James intended to set out for London the next morning. Not wishing to cause the duke further distress during his crisis, Rosemary and Lilac agreed to remain at Ellsworth Park during his absence, although Lilac asked whether the servants and animals at Fenwick could also be granted shelter.
“It’s more than kind of His Grace to offer to house us here,” Rosemary said to Ivy while they gathered outside to say their farewells on the front steps. “However . . .”
Ivy embraced her. “However, what?”
“I left everything unsettled at Fenwick. I’m not sure I can enjoy myself worrying about Quigley and the other servants.”
“Of course you can,” Lilac assured her. “The duke sent five or six footmen over yesterday, and a half-dozen fit young men will be more helpful in a crisis than we were.”
“That’s true, I suppose,” Rosemary said reluctantly. “But the manor needs a mistress. Quigley won’t leave his back gardens. I vow there are nights when he stays up just to catch a weed poking through his vegetable plot.”
Ivy frowned, giving Rosemary another fierce squeeze. “Promise me you won’t return to Fenwick alone. As much as I’ve disapproved of him, Oliver at least defended you when you needed him.”
“It was quite dreadful to watch,” Rosemary whispered.
“We really ought to write Rue and inform her you’re to become a duchess,” Lilac said, her fair hair blowing in the breeze like thistledown.
“Have either of you heard from her?” Ivy asked, remembering her last conversation with Rue in the garden.
“Not a word,” Rosemary replied. “But then again you became engaged to a duke and didn’t bother to tell us, either. And she is traveling with the viscountess.”
“Ladies,” a male voice said behind them, and Ivy looked past Captain Wendover to James, who stood waiting in a black silk hat and greatcoat.
“You are leaving, too, Captain Wendover?” Lilac asked, her arm around Ivy’s waist.
He glanced at the duke. “I believe I should.” He bowed. “It has been my pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“I’m sure it has,” Lilac said absently. “Oh, before I forget,” she added, “what about the dogs? Cook and Quigley never remember to feed them or let them out.”
“What about my manuscript?” Rosemary asked in panic. “What if the house should catch fire?”
“It hasn’t caught fire in three centuries,” Ivy reassured her. “It’s unlikely to happen in the next few weeks.”
“Are we ready to leave or not?” James asked bluntly, turning on his heel in his polished Hessian boots.
Ivy fell in behind him, giving her sisters a quick smile over her shoulder.
Lilac glanced back at the house. “Where are the children?”
“They’re waiting in my carriage with Sally,” Wendover said, walking backward to address her. “I thought to entertain them. Do take care of yourselves.”
Lilac and Rosemary had disappeared into the duke’s house before Ivy reached the carriage. It was a shame they wouldn’t pass Fenwick Manor on their journey to London, but she wouldn’t dream of asking James to let her visit the house that would forever claim part of her heart. His brother needed him. He hadn’t told her everything, but she knew all the same. In fact, he had spoken but a few words to her since he received the news. It wasn’t necessary. As much as she loved James, yesterday she would have grown wings and flown to Fenwick had she known of the calamity unfolding there.
“James.”
He was holding his chin in his hand, so preoccupied he didn’t respond. She tried again.
“James.”
He turned his head.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sliding closer to him. “I talked to the children this morning. They cried, but after a while they realized that their father was coming home, and he was alive. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”
“If he’s a better man than I am.”
She nestled against him. “No one’s better than you.”
“You didn’t know me when I returned from war. I was sullen, angry at the world, disrespectful to my father, and a man you would have been well-advised to avoid.”
Ivy wouldn’t have avoided him even then. Nor was she about to point out that he was still, at times, sullen, angry, and disrespectful, but not nearly as often as he was sensual, tender, and protective. “He’ll make it through, James. He has his family. You managed to return to yourself.”
“But I have you, Ivy. Now I have a reason to stop behaving like a fool.”
“The only reason you have me is because of the children.”
“Yes,” he said wryly. “I wanted a governess to keep them from disturbing the arrangement I thought would bring me happiness.”
“And aren’t we both glad that I arrived in time to rearrange the course of your life?”
“You are my life,” he said, turning his face to hers.
She stared up into his eyes and felt a flame kindle inside her. “Am I?”
“Whether it is because I love you so deeply or dislike Sir Oliver as much as I do, I wonder if there isn’t more to the attack on Fenwick than what it appeared to be.”
She frowned. “What more could there be?”
“There are no valuables in the house?”
“No.”
“No more jewelry like the pearls you tried to pawn?”
“Nothing.” She felt drowsy, her eyes closing as she answered him. “Perhaps I should have traveled with the children. You and Wendover probably have a few things to talk over.”
“I can talk to Wendover when we reach London. It’s not often you and I are alone together.”
“There was talk once that gold was hidden somewhere inside Fenwick,” she murmured.
He stirred. “How long ago was this?”
“Before I was born. The family decided it wasn’t true. The manor is almost bare to the bones. Wouldn’t someone in the family have found it in all these years?”
“Not if it was hidden as well as you and your sisters were.”
“It kept us safe for years,” she said ruefully.
“Villagers were afraid to visit Fenwick,” he mused. “Even my coachman warned me about the dangerous women who lived inside the manor.”
“Yet his warning didn’t stop you.”
“An intruder being killed and hauled off by the magistrate for everyone to see might give the rumors credence.”
“I wish I’d been there for them,” she whispered fiercely.
“And I am grateful you were not.”
“I’m tired, James.”
“Rest, then.”
She nodded, the rhythmic jolting of the carriage lulling her into a brief sleep. When she opened her eyes, she realized that it was twilight and her head was resting in James’s lap. He smiled at her. She smiled back, drowsy and relaxed until she realized he had undone her gown and was languidly stroking his knuckles across her breasts.
“Help yourself,” she said with a laugh.
“I need you, Ivy.”
She sat up, one hand covering her breasts in an attempt at modesty. His wide shoulders shifted under his coat. “We’ll be apart again once we reach London. There is a stool under the seat on which you may kneel.”
The tone of his voice made her blood tingle. She slid back onto the opposite seat and stared down at the floor in confusion. When she looked up again, it was to see that he held his heavy sex in one hand. His other hand reached around the nape of her neck. He kicked out the tapestried stool before she descended in a submissive position between his outspread legs.
“James—what am I to do?”
“Make love to me with your mouth.”
“I’ve no idea where to start.” This act was beyond anything Ivy had dreamt he would ask of her. Or perhaps it wasn’t. One could have an intuitive understanding of certain things without having actually experienced them.
“I’ll show you what to do,” James said. “Do try not to bite me.”
She blushed furiously as he nudged her face to his organ. She placed her hands upon his thighs for balance and parted her lips. The knob of his sex glistened with a bead of moisture. She pressed her mouth to it and then he flexed his hips, suggesting she was expected to do more.
“James, I have no practice in this art.”
“Take me into your mouth. Suck me.”
Her heart sped up. She grasped the silken underside of his sex and guided it to her mouth, suckling gently.
“My God.” His hips bucked. She withdrew slightly, letting her tongue glide in a circle around his shaft.
“Was it that bad?” she whispered.
“No. It was that good. Sit beside me and lift your skirts. I don’t want to spill my seed on your gown.”
“I should hope not.”
“Here.” She could barely see what he was doing over the pile of skirts, petticoat, and pelisse he had lifted to give him access to her body. She noticed that he looked out the window for a long time. “You don’t think anyone will see us, do you?”
“No,” he said, smoothing his hands down the insides of her thighs. “I wanted to make sure we have no stops ahead for a while.” He reached up and drew down the leather curtains. “Does that make you feel better?”
“Yes.”
“Merciful God, Ivy, look at you. You’re sweet and pink down there. Did you like what you did to me?”
“You’re the one who made me stop,” she whispered. “I would have done more. I would do anything for you.”
He took off his coat, rolled it up under her head, all the while rubbing his shaft between her folds. She raised her hips to take him into her body. “In a carriage,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
He didn’t answer, teasing her with shallow thrusts, his hands sliding under her bottom to enable a deeper penetration.
“James?” she said, shivering as if she’d never be able to stop.
“No.” He shook his head. “I haven’t done this particular act before in this carriage.”
“What an unsatisfactory answer,” she said breathlessly, opening her eyes to look at him. He stared back down at her with a dark possession that robbed her of everything but her desire to be his. “Why was the footstool there?”
“For the resting of one’s feet,” he said, lowering his face to hers.
His mouth captured hers at the moment he impaled her on a deep stroke. “Oh.”
She thought she would slide off the seat. He kept her anchored with his hands and the powerful driving of his body that brought her closer and closer to release. “I love you, scoundrel,” she whispered, meeting him thrust for thrust, matching his rough play with unrestrained passion. “But I want more.”
“Are you certain?”
“Must I beg?”
He withdrew slightly, allowing her time to draw one breath before he grasped her buttocks and drove his cock inside her. She could not bear the tension that built until she thought she wouldn’t survive another second. When at last she broke, he pumped harder into her body until he came with a shudder of relief that she felt through her own waves of pleasure.
“Comfort of all comforts,” he murmured, collapsing atop her spent form.
From the window she could see that it had started raining. They had not noticed during their frantic mating. “James,” she said, stroking the damp black hair upon his cheek.
“My beloved.” He paused, a note of hope in his voice. “Again?”
“You’re crushing the life out of me. And if I’m not mistaken, the carriage has slowed pace. We can’t be discovered like this.”
He exhaled and lifted himself from her tingling limbs. “Damn,” he said, reaching into his vest. “I have no handkerchief.”
And before Ivy could avail herself of her reticule, he unknotted his neckcloth and gently blotted the evidence of their lovemaking from between her thighs.
Ivy pulled down her skirts and sat back against the squabs with a sigh. “Do you have another cravat somewhere in this carriage to replace that?”
“No.” He appeared unconcerned. “Not unless you had the foresight to place one in our hamper.”
“No,” Ivy said, taking note to do so in future. “Oh, really, it’s pouring, James. You won’t be able to arrive in London missing your neckcloth. Wendover and Sally will perhaps for the rest of their lives wonder what—”
He was the duke. Who would question his state of dress or undress? She had no choice but to surrender to the situation. He would only respond with an answer similar to the one he had offered her about the footstool, and that response would have to be accepted.
“Ivy.” She was startled when, after restoring his own appearance, he said her name and gathered her into his embrace. “Your presence is a solace to me. I admit there are times when you provoke me to extreme measures, but I have never known this peace with another person.”
“May you always feel that way about me.”
The thrum of rain upon the carriage roof could not compete with the primal beauty of his soul exposed to her. “Isn’t that what marriage vows mean?”