Chapter 21

The day after the musical performance and Teague’s betrothal announcement, a large party of the house guests summoned carriages for a trip to Lambsthorpe, the local village. The Amberton sisters had all piled into the same carriage as Isleen, Lady Josephine, and Lady Atella. The men accompanying them, Teague included, elected to ride on horseback.

“A terrible idea, most likely,” Lord Atella said cheerfully as they discussed the decision, riding ahead of the ladies’ carriage. “We are giving them yet more time to discuss the men in their lives while we are not present to defend ourselves or refute their claims.”

“Lady Ivy, as a newly engaged member of their set, will likely be treated to an extensive discourse on the management of a husband.” Sir Andrew sounded far too cheerful, almost gleeful, about that prospect.

That the baronet relished the idea told Teague exactly how disastrous it might be, but Simon looked over his shoulder and gave Teague a broad grin. “Given that Dunmore’s sister is one of the married ladies dispensing advice, he ought to be terrified.”

Teague gave an easy shrug, his mood eased rather than irritated by the banter. “I am neither afraid nor intimidated. If you lot can survive matrimony, I am certain I shall find great success in the endeavor.”

The good-natured teasing did not rile him in the least, though he noticed one of the gentlemen with them looked less amused than the majority. Lord Martin had applauded with the rest the evening before, not appearing surprised at the announcement thanks to Ivy’s brother speaking to him ahead of time. He had known Ivy too short a time to have developed any feelings for her, yet Teague could well imagine the frustration of being thwarted at winning such a lady’s favor.

Had Teague’s offer to Ivy ended with her choosing Lord Martin—the thought itself caused a feeling rather like a knife through the ribs. He had been fortunate she had chosen him, all things considered. Incredibly so. While comforting her the evening before, holding her in his arms, he had found himself grateful he was the one to offer understanding, reassurance, and…other things. Things he hesitated to name just yet.

He’d lost himself in thought and came back to the present amid the men’s laughter.

An unexpected warmth flooded him as he took in the ease of being in their company. Simon began to regale them with an anecdote from a London ball involving an overly enthusiastic member of Commons attempting to solicit the duke’s support through delivering a speech to Isleen while dancing with her.

Lord Atella chimed in, his tone light but the joke sharp, “Imagine, Teague. This will be your bride soon, dodging the pitfalls of a politician’s life with the agility of a seasoned dancer.”

Laughing, Teague shook his head. “I expect I shall step on more toes than she ever would,” he admitted, sincere yet unconcerned. “Lady Ivy has a better understanding of polite English conversation than I do.”

“Likely true. Wise of you, to take an Englishwoman as your bride,” Sir Andrew said with a chuckle. “My lady-wife thinks your betrothed a good fit for the job.”

“I think my contessa makes a far better ambassador than I ever will,” Lord Atella quipped.

Lord Martin, who had seemed likely to continue the ride in silence, offered a remark. “I’ve found the key to navigating the world of English politics is knowing whom to trust and whom to steer clear of.” Lord Martin’s gaze briefly met Teague’s. “It seems you are off to a solid start, given your choice of bride and aligning with this lot.”

The remark, meant in jest, struck a chord with Teague. Glancing around at the group, he realized that amidst the laughter and shared stories, he had woven a thread of friendship he hadn’t anticipated. Simon, Sir Andrew, and Lord Martin—the duke, too—were English to their core. Yet they were not the adversaries he had long expected to face on every front. Instead, they were allies. Even friends.

Lord Atella, the only true foreigner present, spoke with his usual thoughtfulness. “It is often the unexpected friendships that stand the tests of time and trials. It seems like you will be bound to us in more ways than you might have guessed, Lord Dunmore.”

As they approached the village, the lighthearted conversation not only reassured Teague, but subtly softened his view of his future in Parliament. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a place for an Irishman among the English—in politics, and certainly in these growing bonds of friendship.

After they arrived in Lambsthorpe, the gentlemen dismounted and Simon handed each of the ladies out of the carriage. The women looked no worse for their ride together, and indeed came out into the sun with laughter and bright expressions.

Teague had every intention of giving his escort to Ivy immediately, but before he could, her sisters darted forward and each took an arm.

“Oh, no you don’t, Teague.” Betony gave him a broad grin most would think unbecoming a lady of nineteen years.

Juniper’s smile wasn’t as wide, but it still had a teasing curve to it. “Quite right. Ivy may have agreed to wed you, and William might approve, but you have yet to secure our blessing.”

He looked over their heads at Ivy and found her pressing her lips together, as though to keep herself from speaking, yet the way her eyes danced told him she found the whole situation entertaining.

Hm. He didn’t mind entertaining her or her sisters in the slightest, not when it made her dark eyes dance like that. He played along, releasing a sigh and a shudder of dread. “I had thought to circumvent the two of you entirely. Alas, you’re both too cunning.”

Betony, despite being the youngest sister, seemed to possess the most confidence, at least when she was not under the eye of her sister-in-law. Given the way Ivy and Juniper had reacted that afternoon when he had rescued the younger woman from a simple conversation, Teague suspected the two of them had done much to protect Betony from the countess’s sharp tongue and criticisms.

“Indeed, we are quite artful and wily,” Juniper said with a dry tone and a little roll of her eyes. “How ever will you manage adding all three of us to your household? It will be constant chaos.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I welcome such, I assure you. Though Fiona is likely to make anything the two of you get up to look relatively tame.”

“Oh! I get to be a big sister of sorts,” Betony said suddenly. “I hadn’t stopped to consider it. Do you think you will mind if I set a very poor example for Fiona?”

“How could you? Isleen has already done that work for you,” he quipped, noting his married sister was within hearing distance.

In every family, there were often patterns and roles played out time and again, things that the members of the family accepted without knowing it. Adding a wife would necessarily put most of the burden of learning how to be part of the family on her. But bringing Betony and Juniper into his household, his life, meant learning about them. Their roles. The dynamics the sisters shared.

Isleen did not let his statement remain unchallenged, as she turned about while on the arm of her husband and raised her eyebrows at him. “I am the very best example of femininity and strength, Teague Frost. That you do not know how to cope with it is a mark against you, not me.”

Betony snickered and Juniper ducked her head, smiling.

It struck him as an intriguing challenge to meld their families and discover how they would all fit together. Fiona, Máthair, and himself adding three entirely new people to their home would necessitate many changes. Most of them, he hoped, pleasant. Thankfully, Teague loved a good challenge.

Ivy sighed, hands lightly clasped before her. “If this is how every family conversation will be, I wonder that you have not yet lost your sanity, my dear.”

It was the first time she had used an endearment for him, however mild, and it made his heart tick a touch faster. He sent a grin her way, hoping to show his full appreciation.

Lord Martin had approached, an appropriately friendly smile in place. “It seems your sisters have robbed you of your betrothed, Lady Ivy. Might I dare to offer my arm until such time as you can reclaim his?” There was nothing in the man’s disposition that suggested jealousy.

He was a good man. He’d likely have been a fine fit for Ivy, too. Yet Teague was grateful he had asked for her hand first, and more so that she had chosen the Irishman over the Englishman rather insistently.

Ivy accepted Lord Martin’s arm, and the large party broke into smaller pieces as they roamed the village. Teague allowed Betony and Juniper to direct him while he played escort. Lord Martin and Ivy following along behind, snatches of their casual conversation occasionally meeting his ears.

Devoting himself to the younger Amberton sisters felt important. Becoming a brother-in-law to Juniper and Betony would, apparently, mean being as much a target of their teasing as it meant being their guardian.

They entered the shop of books and stationary sundries, a tidy establishment with a lending library and shelves full of uncut paper, bottles of ink, and pens in cases on display. Betony explored the ink, releasing Teague’s arm in her eagerness to ask questions of the shopkeeper. Juniper’s eyes lingered on the shelves of books, though.

Teague drew her toward them after a quick glance at Lord Martin, who nodded and kept Ivy near the youngest sister.

“Have you as much interest in literature as Ivy?” he asked Juniper.

She lowered her head and her cheeks went pink. “I am not certain you could call my favorite things to read ‘literature,’ so much as ‘written follies.’ I prefer a Gothic novel over a centuries-old romance. Ivy reads Daniel Defoe and Jonathan Swift. I prefer Anne Radcliffe, Percy Shelley, Robert Huish. Francis Lathom.”

He raised his eyebrows, finding it difficult to believe Lady Haverford approved of such sensational novels. “Your personal library is full of thrilling adventure and darkest towers, then, isn’t it?”

“Oh. No.” She shook her head a little. “I do not keep them. I borrow them from libraries or friends who share my interest. I haven’t any place to put books of my own. My brother and his wife insist that all books in the household belong in one place, and Fanny wouldn’t countenance Italian Mysteries being on the same shelf as something she deems more respectable. Displaying books of that sort would not give the right impression of the family.”

“I had not really thought the purpose of bookshelves to give a good impression. Except, perhaps, when it comes to showing a care for reading. Perhaps a glimpse of the personality and values of the reader.” He looked at the books on display in the shop, and his mind immediately went to a title he recognized by Stanhope. The Crusaders. He plucked it from the shelf and held it out to Juniper.

“Have you read this one?”

She took the book gingerly and her eyebrows raised. “Oh, no. I have read her other books. The Nun of Santa Maria Di Tindaro was a favorite.” She opened the book and saw the slip of paper inside marking it as available to be lent or bought. “I will take it back with me this very day.”

“Excellent. What else shall we add to your list today?” He took up another book. “The Munster Cottage Boy?”

“Oh. I have already read that one.”

“Yes, but would you like to add it to your permanent collection?” He waited, hand extended to pluck the book from the shelf.

Juniper stared at him a moment, uncomprehending. “But…I already told you, I do not keep the books.”

Teague tucked his hands behind his back and fixed her with the most serious stare he was capable of, the one that made the opposition in Lords brace themselves for a long argument. “Juniper, my soon-to-be-sister, from this moment forward, you will have a personal collection of books. A whole library, should you wish it. We will keep it at Dunmore House in Ireland, in any room you wish, private or public, until the day you make your home elsewhere. Then we will pack them up in as many crates as it takes and send them along with the rest of your personal effects.”

One would think he had just handed her the crown jewels, the way she gasped. Then, throwing aside what he had come to think of as her usual stoicism, Lady Juniper Amberton embraced him. Right there in the shop.

Lady Haverton certainly would not have approved.

When he returned Juniper’s hug with a gentle pat on her shoulder, he looked over her head to see Ivy watching them with wide eyes. She came across the shop, looking from her sister to Teague.

“Is something wrong? Juniper?”

Juniper stepped back, wiping at her eyes, and wrapped her arms around Ivy instead. “It is a good thing you are marrying him, Ivy, or I would kidnap him to Gretna Green at once. He is going to let me have novels!”

Ivy’s look of confusion melted away and the warm smile she gave Teague was enough to make him willing to buy all the books in that shop, that very instant, if she would keep looking at him like that. “That is marvelous, Juniper.”

“Quite a good thing we are to be family, then, as I do not care for the idea of being kidnapped and wed across an anvil.” He smiled at them both and picked up another Gothic-sounding novel. “What of this one?”

Juniper turned to the serious matter of taking books from the shelves to add to her arms. They were all used, lent out by the shopkeeper, but he would see to it that she had prettier editions with custom binding soon enough.

Ivy gave him another look of soft gratitude, then drifted back to where Betony and Lord Martin were discussing the benefits of the new pens over using quills. Teague watched her go with a sense of anticipation stirring in his chest. Something about the way Ivy had looked at him made him think, perhaps anticipate, a different sort of thanks shown him in future. If being generous with her sisters made her that happy, he would buy up everything the village had on offer.

“What does Betony like?”

Juniper was distracted by her growing pile of books and spoke without turning. “Beads. Embroidery. She is very good at making things look pretty.”

He grinned and looked over his shoulder, catching Ivy’s eye when she glanced his way again. The way her cheeks pinked was apparent even from where he stood.

“Then we’re off to the sewing and sundries shop next.”

Followingher sisters about as Teague spoiled them with purchases and treats made Ivy feel rather light-headed. Her betrothed took in everything her sisters said with cheeriness and the occasional serious frown. He had not mocked them, teased them beyond what was entertaining, or belittled them and their conversation even once.

Not that she had expected him to. She had seen him with his own sisters, of course, and found his behavior endearing. Somehow, she had not expected his actions would move her so much as they had.

Lord Martin, to his credit, was friendly and seemingly amused by the situation as he escorted her from one shop to the next. “Your sisters are enamored by Lord Dunmore. Tell me, in future when I wish to court a lady, is the swiftest way to her heart through the people she cares for?”

She gave him a sideways glance, though she detected no bitterness in his words. His curiosity seemed genuine enough. “I imagine such things vary from lady to lady, Lord Martin. Though I would wager you are kind to everyone, as a rule, I cannot think it would be a hardship for you to behave that way.”

He gave a little shrug as they entered the bakery and coffee house. “Perhaps not. Though seeing the man in action has made me wonder if I would be so quick to act as a brother to those I barely knew. He is a good man. It has been a pleasure to meet him, in all truth. And a pleasure to meet his future baroness.”

While they waited at a small table for the others to join them, Ivy gave Lord Martin what she hoped he would see as a kind smile. “I am sorry things did not work out the way you wished.”

“As am I. However, rather than be resentful, I think it better to declare myself pleased to have come here at all. I am now on more familiar terms with some of the most powerful men in Britain. I do not have the good fortune to leave Clairvoir with a wife; but I leave with a better position for my own political ambitions.”

She laughed at that. “You have a gift for optimism, your lordship.” She sipped at her coffee. Some said that tea would overtake coffee in terms of popularity, but Ivy doubted one drink would ever outdo the other in permanence. She liked both far too much to choose a favorite for herself.

“Indeed. Ah,” he stood and bowed. “Lady Farleigh. Would you join us?”

“I would like that, very much. Though, Lord Martin, I seem to have lost my husband to a debate with Lord Atella. They are yet now in the street, trying to determine the fate of the world when it comes to a tax on imported coffees. Would you be so kind as to break their tie? Perhaps then they will join us.” She settled with the grace befitting a future duchess, removing her gloves at the table.

“Of course, my lady.” He bowed and a moment later the bell over the door merrily announced his leave-taking.

Isleen gave Ivy a commiserating smile. “I saw your sisters delaying Teague as well, to stare at hats through the milliner’s window next door. I think they have wrapped him around their little fingers. Smart ladies. Teague will move mountains to make the people he cares for happy.”

Ivy poured coffee for her future sister-in-law. “I am coming to understand that, yes. He has a generous heart.” She took up her own cup once more. “It makes me wonder, though, who looks out for him in that way. He is forever showing kindness to everyone around him. Does he receive as much as he gives?”

“Doubtfully.” Isleen winced somewhat. “The two of us used to look out for one another, but I felt at every turn he saw more of my needs than I did of his. That you have noticed this habit of his reassures me, though. If you have noticed his affection through his actions, then you know how devoted he already is to you.”

Warmth spread from her heart through the rest of her. Yes, Ivy had noticed. He had shown kindness from the beginning, and his attraction through his touch, glance, and that stolen kiss. Yet it was not until he had spoken of his care and understanding aloud that she realized what all the little gestures had added up to—something stronger than mere affection.

“I wonder,” she murmured aloud, not strictly expecting an answer, “if that is how best he would receive a declaration of devotion, through action rather than words. Though I confess, I often do not believe a thing until I hear it spoken. Words are powerful things.”

“You speak as though the two are separate languages. Action and words.” Isleen chuckled and wrinkled her nose. “I would have both.”

“As would I,” Ivy said with a laugh. “Yet I cannot deny they are not equal in my heart.” Perhaps they were not equal in Teague’s. Her words of reassurance, that she wished for their engagement to continue, had not seemed to penetrate his understanding. Not until she had fairly demanded that they make the announcement of their betrothal. He had seemed to float about the castle since that moment.

Perhaps he needed action more than he needed reassurances.

When he came into the bakery a moment later, Juniper and Betony chatting with excitement, she met his gaze for what seemed like the hundredth time during the outing. His eyes sparkled with amusement, his smile stretched wide across his handsome face, and he winked at her.

Despite a desire to duck her head as a modest lady ought, Ivy winked back. Somehow, his smile grew warmer, his posture more relaxed.

Ivy was determined to show him exactly how much she had come to adore him at the first available opportunity.