring her alive. He would wipe his mouth, lick his fingers and thank her for providing his breakfast. A sinful creature whose days surely began with a feast of virgins. Self-preservation screamed at Ivy to run, to get as far away as possible, but she found itimpossibleto move. Every muscle in her body ignored the mental commands to skitter out of harm’s way.
Ivy swallowed past a lump of nausea. “Sara, I am terrified. What should I do?”
Sara blinked. “Now, I’m truly worried. I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything so I can only tell you to have courage, darling.”
Courage? Ivy possessed not an ounce of it so she formed a desperate strategy. Should she fail to acknowledge Ravenswood, perhaps he would do the same. They could slip past one another, each pretending the other did not exist. Remembering the devastating cut inflicted by Lady Garrett last week, a helpless sound, somewhere between a giggle and a sob, escaped her. Surprisingly, it drew a sharp eye from Brandon, and for a long moment, he considered her before resuming a disagreement with Christopher thathewould most certainly accompany the countess into the midnight supper.
