Chapter 12

Finally, Ivy found her way out to the statuary gardens. She had a book tucked under her arm and a wide-brimmed bonnet on her head to protect against the freckling Fanny seemed intent on eradicating. Not that Ivy had many; only a few across her nose.

She took her time to observe the statues, created to bring to mind Greek gods and goddesses. One intriguing toga-clad gentleman looked remarkably like the duke. She stared up at him for a long moment, wondering if it had been commissioned that way or had been the sculpture’s decision. Either way, it made her smile.

She found a stone bench tucked beneath the shade of an oak and went to it, determined to lose herself in a book, forgetting her problems for at least half an hour.

It was not to be, though. No sooner had she opened the book’s pages than she caught movement from the corner of her eye. She looked up, watching as Teague Frost wound his way through the statues. He looked at none of them. Instead, he was focused on the tree—on her beneath it.

He raised his hand in greeting when he was close enough he needn’t shout to say, “Good afternoon, Lady Ivy. I hope you don’t mind, but I have been looking for you.”

“Have you?” She closed her book and rested it in her lap, then glanced behind him. “Sterling followed me out here. I think he’s keeping watch at the top of the terrace. He could have told you where I had gone.”

“But then he might’ve followed me down here,” the baron pointed out with a grin, “and I’d like a word in private with you. If you and your present company don’t mind.” He gestured to the statues surrounding them. “Lively group, aren’t they?”

Raising her eyebrows, she peered at the nearest statue, a maiden pouring a vase of flowers into the flowerbed below. “I like them well enough. They keep their opinions to themselves and haven’t tried to interrupt my reading.”

“I apologize for that unfortunate circumstance.” He gestured to the other side of the bench. “May I?”

She shifted a little more to the side, giving him ample room to sit and still keep appropriate space between them. “You said you needed a private word?”

“A curious statement, isn’t it?” He took off his hat and turned it about in his hands, looking at the brim of it and not at her. “First, I think it is important that you know that I respect you, Lady Ivy. I also find you quite intriguing. Every conversation I have had with you, I have come away feeling enlivened.”

As each word fell from his lips, Ivy felt a growing sense of anticipation, though to what it built, she didn’t dare imagine. She had heard enough tales of gentlemen speaking to ladies in this way, but she had not expected words like these ever coming from him. Or leading to the conclusion such words usually came to.

“I have been giving some thought to your situation,” he continued. “I know it isn’t truly my business, and what I say next will perhaps strike you as a bit forward. Please, hear what I have to say and consider it. What if I solved your problem?” He winced. “I mean, what if the two of us married. Each other.” His cheeks darkened slightly. “It sounded better when I practiced this speech in front of my mirror.”

Her mouth had turned dry, and her breathing stopped. She stared at him, unmoving and uncertain, for a long moment before four words slipped out. “I beg your pardon?”

This couldn’t be real. Women didn’t receive marriage proposals in gardens from men they barely knew. Men they wanted to know better. A man she wanted to know better yet hadn’t dared hope for such a thing. He couldn’t truly mean to ask for her hand.

He stopped twisting his hat and gave her a wry smile. “I know. I found the idea surprising when it first came to me, too. I have given it a lot of thought, though, and I am certain it’s a good plan. Think of it. You know me; you have met my family. Do I strike you as the sort of man to demand my lady wife give up her interests or act a way contrary to her nature? Of course not. My sisters and mother would disown me and take up arms on my lady’s behalf.” His lilting words almost made his words sound teasing, yet the earnestness in his eyes kept Ivy from believing that possible. “You would have the freedom to be yourself, unbound by the constraints you have lived under as your brother’s ward. I am proposing a partnership, too, where both of us will benefit.”

He went silent, looking at her with obvious anticipation. She needed to say something, but her mind still wasn’t quite latching on to what he was saying. “A marriage of convenience? Is that what you are suggesting?” A worse thought came to her. “In name only?”

It was not exactly what she had hoped for.

The sudden way his eyes narrowed and his lips turned up made it feel like her stomach had sprouted wings and swooped down, low, catching her expectations like an owl took hold of a mouse.

“Not at all, darling. It would be a marriage in truth, in every way. Every vow dutifully and most pleasantly kept. I want children. A family. A wife to come home to and solve the world’s problems with over dinner as easily as resting on our pillows.” He gave her a crooked smile. “I think we would get along well.”

Her cheeks flamed and she had to look away, the playful glint in his eyes making her feel far too many things as his words conjured images of husbands and wives she had no business thinking of until she was wed herself.

“Lord Dunmore?—”

“My name is Teague. I would like you to use it, especially given the intimacy of this particular conversation.”

She frowned at him. “Lord. Dunmore. You barely know me. We’ve had a mere handful of conversations. I never expected this is what would come from confiding in you—which I realize now was a mistake. My sister-in-law has warned me that speaking my mind never leads to a good end.” She turned away from him to massage her temples. “I am sorry if you thought this is what I was hoping for?—”

“Not at all.” He still grinned at her, though his gaze had softened somewhat. “I knew you told me a hard truth about your life. I’d no intention of making your problems my own until I couldn’t stop thinking about them. There is much to consider, of course, in an arrangement such as the one I am proposing. I truly believe that together, we could not only appease your brother, but perhaps find something rewarding for ourselves in the process.”

As Ivy’s initial shock began to fade, her thoughts shifted from disbelief to something far more disturbing. Consideration.

Observing the Irishman carefully, she took a moment to reflect on the laughter she had witnessed within his family, a stark contrast to the cold pragmatism of her own situation. As Ivy looked at Teague, a realization softened the edges of her astonishment.

Here was an offer not merely of escape, but of belonging—to be part of a family with genuine affection, lively conversation, a chance at the kind of life she had only observed from the margins of their company.

It wasn’t unthinkable. As it wove itself into the realm of possibility, tempting her with visions of a future filled with good humor, companionship, and the freedom to simply be, she found herself leaning toward him. Ready to hear more.

However, there was one important detail. “I cannot consider myself alone,” she said with a firmness that made his head tilt to the side. “I have spoken with my brother about my sisters. I intend to keep them as part of my household when I wed. I want to provide them with a loving, comfortable home until they are ready to wed or set up households of their own. I want my husband to take over guardianship of them, leaving my brother to worry over his own children and nothing more. Juniper is nearing one-and-twenty, Betony is nineteen. They still need guidance.”

His grin appeared again, with an ease that made her heart skip. She knew, before even he spoke, the gist of what he’d say. “That’s fair enough, and presents no difficulty to my proposal, such as it is. I haven’t done much planning, since I needed your answer before I dared build any imaginary castles.” He put his hat down on the bench and leaned closer, taking one of her hands in his. “Marry me, Ivy dear. I think we shall both benefit. What’s more, I think we can be happy together.”

He did?

“You are in earnest about all of this?” She looked down where his bare hand held hers, admiring his strong grasp, secure in the knowledge she could withdraw with ease. “Lord— Teague.” She met his gaze squarely, her heart tripping and flipping in fear and no small measure of excitement. “It could be a supremely bad idea. What if we do not get along?”

“What if we do? As we have so far, I’ll remind you.” He gently pressed her fingers, his sincere smile making his handsome features all the more attractive to her. “I have every intention of giving you a happy home, Ivy. And your sisters. I feel you’re not the sort who would do things by halves, either. Once you agree—if you agree— to marry me, we will both make a go of it with everything we have. I promise I will.” His eyes shone with a determination that inspired her own.

“Then…yes. I agree.”

It was the single most impulsive thing she had ever said. Fanny would certainly think so, anyway. But in that moment, Ivy searched her mind and her heart and found it the only answer she wanted to give.

Heaven help her. She had agreed to marry Teague Frost, Lord Dunmore. An Irish baron. All she felt in that moment was a sense of relief.

A burst of joy filled his expression, but he tempered it with a laugh, a light, somewhat giddy laugh. “Well, that’s the best ‘yes’ I’ve ever heard. I promise, you won’t regret it. We shall make a grand partnership, you and I.”

He grinned and lifted her hand to his lips, where he brushed her knuckles with a soft kiss. No unrelated man had ever laid a kiss anywhere on her skin before. The sensation sent tingles up and down her arm, and they were most pleasant.

“Thank you, Ivy,” he murmured softly. “We will make each other very happy. I’m certain of it.”

That made one of them, at least. Ivy gently withdrew her hand. “You still need to speak to William. Though I am of age to choose whom I wed, William will need to be informed. There are still the contracts to arrange, and you will need to discuss the matter of my sisters with him.”

Teague nodded along as she spoke, his grin never fading. “Of course. An easy enough matter. I will take my leave of His Grace and be on my way this afternoon.”

That startled her into blurting, “So soon?”

“I don’t intend to delay when I’ve set about a course of action, my dear.” His smile, crooked and mischievous, charmed her. What would William make of her choice in husband?

What would Juniper and Betony think? “I need to tell my sisters.”

Teague handed her the book she had forgotten and offered his arm. “Allow me to escort you inside, darling. Then we will part ways to spread the news of our betrothal.”

Darling?Her stomach gave a happy little twist. She had never been anyone’s darling before. She accepted his arm and his escort, though she said little else to him, trying to work out how best to share the news with her sisters.

The Dukeof Montfort sat at the large desk in what was known as the Speak-a-Word room, off the pre-guard room, a long corridor most used to enter the castle from the portcullis. The room was a secondary office for him, set up for the sole purpose of allowing people from outside the castle to meet with him, for his tenants to “speak a word” with him regarding their farms, orchards, or families.

For a duke, the man was surprisingly available to the people who relied on him, a thing that made Teague respect the Englishman.

“Your Grace,” he greeted the duke as he bowed on the other side of the desk. “Your steward said I might have a moment of your time.”

Though in his early sixties, the duke had maintained a robust figure. His eldest son, Simon, looked much like him. Gray touched His Grace’s temples, yet he remained an imposing man with his direct gaze and towering height. “Dunmore. You may have as much of my time as you like. You are family.” He gestured to the chair opposite the desk from him. “Sit. Tell me how I can be of service to you.”

Teague took the offered chair and found himself twisting his hat in his hands again. His father had died years before, and there hadn’t been a man in his life whose approval he had sought since that time. Yet suddenly, before the duke, he became aware that had changed. The man before him had power, to be sure, but also possessed a degree of integrity and honor Teague aspired to attain himself.

“Your Grace, I have come to take my leave of you for a time, and to ask that my mother and sister remain until I return for them. I wish to leave them in your care, and to the enjoyment of your kind hospitality, while I see to an urgent personal matter.”

The duke’s expression darkened to one of concern. “I have only heard you speak that formally in Lords, son. Of course, your mother and Fiona are welcome here as long as they like. I must ask, though. Is something amiss? Do you need assistance?”

That he offered such a thing surprised Teague a moment, then he relaxed and smiled. He had come to expect Englishmen of power to peer down their noses at him, but he sometimes forgot the Duke was a man unlike most others. “Perhaps you could put in a good word for me with the fellow I plan to visit. Lord Haverford. Lady Ivy’s half-brother. I intend to ask him for her hand.”

At this, the duke sat back in his chair, his eyes widening slightly in the barest hint of surprise. “You want to marry Ivy? So soon after meeting her?”

It suddenly occurred to Teague that the duke’s blessing might prove as important, and as necessary, as Lord Haverford’s.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Silence followed that simple answer, the duke only staring at him in his silent, questioning way. Teague cleared his throat, compelled to explain himself and choosing his words with care.

“In truth, Your Grace, my proposal to Lady Ivy is born not from affection, though I hold her in the highest regard. It is a union conceived in mutual respect, in the recognition of shared ideals and aspirations. Lady Ivy possesses a strength of character and a clarity of vision I find most admirable. I believe, together, we can forge a partnership that will prove beneficial within the bounds of marriage.”

He paused, his hands ceasing their restless movement as he placed his hat upon his knee, his posture embodying the sincerity of his intentions. “I have observed the manner in which she engages with the world around her—her compassion, her intelligence, and her unwavering integrity. These are qualities of the highest order. Qualities that promise not only a harmonious household, but a union capable of contributing positively to those around us.”

The duke’s expression softened, a reflective silence filling the room as he considered Teague’s words. Finally, he leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. “Teague, your approach to selecting a wife is not unusual, and I find no fault in your reasoning. Marriage, in its best form, is indeed a partnership—an alliance of strengths. If you perceive these qualities in Ivy, and she in you, who am I to question it?”

Teague swallowed some of his nervousness. “I hold you in the highest respect, Your Grace. If there is more you would say on the matter, I would hear it.”

A smile, warm and encouraging, broke through the duke’s reserved demeanor. “She is a cousin to my wife, yet my observations of Lady Ivy are quite limited. Her Grace speaks highly of her, though. She is spirited, intelligent, and kind. If she has agreed to this proposal, it speaks volumes of her regard for you. Your willingness to speak so candidly with me today reinforces my belief that you are a man of honor and intelligence. You two will likely do quite well together. Though I hope…I hope for more than a pleasant partnership for you, son.”

Teague felt a weight lift from his shoulders, the duke’s words granting a sense of validation to his scheme he hadn’t realized he sought. “Thank you, Your Grace. Your approval means a great deal to me. I assure you, my intentions toward Lady Ivy are honorable, and I am committed to ensuring our marriage is one of mutual respect, support, and affection.” He relaxed a little. “I think I am, at least, already on the path to more than affection. She’s enchanting. And lovely. I want her to be happy.”

The duke steepled his fingers together and gave one deep nod. “Then you have my good wishes, Dunmore.” He paused a moment before adding with a wry smile, “And my support, should you need it in your dealings with Lord Haverford.”

“I am grateful, Your Grace. I do not take your support lightly. Truly, I may need it. Haverford hasn’t been overly fond of me, at least politically.”

“I am aware.” The duke’s smile inched upward. “You have made a name for yourself, and the more conservative members of the opposition tend to squirm in their seats every time you stand to speak. I enjoy the spectacle.” The duke chuckled, then tapped the desk thoughtfully. “Now that I understand the situation, you ought to know that there is no need for you to leave Clairvoir. Lord Haverford is on his way here. He arrives in two days’ time.”

The shock of that went through Teague like a cold deluge. “He is coming here?”

“With his wife and children, yes. We could hardly host his half-sisters without extending the invitation for at least a brief stay for him as well.” A gleam of amusement appeared in the duke’s eyes. “In my study upstairs, I have a letter from him requesting the addition of another guest, a friend he wanted to introduce. We have rooms enough in the castle, and it matters little to me, so I agreed to extend the invitation to one Lord Martin Southersby. Have you met him?”

The name seemed vaguely familiar, but Teague shook his head.

The duke’s amusement grew enough for him to chuckle. “Lord Martin is the second son of the Marquess of Crighton. Their seat is in the west.” He gestured vaguely in that direction. “Lord Martin has political ambitions but lacks an important connection to more influential members of Parliament. My suspicion is that Haverford wishes to introduce Lord Martin to my family for our support and connection, but I also wondered if he had another motive. Especially given that Lord Martin is a bachelor.”

Teague leaned back in his chair, his posture dropping from stiff to casual as he took in His Grace’s implication. “You think Haverford wants to try his hand at matchmaking his sisters?”

“Sister. Haverford is conservative to an extreme. He will want to marry off the eldest before giving attention to the other two.” The duke chuckled. “I’ve no doubt Haverford will see an advantage to your proposal, but he may use his own candidate for Lady Ivy’s hand as a way to bargain in the marriage contract.”

“Lady Ivy already agreed to my proposal,” Teague said, then winced at his own tone. He’d sounded somewhat possessive. Where had that come from? He pushed his hand through his hair. “This is a fascinating turn of events. Has Lady Ivy been informed of her brother’s visit?”

“I believe Her Grace intended to tell the sisters this afternoon. We only received the letter settling the matter this morning.” The duke’s amusement hadn’t faded, though Teague struggled to find the humor in the situation at the moment. “Never fear, Dunmore. As I said, you have my support. I am certain things will work out as they should. They nearly always do.”

“To be sure, Your Grace.” Teague’s mind turned over the possibilities and possible difficulties ahead. “To be sure they do.”