Page 15 of An Earl by Any Other Name
Chapter 7
Cursing under his breath, Leo stared at Ivy’s retreating back. What the devil was wrong with him? He was losing himself to the pursuit of this mysterious lady, and his best-laid plans were fast unraveling. Mildred had spent the entire evening staring at him. If she only knew the half of it. Whatever had possessed him to stroke Ivy’s hand? It was ungentlemanly, unseemly, yet…he’d felt compelled to reach out and grasp her. Like a ghost drifting through the mists, she was just out of reach, and he was desperate for a way to connect himself to her.
A newspaperman’s daughter with flashing eyes, raven-black hair, and lips made for a man’s pleasure. She was going to be the death of him.
Maybe…if he slept with her, got her out of his head, his blood would cool, and he could resume his plans with Mildred. He shook his head. What a stupid notion. Ivy was an innocent and did not deserve such mercenary thoughts of him using and discarding her. She was not a woman to be treated thus, and he hated himself for having entertained the thought even for a moment. The worst of it was that it made him just like his father. Chasing the skirts of a foreign beauty and unable to control his lusts. Bloody hell, if he took her to bed and society found out? It would hurt Hampton and everyone who lived here, and they’d lose all hope of keeping the estate together.
I am not my father. It was fast becoming a mantra he was saying daily in hopes that it would be true. He couldn’t let his body dictate his desires or he’d end up in a scandal that would destroy him and his family. Before his father’s disastrous affair and death, Leo had never been overly concerned with the consequences of enticing a woman into his bed. Yet now worries and concerns were all he could think about. The most frightening part was that he didn’t want to simply seduce Ivy; he wanted her to like him as a man and a companion.
I’m getting damned soft…
“Is everything all right, my lord?” Gordon asked, emerging from the shadows. He saw too much, but then again, all butlers did. His mother called a good butler “one’s shadow with a second soul.” Leo was never more thankful that he trusted Gordon with his life, especially his social one, which was arguably more important.
“Yes, sorry, Gordon. Just lost in my thoughts…May I ask you something? I would like your honest opinion.” He left his seat and approached the older man, watching as the butler instructed the footman clearing the table to leave them alone. When it was just the two of them, Gordon waited for Leo to speak.
He studied his wine goblet, fingers tracing the delicate etchings in the glass before he spoke. “If you were faced with two choices, one you knew was sound and logical. Would you choose that, or select the choice that might be as temporary as lightning flashing in the night and certain to cause scandal?”
Gordon considered the question. “I suppose it would depend upon the lightning strike. If it changes you, turns you into something new, something better, then it might be worth the risk. Nothing is ever gained by safe choices.”
“Nothing is ever lost either,” Leo countered softly.
Gordon only smiled knowingly. “You cannot lose what you do not have.” Then the butler nodded, half bowed, and slipped back into the shadows.
Leo pushed his chair back to the table, sighed, and began to walk to the ballroom. Did he want to risk his future to explore a dalliance with Ivy? Would she even agree to it? If she was like the other women he knew, she would expect marriage. But then again…she was an independent woman, a suffragette. Perhaps she would see a love affair as freeing and would not expect a proposal. If he could keep it quiet, then no one would believe he was following in his father’s footsteps. Ivy was nothing like the woman his father had been having an affair with, but people would make the comparison nonetheless. The thought made his stomach roil, but he didn’t like the idea of not going after Ivy either. Something about her called to him on an instinctive level that he still didn’t fully understand.
All thoughts of denying himself Ivy were drowned by the jealousy flooding through him when he caught sight of her waltzing with Owen. They flowed effortlessly across the floor, and Leo’s entire body went rigid. She was laughing at something Owen said, and a red haze descended over Leo’s vision. It took every bit of his control not to storm across the ballroom and snatch her away. Instead, he plastered a smile on his face and joined his mother and Mr. Leighton, standing next to the six-person orchestra his mother had hired for the weekend. A pianist bent over the piano, fingers flying over the keys while his companions played a beautiful accompaniment on the violins and cellos. The Athertons and Pevenlys were dancing, as were the Pepperwirths. Only Mildred avoided the gaiety of the evening. She sat near the window staring at Owen and Ivy, her lips pursed in disapproval.
“Why don’t you see if Miss Pepperwirth would like to dance?” Mr. Leighton nodded toward the frowning lady. A ghost of a smile flitted across his mother’s face before she hastily masked it. She was playing the game well, and Leo did not like it.
He did as suggested, however, and approached Mildred.
She raised a dark brow, her lips pinched. “Yes?”
“I thought you would like to dance.” He held out a hand. Her eyes dropped to his palm, and she curled her lips in a sneer. Even when she was furious, she was still lovely. It was a pity he didn’t feel anything romantic toward her; it would have made the prospect of proposing to her so much easier.
“Dancing so close together is unseemly. I will not. One should not take such delight it.”
The retort that came readily to his lips died as he sucked in a breath and cooled his temper. “Mildred, there is nothing wrong with dancing. Your parents are dancing.” He waved toward the viscount, who moved sedately across the floor with his viscountess.
“I do not care for it.” Even as she said it, though, he thought he glimpsed a fracture in her disdainful demeanor, a momentary view of a woman who longed for dancing and love, a woman whose heart was shielded by a fortress of ice. Leo wondered if he would ever break through that ice, or if perhaps another man was destined for such a task. He forced himself to ignore that thought. He would marry Mildred and he would try to woo her as best he could to make their match a decent one. It would never have the fiery passion he wished for in a marriage, but it would be stable and that was more important. Protecting Hampton was his duty. He could not run across the countryside after a wild raven-haired beauty no matter how much his heart wished for him to.
Leo took a chair and sat down beside her. She seemed a little startled by his choice to remain with her. It was not out of desire but out of his sense of obligation.
“Who is that woman? I’ve never heard of her before.” Mildred watched Ivy with such intensity Leo was surprised Ivy didn’t feel the focus of her gaze and look their way.
“I don’t know her well myself. She and my mother are good friends.” He watched Ivy like a dying man would watch the gates of heaven as they parted before allowing him entrance. The sway of her full hips, the gleam of the headband made of diamond-studded stars nestled in the crown of her black hair, drew him helplessly in. He ached to touch her, to thread his fingers through her hair. Her bell-like laugh stirred long-buried emotions awake. It had been years since he’d had the occasion to laugh like that, and he missed it.
“With her coloring and dubious background and an English mother no one knows, I quite wonder at your mother’s invitation for her and her father. He’s one of those nouveau riche at best. A servant playing as a lord. He hides his accent well, but he’s certainly an imposter.”
Leo balled his fists and shifted in his chair. “Being foreign does not make him an imposter. He doesn’t claim to be anyone other than himself. He’s self-made. Gentlemen like him do not like discussing their personal histories to avoid judgments like you have just passed. Excuse me.” He stood and walked away before he gave in to the temptation to utter something that would ruin his relationship with the cold harpy he’d convinced himself he needed to marry. He almost missed the look of resignation and regret on her face before she carefully masked it.
When the orchestra finished the waltz and prepared to play another, Leo politely inserted himself between Owen and Ivy.
“May I?” He held out his hand, shouldering Owen aside. The other man huffed, but there was little he could do to stop Leo. Ivy’s startled gaze darted between the two of them, and then with a red glow in her cheeks, she took Leo’s hand. He was barely aware of his friend walking away. The only thing that mattered was her palm touching his and the warmth that filled his chest.
The pianist and the string players started up again, and Leo slid his arm around Ivy’s trim waist. The fabric of her gown was smooth and warm beneath his fingers, the way he knew her bare skin would feel. He cupped her hand in his and pulled her close. He had always enjoyed dancing, but he’d never appreciated it until now. It gave him the chance to breathe in the sweet scent of flowers and oranges of the woman in his arms.
The chandelier lights reflected like stars in her cinnamon eyes. Their depths were endless, and he was lost in the vast play of emotions flashing through them. Fear, desire, longing. She seemed as surprised as he was by the undeniable pull between them. He tightened his grip on her waist, and they fell into a perfect tempo. The rhythm of the dance cast a spell over him as he became aware of the curious sense that Ivy felt like more than a waltz partner. There was the way she responded to his gentle urging, obeying him but not blindly. He was not entirely in charge, as he usually was when dancing, but rather it was as though he were part of a team with her. He suspected that should they reverse the roles of the dance, she could lead him just as well.
