THE DEFIANT LADY (7 page)

She tossed her head haughtily. “Presumptuous.”

“Indeed.” He peered at her. “Would you consider me an option?”

“Consider you?”

“For marriage,” he clarified.

“No!” she said quickly.

“Why not?”

“Because you cannot consider
me
! Perhaps if I found a man with a lower title I would not feel so...If you marry me, you will be marrying far below your station and you know it. You cannot ignore the fact that I am not a lady.”

“A lady is not always born a lady, Ivy. You have strength in character, the confidence to speak your mind, and an engaging spirit. You are not like other young ladies who were bred into their positions; you are different. But you are still very much a lady.” He smiled. “The Duchess would be quite pleased if we married.”

“You seem to be the only one who enjoys my dissimilarities. I am sure the Duchess feels as though I should hold my tongue and keep my temper hidden. She has shown me nothing but disdain.”

“Perhaps she is trying to teach you a lesson.”

“What do you mean, My Lord?”

“If you do not show how the Duchess’s cool reception effects you, I imagine there will be nothing in society that you cannot overcome.”

“You make a valid point,” she murmured. She had not thought about it that way.

“Do you really have no idea of your own worth? Do not let anyone make you feel inferior, even the Duchess.”

She scoffed. “I do not feel inferior, sir.”

“Cy,” he corrected. “And you do feel inferior, otherwise you would not be spouting this nonsense about not being good enough for me. Women usually see me as nothing more than an uncommonly handsome man with a lofty title—one that could better elevate them closer to the pinnacle of society. For as long as I can remember, a woman has never been concerned about what was best for me. Do you really not care for my title? Could you care for me, as a woman cares for a man?”

She stared at him in dazed amazement. “Your frankness astounds me.”

“So we have already established.” He gazed at her a moment and then asked, “Do you play cards?”

Momentarily taken aback, she replied, “Yes.”

“Good.” He opened a desk drawer and withdrew a brand new deck, and peeled off the duty wrapper. “Have you ever heard of wagering?"

Alarm bells sounded in her head. Mutely, she nodded. She had heard stories of gentlemen and their gambling clubs; full of sorry chaps who lost everything in a series of bad wagers. Desperate men were even known to wager their land.

He began to shuffle the deck. “The idea is that you wager something of importance. That is what makes it interesting…and worth playing. If you were to wager against me, what would it be?”

She thought for a moment before answering. “I want you to find a more deserving woman. A lady of class to be your countess.”

“Strong wager. If I win, you will marry me. That is pretty straight forward, is it not?”

Ivy felt like she was reasoning with a brick wall. “I am the illegitimate daughter of a duke. I was training to be a ballerina in Paris; it will surely cause a scandal when everyone learns of my past. I have nothing to offer you. Will you have that in your bloodline?” she asked, making one last attempt to convince him.

The Earl’s eyes darkened. “It matters not. There are pirates, rogues and robbers in my bloodline already.”

Despite the rather tense situation, she smiled in genuine amusement. “Under different circumstances, I would ask to hear those stories.”

“Another time, I promise.” He held out the deck to her and said, “We will each draw a card. If you get the high card, I will stop pursuing you. If I get the high card, then you will marry me. Aces high, of course, in hope of Napoleon’s future surrender.”

Ivy swallowed, completely ignoring his political witticism.

Dare she let her life hang in the balance over a deck of cards? The Earl’s hands were large and steady as they held the deck. Could she marry this man? And if not, would she find anyone more caring in his attentions? The way he gave her gifts was only a small indication of what he would be like as an attentive husband. Her time was running out, both to find a husband and to pick a card. She reached out and chose one, glancing at it.

Queen of Hearts. Few cards were higher.

The Earl quickly pulled his own. “Show them.”

She lay down her Queen, unsure if she wanted to win or lose. Not taking his eyes from hers, he placed his card on top of hers.

It was the three of Spades.

Ivy felt despondency bubbling up inside of her. It was foreign and confusing.

“My family has never had much luck with wagers.” He rose and stepped out from around the desk and reached for her, helping her stand. His arms encircled her body in his warm, tight embrace.

“What are you doing?” she asked nervously.

He smiled in amusement. “I am going to try and convince you that I would be the best, most caring husband England has to offer you.”

She thought he was going to kiss her, but he seemed content just to hold her.

“You do agree I give wonderful gifts? Am I right?”

Ivy smiled. “Yes.”

“I enjoy card games, which should signify that I can entertain you…”

Her shoulders shook with laughter as she realized he was not going to accept ‘no’ for an answer.
 
She sighed as he pulled her closer, and she tucked her head under his chin, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms.

“Is that all it takes to be a good husband?” she asked softly.

He pulled back, forcing her to look up at him. Touching her face, he smiled. “That is not everything.”

His firm, sensual lips grazed her cheek and then covered her mouth. Time stopped for her; the Earl’s hands cupped her face, his lips eagerly pressing against hers. Her eyes closed as she lost herself to the moment, desire unfurling deep in her belly. When he pulled back, her eyelids fluttered open. He was looking arrogantly pleased.

“Passion is not reason enough to marry,” she said quietly as she regained her balance.

“True,” he agreed. “Marry me because you think we will have a chance at being truly happy together.”

Her eyes glittered with emotion as she reached up to touch his cheek. “Are marriages among the
ton
not usually happy?”

He reached up to grasp her hand in his, and turned his head to kiss her palm. “People usually only tolerate each other. Most dare not ask for more.”

Ivy was in turmoil. Her mother accepted what little the Duke offered, but Ivy wanted, and truly needed more. If she was to spend her life with a man, she did not want a relationship like her mother’s.

“My mother had so little of the man she loved,” Ivy admitted openly. “They had passion, but over the years I watched the light in my mother’s eyes dim each time he left her for his other family.” She needed him to understand she would be nothing like her mother. She would not accept so little.

 
“They loved each other, did they not?” he asked.

Love
. The word terrified her. Her mother had sacrificed everything because she loved the Duke. It chipped away at her existence, leaving her a hollow shell.

“You do not love me,” Ivy stated. “You desire me. You want children with me, perhaps, but love has never entered into your reasons for marriage.” She watched as his jaw clenched. “I dare you to deny it.”

“I will not speak further of love, Ivy, but you should give me a chance to prove to you that our marriage would be nothing like your mother’s relationship with the Duke. I will not cast you aside, or use desire against you. Give me a chance and I shall give you the world.”

She stared into his tumultuous and expressive gray eyes, feeling her will bend. Was this the beginning? Would he break her?

“Must I have one without the other? Are all women of my family doomed for such a fate?” She closed her eyes in pain, but heard herself say, “Yes, My Lord. I will marry you.”

“Cy,” he corrected forcefully.

“Cy,” she echoed.

She did not know if she would have a better life than her mother, but she could not marry another man and risk settling for less than what Cy had to offer her. He gave her honesty. Perhaps it would be enough to build a life on.

Once the reality that she was engaged to the Earl of Stanton set in, she began to panic. Ivy had been engaged only a few minutes, and already her thoughts began to spin out of control with worry. It was one thing to wear dresses and to converse at the Duchess’s side, but to take her place as a society wife was an entirely different matter.

“Stop panicking. Take a deep breath,” he commanded.

“How did you—”

“You got very pale and started shaking. I must say I was hoping my future bride would be overjoyed at the prospect of marrying me. You look in danger of fainting.”

She laughed, feeling the tension and worry dissolve.
 

“That is more like it. Shall we impart the good news to your family?” Cy asked with a tender smile.

When she nodded, he dipped his head again and whispered softly, “Let us seal our engagement with another kiss.”

He did not give her time to agree or disagree. He covered her mouth with his, effortlessly molding his lips to hers. Surprising herself, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. Gently, he cupped the back of her neck and she sank into him, loving his hands in her silky tendrils of hair.

He lifted his mouth from hers. “I love your reaction when I touch you,” he whispered thickly. “Even now, your face is flushed with passion and your lips are pouty and delectable.”

She shivered at his heated words. Cy ran a thumb across Ivy’s bottom lip. She inhaled sharply. He placed his hand on her arm and escorted her to the hallway toward the front door. When they arrived out front, the mare snorted in greeting, tossing her elegant head, vying for Ivy’s attention.

“Did you ride here without a saddle?” he asked.

“Yes.” She fought the urge to squirm. “I received a lecture from Simms and our stable groom already, and they have assured me that my secret is safe with them. Might I ask for the same tact to be employed by you and your servants? The Duchess need not ever know.” Her eyes were pleading with him to agree and keep quiet.

He looked down at her beautiful face and replied, “On one condition: you will not ride without a saddle again. Though I am in awe of your skill, my future countess must ride sidesaddle.” He said it softly, but with a thread of steel in his voice.

She turned from him, and nodded her head. “You are right… you would be disgraced. And by marrying me I will be disgrace enough.”

He reached out a hand to pull her into his arms. “I am thinking of you, Ivy,” he said quietly as he stroked her red curls. “I would not want to give the harpies of society any reason to question whether or not you belong with them. And you
do
belong with them. And with me.”

He tilted her face back so that she was forced to look at him. His eyes were warm with sincerity and he had a look Ivy was learning to recognize; he wanted to kiss her again. Cy chuckled when she gently pushed him away. If he kissed her, there would be very little chance she would be able to leave any time soon. He muddled her thoughts.

Ivy looked at the mare and said wistfully, “She really is quite beautiful and spirited.”

“I wonder if I will be able to deny you anything. I shall let you ride one last time without a saddle. We shall take the long way back to Cavehill land.” He squeezed her fingers affectionately and spoke to a footman to see that his horse was readied. Moments later, they were galloping across the rolling landscape, and Ivy could not believe how quickly her life had changed since arriving in England.

When they reached the Cavehill stables, Cy tossed his reins to the waiting stable boy and helped Ivy dismount. He held her for a moment longer than was necessary, and when she looked up at him, she bit her lip, silently pleading for him to kiss her again. He grinned slowly, as if he knew what she wanted.

As he escorted her toward the manor, he whispered into her ear, “I am overjoyed that you want me to kiss you.”

She gasped. “
Un diable
!”

He laughed as they walked into the drawing room, finding the Duchess enjoying a cup of tea.

“Hello, Your Grace,” Cy greeted.

“Stanton,” the Duchess said, inclining her head.

“Where is Willow?” Ivy inquired.

“Painting. Shall I call for her?” the Duchess asked.

When Willow joined them, she turned to Cy and said, “Pleasure to meet you, My Lord.”

Cy bowed. “I am glad to finally meet your acquaintance.”

“Please, sit,” the Duchess remarked.

When they were all seated, Ivy began, “The Earl of Stanton and I…have agreed… that is…” She looked at Cy beseechingly.

“I have asked Ivy to marry me and she has accepted,” he said succinctly, giving Ivy a grin and wink.

The Duchess showed very little reaction to the news of her granddaughter’s engagement. Willow was not so tightlipped.

“This is wonderful!” Willow looked at Cy and said, “You do know you must give the sister of your intended bride gifts to ensure that she supports the match.”

Cy threw his head back and shouted with laughter and said, “I wonder how much this will cost me.”
 

“Ivy loves horses, but if you would like to have a sculpture erected in my honor, that would be perfectly acceptable,” Willow said blithely.

“I will have it commissioned at once,” Cy teased.

Once they all celebrated with a quick glass of champagne, Cy excused himself to leave. As Ivy saw him out, Willow looked at the Duchess and said, “Are you not happy with the outcome?”

The Duchess’s stoic face remained impassive. “Happy? I am actually quite ecstatic.”

Willow’s mouth quirked into a smile and she joked, “Oh yes, I must have forgotten. That
is
your ‘happy’ face.”

The Duchess did not smile, but Willow swore she saw a glimmer of amusement.

Chapter VI

Hampshire, England, April of 1815

“I thought it would be appropriate to spend a few hours each day with my new fiancée,” Cy explained to Ivy the next afternoon when he came to call.