Page 26 of A Most Unlikely Lady
But the ache she felt wasn’t like that of the ague. This was something new, something entirely different from anything she had experienced before. She found it equal parts frightening, frustrating, and fascinating.
She always viewed men as terrifying beasts best avoided. Her father had explained in excruciating detail all the ways a man could use her. Would use her. All the wayshewanted to use her. Though he never went further than lingering touches that stained her skin like invisible bruises. Because her virginity was far too precious. He couldn’t very well sell her to the highest bidder if she was already ruined.
Her father told her night after night if he let himself give in to her temptations, if he allowed himself to sample what she so blatantly offered, the beau monde would know his daughter was damaged, dirty, and devious. It would reflect poorly on him to have harboured such sin within his household. So, he invaded her mind instead of her body and created a black darkness there with claws that slashed, teeth that sunk into her imagination and ripped her innocence asunder, threats of what was to come that kept her huddled in the shadows, desperate to evade any notice from the gentlemen seeking out biddable wives. While her body remained innocent, he painted shame over her soul in heavy brushstrokes.
When he died, she rejoiced and hoped the fear would die with him. But the black monster invading her mind still lingered. Ivy worked furiously to ensure she would never need to marry. It was why she used such economy with her money. It was why she first started working with Philippa to learn skills of self-protection. It was why this tingling new awareness of Worthington was so unexplainable.
Watching her closest friend fall in love a few months after her father’s death, indeed, accidentally interrupting Millie and Lord Drake in an intimate moment, only confirmed the damage her father had exacted upon Ivy. Like amputating a limb, only he had cut off any normal desires she might have for another. She could never look at a man the way Millie watched Drake. The love and need in her friend’s gaze, a fire burning so bright it singed anyone near them, was impossible for Ivy to imagine ever harbouring within her own heart. It was mystifying.
So what is this confounding curiosity whenever Worthington is near? Why do I look at him and wonder what it might feel like to have his fingers brushing over my skin? His lips pressing against my own? Why do I ache in places best forgotten?
When she had stumbled upon Millie and Drake so many months ago, his head had been buried between Millie’s thighs. At the time, Ivy reacted with abject horror and a desperate need to protect her friend from such unseemly ravishment. A ravishment from which Millie most adamantly wishednotto be rescued. Ivy couldn’t understand how her friend so willingly submitted to such demeaning behaviour. But now, as she stood in the kitchen of the orphanage, alone with a strong, powerful man wearing the clothes of a commoner and the manners of a gentleman, she wondered.
I need to speak with Millie. Immediately.
Gripping the handle of the kettle tightly, she squeezed until her knuckles whitened and her body cooled slightly. She turned from the stove and narrowed her eyes. ‘I cannot attend a ball with you tomorrow night. I’m expected to be here, watching over the children.’
‘Find someone else to cover for you.’
She threw her head back and laughed. Because finding someone willing to take on the responsibility of seven and twenty children was such an easy task. ‘I don’t have anyone else to ask. I have very few friends, and they all have responsibilities.’
‘What about Philippa?’
Dear God. He really is an imbecile.
‘You expect me to ask Lady Philippa Winterbourne, the Duchess of Dorsett, personal confidante to Queen Victoria, to leave her mansion in Belgrave Square and spend the night in Islington with a house full of urchins whilst I frip around the Widow’s Ball on your arm looking for some nameless lord?’
‘Yes. Exactly.’
Ivy shook her head and bit back a foul curse no lady would ever utter. ‘No. It’s impossible. This is my responsibility. Not hers.’
‘Your safety ismyresponsibility. As is that of the children here. If we don’t find this man, you are at risk. So are they. Trust me. Philippa will understand.’
‘Why?’ The question plagued her. ‘Why is my safety of any interest to you at all?’ She was of little import. The commissioner could easily assign someone else to this case. Anyone else. She certainly didn’t merit the time and energy of a man as lofty and important as the Commissioner of Scotland Yard and a duke to boot.
Madness.
‘Why not, Lady Ivy? Why are you unworthy of protection?’
Her throat became tight. In a horrible moment of vulnerability, tears threatened. She shook her head, unable to answer.
He took a step closer and reached out, his fingers tracing along the line of her jaw. The rasp of his calluses was surprisingly pleasant. She understood now why her kitten arched his back and purred whenever she stroked him.
The very thought sent heat to her cheeks and sucked the air from her lungs. In an attempt to restore oxygen to her body, she was enveloped in the scent of rich coffee and a spice she couldn’t quite place.
Jamaican pepper.
‘You deserve far more than mere protection, Lady Ivy.’
Oh dear.
The perplexing feeling of some heretofore unknown organ within her body unfurling, tingling, growing hot and wet and needy was simply overwhelming. Placing both hands on Worthington’s solid, far too fascinating chest, she pushed him back.
Space. I need a great deal more space. And air. In my lungs.
A very cold cloth to place against her very hot skin wouldn’t go amiss.
But as she held his gaze, his words lingered.
