Page 26

Philippa arched a black brow and followed Edward with her far too astute gaze. ‘I wouldn’t question a woman’s reason, Edward. We are far more reasonable than our male counterparts. Though, in this instance, I fear you make a point.’

Edward took perverse joy in Ivy’s shocked look.

I am right, sometimes.

‘Pardon?’ Ivy focused her anger on Philippa, which was a nice reprieve for Edward.

Philippa shrugged a shoulder. ‘I hate to admit it, but he is. The Devil’s Sons are becoming bolder by the day, and I won’t risk your life to prove a point about a woman’s right to independence.’

Ivy clenched her teeth. ‘This is ridiculous. So, I’m to just stay under lock and key indefinitely?’

‘Oh, I don’t think it will take too long to flush out our prey. In fact, I have an idea.’ Philippa’s crimson lips curled in a smile that inspired pure dread within Edward. He’d seen that look before.

‘Dare I ask?’ He steeled himself for something dreadful.

‘We’ve already caught one of the Devil’s Sons’ leaders.

The Snake. The Wolf has just shown his hand with this note, and once we catch him, the Crow will have nowhere to hide.

Powerful men who rule by fear expect to be obeyed.

The best way to provoke this wolf into a rash decision is to defy his orders.

He wants Ivy to leave the orphanage, but we’ll announce the opposite.

Ivy Cavendale will become the champion of all orphans. ’

The parlour door opened, and a dour-faced butler with the military posture of a general and the disapproving brow of a priest slowly entered.

‘You rang for me, Your Grace? Are you in need of your lap blanket? I know older ladies are more susceptible to the cold.’ His face remained impassive, but there was a hint of triumph in the way he tilted his chin up.

Philippa and her butler had been waging war against each other since the duke died over ten years past. It was a rare treat to watch one of their skirmishes, and Edward appreciated the distraction from their tense conversation.

Philippa’s mouth crimped at the corner. She exhaled long and low through her nose. ‘Don’t be stupid, Stokes. Your thoughts must be dusty from lack of use. Do try to focus. There is much to be done.’

‘Of course, Your Grace. Done for what?’ Stokes kept his gaze focused on the carpet in front of him, the perfect picture of obedience.

‘For the charity ball we are going to host, of course.’

Ivy’s face broke into an astonished smile at the same time Stokes’ lips pulled down in a pained expression.

‘And when is this wonderful event taking place?’ Stokes could have been asking how long it might take dysentery to kill a person.

‘Two weeks. So we’ve no time to spare. Invitations must be sent immediately. Just think what fun you’ll have decorating, Stokes.’ Based on Philippa’s smile and Stokes’ heavy sigh, Edward guessed he wouldn’t be having much fun at all.

‘Thank you, Philippa! Truly.’

Philippa narrowed her gaze, looking quite fierce. ‘Where else would we announce your decision to stay on as headmistress of All Soul’s Orphanage indefinitely?’

‘May I have the note? I would like to compare the writing to the one we found on Lord Thurston.’ Edward stood from the settee and walked to Ivy. She tilted her nose up, her wide mouth pressed together in an expression leaving no doubt in his mind what she thought of him. She was livid.

So be it. Anger is an emotion I know well. Anger I can manage.

It was every other emotion Ivy inspired within him that he found difficult to contain.

Emotions best left unexamined and locked away in the dark corners of his soul.

But for whatever reason, every time he was in Ivy’s presence, those rogue feelings started banging on the walls, demanding attention, fighting to be let free, wanting to run riot through his system like a terrible fever.

Handing the note over with no other comment, Ivy returned her attention to Philippa. ‘Olivia will be so thrilled.’

Philippa’s lip curled as though she smelt something rotten.

‘Is Her Grace’s indigestion acting up? Should I instruct Cook to prepare you stewed prunes again?’ Stokes’ mouth twitched as he rocked ever so slightly on his heels.

Philippa blinked at the man. ‘I hardly think you have time to be making ridiculous suggestions when there is a ball to organise.’

‘Of course, Your Grace.’ Stokes bowed his head in a jerky movement and turned, slowly exiting the room.

Philippa hissed out a disgusted breath. ‘I should pension the bastard off.’

‘Then who would you practise taking shots at?’ Edward asked.

‘I’m just so glad you are willing to host the ball, Philippa.

Truly. We really do need the funds most desperately.

’ Ivy stood, and Edward couldn’t help noticing how her day dress fell in soft folds.

The simple cut highlighted Ivy’s long, lean lines.

He ached to touch her as he had at the Widow’s Ball. To feel her pressed against him.

To lie naked with her.

A shocking thought to have in Philippa’s parlour. But once the image crept into his mind, it was impossible to dispel. There was something achingly intimate about two bodies stripped of their shields, sheltering one another, skin against skin.

As if he needed a reminder of all the reasons he deserved no such sweetness in his life, Philippa cleared her throat, her gaze once more on Edward.

‘I think it’s time you escorted Ivy home. Do try to make sure she doesn’t have to save you from any more pistol-wielding gentlemen, Edward. It is your job to protect her, you’ll remember.’

Lovely of her to bring up his failure to keep Ivy safe. Just as he had failed Philippa so many years ago. A timely reminder.

Ivy turned her back to Edward, facing Philippa instead. ‘I’m sure Commissioner Worthington has much to do without escorting me home.’

Ivy moved to the door, but Edward was faster, catching her hand and pulling her to an abrupt stop.

The flash in Philippa’s eyes should have warned him, but it was too late.

She’d already seen Edward’s frantic reaction.

Knowing Philippa’s quick mind, she would form conclusions far too close to the truth.

He dropped Ivy’s hand as though it burned him.

‘As Philippa pointed out, it is my job to ensure your safety, Lady Ivy. My carriage is outside, and I will happily escort you back to the orphanage. I’m sure Reading will inform me of any pressing matters at 4 Whitehall Place should they arise.

In the meantime, there is plenty of paperwork I can accomplish just as easily in my borrowed room at the orphanage as I could in my office.

Philippa, would one of your footmen be so good as to run a note to Reading?

He can send me my files.’ Maybe Philippa would think his concern was merely about protecting Ivy. Nothing more.

‘Of course.’ Philippa nodded. ‘Ivy, I need to speak with Edward alone for a moment.’

Or maybe she will see right through me and cut off my bollocks once Ivy steps out of the parlour.

Ivy looked from Philippa to Edward, then back again. Her brow quirked.

Edward bit the inside of his cheek. He would not be charmed by a woman’s brow. It was ridiculous.

‘Of course.’ But the look she gave Philippa was full of hidden meaning.

What the devil are they discussing? And how do women communicate with each other without saying a word?

It was a trick he’d love to learn.

‘We shan’t be long.’ Philippa took Ivy’s hand and squeezed it. ‘Edward will meet you in the entryway in a few minutes.’

Ivy did not glance at Edward as she left the parlour. Her anger with him was increasing by the moment, but he refused to feel guilty.

I’m trying to protect her.

He followed Philippa with his gaze as she walked across the room and peered out the window. She stretched the silence so tightly, Edward was sure he could hear the fabric of time tear just a little. But he wouldn’t speak first. She called this meeting.

So, she can bloody well start the conversation.

Edward strolled around the settee and tugged up his trousers to take a seat. Folding his hands in front of him, he leaned back and sighed.

Philippa turned to face him and rolled her eyes. ‘You won’t admit it. So, fine. I shall say it for you. You like Ivy.’

‘She is a kind, thoughtful woman. I’m sure a great number of people like her. Yourself included, and you like far fewer people than I do, Philippa.’

Tsking, Philippa turned back to the window, brushing her hand over the thick, woven curtain. ‘Don’t ruin my opinion of you by being so wilfully ignorant.’

Something in her tone cracked Edward’s composure, allowing scissures of irritation to burn through his shell of control.

‘I rather thought your opinion of me was irrevocably destroyed all those years ago. Isn’t that what this conversation is really about? Warning me away from Ivy? Reminding me of all the reasons why I will never deserve that kind of happiness? Because trust me, I am aware.’

Philippa left the window and walked to the chair opposite Edward, but she did not sit. Instead, she rested her hand on the back of it. ‘Don’t be an idiot, Edward. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life in misery. She wouldn’t have wanted that either.’

‘Nor would she want you to spend the rest of your life mourning her. That is why you still wear the colours of a newly widowed woman, though your husband has been dead for more than a decade. Because you are still grieving her. Tell me I’m wrong?’

‘I find darker colours to be more flattering.’

‘Bollocks! How can you possibly expect me to entertain ideas of love or marriage if you refuse to move forward?’

‘Because I lost the other half of my soul, Edward.’ Philippa’s voice wavered, and tears shone in her eyes in a shocking display of emotion. ‘I lost my life partner.’

‘And I am to blame for that, Philippa.’

She closed her eyes. A single tear tracked down her cheek as she slowly shook her head.

‘I thought that for a very long time. But I was wrong.’ Wiping the tear away as if it never existed, she pinned Edward with her gaze.

‘It was easier to hate you than forgive you, but I can’t find peace within myself if I’m still at war with you. ’

Edward slipped off the settee and went to Philippa. ‘I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Philippa.’

‘You’re getting it anyway.’

What was the appropriate response for such a stern offering of grace?

A handshake?

Too American.

A hug?

Most definitely not.

A carefully penned note of thanks?

I’m not an eighty-year-old dowager.

‘Err. Well. Thank you.’

Philippa rolled her eyes. ‘Dear God. I wasn’t sure things could get more awkward, but you’ve managed to find a way. Bravo. Let’s never mention this again.’

Rocking back on his heels, relief swept through him. ‘Yes, wonderful suggestion.’

‘Now, will you finally admit you like Ivy?’

As quickly as the relief arrived, it was gone again. Edward exhaled a pained breath. She was incessant. But he couldn’t lie to Philippa. ‘I do. I like her very much.’

Dear God. I’ve admitted it.

Something about saying the words aloud gave them power. Like incanting a spell. He felt a rush of energy flow through his body.

Philippa’s cobalt eyes flashed. ‘I knew it. A word of advice.’

She wasn’t asking his permission, but Edward nodded anyway.

‘Some fears must be faced alone. Others require the support of a friend. Be a friend to her before you are anything else.’

Damnation. I hate when she is right.

‘I’m not sure I’m the kind of friend she needs.’

Philippa tapped a finger against her lip. ‘I’m not sure either.’ Before he could respond to her encouraging show of confidence, she continued speaking. ‘But there is only one way to find out. I wouldn’t keep her waiting much longer. If I know Ivy, she’ll find her own way home soon.’

‘Right.’ Edward gave Philippa an abbreviated bow, then walked to the door.

‘Oh, and Edward?’

He paused in the door frame.

‘I will cut you open and hang you from London Bridge by your own entrails if you hurt her.’ Philippa’s smile was stunning. ‘Fair warning.’

And how does one respond to that? Certainly not a handshake or a hug.

He settled for a nod. ‘I would expect nothing less from you.’