“Will you let me try it my way first?” he retorted, glaring down at her, unable to remain dispassionate with this wretched female. “Can you admit that I may have a little more experience in the ways of society than you do?”
He could only see the white outline of her face beneath the dark cap of hair, so he couldn’t read her expression. She stood still for a moment—and he realized that stillness was an unnatural state for her. She should be humming and flitting about like one of her subjects.
“Only if you take me with you and explain to me what you plan as you go.”
“Take you into gambling hells or worse? You don’t know what you ask.”
“I do and I will,” she vowed, as if they were in a church. “And if you don’t take me, then I’ll find someone who can.”
He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.
Fifteen
“His lordship is furious with you,” Bell whispered the next morning as she tidied the bow on Iona’s small straw cap. “Are you sure you wish to go with him?”
“Nonsense. Lord Ives doesn’t care what I do one way or another. He is simply unhappy at being thwarted. Men are frequently like that. He’ll come around.” Iona straightened the frock Bell had loaned her. Had she Bell’s salary, she’d have purchased bright red to go with her ugly chestnut hair dye. But Bell was trying to blend in with the woodwork by wearing browns and tans. Even the bustle was small and unassuming. Still, it was more fashionable than any Iona owned.
Deciding whether she wished to be Nan or Iona matched her confusion over wanting to both strip off the folds of coffee-colored lace to uncover the revealing neckline and wishing to don a heavy shawl to conceal the form-fitting bodice. She still didn’t really know who she was.
Kissing Lord Ives last night had not helped her confusion. May the good Lord in heaven help her, but she had wanted the man last night. She’d wanted all the sensations his experienced lips had promised. She’d wanted to know the meaning of the pressure between her legs. By all that was holy, she’d wanted to lift skirts and petticoats and learn the animal act they’d simulated.
And she wasn’t entirely certain she wouldn’t encourage him to show her.
She hadn’t felt this heady with excitement when she and Bell had plotted their escape.
“Lord Ives doesn’t strike me as a man who can be wrapped around your little finger,” Bell warned. “You may make country lads dance to your tune, but he is no green lad.”
Iona beamed at her reflection in her sister’s mirror. “I am in no danger wrapped to the ears in your bland flounces and frills. I look like a dowdy spinster in this. Really, Bell, you need to add a little color to your life. You should have seen the gowns in Rainford’s ballroom! It was like watching a dancing rose garden with bare shoulders. The earl is accustomed to ladies who flirt their wares. He’ll not know I exist.”
Bell smacked Iona’s hand without anger. “That is my very best Sunday dress you disparage. I should send you off in my official uniform. If you are to entice Mr. White into marriage, you’ll need to look more like a countess. You’ll have to sell more pearls.”
Iona hugged her sister. “I’m sorry. I know you’re worried. But don’t you see? Nothing I do can be much worse than returning to Mortimer’s destruction. Look at this as an adventure. If I fail, we know we can find shelter with the Malcolm ladies. If I succeed, you can have the estate, and I can have my freedom. It’s worth the gamble.”
Bell hugged her back. “I know. But I so much wanted us to be like normal ladies, with friends and family and someone to love and children romping about our feet. That’s silly, I know.”
It was especially silly for Bell, who had been known to fall senseless when anything from sheep to men caught her by surprise. There was a reason she was the quiet twin. She would never know normal.
“It’s not silly. We will arrange it,” Iona insisted. “Keep studying Lydia’s library, learn more about your condition, and I’ll be back before you know it.” Iona kissed her twin’s cheek and hurried down the stairs. The train left Calder station early.
Lord Ives impatiently stalked the foyer while his man ordered his bags carried out to the cart. The earl was wearing a tailored, shoulder-hugging, collarless coat of a dark blue that matched his eyes. He slapped on his top hat and glared at her as if it were all her fault that he wasn’t on the train yet.
Since he was always diplomatically polite to everyone else, she was apparently the only one gifted with his glares and impatience. She smiled pertly up at him, then adjusted her straw hat, using the mirror for that purpose. “You can pretend not to know me, you know. No one will notice one more stray Malcolm leaving her family’s journals at the library.”
“And I’m to have you riding in the cattle car with the servants, right.” He strode out, not offering his arm, as if she were, indeed, a servant.
She had fully expected to ride in the cheap seats, as she had on the way up. “I can buy my own ticket,” she reminded him, following him out to the cart the castle provided for transportation until a better road was built.
“With what, your honey? And I wouldn’t put it past you to vanish again.”
