Page 15 of Season of the Scoundrel
Hyacinth offered no reply, but when Ivy glanced over, her little sister had a very suspicious smile on her face.
She’d been distractingly prettyin an amethyst gown, with her lustrous hair pinned up with a gem-covered comb. He’d stepped too close to her; he hadn’t been able to resist. And he’d loved the way her breath hitched, the way her cheeks had warmed. It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to touch her. To find out if her skin was as soft as it looked. To reach up and loosen that jewel-encrusted comb.
He wasn’t the scoundrel she seemed to suspect him of being. He’d never put his hands on a lady without some understanding between them.
And he was not reckless as she’d suggested. Or at least he’d rarely been so before. But the feelings Ivy Bridewell stoked in him were completely new.
She made his damn mouth water, for God’s sake.
They’d already crossed the bounds of propriety yesterday when he’d wrapped an arm around her. Perhaps that was why the urge to touch her again was plaguing him so. One touch wasn’t enough.
Yet where would it lead?
She’d come to him in a professional capacity, and he’d told himself to let it be that and nothing more. Yet each time he sawher, all his good intentions seemed a very weak bulwark against what she stoked in him.
She’d looked elegant tonight. Almost regal. When she’d stepped into the lobby, a thought had come unbidden. That she was the kind of lady any duke would be proud to call his duchess.
But, of course, Miss Bridewell was more than just a lovely young woman who looked delicious in a purple frock. She was impulsive—by her own admission—and reform-minded and seemingly determined to become a firebrand via her writing.
Yet even hours later, thoughts of her kept Ross from sleep. He’d been sipping the same snifter of brandy for an hour. And it wasn’t just the unexpected desire she sparked in him without even trying—though it was notable because no woman had done that in years.
What haunted him was the look in her eyes when she’d suspected him betraying her by dining with Penrose. He’d felt that look in her pretty green eyes like a spiked jab to the center of his chest.
Never would he be dishonorable enough to betray any journalist’s research by forewarning the object of an investigative piece. But more, he’d never want to disappointher. Which was ridiculous. He hardly knew Miss Bridewell.
And yet he could not lie to himself. He wanted to know her and earn her trust. He wished her to know without any doubt that he’d never betray her.
He glanced at the desk in the corner of his bedchamber.
The invitation had come from Lady Tressick, just as his mother warned him it would. He hadn’t replied, though the part of him that always kept his duty as duke at the forefront of his mind knew he should.
As his mother so astutely reminded him, he needed a duchess.A proper young lady.
He swigged back the remainder of his brandy and laid down atop his bed. He still wore his shirt and trousers because he’d debated taking Penrose up on his offer to join him at the London docks and see his Southwell Shipping enterprise. The scheme sounded, and no doubt was, too good to be true.
His whole purpose in inviting Penrose to dinner had been to learn more about the man’s business endeavors. Penrose had invited him to join his investment schemes in the past, but he’d heard whispers that the man wasn’t to be trusted. After seeing Ivy’s article and some of the research notes she’d showed him this morning, Ross believed her theories were correct. Penrose was likely involved in far more than corrupt shipping practices. But he also believed, as he’d told her, that naming the man publicly was too dangerous.
Better to catch Penrose in an illegal act.
Ross might have done so tonight, but he wanted to speak to Ivy first. He knew a Metropolitan Police detective who’d aided him in the past when one of his businesses had been broken into. For all Ross knew, Scotland Yard might already have Penrose in their sights.
Now, after dining with Ross tonight, Penrose seemed even keener to draw him into one of his schemes. Ross would foster that connection, if only to uncover evidence that would support Ivy’s suspicions. Hopefully enough evidence to stop the man’s nefarious dealings for good.
Ross closed his eyes, trusting sleep would come. Yet all he saw was the dusting of freckles on Ivy Bridewell’s nose, the beauty mark at the edge of her upper lip, and the flashes of gold in her green eyes.
CHAPTER 5
The next day, as much as Ivy wanted to go back to Fleet Street and find out what Blackbourne had discovered during this dinner with Penrose, she kept a previous promise she’d made to take the twins to the London Zoo. The outing had been planned weeks ago, and she couldn’t disappoint them.
“I think I’d prefer to see them in the sea.” Hyacinth had been pensive since they’d left the grounds of the zoo’s Fish House.
“But you couldn’t see them if they were in the sea,” Marigold pointed out.
Hyacinth sighed. “Yet I think they’d be happier there, wouldn’t they?”
Marigold couldn’t argue with Hyacinth’s point, but she lifted her sketchbook. “I made some drawings. Once I add watercolor, I’ll give them to you, so you can see them anytime you like.”
Hyacinth smiled. “Thank you.”
