Page 43

While Ivy’s days had been busy, her nights were decidedly quiet without even a purring kitten to keep her company.

As she thought back on her early mornings and late evenings, she realised, Edward had been avoiding her.

Though he still slept at the orphanage, he often ran out the door just as she came down to break her fast, not returning until well after Ivy sought her bed.

‘Why?’ It was an excellent question. No one in her room could give an adequate answer, as she was the only one there. But she knew where she might find a man who could.

Already in her nightgown, Ivy took the wrapper from the peg next to her bed. She padded in bare feet down the hall, pausing when a soft cough came from Henry’s room. After several moments of silence, Ivy continued her sojourn to the first door in the hallway. Edward’s door.

Her nerves jangled like chains on a carriage, but she would not be deterred.

They had a deal, and he wasn’t fulfilling his portion.

She deserved to know why. ‘Put your shoulders back. Straighten your spine. Don’t be a silly ninny.

’ Clearing her throat, she lifted her hand and knocked smartly on the door, then cringed at the loud sound, looking down the hallway to ensure no sleeping children had been disturbed.

The door flew open, and Edward stood in his breeches and linen shirt.

He swiped off his glasses and shoved them in his pocket.

His feet were bare. That detail caused another thud in her chest as her breasts became unaccountably heavy.

It seemed implausible their meagre weight could increase for no reason other than Edward’s bare feet, and yet they did.

Her nipples constricted into tingling buds and warmth unfurled in her belly.

What kind of crazed woman turns into a puddle over naked toes?

The Ivy-kind of crazed woman. Blinking hard, she pulled her focus back to Edward’s face. His dark eyes were hooded, his cheeks unshaven, and his usually neat hair needed a trim. ‘Are you well?’

Because you don’t look well. You look haunted.

Though she wasn’t about to say that aloud. What if he was ill? What if Sarah’s cold had transferred to Edward? That would explain his unwillingness to visit her room these past few nights.

I am terrible to hope illness upon someone as a favourable alternative to being rejected.

But there it was. She felt rejected. Because Edward had not sought her out after their life-altering evening together.

At least, it was life-altering for me. Mayhap it was just a normal Tuesday evening for Edward Worthington. Bastard.

‘I am fine. Just tired. It has been a busy week.’

In all her years of fearing men, she never imagined she might be hurt by a man avoiding her. In fact, avoidance had always been something she worked to achieve. If men didn’t want her, they couldn’t take from her. They couldn’t hurt her. But this rejection was altogether different. It did hurt.

Because I do want him. Most ardently .

But even more than wanting, she missed him.

She had grown to enjoy their mornings together discussing what tasks they must complete each day.

Edward’s mind fascinated Ivy, and she enjoyed listening to him talk through a problem.

Even more, she loved that he listened to her, sought out her opinion, appreciated her input.

Before Edward, the only men she knew were her father and brothers and her relationship with them could hardly be construed as pleasant.

Her father considered Ivy a commodity he owned and could sell to a future husband.

Her older brother treated her like a nuisance to be endured at formal functions.

Even her younger brother, who she’d been closest to before he left for the war and never returned, thought of her more as an affectionate pet than a fully fledged human.

Never in her nine and twenty years had she imagined becoming friends with a man.

Yet, of all the confusing and conflicting emotions Edward inspired within Ivy, the warm affection of friendship was the most surprising.

And now he was giving her the cold shoulder. She wished to know why.

Deciding to take the offence, Ivy strolled into his room and spun, her hand on her hip. ‘I thought you were a man of your word, but you reneged on our deal.’

His dark-blue eyes deepened to midnight skies and he stepped closer to her. ‘That is a serious accusation to make about a gentleman.’

For the first time since meeting him, Ivy was reminded that Lord Edward Worthington, Commissioner of Scotland Yard, Duke of Landbourne, was a dangerous man. She took a half-step back before stopping herself. Because she also remembered that she was an equally dangerous woman.

‘I’m not accusing you. I’m simply stating a fact.

You said nothing could keep you from me.

Twelve days have passed. Twelve nights, and it would seem nothing has kept you from me.

Nothing has occurred and you have stayed away.

Explain yourself, sir.’ The thrill of a fight zinged through her.

God, it felt good to confront this big, powerful, deadly man and know she could hold her own.

‘Explain myself? Do you really want my explanation, Ivy?’ Something dark and hard flashed in his eyes and Ivy wasn’t sure. What if she was the reason he stayed away?

But facing the truth was better than living in fear of it. ‘Is it because of me? Did I do something wrong?’ Ivy was unschooled in the ways of intimacy and Edward surely felt the tedium of trying to navigate the treacherous bog of her past trauma.

No doubt, he had been with many women, all far more sophisticated and knowledgeable than her. All eager to engage in unimaginable naughtiness. It couldn’t be very thrilling to try and school a woman in bed sport when his time was spent avoiding anything that might frighten her.

She was mildly shocked when he stepped forward and dove his fingers into her hair, gripping her waist with his other hand.

He held her head steady as he leaned closer.

Leather, coffee and mint infiltrated her senses.

‘You did everything right. I promised I would make this only about your needs. Your wants. But then I had you on your knees sucking me so fucking sweetly. You make me want what I cannot have.’ As if to prove his point, he pressed his mouth against hers in a punishing kiss.

Licking the seam of her lips insistently, Ivy opened for him.

His tongue plunged into her depths, and she tangled with him in a frantic battle for control.

Slipping her hand under his shirt, she traced her fingers up his stomach muscles, pressing her thumb against the flat disc of his nipple.

His body hardened and she swallowed his groan. But instead of deepening their kiss, touching her, commanding Ivy to do something decidedly wicked, Edward did the worst possible thing. He froze. Ivy recognised his reaction.

Oh God. He’s frightened. What could possibly scare Edward?

She pulled away instantly, letting her hand fall from his body. ‘What’s wrong?’

Taking an unsteady step back, Edward ran his finger through his hair, tugging hard on the strands and looking everywhere but at Ivy. ‘We must talk.’

This is bad. Really bad. Who hurt you, Edward? And where are they now so I may destroy them?

The need to strike, maim, and systematically dismantle whoever had created such fear in him shocked Ivy, but she leaned into the violent emotions. Because when it came to protecting those she cared about, Ivy was beginning to realise she was a force with whom one did not trifle.

‘Sit.’ He gestured to the bed.

Pulling her wrapper tight around her, Ivy sat on the edge of the mattress, her muscles tense and ready. Edward grabbed the chair from his desk and sat opposite her, resting his forearms on his splayed legs. His gaze stayed fixed on the wooden floor between them.

‘Tell me, Edward.’ No matter how bad it was, she needed to know.

Her heart thumped painfully.

Damnation.

‘I’ve done something terrible, Ivy. Something I can never undo.’

‘What?’ She ached to reach out to him, but the distance was too great.

‘I killed my sister.’

Everything warm and soft within Ivy froze solid.