Page 70 of Taming Ivy
“Yes, love. I’m here. Will you do something for me? Will you lay down? Close your eyes for a moment? I must have a word with the coachman, and then I’m taking you someplace safe. Yes, that’s it, lie down, sweetness.” Recognizing the effects of shock, Sebastian helped her curl up on the seat. He settled his own coat and a hastily discovered coach blanket over her, tucking everything in tight. God, he ached to soothe her, to hold her close, to ensure no one ever harmed her again…including himself.
He swept a soft kiss across her frozen lips when she suddenly gripped his hand tight. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Ivy. I shall be just outside the coach. Close your eyes. That’s a good girl.”
The coachman stood over Basford’s crumpled, unconscious body. He glanced up as Sebastian approached.
“I’m sure there is no need to impress upon you the necessity for discretion. Word of this misadventure goes no further than the courtyard of this godforsaken inn. What is your name?” Withdrawing one of the small bags of gold from the inner pocket of his coat, Sebastian tossed it so the servant caught it mid-air. “For your troubles then, George Quick, and for the duties you will undertake on the lady’s behalf. We will continue on to Bentley Park. Do you know of it? I shall ride behind you. My stallion would highly object if I tied him to the back of this vehicle. Should the viscount regain his senses and possess any notion of following, which I doubt, I will handle matters. Now, in the near future, I imagine you shall find yourself without a post. A problem easily remedied as you will seek out the stablemaster at Ravenswood Court, or should you find country life more to your liking, present yourself at Beaumont in Kent. In either case, your services shall be engaged immediately.”
“Right, sir. Thank you, sir.” George grinned, his decision already made to become a coachman at Ravenswood Court. The Earl of Ravenswood possessed an excellent reputation as a fair and just employer; his servants among the most envied of London. “Who will I say sent me, sir? I have no letters, sir, that is…”
“I am Ravenswood.” Sebastian allowed himself a slight smile at the man’s surprise while tugging his riding gloves back on. “There might be a question of thievery when it comes to the viscount’s coach. I’ll assure the innkeeper of its return tomorrow, and we shall be on our way.”
“Right, sir. And sir, I do wish your lady good health. It didn’t sit well with me, what milord Basford done.”
“I’m glad to hear it, George. As you are now in my employ, I’ll trust you to inform the viscount to expect a visit from my seconds. When you return the bastard’s coach, of course.”
Bentley Park was not far from the inn. Although they quarreled at their last meeting, Sebastian knew Alan would never deny him aid, especially if it were for Ivy’s sake. During that last encounter, Alan openly berated him, cursing his stupidity. Quite foxed at the time, Sebastian stubbornly refused to answer for his actions. Before long, Alan threw up his hands in utter disgust, leaving his friend to find the bottom of a bottle of bourbon. That was more than a month ago and they had not spoken since.
The clock chimed three in the morning as Sebastian appeared on Bentley Park’s doorstep with Ivy in his arms. A majority of the staff was immediately roused to tend to the countess. She slept through the journey, remaining in a deep slumber even when carried upstairs and placed on the soft down coverlet of a guest bed.
Alan murmured instructions to his housekeeper then laid a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “I’ve sent for the physician. You probably remember Dr. Moseby. An ancient cuss but damned efficient.”
“I believe she is only in shock, but it’s best she is checked over.” Giving an abbreviated version of the transpired events, Sebastian said, with a slight raising of an eyebrow, “That Sara of yours is terrifying. Marry her, Alan, as soon as possible, so the only earl she may order about is you.”
Alan laughed softly. “She loves the countess as if they are indeed sisters. You cannot hope to escape her wrath if you continue to harm Ivy.”
“She’ll demand my head on a platter if I don’t send word of Ivy’s safety. Will you attend to it? And send word to Lord Kinley as well. I’m sure his concern is tempered with delight he’ll soon have an earl for a son-in-law.” Sebastian’s lips quirked at Alan’s surprise. “I can’t imagine why you are shocked. You know I am insanely in love with her. There’s no other explanation for my stupidity or my abhorrent behavior.”
“I am damn glad to hear it, Seb. But please, allow Martha to watch over the lady until the doctor arrives. She’ll take excellent care of her- Lord knows she nursed our cuts and scrapes often enough when we were lads.”
“I must refuse your offer, Alan.” Sebastian smiled as the elderly housekeeper bustled into the room, setting down a basin full of hot water. Another maid followed her, carrying a stack of clean towels. “Martha, if you’ve some type of gown I can put Her Ladyship in, it would be much appreciated.”
Alan frowned. “It isn’t proper for you to be here, Seb. Think of her reputation.”
“We will be married once she regains her health, so reputations be damned. I will be the only one caring for her.”
When the necessary items were at his disposal, and the room cleared, Sebastian stripped Ivy from the torn clothes. He kissed the bruises on the inside of her wrists, washed her face and brushed out her hair, smoothing the tangles until they lay in some semblance of order. Martha had procured a fresh cotton gown and he maneuvered Ivy into it. She sagged, limp in his arms as he situated her in the bed, the pillows propped at a comfortable angle. Once she was as clean and warm as he could make her without benefit of a full bath, Sebastian held her hand, watching over her until the doctor’s arrival near dawn.
He breathed easier in light of the sleepy physician’s assessment. There were no visible injuries other than scrapes and bruises, Ivy's nearly comatose state attributed to the body’s natural mechanism of handling trauma. The countess would be fine upon waking, the elderly man assured him, although he administered a dose of laudanum to ease any pain.
Settling in beside her, Sebastian renewed his vow to be the first person her eyes touched on when she woke. He would somehow make amends for every terrible thing he had done.
CHAPTER 21
The room was unfamiliar and the bed, although comfortable, not her own. Evening approached; the afternoon shadows growing long and purple on the walls, the lighting darkly gold. Someone held her hand in an almost painful grip; Ivy wiggled her fingers against it. A man’s dark, disheveled head rested on the coverlet and when she disengaged her hand to slide a palm over and through the thick hair of her sleeping guardian, it did not disturb him. Such beautiful waves, so glossy and black, sifting through her fingers like soft feathers.
Sebastian raised his head, pinning her with confused eyes, and Ivy's heart soared in a response so joyous she choked on an indrawn breath. The earl slumped in a chair beside her bed, but why? As she watched, he straightened, arching his back with a groan, then froze.
“What happened?” Ivy whispered when he quickly reclaimed her hand. He did not answer; instead, his fingers tangled with hers. Bringing them to his lips, he pressed warm kisses to her knuckles, his eyes closed as if in prayer or, perhaps even stranger, gratitude. The chair scraped closer, the sound impatient and startling in the room’s stillness. The relief that seemed to swamp him, the way he looked at her, as if it were an eternity since he laid eyes on her, was all so mystifying.
“I don’t understand.” Her gaze flitted about the room, finding some aspects of it familiar now, before drifting back to him.
Dark stubble shadowed Sebastian’s chin. Even darker circles ringed his eyes. Disheveled, looking as if on a bender for a week, his shirt fluttered open, rumpled and half-tucked. The buttons strained, mismatched to the opposite holes. It was so unlike him, the cool, elegantly collected Earl of Ravenswood, that Ivy felt unreasonable fear squeeze her chest. Something horrible must have occurred.
“You must remember.” His murmur was so soft; it was almost difficult to hear. “Please try, Ivy.”
Her brow furrowed. Remember what? Where was she? What catastrophe transpired to bring Sebastian to her side? When he cautiously brought a hand up to brush a curl from her temple, she shied away, baffled by her own immediate response to his gentleness.
Memories brushed her mind. Suspicion spiked within her, a thousand spears, hot and pointed digging into her flesh. He couldn’t be trusted; he’d break her heart again. She could not trust anyone. Not even someone she once loved…or those claiming to be friends.
