The Duke's Revenge (6 page)

“
They didn’t talk when I
was there, but I didn’t say I didn’t eavesdrop on them now, did I?”
Mrs. Johnson looked at the parlourmaid with her brows
raised.

“
You eavesdrop on them?”
Rena asked, astound.

Mrs. Johnson nodded.

“
Well then?”

“
Aye, ‘tis bad, very bad
indeed,” the housekeeper said, turning to Ivy who was staring up at
her.

Ivy felt a tight
uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach at the way Mrs.
Johnson was looking at her.
Something was
not right.

“
Tell us what ye heard,”
Rena urged.

Mrs. Johnson came round to Ivy and took her
trembling hands. She said, “My dear, ‘tis indeed bad.”

Ivy stared up at the housekeeper and
whispered, “Tell me.”

“
This lawyer, you see,
came on behalf of his employer, some duke or other. He told Her
Ladyship that his employer is asking for you.”

“
Oh dear, that does sound
very bad indeed,” Tracy put in.

“
It can’t be that bad. I
mean this duke might be young and perhaps better looking than that
old Lord McNeil’,” Rena interjected, nodding her head as if her
thought was sound.

“
Rena’s right, m’ lady,
perhaps this duke is young and perhaps Her Ladyship might consider
that ye take him instead of that Lord McNeil’,” Tracy agreed,
nodding her head.

“
Nay, ‘tis not good I
say,” Mrs. Johnson interrupted.

“
Why so?” Rena turned to
look at the woman. “Is he not as rich as Lord McNeill?”

“
Nay, ‘tis not that, he is
richer so I’ve heard from what the lawyer told Her Ladyship. To me,
she seems very please.”

“
Then what could be worst
than that Lord McNeil?”

“
Well, I heard the lawyer
said he is a very close friend of this duke.” She nodded her head
as if that should answer their question.

They looked at one another in confusion.

Ivy griped her hands and whispered, “I don’t
understand, Mrs. Johnson.” Her distress was apparent on her pale
face.

The housekeeper turned to Gray. “Haven’t you
seen the lawyer?”

“
Aye,” Gray
answered.

“
Then you should
understand.”

Gray looked at Mrs. Johnson blankly.

“
Ho, Gray, describe what
the lawyer looks like.”

“
Nice man; decently
dressed in a lawyer type of way, quite old, around fifty odd years.
He’s bald, of course,” Gray said, proudly touching his own hair
that was still dark and thick.

Ivy felt sick. The food in her stomach
started to protest.

“
He’s old,” Rena said,
nodding her head.

“
Aye, he’s old, and he
said his employer is his friend, might I say a very good friend.
Now, how old do you think this duke might be?” Mrs. Johnson asked
no one in particular.

“
He will be as old as this
lawyer is or even older,” Tracy said, shivering at the thought of
the baldhead.

“
Oh, God!” Ivy
whispered.

“
That’s not all,” the
housekeeper said quietly.

Everyone turned to look at her.

“
What do you mean?” Ivy
asked.

“
Oh, m’ lady, I’m sorry to
be the barer of bad news.” She sighed heavily as though she was
carrying a big burden on her plum shoulders. “M’ lady, this duke is
asking for you but not for marriage.” She took a deep breath and
said, “He is asking you to become his mistress.”

Ivy gasped. Her heart started to beat so
fast she thought she was going to die.

“
Oh God Almighty!” Rena
whispered and did the cross sign.

Ivy stared at Mrs. Johnson. She didn’t blink
and tears started to flow down her pale cheeks.

“
M’ lady,” the housekeeper
said, putting her arms around Ivy’s shoulders. “You should clear
away these dishes,” she said to the maids.

Both Rena and Tracy hurried to clear the
table. Once they were finished, Gray left with them.

“
Oh, Mrs. Johnson...” Ivy
sobbed. Her distress was so deep it hurt.

“
Hush, m’ lady, it’s going
to be all right,” the housekeeper said, patting her
back.

Later, after Ivy had had a good cry in her
arms, Mrs. Johnson left and locked the door as if no one had ever
gone inside.

CHAPTER 5

Waves of amber liquid slashed itself against
the crystal wall as Max twirled the wineglass about in his hand.
The study was in quietness except for the occasional crackling of
coals that were being devoured by the hungry fire.

He placed the wineglass on the table beside
him and relaxed back against the chair. He smiled.

Soon his plan for vengeance would be
fulfilled, and Lady Grace Westwood, the woman responsible, would
face justice and suffer as he had suffered.

“
Your grace, Mr. McDonald
is here to see you,” Donald announced at the doorway.

He nodded, and the butler left.

No doubt, he thought, Murphy was here to
report of their progress in his plan. His eyes twinkled with
amusement. A good report he hoped, from Murphy.

A few seconds later, he heard foot steps as
Murphy entered the room. He nodded at the older man. “’Tis late for
such a visit, is it not, my friend?”

“
Indeed, your grace, ‘tis
late but I must admit the report I am about to give you is worth
this very late meeting.” Murphy smiled merrily and took the seat
opposite Max.

“
Good news I hoped,
Murphy?”

“
Indeed, your grace, good
news indeed,” the older man said and chuckled, thinking about his
dinner that had just past four hours ago with Lady Grace
Westwood.

Lord, but the lady was a very enchanting
host indeed. She was wearing a yellow gown that was snuggly fitted
against her shapely body and that daring décolletage of hers had
enable his eyes to feast upon her white cleavage.

“
And what good news is
this, pray tell, Murphy,” Max said, his face turning hard in the
flickering light from the fire near him as he looked intensely at
the solicitor.

“‘
Tis about your proposal,
your grace, as you had predicted the Lady Westwood has grabbed this
offer with both hands. I must say ‘tis unusual that Her Ladyship
did not discuss such arrangement with her daughter.”

“
I do not care whether she
discussed of such offer to her daughter or not, Murphy.”

“
But still, ‘tis obvious
that she did not mention of her daughter’s decision.”

“
No matter, Murphy, I say
as long as they signed the contract that is all I care.”

“
Ah, the contract, that
puzzles me indeed. Her Ladyship has signed both agreements.” Murphy
bent down to open his satchel. He took out a piece of paper and
handed it over to Max.

So it was done, Max thought, as he stared
down at the paper in his hands. The very first step of his plan had
been successful. He smiled. It was too easy.

“
It worries me, your
grace.” Murphy raised his white brows and his wrinkle face
scrunched with concern.

“
Worried about what,
Murphy?”

“
I am worried that there
might be something wrong.”

“
I failed to see what you
are worried about, Murphy.” Max rested his head back as he
stretched out his muscular legs.

“
I find it hard to believe
that Lady Westwood would allow her daughter to become a man’s
mistress. After all, they are of noble blood and--”

“
And that worries you,
Murphy?” Max laughed, his timbre voice echoed loud in the
study.

“
Aye, I believe that she
was only too grateful to offer you her daughter because...the
daughter might be improper.”

“
What do you mean,
improper?”

“
The daughter might be an
invalid or that she might be very ugly and that no man wanted
her.”

Max laughed. “My friend, you need not worry
of such thing.”

“
But I’m still concern,
for I have asked to have a look at Lady Ivy this night, but Her
Ladyship had refused my advance.”

“
You should not worry
yourself, my friend. I have all that under control. I have only met
the girl herself recently.” Max smiled cynically; his mind went
back to that day when he had returned home to find her in his
bedroom.

She had touched his bed, the very bed he was
sleeping in. That act alone, he decided, had already condemned her
to become his mistress.

Again, he saw her staring up at him as she
stood before him. Her ugly grey gown was clutching to her small
frame, her thick, black curls hung in disarray about her back, and
her violet eyes, as she gazed at him, showed fear and surprise.

He thought about her generous lips. He felt
his groins tightened with desire. Why, just the very thought of her
brought lust to his wild blood--it angered him.

“
You have seen her? I must
ask, your grace, is she as beautiful as her mother?” Murphy wanted
to know. His interest sparked for he leaned forward, staring at his
young friends, begging the man with his grey eyes to tell the
tales.

“
She is beautiful, Murphy,
the very image of Lady Grace Westwood herself.” Max laughed at his
friend’s eagerness.

“
Indeed?”

“
Indeed.”

“
Dear me, too bad I won’t
be meeting her. I’m sure you would not be introducing your young
mistress to the ton, would you not, your grace?” Murphy laughed.
“She would be ruin if they know, of course, poor thing.”

“
Murphy, tell me, friend,
what is the date that I will be able to see my future
mistress?”

“
Ah, that, not too long,
your grace. In fact, the lady said you are to meet her daughter on
Tuesday at her country house, Michaels Mansion, three more days,
during the afternoon.”

“
Indeed,” Max said
cynically.

“
Aye, your grace, so
sudden. I wondered why she didn’t wait until the season
start.”

“
She is perhaps in
desperate need of money. Besides, if I were to court Lady Ivy
during the season in London, the ton would surely know and Lady
Westwood could not risk that.”

“
I assume then that she
intended to keep this hush, hush?”

Max nodded.

“
I assume then she would
also try to find a suitable husband for her daughter as well while
this is happening?”

“
I presume so. You look
very taken aback, Murphy.”

“
She is a very shrewd
woman.” Murphy yawned. “I must say, ‘tis getting very late. I will
be off to bed now.” He got up and stretched his back. It cracked as
he did so. “Oh dear me, I am much too old now.” He laughed. “Good
night,” he said, straightened his coat, and walked to the door.
There he turned once more to look at Max, nodded, and then
left.

Max turned his thought to his future
mistress. So he was to meet her in three days. He drummed his
fingers on the arm of the chair as he contemplated the scene that
would take place when they were to meet. No doubt, Lady Grace
Westwood would be very shock indeed to see him.

He grabbed for the glass of whisky and
dumped the rest of the amber liquid down his throat. It burnt hot
inside him, down to his stomach. He shut his eyes and savored the
hot intense feeling. He placed the glass on the table and strolled
upstairs.

In his room, he stood there in the glowing
candlelight, naked. His strong, muscular body bathed in the golden
halo as the light from the candles danced about the room.

He climbed into bed.

Once again, he was on the
road to completing his goal—
the goal to
ruin Lady Grace Westwood’s life and everything that she held
dear.

He was getting drowsy. The wine acted like a
drug that helped him to sleep. If he didn’t have it, he would find
himself spending an enormous amount of time thinking about anything
and everything through the night, and most of the time it was about
Dominic; his guidable brother.

What had made Dominic think that he could
beat the earl in the duel and win Grace back? Didn’t he know that
Grace had never planned to come back to him? That she was just
having her fun and didn’t give a damn about his pathetic life?

His mind switched to the raven hair girl who
had the nerve to come into his room and touch his bed. In his
mind’s eyes he saw her standing in this very room, with her black
hair floating about her back, her violet eyes were soft, her lips
were rosy, and her face blushed to perfection. His groins tightened
again. He shifted so that his body was lying on his side, easing
his hardening member. His legs ached to intertwine with hers,
pulling her body closer toward his. He ached to go inside her.

He flashed his eyes open. Why the hell did
he want her? Oh God, but he wanted her. He hadn’t had a woman for
three weeks, and he ached to have a woman in his bed. He reasoned
himself that since she was the very last woman he had seen, and a
very beautiful one at that, he fantasized about her. Aye, he
couldn’t deny himself that he wanted her. He turned again and then
drifted off into a slumber.