Kissed at Midnight (16 page)

“Sing for me,” he whispered,
his breath caressing her ear.

His hands remained on her,
like a support should she fall. With him standing just behind her, she was
aware of his strong form and that strength seemed to feed into her.

Allowing her ribs to expand,
she recalled a song that she had become very fond of. Who would have thought
that after listening to his drunken singing that night, she would begin to fall
for her master?

“Go on,” he urged.

Licking her lips, she began,
“M-mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam...”

The sound was full—stronger than she expected
but not up to her usual standards. But it was singing after all. She continued
through the first version, stumbling over several words until she reached the
chorus. “Home! Home! Sweet, sweet home!”

Courage filled her and she
even smiled as she recalled his baritone singing the same words. She finished
the song on a strong, bold note and finally opened her eyes. It disappointed
Ivy that there was no audience but then August turned her around and she saw
the admiration in his gaze.

“Minx,” he said with a
smile. “That was my song.”

She merely beamed back at
him. She had done it. She had sung in front of him. Perhaps she was cured.

“I’m so proud of you, Ivy.”

And then he kissed her. His
lips came down upon hers, seeking, claiming. Warmth burst through her chest
while his words echoed around her head. He was proud of her. A mere parlour
song and he was proud of her. When had anyone ever said that to her?

The thought was lost to the
heat of his mouth and the touch of his hands. One palm came up to cup her face
while the other settled on her lower back. Acutely aware of his fingers resting
just above her rear, she swayed into him and looped her hands around his neck.

When he broke away, he
grinned at her. The fact he wasn’t scowling or giving her his usual regretful
look warmed her heart and gave her hope. Perhaps she could perform, perhaps she
could get something more from August. She certainly hoped so.

“We shall continue to
practice,” he promised her, “and you shall be ready to perform before the week
is out.”

August tugged at his necktie and straightened his dinner
jacket. Even Mrs Cartwright had come out of the kitchens to see Ivy. The sour-faced
woman would never admit it but he was convinced she had a soft spot for her. It
seemed Ivy had everyone enraptured.

He tapped his foot and drew
his pocket watch out of his waistcoat to check it again. What was taking her so
long? He eyed the top of the stairs and listened for footsteps. If she did not
hurry up, she would miss her singing debut. He’d told the duke that an
undiscovered talent would be performing at his gathering and August prayed he
wouldn’t look a fool. Once the population of Manchester heard her sing, he had
no doubt they’d be under her spell too but if they didn’t get to Grandbury on
time, that wouldn’t happen.

“Will you be all right with
Elsie, Mrs Cartwright?” he asked the housekeeper for the third time.

She clasped her hands and
pursed her lips, her shoulders going rigid under her basic, grey gown. “Of course.
I hardly think a sleeping child is beyond my capabilities, sir.”

He managed to smother a
laugh. A few months ago, all she could do was complain about the child but he
supposed Elsie slept through the night now and had settled quite well. Mostly
thanks to Ivy. Whatever magical routine she had the infant in, it certainly
worked.

The sound of floorboards
creaking made his heart come to a standstill. He lifted his gaze to the top of
the stairs and his heart started up again, doing an odd little dance in his
chest.

A vision. He’d even go as
far to say a goddess. In deep purple silk that complemented her beautiful skin,
she stole his breath. The gown highlighted her trim waist with its gold
embroidered panel while ruffles along the neckline revealed a tempting hint of
cleavage. Hot jealousy spiked through him as he realised he wouldn’t be the
only man staring at her tonight.

Her hair was piled high on
her head with several curls skimming her neck. His mouth grew dry when he
recalled tasting that neck. Many men might lust after her tonight but none
would know how sweet that skin tasted. Throughout the week she’d traded kisses
for singing. It was so very wrong, yet he’d been powerless to resist. She had
to sing, had to share her gift with the world and he...

He simply had to kiss her.

What a fool he was.

She reached the bottom step
and smiled up at him. “Will I do?”

August reached for her hand,
ignoring Mrs Cartwright’s disapproving expression, and lifted her gloved
fingers to his lips. “Breathtaking.”

Her breasts rose and fell in
what he deemed a relieved sigh. His opinion mattered to her? He hoped so. At
some point during their acquaintance, her opinion had become important to him
too. She had become important to him. And not just because she cared for Elsie.

Damnation. What was wrong
with him? Too many days listening to that sultry voice and tasting those lips,
that was the problem.

“Come, we had better leave
or we shall be late.” He offered her his arm.

She took it, turning to Mrs
Cartwright. “Good evening to you, Mrs Cartwright. Thank you for looking after
Elsie.”

The woman waved away the
thanks and August was sure he detected a hint of a smile. “Best of luck, my
dear.”

Eyes wide, August had to
pause to study his housekeeper. Was she ailing? Was he? Perhaps he was hearing
things. Her cold countenance was back and no hint of softness remained. Ivy
tugged his arm, drawing him out of his shock.

As they made their way down
the steps to the waiting carriage, he whispered, “What the devil have you done
to Mrs Cartwright?”

“Oh, she is not so bad once
you get to know her.”

“Know her?” he spluttered as
he helped her into the carriage. “I’ve known her most of my life and I don’t
recall her ever smiling or calling anyone
dear
. You must tell me your
secret.”

She waited until he settled
opposite her before responding. “I have no secrets from you, August, you know
that.”

He supposed she didn’t.
Sweet, trusting Ivy did not know how to be secretive. It was certainly an
admirable trait and one of many that drew him to her. Of course how enchanting
she looked in an evening gown didn’t help. The urge to toss up her skirts and
ensure that even her body didn’t keep secrets from him was strong and sharp.

But this was her night. And
once everyone had heard how beautifully she sang, she would be in high demand.
Soon, she would be gone and he’d be left with Elsie and either a new nursemaid
or he would be forced to pay proper attention to the idea of finding a wife.

They travelled in silence
through the dark town. He suspected nerves played a large part in Ivy’s
silence.  The cobbled road made the vehicle sway from side to side and flashes
of light lit the interior as they passed by gas lamps. By the time they drew up
the road to Grandbury Hall, she seemed to shake from head to toe. Once the
carriage pulled to a halt, he leaned forwards and drew her hands into his.

“You can do this, Ivy.”

She nodded quickly and her
lips gave a little quiver. He released her hands, knowing he had to let her go.
She would go in through the rear of the house whilst he would go in the front
to go through the receiving line. Master and servant once again. But not for
long. Soon she would be the toast of the town and he’d have to let her go for
good.

The carriage door was pulled
open by the groom and he stepped out then helped her down. Plenty of other guests
were arriving so he didn’t dare press a kiss to her hand again or even give
into temptation and kiss those full lips.

Carriages rolled up to the
front steps of the Palladian-style building, crunching the gravel beneath their
wheels. Ladies and gentlemen in fine evening attire alighted from them. The
glow from the torches lining the road and the front of the house glinted off
silks and satins and jewels.

Nothing about their
situation would allow him to bend down and offer her some comfort by way of a
kiss but the idea teased in his mind. He took her arm, head held high and led
her around the side of the house to the rear entrance.

“What are you doing?” she
hissed.

“Go in here,” he said. “The
housekeeper is expecting you.” But before she could turn, he placed a hand on
her shoulder and pressed a finger under her chin to lift her gaze to his. “I’m
proud of you, Ivy.” He skimmed his lips over hers, once, twice, a third time,
somehow managing not to deepen it. “Now go.”

August glanced around at the
sound of voices not far from them and gave her a little push of encouragement.
She nodded, that succulent lip tucked under her teeth, and hurried into the
rear entrance.

He made his way to the front
of the house and to the receiving line, pausing to speak with the duke and
accept some compliments about the success of the tunnel. The ballroom glistened
with splendour. In fact, everything glistened. It made him wince. From the
chandeliers to the gleaming mirrors to the gold-framed pictures. Underfoot the
tiles shined so brightly, he feared he would be able to see up every lady’s
skirt tonight.

Though he passed the evening
by dancing with many of the ladies there and found himself embroiled in several
lively discussions of politics, his mind refused to stray from one thing. Or
more accurately, one person. His stomach had wound itself in knots and was
refusing to unravel no matter what he did to try to forget she’d be performing
shortly.

And if all went well, she
would leave him. Perhaps he ought to pay more attention to the women at the
gathering and truly pay homage to the idea of finding a wife.

Soon enough, the time came
for her performance. The duke did a fine job of introducing her as this
wonderful, undiscovered talent. The ladies’ eyes gleamed with anticipation and
when Ivy entered the room and took her position at the front, August noted more
than a few gentlemen’s expressions lit up. He wanted to tear every single
interested smile from their faces.

Ivy offered her thanks to
the duke and turned her gaze to the audience. She seemed calm. No sign of
nerves yet. Inwardly, he willed her on. She could do it.
Come on, Ivy.

The first piano chords
struck up and he waited for her rich voice to fill the room. Except it didn’t.
His palms grew clammy and he tried to get her to meet his gaze but he was too
far back and it was likely she couldn’t see him. August pushed past the crowd,
whose murmurs were slowly filling the huge ballroom. He slipped around the side
and tried to get her attention.

“Come on, Ivy,” he murmured
under his breath.

From where he was, he saw
the panic filling her gaze. The piano player stopped and started again. Her
breasts moved rapidly against her gown and she swayed slightly.  Panic surged
through him and he forced aside a rotund gentleman and then a gaggle of ladies
and several other gentlemen until he was nearly at her side. She swayed again
and the piano music came to an abrupt halt as she folded to one side.

He caught her as she went
down, her head only inches from the floor. His heart beat a sick tattoo in his
chest. August bundled her against his chest and pushed his way through the
crowds. A few cries from overwrought women made his lips curl in annoyance. His
only interest was getting Ivy out of here and safe.

He carved a path through the
crowd, snapping at a few who were slow to move until he spilled out of the
front door and down the steps. It took him mere moments to get her bundled into
the carriage. He barked his address at the driver and settled her across his
lap.

Lifting her chin, he noted
the bluish tinge to her lips. She was breathing but her breaths were fast and
panicked. Her eyes were at half-mast and she struggled to murmur something to
him.

He shushed her and silently
urged the driver to move faster. Once they reached the house, he’d tear that
dress from her and get her laid down. Thankfully the streets were clear and it
didn’t take long.

As soon as he’d paid the
driver, he hauled her out of the carriage and carried her up the stairs to the
front door. Within minutes, he had her in his bedroom and began tearing at the
tiny hooks on the back of her gown.

He didn’t get far. She
pushed him away and drew in a ragged breath as she slumped against the bed.
Tears spilled down her cheeks and they tore at his chest. He lay beside her and
tried to slip his hands around her back to begin undoing her gown again but she
was having none of it.

“No, August,” she said
between gasps.

“You swooned. You’re
struggling to breathe.”

“I’m-I’m fine.” She tried to
curl up but he didn’t let her. He smoothed back her hair from her face and
noted her lips no longer had that awful colour but that her chest still rose
and fell heavily. “I’m j-just crying.” A sob bubbled out of her mouth and he
fought the urge to smile softly.

Even crying, she was
beautiful, and he couldn’t help be relieved she wasn’t about to swoon on him
again.

 “I’m so sorry.”

August studied her
tear-stained cheeks and looked into her glossy brown eyes. “Why are you sorry?”

“I let you down. I made a
fool of you.”

“You did no such thing.”

“I’m so sorry, August. I was
meant to make your life easier but instead I’ve complicated it.”

He skimmed away an escaping
tear with his thumb and rested his palm against her damp cheek. “Whatever do
you mean, you daft girl?”

“I have been pressuring you,
throwing myself at you. You must think me so w-w-wanton. I knew you did not
want me but still I tried.”

She drew in a long,
unladylike sniffle and turned her head away from him. He clasped her chin and
turned her to face him. “I always wanted you,” he said forcefully. “Always. Don’t
ever say that. You’ve done wonders with Elsie and, in truth, you have done a
lot for me.”

“I suppose I shall have to
give up on singing,” she said with a sigh.

 “You shall not,” August
said vehemently, lifting her chin so she had no choice but to look up at his
handsome features.

 “Ivy, you’ll sing in front
of an audience. You must. A voice like yours has to be shared.”

“But we tried. I do not know
what else to do now.”

“Practice, my sweets. We
will keep on practicing.”

“I feel just fine when you
are there by my side or watching me but when I stood in front of that crowd, I
could not see you, and I was so lost.”

He nodded. “I could tell.
Perhaps then, we shall have to make sure you can always see me. But let us
start small. I was a fool to push you into such a performance.”

“Not at all. You believed in
me, August. No one else ever has.”

 “I’ll always believe in
you.”

Lips parted, her gaze
searched his. Somewhere deep down, a long pang of desire and something more
started up. He was falling—over the edge and completely lost. She’d finally
done it. Broken him, pushed him. There was no going back now and he didn’t even
care.