Chapter 3

The morning after attending School for Scandal, Ivy sat with Fanny in the Yellow Room, a westward-facing sitting room Fanny preferred when she had a headache from being out late the evening before. Juniper and Betony sat together on a settee, the former sketching the profile of the latter.

No one said a word.

Personally, Ivy found the room’s yellow-green wallpaper and furnishings more likely to induce a feeling of nausea than cure a headache. But she and her sisters went where their sister-in-law bid. Ivy sat quietly in a chair at a distance from the fire with the newest copy of Ackermann’s Repository. She turned the pages as quietly as she could, as even a rustle of paper would elicit a glare from Fanny.

After Fanny’s lecture on holding conversations with strange men the evening before, Ivy wished to avoid her sister-in-law’s censure. No matter how unfairly Fanny distributed it.

How could Fanny blame Ivy for the appearance of a baron in their theater box? If anything, her brother was at fault for pulling her about and making her drop her theater glasses. Which were, thankfully, unharmed after their sudden downward flight. Once she replaced the stem-like handle, all would be well.

Her fingers paused, holding a page she stared at without thought, her mind busy remembering the man who had rescued her treasured belonging. An Irish baron, with dark eyes and a smile that had made her stomach twist and her fingertips tingle.

If only her brother had been present to make a proper introduction. If only they had met at the beginning of the Season rather than at its end. If only she had been brave enough to suggest he call upon her, or that they might both take a walk in the park the next day.

If only.

Something had passed between them that had left her breathless, yet the knowledge of what could never be tainted the moment.

Unless they met again. Perhaps next Season.

When she came to the page with the new beadwork patterns she had sighted before, Ivy stopped and examined the details carefully. Though Ackermann’s published the simplest of instructions, in the past she had found ways to incorporate the idea presented on the page into her more complicated work. Carefully, she traced the design of beads made to resemble ivy and flower buds with her fingertip.

A soft rap on the door preceded the entrance of a footman. He carried a silver tray bearing a single card. “My lady, a caller has arrived for Lady Ivy.”

While her sisters stilled and glanced her way with raised eyebrows, Ivy’s heart skipped a hopeful beat. What if it was him? Had the handsome baron decided to pay a call on her after all?

Fanny’s nose wrinkled as she took the card from the tray. “We are not at home today. You know that, John.” Fanny called all the footmen John, whether or not that was their name. She also refused to use spectacles, or even the daintiest of quizzing glasses, though she had to narrow her eyes and hold the card at a specific distance to read the print.

“Yes, my lady,” the footman, whose real name was Davis, said with a tone of deep respect. “As it is Lady Josephine Wycomb, I thought it best to be certain of my lady’s schedule.”

“The duchess’s daughter? Again?” Fanny gave up trying to read the card and dropped it on the platter. She cast Ivy an incredulous expression. “I suppose you may accept her visit. We have no wish to insult Her Grace by refusing her daughter. Even if she is negligent as to our schedule.” She waved Ivy away. “You may receive her in the East Room.”

“Thank you, Fanny.” Ivy rose and looked at her sisters to find both of them wearing beseeching grimaces. “May my sisters come with me?” she asked Fanny. “Perhaps a few moments of respite will help your headache.”

Fanny believed it her duty to keep them all under her watchful eye whenever she could, but apparently she’d had enough sherry and wine the night before to make her relax her usual strict standards.

“Fine. Do not do anything to disgrace us.” She spoke as though she expected the grown sisters to cause chaos the moment they left her sight.

Ivy left the book on her chair and led her sisters out of the room at a staid pace. The moment the door closed behind them, they looked at each other with unrestrained relief.

“She spoke as though we’d leap upon Lady Josephine like lions or some such thing.” Juniper’s nose wrinkled.

Betony giggled. “Even if we did, Lady Josephine would never tattle on us.”

“Hush, both of you.” Despite the door between them and their half-brother’s wife, the idea of Fanny overhearing them made her feel small and ill. She’d faced Fanny’s idea of punishment for speaking freely and critically of her guardians—weeks of being reminded in chilly tones of all the things Fanny and William had done for Ivy’s good. Hours spent reading aloud from a book of sermons meant to teach young ladies how to behave. Telling guests, with Ivy present, how difficult it was to look after someone “entirely ungrateful.”

Thoroughly humiliated, Ivy hadn’t said a word against her sister-in-law’s treatment of her for a long time.

She led Juniper and Betony across the corridor to the only sitting room that welcomed the late morning sunlight. Davis had already disappeared to escort Lady Josephine upstairs.

Though they were distant relations to the duchess’s daughter, Ivy hadn’t formed a close relationship with Lady Josephine, now wife to Sir Andrew Wycomb, until last Season. This year, Lady Josephine had visited Ivy three times during the course of the Season, which was more times than Ivy had hoped for, given their brief acquaintance. They had met at a ball hosted by the Sicilian ambassador, the Conte di Atella, after Parliament reconvened.

The duchess, born Lady Cecilia Boxbury, was a cousin to Ivy’s mother, Elizabeth Russell. A fifteen-year-old Cecilia, prior to her marriage, had embroidered the white cap that infant Elizabeth had worn on her christening day. With such a difference in age, and later in station, the cousins hadn’t been close, but Ivy had always been cognizant of the relationship.

One could hardly forget a kinship to a duchess. So when the duchess’s daughter had become an acquaintance, Ivy was thrilled with the possibility of a new friend and a rekindling of familial ties.

Given the rank and importance of Lady Josephine, Ivy’s brother and sister-in-law had allowed the friendship.

The duchess’s daughter, now a baronetess through marriage, entered the room with a wide smile, her confidence in herself and her place in the world evident with every movement and line of her bearing.

“Cousin Ivy, I am grateful you allowed my visit. I know it isn’t Lady Haverford’s at-home day.” She settled on the couch near Ivy, her blue eyes bright with good humor. “Cousins Juniper and Betony, it is a delight to see both of you again. Though I’d hoped to keep the purpose of my visit a surprise.” She winked at them, then met Ivy’s gaze. “I couldn’t wait to speak to you, and sending a card ahead felt like too much bother when I could come myself.”

Confused, Ivy settled on the couch between her sisters, the three of them facing the other lady in her chair. “I am always pleased to see you, Lady Josephine.”

“Oh, enough of that nonsense. When we are not surrounded by those who worry about such things, please call me Josephine or Cousin. We are near enough in age, and we are family. Besides, we decided we were friends the last time I called upon you.”

Ivy relaxed and allowed herself to return Josephine’s smile. “True. Then you must call me Ivy.” She glanced at her sisters, who swiftly repeated the sentiment before falling silent.

Josephine grinned and reached across the space separating them to take Ivy’s hand in a friendly grasp. “I haven’t stopped thinking about our last conversation, the night of the musicale at the French embassy. Do you recall? We were speaking of our plans for the summertime.”

Unfortunately, Ivy remembered that evening with great clarity. Her brother had been severe in his critique of her, making certain Ivy knew how disappointed he was in her lack of talent when it came to instruments, as she had not been invited to participate in the evening’s programme. Shortly after the earl’s diatribe, which had taken place behind a column in the ambassador’s home, Lady Josephine had arrived with a pained expression on her face. Though Josephine hadn’t spoken of it, Ivy suspected the baronetess had overheard every word Lord Haverford said.

“You are going to stay with your family,” Ivy recalled, brushing a stray curl from where it tickled her ear and mentally swiping away the unpleasant memory. “At the castle where you grew up.”

“Indeed.” Josephine gave Ivy another gentle pat on the hand. “It is a beautiful place, truly my favorite in all the world. My father and mother are happiest when we are all under the same roof, and my husband has practically lived there the last decade or so anyway.”

If only Ivy and her sisters had close family like the duke and duchess, rather than a half-brother who never seemed satisfied by anything she did and a sister-in-law who saw Ivy as a project rather than a person.

Ivy allowed herself to be happy for her friend, though. “I am glad for you. Everything you have said about Castle Clairvoir makes it sound like a palace from a fairy tale. May I write to you?”

Perhaps she could live vicariously through her friend and pretend her own summer at her brother’s estate wasn’t quite so long and dreary.

“I hope there will be no need,” Josephine answered, startling Ivy from her thoughts. “I want you to come with me, as my particular guest.” She laughed at Ivy’s open-mouthed awe, though not unkindly. “You needn’t worry. I spoke to my mother first, of course, and she assured me you are most welcome.” She made a point of looking at both Juniper and Betony, who had turned stiff as statues. “All of you are welcome, and we will have room to spare. My family hosts dozens of people at a time, and you three would be a welcome addition to any party. Not to mention that you are our cousins, so you have more reason to visit than most. Please say all of you will come.”

Hope made Ivy’s heartbeat quicken, and she felt her younger sisters staring at her, begging her with their eyes. Dare she say yes? She didn’t even have the authority, surely. “I’m not certain my brother will allow it.”

“Oh, my father promised to speak to him today, at his club. Lord Haverford will say yes. His Grace is quite persuasive, you see. It comes with being a duke.” Josephine’s smile softened as she spoke of her father, as did the gleam in her eyes. “How could your brother say no?”

Time away from her sister-in-law, far from beneath the critical eye of the earl, appealed to her. At five-and-twenty, Ivy ought to have more freedom than she did at present. And having her sisters with her? It made the prospect even better.

With her brother holding her purse-strings until she married or he deemed her competent enough to set up her own household, she was as helpless and dependent as she had been at seventeen when she’d lost her father. Treated more like a child than a woman grown, in a household she had once loved but now felt like an unwanted guest when she walked down its corridors.

“Unless you would rather not come?” Josephine asked hesitantly, her eyebrows drawn together.

Juniper nudged Ivy’s shoulder and, when Ivy glanced over, her sister gave her a hopeful smile.

Ivy had remained silent too long, so she hastened to make her answer clear. “I would dearly love to visit. We would be honored. If our brother agrees, we can be ready in a matter of hours.” She stood and paced to the window, looking out into the sunlit London morning before spinning around to face her friend, allowing herself to hope. “If you truly wish for us to come, I can think of no place I would rather be. And if you are certain the duke and duchess will not mind?—”

“They are happy to have you.” Josephine grinned first at Ivy, then the other two. “I promise. We will make this summer an absolute delight for everyone.” Josephine stood and opened her reticule, withdrawing a folded square of paper. “Here is the invitation from my mother, directed to your sister-in-law.”

With wide eyes, Ivy accepted the paper. “You had this at the ready?”

“Of course.” Josephine smirked and folded her hands in front of her. “I am a duke’s daughter. That makes me quite skilled at negotiation. We are approaching from several fronts. My father to your brother, me to you, and my mother to your sister-in-law.” She beamed at Ivy. “I will take my leave of you now so you will have time to speak to Lady Haverford and begin your preparations.” Josephine came forward and wrapped her arms gently around Ivy. No one had held her that way in a very long time. Not since her father’s death. Though it had surprised her, Ivy returned the embrace without hesitation.

“Thank you for inviting us, Josephine,” Juniper said, bouncing up to her feet. Betony stood, too, with pink cheeks and a wide grin. Josephine gave each of them an embrace, then turned to Ivy one last time.

“Thank you for agreeing to come.”

Though she said it as though Ivy had done the baronetess a great favor, Ivy’s eyes filled with grateful tears. The opposite was true.

Lady Josephine had granted Ivy’s dearest wish—an escape for herself and her sisters, an opportunity for them to experience freedom for the first time in a very long time.