quiet, which was not unusual. Tea and meals were tense and uncomfortable. Willow brushed aside the strain, babbling away, pretending that one word answers from Ivy and the Duchess was nothing unusual. She often carried the conversation herself.
Today was no different as they sat at a large wooden table, and a footman stood in the corner, ready to serve them tea from an old, but immaculate silver tea set. The walls were paneled oak, and dark red carpet lined the floorboards of the room. Unlit silver candelabras that would easily dispel the darkness of evening graced the table.
Entering the dining room, Simms announced there was another gift from the Earl of Stanton for Miss Ivy in the drawing rom. Willow and the Duchess followed her, unable to hide their interest.
It was a stack of all of Molière’s work, first editions. Books were terribly expensive, even for the wealthy, and to have a first edition of even one of Molière’s works was more than Ivy could imagine.
The Earl’s gifts were speaking to her heart. He was not buying her jewels or furs, which would appeal to other women. He was spending time thinking of each gift, finding the perfect fit for Ivy, gifts he knew she would enjoy. She felt truly pursued and completely out of her element.
“The man is courting you!” Willow squealed. “Why are you not more excited?”
Ivy looked at Willow, and then at the Duchess for confirmation. “Is this true?”
“It would appear so,” the Duchess answered.
“Is this not what you wished for all along? A high-class gentleman courting your illegitimate granddaughter?”
“Must you be so mocking and irreverent?” the Duchess demanded angrily.
“Yes, I must!”
Ivy stormed out of the room, wondering if there was anything she could do to please the stern Duchess. And then Ivy wondered why she cared.
***
“Miss Ivy, you have another gift,” Simms announced in exasperation a week later.
What could it possibly be now ? she wondered. Ivy was curled up on a chaise, A Gentleman’s Guide to Fishing in her lap, but she was much too distracted to read.
“Where is it?” Ivy asked.
“In the stables.”
Moments later they were at the Duchess’s stables and a groom held the reins to a beautiful black mare with a snowy white patch on her forehead. Her black mane was long and glossy, and she neighed in greeting upon Ivy’s arrival. The horse tossed her head impatiently.
“We seem to be very similar,” Ivy murmured to the horse, stroking the animal’s nose. When she stopped petting it for only a moment, the mare bumped its head against Ivy’s hand. Ivy laughed.
“Shall I fetch you ink and paper for a response?” Simms asked.
“That will not be necessary.” She grasped the spirited mare’s reins and hauled herself up onto the back of the unsaddled animal, sitting astride.
“Miss Ivy!” Simms gasped. He was blushing at the sight of Ivy’s legs. “You cannot ride astride. It is unladylike! Do something!” He looked at the groom for help.
“It is best not to fight, Miss Ivy,” the groom said, shaking his head. “You will not win.”
Ivy’s lips quirked into an amused smile. “I cannot control my horse riding sidesaddle. I tried it the other morning and the experience was thoroughly miserable.”
The footman sputtered with indignation. “The Duchess will have my head if she discovers I let you leave the stable without a saddle.”
“Then do not tell her,” Ivy suggested.
Willow had just made her way to the stables, and when she saw Ivy, she gasped.
Simms sighed in relief. “Excellent. Miss Willow, can you talk some sense into your sister?”
“Absolutely not,” Willow remarked with a smile. “I was gasping in awe of the mare. Is that your gift?”
Ivy nodded. “This is the most extravagant gift I have ever received. I must thank him in person. Which way is the Earl’s home?” Ivy asked Simms, who was still attempting to recover from shock.
Simms looked at the groom, as if
Today was no different as they sat at a large wooden table, and a footman stood in the corner, ready to serve them tea from an old, but immaculate silver tea set. The walls were paneled oak, and dark red carpet lined the floorboards of the room. Unlit silver candelabras that would easily dispel the darkness of evening graced the table.
Entering the dining room, Simms announced there was another gift from the Earl of Stanton for Miss Ivy in the drawing rom. Willow and the Duchess followed her, unable to hide their interest.
It was a stack of all of Molière’s work, first editions. Books were terribly expensive, even for the wealthy, and to have a first edition of even one of Molière’s works was more than Ivy could imagine.
The Earl’s gifts were speaking to her heart. He was not buying her jewels or furs, which would appeal to other women. He was spending time thinking of each gift, finding the perfect fit for Ivy, gifts he knew she would enjoy. She felt truly pursued and completely out of her element.
“The man is courting you!” Willow squealed. “Why are you not more excited?”
Ivy looked at Willow, and then at the Duchess for confirmation. “Is this true?”
“It would appear so,” the Duchess answered.
“Is this not what you wished for all along? A high-class gentleman courting your illegitimate granddaughter?”
“Must you be so mocking and irreverent?” the Duchess demanded angrily.
“Yes, I must!”
Ivy stormed out of the room, wondering if there was anything she could do to please the stern Duchess. And then Ivy wondered why she cared.
***
“Miss Ivy, you have another gift,” Simms announced in exasperation a week later.
What could it possibly be now ? she wondered. Ivy was curled up on a chaise, A Gentleman’s Guide to Fishing in her lap, but she was much too distracted to read.
“Where is it?” Ivy asked.
“In the stables.”
Moments later they were at the Duchess’s stables and a groom held the reins to a beautiful black mare with a snowy white patch on her forehead. Her black mane was long and glossy, and she neighed in greeting upon Ivy’s arrival. The horse tossed her head impatiently.
“We seem to be very similar,” Ivy murmured to the horse, stroking the animal’s nose. When she stopped petting it for only a moment, the mare bumped its head against Ivy’s hand. Ivy laughed.
“Shall I fetch you ink and paper for a response?” Simms asked.
“That will not be necessary.” She grasped the spirited mare’s reins and hauled herself up onto the back of the unsaddled animal, sitting astride.
“Miss Ivy!” Simms gasped. He was blushing at the sight of Ivy’s legs. “You cannot ride astride. It is unladylike! Do something!” He looked at the groom for help.
“It is best not to fight, Miss Ivy,” the groom said, shaking his head. “You will not win.”
Ivy’s lips quirked into an amused smile. “I cannot control my horse riding sidesaddle. I tried it the other morning and the experience was thoroughly miserable.”
The footman sputtered with indignation. “The Duchess will have my head if she discovers I let you leave the stable without a saddle.”
“Then do not tell her,” Ivy suggested.
Willow had just made her way to the stables, and when she saw Ivy, she gasped.
Simms sighed in relief. “Excellent. Miss Willow, can you talk some sense into your sister?”
“Absolutely not,” Willow remarked with a smile. “I was gasping in awe of the mare. Is that your gift?”
Ivy nodded. “This is the most extravagant gift I have ever received. I must thank him in person. Which way is the Earl’s home?” Ivy asked Simms, who was still attempting to recover from shock.
Simms looked at the groom, as if
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