8. Dinner Breaks Down Barriers

CHAPTER 8

DINNER brEAKS DOWN BARRIERS

E arlier, in Ivy’s bedchamber

Ivy gave a start as Anne Salisbury curtsied and quickly took her leave by way of the dressing room. Although the woman hadn’t been formally dismissed, she had completed dressing her and her hair.

She had done a masterful job of it, too, the fiery copper locks pulled into a series of curls around her crown atop which lay a smooth, flat bun. Even better, her scalp hadn’t suffered one whit.

The appearance of Robert had no doubt frightened poor Salisbury, and Ivy couldn’t blame her. Her own heart was pounding a tattoo in her chest worthy of a Scottish drummer. Not due to fright so much—more because of the sudden excitement she felt at seeing him in his formal clothes.

“Skittish thing,” Robert said, a frown marring his already harsh features.

“Oh, you meant Miss Salisbury?” Ivy teased, referring to his comment, You look surprised and rather lovely this evening.

He gave her a quelling glance.

“That skittish thing is the reason Walker got me here in this awful weather,” Ivy said, threading a sapphire earbob through the piercing in her ear.

Robert furrowed a brow. “What do you mean?”

Ivy dared a glance back at the dressing room to ensure Salisbury had indeed taken her leave. “Mr. Walker is sweet on her. They’ve been exchanging correspondence ever since they met last year,” she explained, finishing with the other earbob.

“I thought Walker was a married man,” Robert said, his voice nearly a whisper.

Turning from the mirror, Ivy frowned. “He was, until Mariel died five years ago,” she said on a huff. She was about to add, “Do keep up,” but from his stunned reaction, she thought it best not to scold him.

“I’m sorry. I... I didn’t know,” he murmured. “But I am happy for him... if...” He waved to the dressing room door. “If he and Salisbury...” He cleared his throat and sighed, obviously not about to say any more about it.

“Well, good, because I may have given them permission to...” She stopped speaking when she noticed how he was staring at her. “What is it?”

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me,” he said, waving a hand, his gaze taking in her blue dinner gown, jewelry, and coiffure. “But I know you prefer to stick with tradition. You always look stunning in blue,” he added.

Ivy grinned. “It’s called sapphire, and it perfectly matches the parure you gave me for our tenth anniversary,” she said, holding up a wrist to display a sapphire and diamond bracelet. The earbobs decorating her earlobes were part of the same set. “I so rarely have an occasion to wear the parure.”

Robert gestured to the dressing room. “Will she be coming out of there?”

Ivy glanced to where he indicated. “I rather doubt it. There’s a servant’s entrance on the other side. Salisbury is long gone.” She didn’t add that she had a thought as to just where the servant was heading.

She hoped the woman was off to see Walker.

Given the timing of their arrival and the amount of time it would have taken for the driver to unhitch horses and when Graves would have summoned the housemaid to her bedchamber, Ivy knew the two wouldn’t have yet had a chance to see one another.

He displayed a frown. “I didn’t mean to scare her off,” he murmured.

Realizing Ritchfield had given her the perfect opening with his comment, Ivy asked, “Did you bring some ghosts with you from York?” From the expression on his face, Ivy knew she had hit a nerve.

“Why... why do you ask that?” he stammered.

She stepped forward and hooked her hand around his elbow, forcing him to turn towards the door. “Why did you look as if you had seen one when I asked?” she countered in a quiet voice.

Robert stutter-stepped before he had them taking leave of her bedchamber. “Perhaps I was hoping to leave them behind,” he murmured, once they were in the corridor.

Ivy gathered her skirts in one hand when they approached the top of the stairs. “What’s happened, Robert? What ghosts are you talking about?” she asked in a whisper. Although there didn’t appear to be any servants nearby, she didn’t wish for their conversation to be overheard. From what Salisbury had said, she assumed all the servants had heard Graves’ recite the comment about the ghosts. She didn’t want them to think her husband had brought some of them with him to Ritchfield Park.

Robert was quiet until they reached the landing. “I found some correspondence I’d quite forgotten about,” he said.

“Oh?” she prompted. They descended another flight of stairs before she realized she would have to force an answer from him. “From whom?”

“You,” he stated, the moment he reached the ground floor. He led them to the dining room as Ivy gasped and stared at him.

“Me?” she said in disbelief. “I... I haven’t written letters to you in?—”

“Years, yes, I’m well aware,” he said, pulling out a chair for her at the end of the long dining table.

Ivy slowly settled into the chair, watching him as he made his way to the carver at the other end. She winced at seeing how far away from each other they would be sitting if she remained where she was. Coming to her feet, she waved to the footman. “Perkins, I’m going to sit there,” she said, pointing to the chair adjacent to the carver.

The footman’s eyes rounded. “Yes, my lady.”

Ivy knew she had caught Robert off-guard with her edict, but she was determined to continue their conversation without worry the servants might eavesdrop. From Salisbury’s comment a few minutes earlier, she knew the staff was curious about their master’s unexpected appearance at the country estate.

The footman was quick to set up a place setting for her, and he held the chair until she was reseated. Meanwhile, Robert had remained standing behind the carver and finally sat down.

“You may serve the wine and the first course,” Ivy said, directing the instructions to Perkins.

“Yes, my lady.” The footman disappeared into the butler’s pantry.

“I don’t think we’ve ever sat this close to one another during dinner,” Robert remarked, experimentally reaching out with his foot to determine where her slippered feet were under the table .

Ivy couldn’t help the rush of heat that had her cheeks reddening and her insides tumbling about. “I don’t wish to shout across the table when we’re speaking of ghosts,” she whispered, sounding far too defensive.

The footman appeared with the wine, and Graves delivered bowls of soup. When they were once again alone, Robert said, “The old letters aren’t really the ghosts,” he said, taking his spoon in hand. He stirred his soup a few times before lifting it to his lips. A purr of appreciation sounded.

Ivy furrowed an auburn brow when her gaze went to the hand that held his spoon. The knuckles there were scuffed, and one appeared larger than the others. “And yet they had you fleeing York,” she accused, tearing her attention from his hand. “On the absolutely worst day of winter.” She noticed his grimace and added, “What’s happened, Robert? What’s going on?”

He dipped his head, his gaze on the curls of steam rising from his bowl of soup. “I read them,” he stated, before he took another spoonful of soup to his mouth. “Or reread them, I suppose.” He ate the soup and didn’t make eye contact as he returned the spoon to the bowl and once again stirred the contents.

“How old were these letters?” she asked, finally eating a spoonful of soup she had been holding in anticipation of his response.

“About thirty years, I suppose,” he replied.

She reacted with surprise. “You have letters from me that are that old?”

He gave her a quelling glance. “Of course. I’ve kept all of them,” he said. “You wrote the ones I was reading whilst I was in London for Parliament and you were in York. Moving into Gladstone Hall. Redecorating the salon and the dining room,” he added wistfully.

Ivy inhaled softly. “Oh, I remember. We had just returned from our wedding trip, and I was so happy.” She suddenly frowned. “Except I wasn’t.”

He arched a dark brow in surprise. “You weren’t?”

“Oh, I was happy, but I missed you terribly,” she admitted. “We had spent every day together since our wedding and then... suddenly you were gone .”

He considered her words as he took another spoonful of soup. “In one of the letters, you had learned you were with child,” he said. “I think I must have bought drinks for everyone at Brooks’s the night after I received that letter.”

Grinning, Ivy continued eating her soup. “I feared you would be bored reading all my correspondence. I recall I wrote every day until I knew you had left London to come home.”

“Indeed you did, but I was never bored, Ivy. Not whilst reading the letters anyway.” He sighed. “I was never so glad to leave London as I was at the end of that session.”

Ivy allowed a wan smile at hearing his claim. “I was so relieved when you arrived at Gladstone Hall. So I could show you what had been done to those rooms,” she said wistfully. “I so wanted to see your reaction.”

Robert winced, remembering he had only had eyes for her. “You must have thought me daft when I didn’t immediately notice the changes.”

She tittered. “ Blind , is what I remember thinking,” she countered, arching an auburn brow for emphasis.

“Only because I couldn’t take my eyes off you ,” he argued. “You were already so round with child,” he murmured, his gaze clearly on his mind’s eye. “And you glowed, as if you had swallowed a lit candle.”

Ivy grinned at the memory. “I was so worried you would find me too fleshy.”

“God, no,” he whispered. “You were so gorgeous. You still are,” he said, waving his spoon for emphasis. “It’s a good thing both Charity and Grace take after you more than me. ”

Staring at her husband for a moment, Ivy noted his thoughtful expression. “Thank you,” she murmured.

He went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “Our poor boys. I fear they’ve both taken after me in the looks department?—”

“Our sons are quite striking in appearance,” she argued. “There are a dozen young ladies who would be happy to wed them once they set their minds to marriage.”

Robert winced. “I know I wasn’t a handsome bloke?—”

“You didn’t need to be,” she interrupted. When she noticed his questioning glance, she added, “You’ve always had a sort of charisma about you.”

“Charisma?” he repeated in surprise. He dropped his spoon to stare at her.

She countered his stare with one of her own, her eyes finally narrowing. “An aura of… power , I suppose is what it is. As if you can command a room just by standing there,” she explained. “It’s probably due to your Scandinavian ancestry. Or maybe from a Roman centurion,” she teased. “It was very effective. Still is, I think.”

Robert settled back in his chair, his gaze darting about as if he was confused. He cleared his throat. “I certainly don’t feel powerful,” he murmured.

Having lifted a finger to direct the footman to clear the soup bowls, Ivy stared at him. “Why ever not?”

He waited until the footman had left the dining room to say, “I’m getting old, Ivy. I’m not the same man I was.”

She inhaled softly. “I don’t know what you’re seeing in the mirror these days, but you don’t appear to have aged one whit since the last time I saw you,” she said.

“Have you considered wearing spectacles?” he asked, a smirk appearing to lighten his stark features.

Once again tittering, she waited until the footman and Graves had delivered the next courses—she had elected for several to be served together to shorten the meal time—before she said, “I cannot believe finding some old letters would have you fleeing Gladstone Hall to come to Ritchfield Park.” She swallowed. “But I’m glad you did.”

“You are?” he asked in surprise.

“Well, of course. I shouldn’t want you to spend your Christmas alone in that huge house,” she replied. “I recall it was rather drafty in the winter.”

“Still is,” he murmured. He selected a slice of beef and placed it on her plate before he helped himself to another for his plate.

Ivy watched as he filled her plate with a variety of food, her eyes rounding with each additional serving. “I am not with child, so I rather doubt I’m going to be able to eat all this,” she warned.

He shrugged. “We have all night.”

Her brows furrowing, Ivy tucked into her meal, secretly glad the meat wasn’t the texture of shoe leather and the vegetables weren’t mushy. “So... what exactly was it about the letters that bothered you so much?”

About to eat some beef, Robert put down his fork and shook his head. “Nothing bothered me,” he claimed. “They were merely... reminders, I suppose.”

Ivy paused her fork in midair, the peas on it threatening to roll off the tines. “Reminders?” she prompted.

“Of us. Of how happy we were,” he explained, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. “Which had me wondering what happened to... to drive you away? To keep us apart except during the Season?” He sighed as if he was exasperated. “It feels as if it’s been ten years since we were truly... together.”

Ivy stopped chewing and nearly choked. She took a long draught of her wine. “Actually, it has been ten years, and as I recall, it’s always been you who has left me,” she said in a quiet voice.

Robert stiffened, as if he was preparing for an argument. “ I leave London, yes. We used to all go to York every year after Parliament was finished. The entire family. Then ten years ago I went back to York—I had to, what with the mines and all—and you weren’t with me. You stayed in London,” he accused.

Despite her desire to keep their conversation light, Ivy decided to argue her side of the matter. “As did the girls because that’s when Charity started finishing school,” she stated, referring to their oldest daughter. “I wasn’t about to leave her alone in London,” she explained. “We talked about it at the time.”

Robert straightened in his chair. “Oh. I’d quite forgotten about that,” he whispered. “But... you stayed again the next year,” he accused.

“Because by then, both Charity and Grace were in finishing school,” she replied. “And I stayed another three years until they were both done with school and their come-outs, and then there were their betrothals, and their weddings?—”

“And yet you continued to live there, even after they were wed,” he accused.

There it was. The words describing exactly when their estrangement had begun. The acknowledgement that something had gone wrong.

But how had this been her fault?

Ivy sighed and dipped her head. “As I recall, you no longer seemed to want my company,” she said in a quiet voice. She managed to make the words less an accusation and more of an explanation.

“But… but I did,” he assured her. He turned in his chair to face her, one hand covering hers.

Ivy’s attention darted to his hand, her gaze going from his scuffed knuckles to the Ritchfield crest emblazoned on the onyx ring he wore on his fourth finger. For years, they had joked that should he punch someone on the chin, they would be left with a permanent scar the mirror image of the raised crest.

She lifted her other hand and traced the edges of the gold crest with a fingertip. “You never asked me to go to back to York with you. You just packed up and left the day after Parliament was over.”

His mouth dropped open as he shook his head. “I didn’t think you required an invitation to go back to your own home,” he countered quietly.

Ivy inhaled to respond but instead simply stared at the ring.

Dipping his head, he said, “I suppose I should have asked you. Showed that I was interested in learning your plans,” he admitted.

About to mention she hadn’t joined him in York because she feared she might be interrupting an affaire —she had always worried he had taken a mistress—Ivy thought better of it and said, “I should have asked about yours.”

Despite the seriousness of their discussion, Robert displayed an expression of amusement. “We are certainly a pair,” he murmured.

Ivy sighed, her head dropping to one side. “Your life was in York. Mine was in London.”

He pushed aside his dinner plate and leaned forward to place his elbows on the table. “What if... what if it wasn’t?” he asked, steepling his fingers.

Ivy blinked. “Are you referring to my life? Or?—”

“Either,” he said. “Neither. Oh, I don’t know. Does it really matter, if neither one of us wants to be in the other place?”

Ivy’s eyes widened. “I didn’t say I didn’t wish to be in York,” she said softly.

He once again dipped his head. “It’s true I would rather be in York than in London,” he admitted. “But... if you knew you were... wanted in York, would you come? ”

Ivy stared at him for several seconds. “I... I suppose I would.”

He swallowed. “Do you think you might be inclined to go there? After Christmas? Mayhap stay until...”

“Until it’s time to go to London for the Season?” she asked in awe. Inhaling slowly, she blinked several times and resisted the urge to place a hand on his forehead to check for a fever. Her husband of nearly thirty years appeared paler than usual, which only exacerbated his harsh features and stern expression. “Robert? Are you feeling all right?”

He frowned, which worsened his appearance. “I’m fine. I’m merely...” He shook his head. “Lonely,” he whispered.

“Robert,” she said, the word almost a whisper.

He jerked at hearing his given name, as if he hadn’t heard her use it several times already that evening. She almost always called him Ritchfield. “If you didn’t? go back to London—at least, not right away—would there be someone... anyone who would miss you there?” he asked.

Ivy recognized the opportunity to mention her desire to pension Watkins and to hire a replacement. “Only my lady’s maid, and that’s a topic I did wish to discuss with you.”

Robert gave a start, obviously not expecting that particular answer. “I did wonder about that,” he responded. “You seemed especially vexed about it when we spoke earlier. As if you wanted to say something but thought better of it.”

“That’s it exactly,” she admitted.

He tossed his napkin onto the table. “Has something happened with Watkins?” he asked, his tone suggesting he was suspicious of the servant.

“I almost mentioned it upstairs,” she admitted. “But I didn’t wish to in case... well, because sometimes the walls have ears,” she whispered. “And this is about a servant.”

“Understood,” he said. “Go on.”

Ivy pushed aside her dinner plate. “She’s grown old and quite forceful with the hair pins,” she stated. “I know she was your mother’s maid, and your sister’s, but...” She paused and winced.

“Go on,” he urged.

“My scalp can no longer abide her attempts to stab it to death repeatedly twice a day, every day.”

Blinking, Robert furrowed a brow. “Then by all means, pension the woman and hire a new one.” He directed a thumb into the air. “That skittish one upstairs if you’d like. She can obviously style hair,” he claimed, waving to her head. “Your coiffure looks especially fetching this evening.”

Regarding him with an expression of surprise, Ivy finally sighed with relief. “Thank you. I shall do that,” she said. Her brows suddenly furrowed. “Is that why you didn’t bring your valet with you? Because he’s nicking you with the razor?”

His gaze darting to one side, Robert sighed. “Well, Waddington isn’t causing bloodshed,” he replied. “At least, not every day, but he has grown long in the tooth, and he takes entirely too long to shave and dress me in the mornings.”

Ivy tittered softly. “Well then pension him and hire a new one,” she murmured.

Robert leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, a grin lifting the corner of his mouth. “Thank you. I shall do that,” he replied.

Ivy sighed contentedly and pulled her dinner plate back into place. She helped herself to another bite of beef. “I am happy to help.”

“You always were,” he remarked, placing his napkin back on his lap and returning his attention to his dinner.

It was another hour before the two took their leave of the dining room. Robert escorted her up the stairs and to the mistress suite. Although Ivy half expected he might ask to come to her bedchamber later that evening, he simply bade her goodnight with a kiss on her cheek. “I’m off to the library,” he said. “See you in the morning for breakfast?”

Ivy managed to hide her surprise at hearing the query. “Breakfast, yes,” she agreed. “I usually go down about nine o’clock.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Once she had her door shut, she leaned against it and allowed a sigh of relief.

Or was it disappointment?