The Duke's Revenge (4 page)

“
Why did you run away from
home?”

“
A family
matter.”

“
I am a duke, Ivy, why not
tell me your problem? I know I can help you.”

“
Nay, you cannot help me,
and I will not return home,” she said and caught his large wrist
that her small fingers and thumb could hardly wrap around. She
forced his hand away from her.

He was stronger, and with a flick of his
hand, she lost her gripping.

“
Why the hell not?” he
snapped and caught her wrist.

“
You are not me, you would
not understand,” she cried, tears threatening to come out of her
eyes.

“
You may tell me, Ivy, why
are you running away from home?”

“
How would you feel if
somebody is forcing you to do things you do not want to do?” she
said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“
Who, may I ask, is
forcing you to do things you do not want to do?”

“
A family
matter.”

“
If you do not tell me
that is fine with me. I am the master of this house, Ivy, and I
will make sure that you return home safe and sound. I do not intent
your guardian to think that I have kidnapped you now, do
I?”

“
No, I will not return
home!”

“
You will return home in
the morning, Ivy, or if you so chose to go to Bath, then I be
oblige to aid you.”

“
You will aid me? In what
way?” she asked suspiciously.

“
Ah, I will, of course,
find you a house and escort you there myself. What do you think? I
will provide for you.” He smiled at her though she could not see it
in the dim moonlight.

She stared up at him and
thought—
trusting this man to offer her his
help when he had taken advantage of her already?
She was not that stupid.

“
I do not believe
you.”

He laughed aloud. “Very
clever, Ivy,” he said and caught her small chin between his fingers
and thumb. “I do mean every word I said. You must have known me,
Ivy, I am a man of my word, a business bargain
is
a business bargain.”

“
A business bargain?” she
asked, looking up at him.

“
Aye, this is a business
bargain.”

“
What will you ask in
return?”

“
What do I want in
return?” He lowered his face toward hers. “I want you, Ivy, right
now.”

“
What? Nay!” she shrieked,
struggling in his arms.

“
Nay?” He raised his brows
at her mockingly.

“
Aye, I will return home.
You won’t touch me, will you?”

“
Ah, then I will ensure
that you shall get home safe and sound,” he said and lowered to
kiss her forehead. He lingered his lips there for a moment, taking
in her scent. He didn’t want to leave her. She was warm and very
soft, and he wanted to take her there and then. But, he told
himself, he must wait. He’d have her soon enough.
He’d have her every night.

He smiled at that thought.

He stood up and stared down at her from his
great height.

Ivy bolted up and clutched the blanket in
front of her. “No, there is no need.”

“
Oh, but I insist,” he
said and walked out the room smiling to himself.

Did she think him stupid to let her leave
his house without a backward glance?

CHAPTER 3

Lady Grace Westwood sat on the sofa with her
back arched straight and her head held high as she looked down her
autocratic nose at the parlourmaid.

“
Clean that vase
thoroughly and don’t forget to add more coals,” she
snapped.

Rena placed the damped cloth down, rushed
toward the hearth, and threw more coals into the bright fire.

No matter how much more coals she threw into
the flame; the huge empty parlour would always feel cold in this
old, crumbling manor. There was also the fact that, and this was
absolutely hard for Rena to restrain herself from blurting out, Her
Ladyship always wore flimsy day dress cut in the latest style with
skimpy muslin fabrics not fit enough to ward off the nasty English
weather; which was of course the reason why she was always feeling
cold.

Rena poked the fire a few times with the
iron poker and then rushed back to her work, dusting and cleaning
away the many damp moulds that seem to be growing forever more
furiously in these winter months.

Gusts of warm drafts whooshed toward where
Grace was sitting. She sighed with some temporary relief until such
time when the fire started to die down again.

Although she was staring fixedly at the
vase, her thought was elsewhere. She was thinking about her
daughter, Ivy, who had run away. She suspected that her Uncle John
had helped her but trying to get information out of the muted man
was impossible. He refused to give in even though she had ordered
Gale, her lady’s maid, to whip him three times.

Fortunately, the kind Duke of Lynwood, the
man who had bought Westwood Castle and saved her from her
creditors, had dispatched a footman to inform her that her daughter
was at Westwood Castle and that the girl would be returning home in
the morning, escorted by the housekeeper.

She snapped up the
Morning Post
and started
reading the front page to keep her mind occupy as she waited for
the return of her daughter. News of the Prince of Wale was
everywhere concerning his eligibility as Regent during his father,
King George’s delicate illness. She was just reading through about
the progress of the English troop in the Peninsula when she heard
horses’ hooves and carriage wheels thrusting on the gravel down at
the courtyard. She threw the newspaper down on the seat beside her
and walked to the window.

Outside, she saw an elegant coach parked in
front of the mansion. She saw Ivy leaving the carriage and walking
toward the door.

A bout of anger consumed her. She stalked
into the hallway with her hands fisted into balls. Just as she came
out she saw Gray, the butler, disappearing into the kitchen after
allowing her daughter in.

“
Why did you run away?”
she shouted.

Ivy halted at the stairs. She wanted to run
as fast as she could and hide, but she could not. If she did that
she would be a coward, and she did not want to be a coward.
Reluctantly, she turned to face her angry mother.

“
Why did you run away?”
Grace grabbed her wrist and squeezed it so tight that her skin
turned red.

It hurt, and Ivy wanted to cry out so badly.
She did not reply and tried to twist her hand away, but her mother
only held on tighter.

“
I could not comprehend
why you have run away, Ivy. If you do it again, I will do something
you will regret.”

Ivy bit her lip. She did not dare look up at
her angry mother. She scared her. Since she was a little girl, her
own mother scared her.

Grace grabbed Ivy’s arms, dragged her up the
stairs to the bedroom, and slammed the door shut. There she shoved
her daughter onto the bed.

Ivy sat there watching her mother pacing
back and forward.

Grace stopped and turned to look at her
daughter. She saw the sunray shinning on her daughter’s dark hair.
It illuminated her feature, giving the girl a soft look that was so
beautiful, she felt the jealousy inside her consuming her.

She paced forward, grabbed a bunch of the
girl’s hair, and jerked her head up.

Ivy gasped. She held onto the long strands
so that the yanking would not hurt her head as much.

Grace released the hair then. She stared
unsympathetically at the dismal girl half lying on the bed. “Your
hair, Ivy, I thought I’ve told you many times to hide it. It’s
sinful, it’s disgusting.”

As she scolded, Grace knew
that Ivy’s hair was not disgusting. It was so beautiful and
glorious that she didn’t want any one to see it—
especially
men for that
matter.
Men with big appetite for the
flesh of a beautiful woman.

However, it also annoyed her that no matter
how much she had forced the girl to hide her hair or dressed her in
old garments, not to mention very hideous ones indeed, the girl
still managed to look pleasing to the eye, and she didn’t really
know what more she could do to make the girl look as ugly as
possible.

Ivy looked up to her mother as the woman
stood there with her back arched straight and her head held high.
She was wearing one of her very expensive muslin day dresses. This
one was Pomona green with low neckline which showed her white
cleavage generously to onlookers. She was a picture of beauty, but
her beauty was only skin deep.

“
Lord McNeill was not very
impressed with your behavior?”

Ivy turned away, trying to shut out what her
mother was implying. The mere mentioning of Lord McNeill caused her
stomach to churn in sickness. “Mama, do we have to go through
this?”

“
Of course we have to go
through with this. That man is rich, Ivy, he wants you. I can see
it in his eyes.”

Ivy could not understand
how Lord McNeill would want her when she was so poor and the fact
that she had no dowry. She knew that he wanted to marry her after
that stupid incident. It had happened after dinner a few weeks ago
when her mother had left her
unchaperoned
with him in the
parlour.

She could still remember his smells. They
were a mixture of mothball, burnt oil, and musty air. He had sat
extremely close to her on the sofa and he had even taken hold of
both her hands in his large, wrinkly ones. He had begged her to
marry him then. She had felt sick at that moment.

After the news had sunk in, she had shaken
her head and begun to mumble some excuses. He would have none of
it, however. He had told her that she would change her mind after
he had taught her the way of love. Then he had actually took hold
of her face and kissed her on her lips. She had tried to push him
away, but he was quite strong for an old man. It was at that moment
that Lisa had encountered upon them. Lisa had literally taken hold
of him by the collar and shoved him down to the floor, and it was
at that moment that Lady Westwood had entered the room. Her mother
had been in a rage when she saw Lord McNeill on the floor, swearing
and staring unkindly at Lisa.

Ivy could not understand why when an old man
such as Lord McNeill had forced himself upon her daughter; her
mother did not seemed to mind in the least and was instead very
angry with Lisa for intervening.

Her mother had banished Lisa on the spot. It
had broke Ivy’s heart and caused Lord McNeill to smile with
satisfaction.

“
I have a letter from him
today. He said that he didn’t mind you being so stupid the other
night. He will come in two weeks time for dinner. This time, Ivy, I
will have none of you spoiling this arrangement. If you must know,
daughter, we are in debts. If you agree to marry him, we do not
have to worry about the creditors.”

“
I do not want to marry
him, Mama, can you not see that?”

Grace frowned, and in a flash, she slapped
Ivy’s cheek. “You will not disobey me again--do you
understand?”

“
I will not marry him.”
Ivy did not even bother to touch the fingers mark on her cheek. She
felt no hurt now—just disgust.

“
You won’t? We’ll see
about that,” Grace said and stalked toward the door. She opened it
and turned around. “You will have no dinner today, my dear, and no
food for two days, not until you agree, do you
understand?”

Ivy sat there, staring at her mother as the
woman shut the door. She heard a click from the other side and knew
she was locked in again. She turned, and with her face resting
against the pillow, she cried. She was now, as always, a prisoner
in her own room.

CHAPTER 4

Murphy McDonald, the renowned, highly
resourceful solicitor of McDonald and Son Inc. grumbled under his
breath as he looked at the old three stories Elizabethan manor. He
sighed, wondering how he was going to approach the tender
subject.

He told the coachman to drive through the
rusty gate into the snow-covered courtyard. When the landau drew to
a stop, he got down and his boots sunk into the snow. He grumbled
in annoyance, stumped his feet a few times to shake the snow off,
and walked up the pathway to the door.

He had to knock the huge putrefied wooden
door three times with the rusty lever before a middle age man,
presumably the butler, opened the door.

“
May I help you,
sir?”

Murphy took of his black hat, revealing his
shinny baldhead with white hair around the lower half. He bowed at
the butler and said, “I presume this is the great house of Lady
Grace Westwood?”

“
Aye, this is the house of
Her Ladyship.”

“
Excellent, my good
friend, I shall be oblige to introduce myself. My name is Murphy
McDonald, solicitor from the McDonald & Son Inc., and it would
be a pleasure if I could meet Her Ladyship. You see, I have
a
business
proposal for Her Ladyship upon my employer’s
request.”

“
Solicitor?” the butler
repeated and nodded. “Please wait here a moment. I will inform her
ladyship.”