Page 15 of My Secret Duke
I vo found it difficult to sleep. He knew he should not have said what he said to Olivia, even if it was true. He should have offered her encouragement and support. But how could he? He knew marrying Prince Nikolai would be a dreadful mistake. Yes, the prince might be rich and well connected, but Ivo believed that if she leg-shackled herself to that man, the bright, adventurous spirit inside her would wither and die. She would be forced into a mold that she did not fit, and it would eventually destroy her.
At the age of twenty-seven, Ivo had had his share of liaisons. For a time, he had even kept a mistress, but that had ended when she had up and married. It hadn’t been love—Ivo did not think he had ever been in love—which was why this “feeling” he had for Olivia Ashton was so bloody confusing. After his proposal to her, he had thought his turbulent emotions would eventually settle, and he could be comfortable again. So far, that hadn’t happened, and he suspected it wouldn’t until he could have a good, long period of time without being in her presence. Kissing her and dancing with her only made things worse, and he was guiltily aware they had made things worse for her too.
Ivo groaned. What had he been thinking during those times they met together, before the disaster of the Elphinstones’ musical evening? He admitted he hadn’t been thinking much at all. He had wanted to be with Olivia. Her company was like a bright star in his day, and yes, he had probably had ideas of kissing her and seeing where that led, but he had swiftly decided he did not want to hurt her. When he was with her, Ivo grew a conscience, which was very much at odds with his usual reckless behavior. He even felt ashamed of some of the foolish things he had done in the past, although he had refused to admit it.
Until now.
When they had kissed in the garden, it had felt like he had come home. But the precious moment with her in his arms did not seem to have meant as much to Olivia—she had shrugged it off easily enough with her talk of castles. Her decision was made, and he must accept it. He must not interfere in her life anymore. Tomorrow, he would make his excuses and go back to Whitmont. When he was once again embroiled in his own busy affairs, he would be able to put his disappointment behind him.
He recalled he had made a bet at his club. A horse race out into the country between himself and another gentleman, with the loser to be ducked into a pond at a nearby inn. It had seemed like an amusing thing to do at the time, but now… it made him feel uncomfortable. He could be doing something else far more important. He was the Duke of Northam, for God’s sake!
He should be tending to his estate and running his smuggling operation. His man of business had sent Charles Wickley a formal agreement over the partnership in Cadieux’s, and he should be thinking of that too, and how he could make the most of what promised to be an unexpected windfall.
Were his days as a risk-taker over? No, he didn’t think so. He would always be that man, but it was time to restrain those selfish, more precarious impulses and look to a steadier future.
Eventually, he fell into a restless slumber, but the next morning he woke bleary-eyed and morose. Not his usual cheerful and charming self. At breakfast, his sisters eyed him with dismay, and Annette asked him if he was quite well.
“We can’t all be little rays of sunshine,” he said, which made her laugh. It was nice to be on good terms again with Annette. Apart from his sisters and his mother—and they were family—Ivo did not have many close female friends, and he had missed their conversations. For a time, Olivia had seemed like a friend, more than a friend, and their moments together were some of his most memorable. But he was determined to shut that door.
“I’m glad you are coming on the excursion today,” Lexy said. “Mama is resting, but the viscountess will be braving the outdoors with us.”
Annette blanched. “She still hasn’t accepted we are not destined to marry,” she said, dropping her voice. “She thinks that at some point, we will realize we are meant to be.”
Ivo was aware that Viscountess Monteith was notoriously critical, her standards impossibly high, especially when it came to her daughter. Last night, he had told himself he would make some excuse and leave this morning, but could he really leave his friend when she needed him most?
“I will divert her attention,” he said bravely, and received beaming smiles from the three women.
“Good morning.”
Charles Wickley had arrived, looking as if his sleep last night had been fresh and worry-free. Seeing him now reminded Ivo that last night during their dance, Olivia had been concerned about her sister falling under Charles’s spell.
Ivo could well understand that concern. Charles would not be the only gentleman to indulge in a fondness for the ladies, but if he was Ivo’s half brother, then he may well have inherited their father’s nasty habit of seducing every female who crossed his path. It didn’t take much imagination for Ivo to see what would happen if Charles broke Justina’s heart. Or worse, ruined her reputation. More turmoil for the Ashtons. But Ivo wasn’t only thinking of Olivia’s feelings; it would be awkward for him too. Charles was his associate in the smuggling venture, and soon to be his partner in a gambling club. It made sense for Ivo to warn him off before things became more complicated.
Ivo was deep in his thoughts, and it took a moment for him to realize that there was a heated discussion going on about where they should go for their excursion today. The weather promised to be good, and there were a number of beauty spots in the vicinity. The choice was between the coast, where the beaches were attractive contenders, or inland, where just beyond the borders of the Grantham estate was a well-known lookout, with stunning views over the surrounding area.
By the time Ivo rose from the table, the lookout appeared to have won. As he passed behind Charles, who was tucking into a hearty breakfast, he bent and spoke in a low voice. “Come and find me when you’re done. We need to speak.”
He didn’t give the man a chance to reply but went on his way. He would change into his riding outfit, wander down to the stables, and wait for the others.
“Good morning.”
Once again, Prince Nikolai was in the stable yard, watching as Otto walked the prize stallion back and forth. He looked up in surprise at Ivo’s greeting, before giving him a brief nod of acknowledgment and turning back to whatever it was about the animal that was causing him to frown.
“Is he lame?” Ivo asked curiously, pausing by the prince’s side.
Nikolai stiffened as though he had been sworn at. “No,” he said in a sharp voice. “I think just a little soreness. That wretched girl rode him hard.”
“That wretched girl” being Roberta. Despite her apology, it seemed that the prince had not forgiven her.
“Are you coming on the excursion?” Ivo asked. “You could ride Leopold. He might just need a leisurely trot to sort out his problems.”
The prince ignored him as if Ivo wasn’t worth the bother. Charming! Ivo gave up on the rude fellow and made his way into the stables to find his own mount. The others would be here soon, but he hoped Charles would reach him first so that they could have their “chat.”
Ivo greeted the horses they had brought with them from Whitmont. He had been worried he might have to sell some of them but perhaps now he wouldn’t have to. Just as he was making his choice of a suitable mount, he heard Charles speak his name.
The man looked as unruffled as he had earlier. He was dressed in a plain dark coat but with a colorful waistcoat beneath it, which seemed to be an idiosyncrasy, and his fair hair shone in the light from the stable doors.
“You wanted a word?” Charles asked with a smile, and raised an inquiring eyebrow.
For a moment, Ivo could only stare because that gesture was so familiar. He did it himself, but it was something his father also used to do. Ivo cleared his throat and gave a surreptitious glance about them to make sure there was no one within listening distance.
“I noticed at the ball you were dancing with Lady Justina. And at the archery contest, you seemed… close.”
Charles’s smile faded, and the friendliness left his eyes.
Ivo carried on. “I hope you have considered the disparity between her situation and yours.”
“You don’t think I’m good enough for her.” It wasn’t a question, and now there was a flush on the other man’s cheeks. A sign of either anger or embarrassment.
“No, that is not what I meant. Justina is young and vulnerable, and you are a man with a certain reputation. You must see how your attentions to her could be misconstrued?”
“Misconstrued?” Charles echoed. Those familiar blue eyes were fixed on him with such intensity that Ivo, who rarely felt uncomfortable, wanted to squirm. He reminded himself that he was quite within his rights to talk of these things. Or was Charles such a cad that he would refuse to listen?
“Must I explain myself further?” Ivo said impatiently. “Surely you can see how Justina could take your attentions more seriously than they are intended. You would be wise to remove yourself from Grantham before matters cross that line. Put some distance between the two of you.”
Because that was what Ivo would be doing.
Charles’s eyes narrowed. His hands clenched into fists at his side. “Why are you telling me this?” he said in a muffled tone, very unlike his usual voice. “Are you Justina’s protector? Isn’t it up to Gabriel—who is my best friend, by the way—to remind me of my lowly position?” He was angry but containing it.
Ivo suspected he had pressed upon a tender spot. “I did not mean,” he began awkwardly, forced into the unfamiliar position of explaining his high-handedness.
But Charles had heard enough. “Perhaps you should look to your own house before you start rummaging through mine,” he said loudly enough to startle the nearby horses. “By my reckoning, you have twice jeopardized Olivia’s chances of reentering society and making a decent match. You are in no position to throw stones, Your Grace .”
Ivo flushed angrily. This was not going at all as he had expected. It was as if he and Charles were engaged in swordplay, and their words were drawing blood. “My actions are none of your business,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Oh, are they not? And yet my life is your business?” Charles regarded Ivo quizzically, and that damned eyebrow lifted again.
Ivo took a calming breath. “I am simply trying to prevent another scandal. Haven’t the Ashtons had enough of them lately? I know Olivia is concerned—”
“Oh, Olivia is concerned? So she has sent you like some sort of knight in rusty armor to dispatch me.” Charles shook his head in disgust, and then, with a mocking sketch of a bow, turned on his heel.
Knight in rusty armor?
Ivo was left standing there, fuming, while the rest of the party for the excursion began to arrive. Forced to push down his emotions, he plastered a smile on his face and endeavored to make polite conversation.
The excursion had turned into a picnic—Vivienne’s bright idea—and there was a delay while everything was prepared and packed. When they set off at last, most of the men were on horseback, while the rest of the party had taken advantage of the comfortable conveyances. Slower carts were carrying the servants and the picnic paraphernalia. This may be an outdoor meal, but no one was expecting to “rough it.” As they rode along, the prince dawdled by the carriage, paying special attention to Olivia.
Ivo pretended not to notice because, as Charles had reminded him, he had done enough damage already.
According to Gabriel, Charles had bowed out of their expedition, claiming he had business to attend to, and although Ivo thought that was a wise move, he couldn’t help noting Justina’s long face. As he had suspected, the girl’s hopes had already been raised by Charles’s careless attentions, and he’d be surprised if Gabriel had not noticed and raised the matter with his best friend.
They were passing through woods, and the conversation melded into the sounds of nature. Birds twittered, and the breeze stirred the leaves on the ancient trees. It was all very pleasant, unlike his thoughts. He wasn’t sure whether he was angry, insulted, or discomforted by Charles’s dressing-down. Unwelcome as it had been, it had given him food for thought.
At the heart of his discomposure was the knowledge that the man was right. He had added to Olivia’s disgrace. And yet would she have kissed him like that if she did not like him?
I want you too.
She had said that, and now the memory of her soft lips beneath his, and the warmth of her body molded to his, made him shift uncomfortably in his saddle. He desired her, there was no doubt about that. He knew what desire felt like. But this was more than a mere physical attraction, because whenever they were together it felt right , and he could not understand why she did not admit to feeling it too. And then he remembered how clear-sighted she had been when she’d told Ivo that life with him was not what she wanted. How marrying a prince would benefit her far more, certainly financially but also how it would secure her future. She had looked at Ivo’s character and prospects and rejected him. How could she be so passionate and imprudent on the one hand, and so cool and pragmatic on the other? And why in God’s name was he thinking about her when he had said he would not!
“Not far now!” Gabriel called as they began to ascend the track to the lookout spot. The woods were left behind, and the countryside opened up. Adelina had just commented that soon they may be able to glimpse the sea, when there was a shout behind them. The vehicles and horses came to a halt, and heads turned.
A rider was galloping toward them, and Ivo frowned when he recognized Charles Wickley. Had he decided to join the party after all? Surely this seemed rather dramatic.
Charles brought his mount closer to Ivo, and now he addressed him formally. “Your Grace. Your mother has sent me. You are wanted at Whitmont. Immediately.”
Ivo stared at him in confusion, ignoring the questions being thrown at them. “Is someone ill?” Ivo asked. Despite the sun, he felt a sudden chill at the thought.
“Your mother has received a message from your butler.” Charles reached into his waistcoat, pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, and handed it across.
What on earth…? Viscountess Monteith demanded to know what was happening as Ivo unfolded the single sheet, but he concentrated on the message. He heard Lexy ask him what was wrong, and Adelina’s reply that it must be something urgent.
Ivo, Lieutenant Harrison and his men are camping at Whitmont, and Carlyon says he is threatening to turn the house upside down! You need to return home immediately and put a stop to it. Carlyon says that although he has locked and bolted the doors, he is not sure he can keep them out much longer.
His heart was jumping, and his blood pumping, but there was nothing in his calm demeanor to show it. The revenue officer and his men were at Whitmont, nosing about, and there could only be one reason for it. He crumpled the paper into a ball and squeezed it in his fist. The smile he gave to the others was as near to genuine as he could manage. “Nothing to worry about,” he said. “Just some tedious matter I need to see to at home. I’ll have to leave immediately and forgo the pleasure of our picnic. My apologies.”
Despite his best intentions, his gaze passed over the surprised and curious faces, and paused at Olivia. She looked as concerned as the others and also a little… disappointed? There was no time to reflect on that, because his sisters and the viscountess were demanding to know what had happened at home, and once again, he assured them it was nothing to worry about.
“Do not let this spoil your day,” he said. And to the others, “I apologize for leaving so abruptly.”
As he kicked his mount into a gallop, heading back the way he’d just come, his mind was already turning over the questions to be answered: Why were Lieutenant Harrison and his men demanding to search his house? What did they expect to find? What would they find?
It wasn’t until he had almost reached Grantham that he noticed Charles had not stayed behind with the others, but instead had accompanied him back. Perhaps he had even spoken once or twice, but Ivo hadn’t heard him, being too deep in his own thoughts.
“Is this what I think it is?” Charles was serious, with none of the usual laughter in his eyes.
Ivo shot him a glance. “You read the message then?”
“Of course.” That eyebrow again. “If you are arrested, then I will be next. I am coming with you to Whitmont.”
“Won’t that raise Harrison’s suspicions?”
“Why? They don’t know I run a gambling club in London, do they? I will say we are friends. You never know, Northam, you may be in need of a friend if the revenue officers find what they’re looking for.”
Ivo opened his mouth to refuse the offer—more of a fait accompli—only to change his mind. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he was relieved to have the other man’s company. Ivo may have some issues with Charles, not least his parentage, but knowing he would be there, by his side, when he faced Harrison, was strangely comforting.