A Bluestocking Christmas (11 page)

Simon would have to use words to seduce Ivy—words that intrigued and excited her. Her intelligence and quick wit would demand nothing less. It was why he’d spent practically all day researching various works of literature to use when the moment presented itself.
 

Her love of literature was obvious given her work at the library, but it was also clear that her tastes weren’t limited in any way. The fact that she’d been reading
The Golden Lotus
was evidence of that. A smile curved his mouth as he recalled finding the erotic book in her reading chair. Discovering the book in her possession both stunned and delighted him. It meant she was adventurous, and that was something he thoroughly enjoyed in a woman.
 

 
His gaze roved over her voluptuous body. The gown highlighted the sensuous line of her neck and lovely shoulders. Even more tempting was the way the gown plunged toward the valley of her breasts. They were full and lush, just like the rest of her.
 

The other day she’d had the look of a siren disguised as bookish spinster. Tonight she was an alluring temptress inviting him to taste her, seduce her. She exuded the aura of a woman who would take pleasure in her lover and give back in equal measure. An urgent hunger gripped him, and he struggled to control his physical response to her. Almost as if aware of his struggle, he saw her stiffen then reach up to touch the back of her neck. Instinct told him that she knew he here.
 

Slowly, she turned her head, and his gut tightened with need at the mysterious look on her features. Her sapphire eyes met his, and he immediately saw awareness tighten her body. No matter how much she might deny the fact, Ivy was attracted to him. It was visible in the way her cheeks flushed a soft pink and how she gripped her fan. She smiled graciously at the man she’d been conversing with then moved toward Simon. The moment she reached him, she hesitated briefly, a wary expression in her eyes, before she offered him her hand.
 

“Good evening, Lord Wycombe.” He didn’t hesitate to accept her hand and bow in her direction as he kissed her fingertips. When she tried to pull free, he kept her hand firmly in his grasp.

“My name is Simon.”

“And what am I to take away from this revelation.” She arched an eyebrow at him in an expression of disinterest, but he could feel the tension flowing through her body and into her hand. With a smile, he squeezed her fingers slightly.
 

“Say my name, Ivy.”

“I hardly think—”

“If you don’t, I promise to do something that will leave your guests scandalized.” He smiled as she glared at him before nodding sharply.

“As you wish—Simon.”

Not yet ready to release her, Simon straightened upright and carried her hand to his mouth once more. A slight shudder trembled through her down to her fingertips. He smiled.

“You look enchanting.”

“If you seek to flatter me, my lord, I should warn you that I’m immune to such platitudes.”
 

“Would you have me lie to you?” He released her hand as her lovely mouth tightened into a firm line.

“I prefer blunt honesty to flattery.” The tartness of her tone made him laugh.

“Since you prefer honest observations, I can assume you demand nothing less of yourself.”

“Of course.” She sniffed with indignation.

“Then convince me you weren’t thinking about me when you selected your dress for this evening.” He grinned as her eyes widened with surprise. An instant later, her surprise turned into glare.

“That doesn’t even deserve an answer.”

“Evading the issue is far from being honest. Admit it, Ivy, you thought about me when you picked out this dress.”

The expression on her face made him smile as he watched consternation, frustration, and irritation slide across her lovely face in quick succession. She was like a cornered cat, ready to hiss and scratch at the first sign of trouble.
 

“Just because you happened to be on my mind when I pulled this dress out of my wardrobe doesn’t mean I chose it as a means of pleasing or enticing you.” A serene smile curved her lips as she set her chin at a stubborn angle. The remark was worthy even of Disraeli and he smiled.

“Come, my beautiful liar, I think it’s time you introduced me to some of your guests.” Cupping her elbow, he guided her forward. “It would seem we’re causing quite a stir.”

Dismay darkened her eyes as she allowed him to lead her deeper into the room. They stopped at the closest group of guests, where Ivy introduced him to the Countess of Effington. A tall, dour woman, the Countess peered at him through a monocle that hung on a long pearl chain around her neck.

 
“Lord Wycombe. I knew your father. A devilishly attractive man and a bit of a reprobate. I hope you don’t take after him.” The woman’s deep voice echoed with self-importance as she eyed him with disapproval. Simon bit back a scathing retort and smiled instead.

“I’m worse, Lady Effington. Far worse.” He watched as the Countess registered his words and a glint of amusement sparked in her eyes.

“Well done, my boy. I deserved a far harsher reply and you chose not to eviscerate an old woman.” Lady Effington smiled at him and tapped his arm with her fan. “I understand from Miss Beecham here that you’re to be my escort into dinner. I trust you’ll have something interesting to say over our meal.”

With a sharp glance at Ivy, he saw mischief flash across her face before her smile steadied into polite serenity. The little minx. She knew full well their agreement meant he was to spend the entire evening at her side. Turning his full attention on the older woman, he directed his most charming smile at her.
 

“It will be my pleasure to try and entertain you during dinner, my lady.” With a quick glance at Ivy, he grinned. “A discussion of famous literary texts, perhaps? If I recall, Miss Beecham had one such text in her possession the other day. Perhaps she could offer up the name of the volume for our discussion.”

“Well, Miss Beecham? What’s the name of this book Lord Wycombe is referring to?” The Countess turned toward her hostess a look of curiosity on her aging features. With her eyebrows arching upward, the old woman waited for Ivy to respond. Under the Countess’s inquisitive, bird-like gaze, Ivy was clearly disconcerted.

 
“I… Forgive me, my lady, but I don’t recall the name of the book.”

“Don’t recall the name of the book.” The older woman scoffed. “Poppycock, you’ve never forgotten the title of a book since I’ve known you.”

“Something to do with flowers, wasn’t it, Miss Beecham?” Simon said in a helpful manner. The moment he spoke, Ivy’s cheeks flushed bright with pink. She shot him a furious glare before returning her attention to the tall lady in front of her.

“For the life of me, Lady Effington, I’ve completely forgotten the book’s title.”

“Perhaps you’re flustered by the company you’re keeping.” The noblewoman arched an eyebrow at Ivy then deliberately looked at Simon. Avoiding the old lady’s gaze, he suppressed a grin as he saw Ivy’s cheeks deepen to an even lovelier hue. She cast him a quick glance as she shook her head.

“It would require someone of importance to cause forgetfulness on my part, and I’ve not met anyone of any significance lately,” Ivy said with a smile of satisfaction as she gave him a pointed look. “I confess my hostess duties have been most distracting for the past week.”

“Of course, that must be the reason you’ve forgotten the title of the book, my dear Miss Beecham. I know how exhausting these social events can be to plan.” Lady Effington’s voice held more than a trace of amusement, and Ivy’s smile faltered slightly before she regained her composure.
 

“If you’ll excuse me, I should ensure that supper is on schedule. I’m certain Lord Wycombe will prove adequate company this evening, my lady.”
 

Not waiting for a response, Ivy moved away from them with a quiet rustle of silk. Her back was straight as she walked away, and he knew she was furious with him at the way he’d teased her. A raspy chuckle echoed from the woman next to him. He turned his head and met the woman’s amused gaze.
 

“That woman, my boy, will lead you a merry dance.”

“I have no doubt of that. But I’m confident it will a pleasurable one,” he said with a smile.

Lady Effington laughed again, her fan tapping playfully against his arm as she sent him a broad wink. The woman was right. Seducing Ivy was one thing, taming her was going to be an altogether different matter.

Chapter 7

Ivy kept her gaze fixed rigidly on scenery outside her carriage window as a crisp silence filled the vehicle’s interior. Lady Effington had been relentless at supper with her efforts to get Ivy to confess the name of the book she’d been reading. She closed her eyes in self-disgust. What in heaven’s name had made her think pairing Simon with Lady Effington was a good idea? She gave a small start of surprise as she realized Lord Wycombe had suddenly become Simon in her head.
 

“You’re angry with me.” The amusement in Simon’s voice infuriated her. With a hiss of fury, she jerked her gaze away from the window to glare at him.

“And why shouldn’t I be? Lady Effington hounded me all through supper about that blasted book. I’m certain she knows it’s something thoroughly wicked.”

Before she could protest, Simon quickly changed seats to sit beside her. The moment he was next to her, Ivy’s chest tightened until it became difficult to breathe. The faint aroma of sandalwood drifted beneath her nose, and as much as she tried to ignore the scent of him, his nearness made it impossible to do so. She jumped again as his fingers trailed along the edge of her jaw. Her breathing escalated as she jerked away from his touch.
 

“I doubt Lady Effington thinks any such thing,” he said with laughter in his voice.

“Don’t underestimate the woman.” Ivy glared at him but when he refused to look repentant, she looked away. “The Countess is far more astute than most people give her credit.”
 

“I’m sure she is, but Lady Effington’s literary tastes don’t interest me. I’d much rather discuss your personal reading preferences.”

“Why must you insist on teasing me this way? Reading that book was a mistake.”
 

He laughed and the sound sent desire spiraling through her. Ivy turned her head to meet his gaze directly. The close proximity of her mouth to his made her draw in a quick breath. Appalled at the way he was weakening her defenses, she immediately reminded herself that he was of the nobility and couldn’t be trusted. Determined to prevent his obvious intent to seduce her, Ivy returned her gaze to the landscape outside the window. Silence filled the carriage for a long moment, and Ivy felt Simon retreat from her.

“Curiosity is never a mistake, Ivy.”

“Perhaps not, but in this instance I should never have brought that book home. I should have left it in the obscure spot it had been placed.”
 

“But then you would never have known its contents. You would never understand what it can be like between a man and a woman.”

“I am all too aware of what it’s like to be with a man. It brings nothing but pain and disappointment,” she snapped. Simon’s sharp intake of air made her realize she’d spoken her thoughts out loud. Dear lord what had she been thinking to reveal something so intimate. She froze as she waited for his scorn to wash over her.

“Tell me his name, Ivy. I’ll have the man horse whipped,” Simon’s snarled.
 

Startled by his unexpected reaction and the ferocity of his words she turned her head to look at him. There was a fiercely protective expression on his face, and the sight of it sent warmth spiraling through her. The way he appeared ready to do battle on her behalf made Ivy swallow hard. She quickly looked away, her body rigid with tension.
 

“It was a long time ago,” she said stiffly. “It would be dishonorable to lay all the blame at his feet.” Ivy winced at the admission. It was true. She’d given herself to Whitby freely. A strong hand captured hers.

“Whoever he was, the man was a fool to let you go.”

Ivy glanced down at the large hand holding hers before she looked up to see the sincerity in his gray eyes. The man was a conundrum. He’d declared her unfit for his nephew, but suitable for a liaison with him. And yet, here he was attempting to reassure her she was worthy of something better than Whitby’s treatment of her.

“You surprise me, my lord. I thought as a commoner I was unworthy of anything but disdain.” She winced slightly at her icy words.

“I confess my assumptions about you may have been misguided,” he said in a rueful manner. “Tonight you illustrated why breeding is not always a good indicator of grace and respectability.”

This time Ivy was more than surprised, she was astounded, and she stared at him with her mouth open. The chagrin on his handsome features made her believe he meant every word. Uncertainty swept through her. Maybe she was simply seeing what she wanted to see. Perhaps she needed to believe he’d changed his mind if only to validate her belief that she was worthy of the same respect a member of the peerage was. When she didn’t say anything, frustration darkened his features.