Page 53 of A Most Unlikely Lady
‘What do you need?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’
‘I never talk about him. I just want to forget him. Forget everything he said. Everything he did. He never touched me, but his words are here.’ She smacked her head with the heel of her hand. ‘He died, and I never even cried for him.’
‘He doesn’t deserve a single goddamned tear. Regardless of whether he touched you or not, he hurt you. Most horrifically.’
Ivy bit her lip and sniffed. ‘What kind of a daughter doesn’t grieve her father’s death?’
‘The kind who never had a father worthy of her. No one would fault you for dancing on the bastard’s grave.’ Edward took a breath, trying to pull his anger back. The last thing he wanted was to frighten Ivy. But the corner of her wide mouth tilted in a tremulous smile.
‘I never thought about dancing on his grave.’ A half-giggle, half-sob burst from her. Never was he prouder of his accomplishments than being able to make her laugh in this moment. ‘Can you imagine?’
Edward nodded. ‘Yes. I can.’ Needing to change the subject before he did something really stupid, like pledging his life to making her laugh at least once every day, he stepped back, turning to the desk. ‘Hot chocolate.’ Picking up the pot, he turned. ‘Would you like a cup?’
Ivy stared at him for a moment before her gaze dropped. ‘That would be most kind.’
Ivy’s room had as few furnishings as his own. She took two steps to her left and sat primly on the bed, her posture as proper as any lady taking tea in the most resplendent of parlours. Edward poured the rich, dark mixture into a cracked teacup and wished he could resurrect Lord Cavendale so he could rip him apart, one piece at a time. He turned and, with hands shaking, brought Ivy her cup of chocolate. ‘I shall leave you to your solitude.’ The last thing she needed was some brute of a man invading her space.
‘No, stay. Please. Just for a bit. I… I don’t want to be alone.’
Another brick in the wall he built crumbled. Then another. And another until the whole bloody fortification was falling around him.
‘All right.’ The only other seat in her room was the desk chair behind him, so he pulled it closer to the bed.
‘Tell me something about yourself. Something funny. What scrapes did you get into as a boy?’ Ivy sipped her chocolate and licked her top lip.
Edward swallowed the groan rumbling in his chest as he desperately wished to follow her example and lick her mouth.
This is not the time for me to be slobbering after her like some insatiable beast. She needs a distraction from the memories of her father.
He could provide her with that. For the next hour, he regaled her with tales of his youth. When he was only a boy of seven, he snuck out of the nursery with his sister to be midnight adventurers in the back garden of their country estate, only to be frightened off by a woodcock and caught by their nursemaid. ‘Mrs Quimby was terrifying. My father felt strongly that children should be much like statues. Attractive. Silent. Still. Mrs Quimby endeavoured to make certain we accomplished that task.’
Ivy scrunched her face. ‘That mustn’t have been easy for you.’
Edward’s smile faded. ‘I rather think it was harder for Mrs Quimby than us. My father sacked her when he found Liza in the fountain diving for frogs.’
‘Oh dear.’ Ivy’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
He forced his mind away from his sister. Even the pleasant memories turned painful, reminding him she was gone. Instead of lingering on old wounds that still bled, he told Ivy about a case he recently investigated. An earl was convinced his servant was stealing from him. After weeks of questioning the entire staff, a terrible storm blew through the countryside. The winds broke a bough from one of the lord’s ancient oaks. A young groundsman discovered a cache of hidden treasures in a nest. Cufflinks, gold coins. Even a diamond ring. The real thief was a cunning magpie.
Ivy burst into laughter, covering her mouth. ‘Did he apologise to the servant?’
Edward ran a hand over his jaw, scratching where the stubble was starting to itch. ‘No.’
‘Ah.’ Ivy’s lips hardened. ‘Of course not. Why would he?’
‘One thing I’ve learned through my work is that honourable titles rarely make honourable men.’
She nodded. ‘But some men are good. Like you.’ Ivy looked away from him, studying the pattern of her chipped teacup with an intensity worthy of an antiquity scholar deciphering Sanskrit.
Edward’s stomach twisted. If only he were deserving of such high praise. ‘No. I’m not. I’ve committed far worse crimes than the earl.’
Ivy caught him with her crystal-blue eyes. ‘What crimes are you guilty of committing? Surely the Commissioner of Scotland Yard is above reproach.’
Exhaling a heavy sigh, Edward shook his head. ‘No one is above reproach. But I shall not burden you with my sins.’ The last thing he wanted was to change the way Ivy was looking at him. If she knew the truth of what he’d done, she would never be alone in a room with him again. And damn his selfish soul, he wasn’t ready for that eventuality. ‘It has been a long day. I will leave you to your rest.’
