14. A Dinner Leads to More

CHAPTER 14

A DINNER LEADS TO MORE

A few minutes later

The sound of murmured conversations amongst the staff faded as they made their way back to the kitchen, and the household grew quiet again.

Ivy threaded her arm through Robert’s elbow as they headed towards the dining room. “Thank you again for giving Walker your blessing. Salisbury is over-the-moon happy about the prospect of marrying him,” she said. “I mentioned to Walker I would be going to York after the holiday, so I am wondering... do you think they could marry there? Would they be allowed?”

Robert lifted a shoulder. “I’ll see to it they can wed anywhere they wish,” he murmured, understanding they would be far from their own parishes. He led them into the dining room and inhaled deeply, the scents of roasted meats and vegetables filling the air. “Given what’s happened with them, I am glad I came to Ritchfield Park. I’m glad you came,” he added.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have missed this,” she replied. “I come to Ritchfield Park nearly every Christmas. ”

He chuckled as held her chair for her. Just as she had requested the night before, her place setting had been set up adjacent to his. “Which is no doubt why I had such an odd welcome the day before yesterday.” He took his seat at the carver and regarded the number of platters on the table with an arched brow.

“Whatever do you mean?” Ivy asked in alarm. She placed her napkin on her lap and held out a platter of sliced ham in his direction.

He lifted a shoulder. “Graves looked at me as if I’d grown horns and a tail,” he complained.

“He did not,” she argued, thinking he was teasing her.

“Actually, he did,” Robert said, his brow arching again. “I don’t believe he knew who I was.”

Ivy inhaled sharply before she guffawed. “Were you covered in snow and looking like a ghost?” she asked, helping herself to a slice of ham.

He suddenly chuckled as he helped himself to the roast potatoes and then seemed confused as to what to choose next from the dishes on the table. “Probably. It was snowing rather hard, now that you mention it.” He put some sliced carrots on his plate and on hers. “Do you always bring ham and beef and gifts for the servants when you come here?”

She nodded. “I do,” she admitted, selecting a roll from a basket.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know,” he said. “Had I known, I would have brought something besides a purse of coins from York.”

Ivy paused in dishing some peas onto his plate. “You brought money for the servants?”

He nodded. “I acquired some for the Gladstone Hall staff and left them for Sanderson to distribute on Christmas Day,” he explained. “Brought the rest with me and gave them to Graves to do the same for this household.” He regarded her with a curious expression. “I didn’t think to do it for the townhouse in London.”

“Oh, I took care of it before I left,” she assured him. “I always bring oranges for the staff here, and Graves knows to put them into boxes for the servants.” She finished dishing up some food and regarded her plate as if she didn’t know where to start. “He does a rot job with the ribbons on the boxes, but I want them to be a surprise for the servants.”

Robert chuckled softly. “If you do it every year, don’t you think they’re expecting them? The oranges, I mean?” he chided.

“Maybe they are, but if I change the fruit or the number of pieces, then it’s still a surprise,” she argued.

Surveying the remaining dishes on the table, Robert scoffed. “There’s enough food here for our entire family.”

“Cook—she goes by Clara—she always likes to make an impression,” she said. “And enough to be sure there are leftovers for the servants to take to their families on Boxing Day.”

“She is the one servant I recognized besides Graves and Walker,” he remarked.

Ivy took a bite of glazed ham, grinning when she tasted the sweet and salty meat. “Whatever we don’t eat, the servants will be able to take to their families in Castleford,” she reminded him. “Should they be able to make it there the day after Christmas, given all this snow.”

“Hopefully the weather will clear by then,” Robert said, pouring wine for them both.

They ate their dinner in relative silence, the two occasionally glancing at one another as if they expected the other one to speak.

“The ham is excellent,” Robert finally remarked.

“As are the roasted potatoes,” Ivy said .

“What’s under that cover?” he asked, indicating the platter farthest from them.

“That will be the dessert,” she said, reaching over to lift the lid to reveal slices of fruitcake covered with sugared frosting.

He inhaled sharply, sniffing the air. “How much rum do you suppose Clara put into those cakes?” he asked in alarm.

Ivy tittered. “Probably the entire bottle I brought from Berry Brothers. Less whatever she imbibed whilst making the cakes,” she added in a teasing grin.

Robert guffawed. “Are the servants having it for dessert as well?”

She nodded. “Probably.”

He continued to laugh. “Perhaps I shall have to serve them some port after dinner,” he said. “Besides the coins, it’s all I brought with me from York.”

Ivy blinked. “Are you thinking to shorten this evening’s festivities?” she asked in alarm.

“Maybe,” he admitted.

She giggled. “Robert,” she scolded. A moment passed before she said, “I don’t know why I was so nervous when I saw you yesterday.”

He glanced up from his plate, obviously surprised at the comment. “Well, you weren’t exactly expecting me to be here.”

“True,” she acknowledged. “But... I worried you had finally decided to...” She clamped her mouth shut and closed her eyes.

“Decided to do what?” he prompted.

She audibly sighed. “Divorce me.”

His fork clattering onto his plate, Robert stared at his wife with a combination of hurt and shock. “Divorce you?” he repeated in a whisper. “ Never , Ivy. How could you even think that? ”

She opened her eyes and stared at him for several seconds before lifting a shoulder. “Surely you were wishing to get on with your life.”

He growled before leaning back in his chair. “I can’t imagine doing it with anyone else,” he murmured. “Especially after rereading all your letters.”

Ivy swallowed. “Before you read them?—”

“I never considered there would ever be anyone else,” he claimed.

She shook her head when she realized he had misunderstood her meaning. “Before you read those letters, did you... did you ever think of me? During the course of your days?—?”

“I do every day. Every night,” he said in a low voice. “I wonder whose parlor you are having tea in, and who you are dancing with at the balls, and in whose box you are sitting in at the theatre,” he said, his gaze darting to the side. He struggled to keep from adding, Whose bed you are warming.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Well, I take tea with several different ladies depending on the day of the week,” she said, about to list all their names. Seeing his expression change to a grimace, she decided not to mention any names. “You know them all, mavens of gossip and the judges of who shall and who shall not wed in the coming Season,” she added with a wave. “I rarely attend the theatre, nor do I dance much these days,” she went on. “I would rather watch the younger couples. Sort who I think will make good matches and who would be miserable.” She swallowed, deciding to admit her thoughts about him. “You are frequently on my mind as well.”

“I am?” He straightened, obviously surprised by the comment.

She nodded. “Of course, Robert. I wonder if you are spending your days in your study or at your club, or if you are on a hunt in the country. Who you are dancing with at the district ball. Whose box you are in at the theatre.” She thought better of adding, Whose bed you are warming.

He chuckled softly. “Most of my days are spent in my study,” he murmured. “I’ve become quite involved in the coal mining business, especially this past year, what with this awful weather and all,” he explained.

“You go to the mines?” she asked in surprise.

“I go to the offices in Wakefield every few weeks,” he clarified. “I have a townhouse there. Small staff.” He drank some wine. “The men’s club in York is more tradesmen and bankers than aristocrats, of course, but given the mines, I suppose I fit in there.” He paused a moment. “I haven’t been on a hunt in an age. I’m usually in the card room at the balls. I never dance. And I don’t attend the theatre unless I must to appease someone, but I think you could have guessed that.” He exhaled a breath and shrugged. “Not a very exciting life, I admit.”

Ivy sighed again. “I miss you, Robert.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “I miss you as well.”

Ivy wasn’t sure if she stood first or if he did, but the chairs were nearly overturned in their haste to embrace one another. Once they were in each other’s arms, his lips took hers with an urgency Ivy hadn’t experienced before, the firm pillows suckling hers as his arms tightened their hold around her waist and shoulder.

He kissed her as if his life depended on it.

Perhaps it did.

She returned the kiss in equal measure, sounding a faint moan of relief as if she had been starving for such intimacy.

Perhaps she had.

When his tongue delved into her mouth, sliding over her teeth and tangling with hers, a low groan vibrated in his chest. Ivy could feel it through her day gown and into her bosom, into her middle and down to her toes. She lifted a hand to the side of his head, her fingertips threading through his short hair as her nails scraped his scalp.

The groan turned into a low growl, which only encouraged her to use her other hand to do the same on the other side of his head. She delighted in the feel of his hair, the dark silky strands near his temples mixed with coarser grays, the shorter hairs at his neck softer.

Moving a hand to the side of his face, Ivy realized he might have shaved that morning, but the signs of his dark beard were evident on his otherwise smooth cheeks. The scent of his citrusy cologne wafted across her nostrils.

A moment later his tongue retreated and he softened the kiss. Ivy purred and relaxed into his hold. She had always preferred the less frantic kisses and the way his hand smoothed up and down her back, its warmth permeating the muslin of her day gown. She couldn’t help but inhale sharply when his wandering hand moved to her side and his thumb brushed the side of her breast, briefly interrupting the kiss.

He managed to recapture her lips, though, breaking off the soft chuckle that she could feel more than hear. In response, she slid a hand to just below one of his ears and captured his earlobe between her thumb and the the side of her forefinger. She gently tugged on it before smoothing her thumb along the tender skin.

This time, it was he who had to break off the kiss to inhale sharply, his whispered, “Minx,” sounding loud in her ears.

He continued to kiss her as if he was making up for all the years they hadn’t done this.

Perhaps he was.

At some point, either Perkins or Graves had come to the dining room to collect their plates, but neither Robert nor Ivy acknowledged the gasp of embarrassment or the murmured, “Pardon me,” as the servant scurried back to the butler’s pantry .

When he finally released her lips, their shared expressions of surprise and embarrassment turned into tentative grins. Robert allowed a long sigh. “I could not help it,” he said, as if he was apologizing for having kissed her. “After what happened on the Yule log, I wanted to kiss you again. Wanted to kiss you the moment I found you in my bed last night,” he admitted.

Ivy purred. “Is that all?” She grinned. “At least you knew it was me and not a dream,” she added in a tease.

His silver-blue eyes seemed to darken in response. “You know it is not,” he whispered.

Ivy’s face, already flushed with color, seemed to redden even more. “Well, you’ll have me, I promise. But not until after the dancing is done,” she replied, her own eyes darkening as if in warning.

“So… I can’t have you right now? For dessert?” he asked meekly, glancing at the table. “Right here?”

Ivy blinked. “Robert,” she scolded. She glanced towards the butler’s pantry and then to the door. Although she didn’t exactly have a plan, she thought to move to the end of the table and lift her skirts when Graves suddenly appeared at the door.

“Pardon me, my lord. My lady,” he said, obviously surprised to find them standing. “The servants have finished their meal, the refreshment table has been set, and the piano-forté has been uncovered.”

Robert made a sound of frustration. “We haven’t eaten any of the fruitcake,” he complained, although from the way he said it, Ivy knew he meant something entirely different.

“We’ll be there in a moment, Graves,” she said. “But could you bring the fruitcake and set it at the refreshment table? I’d like to share it with everyone.”

“Of course, my lady,” Graves answered nervously, moving to do her bidding .

Ivy tugged on Robert’s hand. “Come, darling,” she whispered.

“My coat is in my study,” he said, leading them there first. “Am I going to have to give a speech again?”

She paused on the threshold. “Well, you could remind them they don’t have to work on Boxing Day,” she suggested. “And that they should keep their champagne consumption to no more than two glasses.” She helped him with his top coat and buttoned it.

Robert scoffed. “Champagne?” he repeated in surprise. “You... you brought champagne? For the servants?”

Ivy nodded. “A few bottles. You brought port,” she accused. When he rolled his eyes, she tittered. “Oh, it’s nearly Christmas, Robert,” she reminded him. “And tonight, we are celebrating.”

He seemed to pout for a moment before he asked, “Will I get an orange?”

Ivy grinned as they made their way into the decorated hall. “I’ll see to it you have two,” she replied happily.