Page 49

Edward generally avoided balls. They were crowded, smelly, exhausting affairs requiring him to wear his least comfortable suit, stiffest boots, and tightest cravat.

He’d much rather have been riding his favourite gelding in the mews, or drinking whiskey in his library, or feasting on Ivy’s body in some shadowy alcove.

A body he’d spent most of the evening watching with unabashed desire.

Ivy was brilliant. She moved through the guests like a sleek ship cutting through waves, engaging in conversations with lords and ladies, even dancing with a few dandies.

Her face was a serene mask of charm, and while he’d noticed her finger tapping away at her skirts more than once, no one would ever guess the shy wallflower was anything less than a consummate host.

Edward kept his distance, watching the people around Ivy, focused on anyone who might look suspicious, but outside of a young man’s hand slipping lower than it should during a waltz, he’d seen nothing alarming. And Edward couldn’t stay away from her any longer.

Her back was turned to him as she spoke with Olivia.

Lady Smithwick was stunning in an ivory gown of gossamer fabric that captured the candlelight and shimmered pearl pink, icy blue, and pale green, constantly changing as she moved.

It clung to her curves and highlighted the woman’s pale skin and hair.

She looked like an ice queen descended from the high mountains and drew appreciative glances from more than one titled lord.

Her husband spent much of the evening hovering over her like a jealous dog guarding a bone.

Edward couldn’t imagine their union brought either of them much joy, yet Lord Smithwick wasn’t about to relinquish his possession.

‘Commissioner Worthington.’ Lord Percival Smithwick nodded curtly before his gaze swiftly returned to his wife.

Warm satisfaction flowed through Edward’s blood as Ivy turned sharply, her lips parting on an inhaled breath. The blush painted her skin, and his body leaned closer in an unspoken question.

Will you accept me? Will you accept my imperfect love?

‘Commissioner, I was hoping you might join us. How are you enjoying the evening?’ Lady Olivia’s warm greeting was the perfect foil to her husband’s cold reception.

Edward forced himself to turn to the elegant lady who helped mastermind the charity ball.

‘Quite the turnout, Lady Olivia. Even your brother has graced us with his presence. I thought he only attended events when the Queen was present. Dare we hope Her Royal Highness might surprise us with a visit?’

Lord Smithwick put a possessive hand on Olivia’s arm, tugging her closer to him. ‘Doubtful. The Lord High Chancellor is a loyal brother, and his presence here is a credit to the devotion he has to his sister. He’s always wanted the best for you, hasn’t he, Olivia?’

Something ugly passed between the couple. A message Edward couldn’t decipher, but one he noted.

Shifting slightly so her shoulder turned away from Lord Smithwick, she regained some of the space he’d sought to shrink.

Olivia smiled at Edward. ‘Indeed. My brother cares a great deal for me. I’m sure his presence here has helped convince others to give generously.

We’ve already raised more money than we expected.

’ She tipped her chin at the chest set up on a table in front of the unlit hearth.

The massive fireplace was large enough to fit five men standing shoulder to shoulder.

Edward followed her gaze and saw young Henry standing next to the chest with Sarah on the other side.

His thin shoulders were thrown back, chest puffed out as he guarded the donations with a fierce scowl on his young face.

Sarah was watching the ladies on the dance floor, her eyes wide with wonder.

She looked charming in a dress of white with pink lace trim.

‘It looks like you chose the right guards for the donations.’ Edward smiled across the ballroom at the lad whose cheeks flushed crimson at the recognition, then winked at Sarah, who burst into a giggle, pressing her hand over her mouth.

Olivia laughed. ‘He insisted on it and who could pass by sweet little Sarah and not be tempted to give generously? Don’t worry, I’ve commandeered some of your fine officers to ensure the children and the money are safe.’

Standing behind Henry and Sarah were three constables in the unmistakable blue coat and brass buttons of the Metropolitan Police.

Edward didn’t recognise them, but with a police force boasting several thousand, it wasn’t surprising.

The men were scanning the crowd. Edward took comfort in knowing any thief would have to get through three grown men before they faced off against Henry and Sarah.

Edward turned his focus to Ivy and willed his voice to remain steady. ‘You are looking especially lovely this evening, Lady Cavendale.’ He couldn’t stop himself from taking in all her stunning beauty. He knew his gaze lingered far too long to be considered polite, but he didn’t care.

‘As are you, Worthington.’ Ivy’s lips curled at the corners. ‘Are you ready?’

Edward cocked his head. ‘For what?’

‘Our announcement. You didn’t think I would stand in front of all these people alone, did you?’

Actually, he hadn’t given any thought to how they would announce their task force.

A glaring oversight. His mind had been so distracted by thoughts of Ivy, he hadn’t even considered that he would need to speak in front of the entire beau monde.

His mouth became dry as the desert, and all words fled his mind.

The orchestra struck up a waltz. In a fit of panic, Edward extended his hand to Ivy. ‘First, a dance?’

Ivy bowed and took his hand. He led her to the crowded dance floor and settled his fingers around her waist. Her lean, powerful body was like an anchor holding him steady in a stormy sea. As the cello and violins swept them away, Edward felt the unfamiliar flutter of nerves in his belly.

‘I owe you an apology, Ivy.’

She spun out from him then swirled back into his arms. ‘Indeed. I woke to an empty bed this morning.’

He blinked, cursing his own cowardice. ‘I thought it would be best to leave you alone.’

‘No.’ Ivy squeezed his shoulder. ‘You thought it would be best to remain alone. There is a difference.’

He swallowed his quick response. Because she was right.

Guiding them in a flurry of intricate steps, he manoeuvred them close to the wall of windows looking out on Philippa’s gardens.

Honeysuckle, roses, and hyacinth sweetened the air as a summer breeze wafted through the window.

There was a French door propped open to let in the night air.

Slipping Ivy’s hand from his shoulder, he interlaced their fingers and tugged her onto the veranda.

‘Commissioner Worthington, you shall create a scandal at our charity ball.’

‘I don’t care. I will not have this conversation with the beau monde watching.’ He pulled her to the corner of the marble porch and spun to face her. ‘I am a flawed man, Ivy. And you are right. I meant to remain alone. I thought it a fitting punishment for my crimes.’

‘Edward, you are not responsible for Liza’s death.’

He nodded. ‘I know that now. In my head.’ He tapped his temple. ‘But it still doesn’t feel that way in here.’ Moving his hand to his heart, he flattened his palm against his jacket and felt the wild beat. ‘But I’m endeavouring to convince my heart to catch up with my head.’

She covered his hand with her own. ‘Would you like some company whilst you persuade yourself to accept that I love you, Edward?’

Her words broke his last shield like shattering glass. Lifting their joint hands, he pressed a kiss to her palm. ‘You love me?’ It was more than he could hope for. The familiar whisper of unworthiness wound through his thoughts, reminding him of every reason he was undeserving. ‘I don’t?—’

Her hand flew through the air, connecting with his cheek in a stinging smack. He was shocked into silence. It was the second time in as many days a beautiful woman had slapped him.

Ivy rubbed where her hand left a red mark. ‘Cease telling me you don’t deserve my love. In fact, the next time you profess your unworthiness, I shall do worse.’

Like dousing a sleeping person with cold water, her promise cleared away the mists of his past and awakened something new within Edward. Hope for the future. ‘I must confess, I find myself wondering exactly what kind of punishment you might exact upon me.’

Ivy pulled his head down and pressed her lips against his. Her tongue darted out to test the seam of his mouth. When he opened to her, she plunged in, exploring his depths. He grew hard and needy in an instant.

‘Have you ever tupped fully clothed outside a crowded ballroom?’ It was a wicked proposition and impossibly dangerous. Anyone could discover them. But Edward didn’t give a flaming fig.

‘Oh yes. All the time,’ she quipped. When he ran his finger along her plunging neckline, she shuddered. ‘We need to speak to the guests, Edward. Remember?’

‘We will. In a moment.’ He bent his head to follow the trail his fingers took with his tongue, nuzzling the sweet rise of her left breast, then her right.

Ivy’s hands were in his hair, tugging. ‘You are impossible.’

‘And yet, you still love me.’ Just saying the words breathed life into his creaky soul.

His thumb breached the boundary of silk hiding her sweet nipple from him. She moaned, her forehead resting on his shoulder. He leaned closer, kissing her neck, tasting the salty sweetness of her skin.

‘I do. I love you. And I promise we shall finish this. Later.’ When she pushed him away, Edward reluctantly submitted.

‘Fine.’ He felt like a schoolboy being denied a sweet. But a treat deferred only became more delicious when it was finally consumed. ‘But I shall hold you to that promise, Ivy Cavendale.’