Page 12 of Season of the Scoundrel
When everyone had a drink in hand, Lily lifted her glass.
“To Ivy, and a very auspicious beginning.”
“To Ivy,” they all said in chorus.
Ivy smiled and ducked her head. It was precisely the sort of attention she usually sought to avoid, but since it was her family, it felt different. A bit like a warm embrace.
“It’s the very start,” she reminded them. “I’ve not been offered employment.”
“But it is a start,” Griffin insisted. “Blackbourne was helpful?”
Ivy nodded. “He was.” She sipped a bit of champagne and decided she’d blame the bubbly wine on the warmth she felt rushing into her cheeks.
Apparently, she couldn’t even bear mention of the man without blushing.
The most awkward part was whether or not to confess that she and Blackbourne hadmet, in a manner of speaking, before this morning. She couldn’t imagine Blackbourne mentioning it to Griffin. For now, she was keeping the incident to herself.
“I may have to alter my opinion of the man,” Lily said.
“You’ve never met him, my love,” Griffin pointed out.
“Exactly. Because he avoids society entirely. Every invitation we’ve extended has either been ignored or refused.”
“Then he and Ivy have something in common,” Marigold put in, offering everyone at the table a cheeky smile.
A nobleman and his wife who Ivy had met the previous Season strode past their table and offered greetings to Lily and Griffin.
Ivy was grateful for the distraction from having to offer anything in response to Marigold’s comment. She feared that further talk about Blackbourne would only deepen her blush.
The initial course was served as Griffin greeted yet another nobleman, standing to speak briefly with him. Ivy didn’t recognize the man, but she suspected he was one engaged in London commerce in some way. Those were the noblemen who seemed to linger in the city after the Season, when most other upper crust families had departed for homes in the countryside.
Lily and Griffin intended to close up Edgerton House and return to Derbyshire by the month’s end. Ivy hadn’t yet asked about the possibility of remaining at the townhouse, or perhaps securing her own lodgings. Newspapers didn’t stop printing in the autumn and winter, and she conduct research in the city if she was in Derbyshire.
“Well, it looks as if Blackbourne doesn’t always avoid social outings,” Griffin said as he resumed his seat at the table.
He tipped his head toward the left side of the dining room.
Ivy looked over and, irritatingly, her pulse began to race. She’d spent years thinking she was imperturbable, and yet one look at the Duke of Blackbourne in white tie and a jet-black evening suit and she was as flustered as any debutante when faced with an eligible nobleman.
“He has an interesting face.” Marigold craned her neck until Lily quietly reminded her of the etiquette lessons all the Bridewell sisters had been taught, though few of them adhered to.
“Perhaps that’s why he goes out so rarely,” Griffin said as he glanced over at the nobleman they were all ogling like fools. “He must be one of the most eligible bachelors in London.”
“Yes, he must be,” Lily said thoughtfully, then turned a look Ivy’s way.
Ivy narrowed her eyes at her sister.
“I wonder what convinced him to join Penrose for dinner.”
Ivy coughed, having swallowed her spoonful of soup too quickly.
She looked over but couldn’t clearly see the man with Blackbourne. From where she was seated, a column obscured her view, but Griffin must have recognized him while he stood to greet his friend.
Ivy had never confided in Lily and Griffin about her Lord Penrose inquiry. Though she suspected Griffin knew Penrose, she’d resisted asking about the viscount, not wishing to alert anyone regarding her suspicions. At least not until she’d gathered sufficient facts.
She’d only ever shown her article about Lord Penrose to two men—Mr. Smythe and the Duke of Blackbourne.
And now, hours after seeing her claims about Penrose, why was Blackbourne having a friendly dinner with the man?
