Page 5 of An Earl by Any Other Name
“Oh dear,” she groaned.
She wiped her brow with the back of a gloved hand and it came away dirty. A cool September breeze teased at a loose tendril of her hair from beneath her flat hat. She tried to brush it away, but the thick veil tied around her hat made it more than a little complicated. She unbuttoned her tan linen duster, feeling a little flustered by the Hudson’s sudden failure.
What on earth was she going to do? Walk to Hampton House? Why had she thought coming early by herself was a good idea? Because she was plagued by curiosity. Sixteen years ago she had left Hampton, her mother’s body barely cold in the ground. How much had the place changed? How much had he changed?
Leo…his name still made her shiver.
Handsome, charming Leo. When she’d been eight, he’d been sixteen, and a lifetime seemed to have separated them. Now she was twenty-four and he had to be…she did the math. Thirty-two? Would he still have the ability to consume her soul with those fathomless blue eyes? A part of her was afraid to see him again after all these years. Had her girlhood memories been the stuff of fantasies or was he still the man she’d always loved?
After six Seasons in London, she hadn’t found anyone who measured up to Leo Graham, the Earl of Hampton, and she feared she never would. But…what if she arrived at Hampton House and found that he wasn’t the man she believed him to be?
With a little shake of her head, Ivy recalled the way he used to tease her, tap the tip of her nose with a finger and call her Button.
“Button indeed,” she muttered.
Her nose was no longer buttonlike, at least not completely. Leo hadn’t seen her since she’d outgrown her oversized eyes, knobby knees, and pert nose. Ivy tried to quell the fleet of butterflies that stormed against the battlements of her stomach.
She was nothing like the English beauties who were so favored by the gentlemen at the balls during the Season. That was the problem with being half Gypsy rather than a full-blooded English rose. Still, she knew she was pretty, in an exotic sort of way, but would Leo think her desirable? Ivy had been a favorite of many men. Her father’s position, as well as her own heritage, made them believe she had no morals.
A non-Romani or gadjo’s sense of Gypsies was always wrong. Women of the Romani culture were anything but loose. Still, that awful cultural misunderstanding led to more than one man to offer her a position as his mistress. An offer that she had to politely refuse without making a scene, even though such a request deserved a slap.
Hopefully Leo would be different.
Not that I should truly care, she reminded herself. She was only coming to Hampton House to see the dowager countess and to attend a suffragette meeting with her. Lady Hampton had insisted that Ivy stay for the house party. She’d reminded Leo’s mother that she wasn’t coming to husband hunt but to see old friends. Ivy firmly believed a modern woman couldn’t have a husband, at least not a man born into the British peerage. They stood against women’s rights and that was something that she could never reconcile.
She’d watched her mother work tirelessly as a servant for years in a world where her voice hadn’t mattered. Witnessing her mother’s inability to live the life she truly wanted before she’d died had changed Ivy. Without the right and the power to speak, a person ceased to exist.
After her mother died, she’d been reunited with her father and it had become clear just how powerless she was as a woman. Although he loved and adored her, even he could not give her power over her own life in the way men had. She could not even control her own inheritance; it had to be held in trust by a man. It seemed like everywhere she turned was a dead end. No way out. To be ensnared in a gilded cage meant she was still trapped. The thought made her recoil. Marry a man who would trap her and destroy her independence? No, she would never agree to that. But still…seeing Leo again after all this time would be nice.
Turning her attention back to the Hudson, she knew she’d have to leave it on the shoulder of the road for now. As she reached for her valise, the gravel on the road slipped beneath her boots. A panicked cry escaped her lips as she fell headfirst into the space behind the driver’s seat. Her legs wiggled in the air as she struggled in vain to propel herself back upright.
“Blast and hell!” she cursed, fighting wildly to get her body into a position that could leverage her back down. Her dress and coat tangled around her knees.
The purr of another motorcar’s engine made her freeze. A cool breeze caressed her where her travel dress bunched around her thighs. Whoever had just stopped on the road had a prime view of her legs.
The motor died. Footsteps crunching on gravel warned her of someone’s approach, and her body went rigid in apprehension. Fear ratcheted up inside her until she was gasping for breath and thrashing to get back on her feet.
“Er…excuse me, miss. May I help?” a rich, smooth voice asked.
“Oh, yes, please. I’m in a spot of bother it seems.”
“I’m going to touch you, miss. Please do not panic.” The man’s gloved hands settled on her ankles, then slid to her calves as he pulled her down. Tingles of awareness shot through her body, making her twitch in the oddest places.
Ivy tried not to let it ruffle her that some strange man’s hands were on her legs. She’d never liked feeling vulnerable, and this was perhaps the most exposed she’d ever been in her life. It was unsettling to say the least. She slid down the side of the Hudson, her face heating and the blood pounding in her ears. When she turned to her rescuer, her heart skittered to a stop, and she sucked in a breath.
Leo.
For a long moment she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. She was a girl again, crying as her mother lay dying. Leo’s long, muscular body had been solid and warm behind her as he held her while she wept. He’d been comfort and heat and light where she’d only endured darkness in her mother’s last hours.
Of course it would be him. He’d be the one to find her covered in road dust, legs flailing in the air, and stuck with a broken down motorcar. She was always at her worst when he was around. Lady Fate evidently didn’t like her.
Is there no end to my bad luck?
“Thank you,” she said, uncertain if she should say her name. Would he even remember her? Surely not…
With an unexpected deftness, he adjusted her hat, which had been knocked slightly askew during her tumble into the motorcar, and pushed the sides of the veil back as though to get a better look at her face. His lips kicked into a grin, and her heart fluttered back to life. Lord, the man was handsome. His aquiline nose and strong jaw, lips a little thin, but no less appealing, and a halo of golden hair blowing in the breeze. And those eyes, eyes she’d dreamt about for years. More beautiful than she’d remembered.
“You’re welcome, Miss…” He waited for her to introduce herself.
