Page 62 of The Untamed Duke
A look of absolute horror crossed Sebastian’s features. “Damnation. Could something have happened between them at Calmont Downs?”
Ivy shrugged again. “I don’t know. From what Lady Celia said, they had limited contact and Richeforte was only there three days.”
“Three days is enough. Especially forhim.You are right, though. They appear well-acquainted now. Bloody hell. What should we do?”
“It will be difficult, but we will not meddle.” Ivy reached over, clasping their hands together, and wound her fingers through her husband’s until Sebastian’s grey eyes met hers. “Do not worry, my love. Grace is very level-headed and intelligent. She's taken care of herself for many years, without our assistance and interference. She knows what she’s doing. I’m sure of it.”
“The man is an unprincipled libertine. The things he's capable of…”
Ivy rose from her chair and perched herself in Sebastian’s lap. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he folded her close against his chest, nuzzling into her neck. Her orange and lily perfume tickled his nose, and he sighed in contentment.
“Had he not been so wicked, then perhaps another lady would occupy your lap, snuggling with you now. I’m glad the duke is unscrupulous. He played an important role in our happiness.” Ivy kissed Sebastian’s cheek. “I’m not asking that you forgive him, but please, for Grace’s sake and mine, be civil and refrain from murdering him over dinner.”
Sebastian considered her words, slowly nodding. “I do hold a measure of gratitude for his betrayal. His debauchery led me to you. And you, sweet wife, you are the love of my life. Very well. Because you asked so sweetly, I promise I shall not murder him during dinner.”
“Thank you, darling. Now, allow me the opportunity of properly demonstrating my appreciation.”
Ivy’s fingers slid through Sebastian’s dark hair, and just before her lips touched his, the earl murmured wryly, “I cannot guarantee such restraint tomorrow morning, however.”
The countess giggled and nipped his lower lip. “Then it’s up to me to save the Duke’s life, and possibly Grace’s future happiness. I must ensure you are too exhausted to even consider leaving our bed to share breakfast with them.”
* * *
Dinner,of course, was a disaster. No matter the succulent rib roast. And neither the roasted green beans served with a creamy champagne sauce nor the leek soufflé could save matters. And the clever, tiny tartlets with dollops of fresh cream mounded atop raspberries served for dessert? Those went unappreciated.
It was difficult concentrating on such things when the dinner guests might use their knives for something other than carving the beef on their plates. Grace, always a virtual chatterbox, hesitated in speaking at all when faced with the abundance of unbearable tension.
Ivy, however, was unaffected. She questioned Nicholas, prying really, on matters ranging from his time abroad to his views on the last session of Parliament and the passing of the Chimney Sweepers and Chimneys Regulation Act. Sebastian sat stoically throughout the entire meal and the discussions his wife instigated. Several times, an unmistakable scowl darkened his features whenever Ivy laughed at some remark by the duke. If not for the countess, the entire meal might have passed in utter silence.
“Are you well, Lady Grace?” Nicholas inquired, concern evident in his tone.
Grace startled, abruptly aware of rubbing her forehead in an attempt at staving off the memories of the last time she and Nicholas sat at a formal dining table. How she ended topsy-turvy across his lap, the hot palms of his hand striking her lace covered bottom, the fiery cracks echoing in the room. She closed her eyes against a swirl of dizzying lust.
Opening her eyes, she knew Nicholas was fully aware of her thoughts. His gaze drifted to her wrist, a tiny, knowing spark lighting the green depths as she fingered the piece of jewelry adorning her wrist. The bracelet paired beautifully with the deep bronze gown she wore, the crystal beading adorning the square bodice sparkled in the light when she took a deep breath.
“Grace?” His voice dropped an octave.
“I’m fine, Your Grace,” she stammered, taking a fortifying gulp of wine. “Just a slight headache.”
Nicholas’s dimples flitted to the surface of his cheeks. “I hope my presence has not proven tedious.”
Sebastian grunted, then grunted again when Ivy’s elbow dug into his rib cage.
“Far from it,” Grace replied somewhat unsteadily before Ivy could comment. Her dear cousin-in-law would rue her friendliness with the duke. The baleful glares Sebastian kept leveling upon her indicated her husband was far from pleased with her.
Grace wondered how Ivy managed convincing the earl into lending a few articles of clothing for Nicholas’s use. Luckily, the two men were similar in size, although Sebastian was a bit broader across the shoulders. His suit jacket conformed was only a bit large on Nicholas, the superfine black cloth highlighting his tawny hair and green eyes. Grace’s dress complimented Nicholas’s borrowed clothing so well, it seemed they’d planned it.
A shame such beautiful finery and excellent food was ruined by the acrimonious edge between former friends who despised one another. And Grace’s own delirious recollections of the Nicholas’s hands caressing her body ruined her appetite.
Hoping her contribution to the conversation would prompt a more amiable atmosphere, Grace said, “I’m fascinated by the many places you’ve visited, Your Grace. Did you miss England while abroad?”
“No.” Leaning back in his chair, Nicholas’s heavy-lidded gaze never strayed from Grace’s features. She squirmed in her chair at the head of the table.
“I imagine things were very different when you came home.”
“I found them the same as when I departed.” His gaze flickered over Sebastian and back to her. “A monster for a father and other unavoidable disappointments. I’ve only recently discovered a few advantages in returning, one being the delight of having you as my neighbor.”
Grace stared at Nicholas. What did he hope to gain with this turn of the conversation? Something about it eluded her, but while Sebastian stiffened even more, his fists clenching, her foolish heart leaped at being called a “delight”. More often, she was labeled a stubborn menace or bluestocking. Many times within the same sentence.
