A Bluestocking Christmas (19 page)

“The family is in the drawing room, miss. If you’ll follow me.”
 

As the butler moved forward, Ivy hesitated, frozen in place. She didn’t belong here. It wasn’t safe. If she moved quickly, she could grab her things and be gone before the man opened—the double doors of the salon slid apart as the butler announced her arrival in sonorous tones.
 

Her mouth went dry with fear as she slowly crossed the entry way and stepped into the salon. The first person she saw was Simon. The familiar tilt of his dark head made her heart skip a beat. Heat coursed through her body at the sight of him.
 

His gaze locked with hers. She recognized the flash of desire in his silvery eyes, but something else tempered his expression. Warm reassurance softened the harsh planes of his features as he silently offered her encouragement. His unspoken approval eased the fluttering in her stomach. At least one person here did not find her lacking. Ivy saw him take a step forward, before Anthony uttered an exclamation of pleasure and crossed the floor to her side.

“Miss Beecham, I’m delighted my uncle was able to convince to you to join us this evening.” Her hand clutched in his, Anthony pulled her toward a woman sitting on a scrolled back sofa talking with a young lady. “Let me introduce you to my mother.”

As they approached, the woman rose to her feet to greet her. Although plain in features, the woman’s brown eyes danced with merriment, and when she smiled, it was clear she was Simon’s sister.
 

“Mother, allow me to introduce you to Miss Beecham. Miss Beecham, my mother, Lady Claiborne.”

“Miss Beecham, how lovely to finally meet you. Anthony has spoken of you often, as has Simon.” Her hostess clasped her hand in a warm welcome. While curiosity and assessment filled her gaze, there was no hint of condescension in the other woman’s voice or manner. Warm and genuine, the woman’s welcome put some of her fears to rest.

“It was kind of you to invite me.”
 

“I can only say how grateful I am that you finally agreed to visit. It’s the rare occasion that I am able to convince Simon to take supper with us anymore.” The woman’s amusement was plainly visible as she looked first at Simon then back at Ivy.
 

“Then I am certain you’re one of the rare few, Lady Claiborne, who is able to convince Lord Wycombe to do anything at all.”
 

For a long terrible moment, Ivy thought she’d made a horrific error in judgment as Simon’s sister stared at her in open-mouthed surprise. Her breath caught in her throat, Ivy tried to think of how to apologize when peals of laughter suddenly broke past Lady Claiborne’s lips. Relief made Ivy weak as Simon’s sister linked arms with Ivy.
 

“My dear Miss Beecham, I do believe you and I are destined to be close friends,” Lady Claiborne said with another laugh. “Simon told me you were a quick wit, but he failed to mention that you are clearly well acquainted with his stubborn nature.”

“A trait that is prolific in this family, Abigail. It happens to be one of your more endearing characteristics.”
 

Simon said in a modulated voice, but his face revealed his annoyance. Ivy wasn’t sure whether he was irritated with her or his sister. Laughter dancing in her eyes, Lady Claiborne tossed her brother a smug look.
 

“Perseverance is often mistaken for stubbornness, dear brother. And we both know how easy it is for me to persevere.” Lady Claiborne didn’t wait for Simon to respond. Instead, she turned to the young woman seated on the sofa who quickly rose to her feet.
 

“This is Olivia Hunter, Anthony’s fiancée.”
 

Stunned, Ivy’s gaze flew toward Simon. Had he actually given his approval for Anthony to marry a commoner? No, he wouldn’t have done such a thing. The man had been so adamant that day in the library about commoners marrying into his family. As if he could read her thoughts, he arched his eyebrow at her in his usual, arrogant manner.
 

Why had he asked her to come? She’d been quite content with the current state of their relationship. She didn’t like the idea that he was manipulating her. A shiver skimmed down her back at the thought before she focused her attention on the young woman in front of her. Olivia Hunter was a beautiful as Anthony had said. There was also a bright gleam of intelligence shimmering in her wide hazel eyes. Instantly, she knew Anthony had made an excellent choice in wives. Shyly, Olivia shook Ivy’s hand and smiled.
 

“I’m so pleased to meet you, Miss Beecham. I’ve heard so many lovely things about you from Anthony.”

“And I you, Miss Hunter.”
 

“I think my Anthony is a very lucky young man. Olivia will provide a steadying influence on him,” Lady Claiborne said as she smiled at her future daughter-in-law.
 

Once again, Ivy’s eyes met Simon’s from across the room. The quiet assessment in his gaze puzzled her. The man was looking incredibly mysterious this evening, more so than normal. The fact that he’d agreed to Anthony and Olivia’s engagement was astonishing. What had Anthony done to bring about such a miraculous change in his uncle? With Simon so adamantly opposed to a commoner marrying into his family, it was only logical to assume that Lady Claiborne had felt the same way.
 

But Anthony’s mother seemed quite happy with her son’s choice. Ivy frowned and glanced in Simon’s direction. He was saying something to Anthony, his expression one of amusement as his nephew shook his head. Ivy wasn’t sure how, but something had changed between her and Simon. It was a shift in their relationship that quickened her heartbeat. Her instinct was to bolt, but the opportunity fled as Simon’s sister grasped Ivy’s elbow in a light yet firm touch.
 

“You already know Simon, so we’ll move on to the others.”
 

With his sister’s cavalier dismissal, Ivy saw Simon’s mouth tighten with irritation, and Lady Claiborne winked at her as they moved toward an older couple. Dear lord, did the woman know about her relationship with Simon? The thought made her stomach churn with embarrassment. Desperately, she struggled to maintain her composure as Lady Claiborne introduced her to an elderly couple.

 
“Allow me to present the Earl and Countess of Marston. They’re old and very dear friends of the family.” As the older couple greeted her, Lord Marston kissed her hand and winked at her.

 
“I doubt you remember me, but I met you quite a long time ago when I visited your aunt and uncle at Parkland Manor. You were still a child at the time.” There was a conspiratorial air about him that was vaguely familiar. Ivy stared at the man for a long moment then laughed.

 
“I do remember. You managed to sneak me several bon-bon treats after my aunt told me I couldn’t have any.”

“Ah, so you do remember.” He chuckled.

“I never had the chance to say thank you. It was a kind gesture, and not one I forgot either. So I shall thank you now.”

“It was my pleasure, young lady,” the earl said. Standing next to the older couple was a handsome gentleman. For a fraction of a second, Lady Claiborne’s fingers bit into Ivy’s elbow.

“And this is their son, Viscount Halstead.”

“A pleasure, Miss Beecham.” Ivy offered her hand to the Viscount, who kissed her hand. “I understand from Abigail that you’re quite skilled in word games.”

Perplexed, Ivy looked at Lord Halstead in puzzlement, while beside her, Lady Claiborne laughed. Patting Ivy’s arm, Simon’s sister shook her head.

“Do forgive me, my dear Miss Beecham. I told Royce that with you as my partner I was certain to defeat Simon in a round of the Name Game tonight.”

 
“I’m sure I’m not nearly as skilled as Lord Wycombe,” Ivy murmured as trepidation streaked through her. If Simon had brought her here to humiliate her, she’d walked without hesitation into the trap.
 

“Nonsense. I have a feeling you are as consummate as my brother. He would not have mentioned your abilities otherwise.” The twinkle in the woman’s brown eyes warmed her plain features as she shot her brother a glance of amusement. “In fact, with you as my partner, I’m certain we shall royally trounce Simon—something that rarely happens.”

“Although Miss Beecham is accomplished in a great many ways, having her for a partner will not save you from defeat, Abigail.” The good humor in his voice was reserved for the others in the room. But it was the fiery passion in his eyes that said he was thinking something completely different when it came to touting her accomplishments.

“I would be honored to be your partner, Lady Claiborne. The great Bard himself said that pride must have a fall, so we must hope Lord Wycombe will suffer only a gentle injury should he lose to us this evening.”

“I am certain of it now, Miss Beecham.” Laughter lighting up her face, Lady Claiborne wagged her finger at her. “Especially when we team him with Anthony. Lord and Lady Barton have always refused to take part, but Olivia and Royce can partner with each other.”

“Anthony and I shall fare quite well I’m sure,” Simon retorted as he scowled at his sister.

“It seems Abigail has been plotting your downfall, Simon.” Lord Halstead chuckled. “I would take care, old man. If Miss Beecham is as knowledgeable as she is beautiful, I think she’ll make you a most impressive opponent.”

“Miss Beecham and I have waged battles with our words before, and in the end I emerge the victor.” Confidence threaded through his voice as his steel gray eyes met hers. Something possessive flared in his eyes as his gaze met hers. Before she could think of a suitable rebuke the butler announced supper. Without missing a beat, Lord Halstead offered his arm to Ivy.
 

“Allow me to escort you in to supper, Miss Beecham.”

The invitation caught her by surprise, and she hesitated as she caught the look of pain on Lady Claiborne’s face. Anguish disappeared from the woman’s features as she became aware of Ivy’s gaze. A brilliant smile on her lips, Ivy’s hostess nodded.

“What an excellent idea, Royce, especially since Miss Beecham will be sitting next to you at supper.”

 
It was impossible not to miss the tension in Lady Claiborne’s body as the viscount offered his arm to Ivy. Sliding her hand through the crook of Lord Halstead’s arm, she met Simon’s gaze from across the room. Even from where she stood, she could see the muscle in his jaw flex and the flash of anger in his eyes.
 

She recognized that look of possession. It was the same expression he’d had the night of the library ball when he’d dragged her outside to the hothouse. The memory of that night and the others that followed made her breath hitch. She was not his possession, and yet his belief that she was his alone sent a small thrill through her.
 

Supper was a lively affair with the conversation ranging from current politics to a discussion on the differences between the philosophies of Friedrich Nietzsche, Plato, and Voltaire. The stilted proper conversation she’d expected never matured. The meal was clearly a family gathering, and Ivy realized this was what her life would have been like if her parents had lived. It created a bittersweet longing inside her.
 

After their meal, the small gathering returned to the salon where they paired off to play the Name Game. Blindly pulling a famous individual’s quote from a container, she was required to offer up the least amount of clues so that Lady Claiborne could name the renowned person. It had been a challenge, but Simon’s sister had proven herself an excellent partner, and they’d soundly beaten everyone at the game. With the last round played, Lady Claiborne smiled triumphantly at her brother.
 

“I do believe you’re frowning, Simon.”

“No, but you’re most certainly gloating.” With a chuckle, he shook his head.

“So I am,” Lady Claiborne said with a laugh as she patted Ivy’s hand. “You were brilliant this evening, Miss Beecham. It gives me great pleasure to beat Simon at this game, something that rarely happens, I might add.”

“I confess I am enjoying our victory as well.” Ivy smiled at the woman’s gleeful triumph.

“We must do this again.” Lady Claiborne patted her arm then released a gasp of excitement. “I know. You must come celebrate with us on Christmas Day.”
 

The unexpected invitation startled Ivy, and she bit her lip. Tonight had been such a happy experience. So wonderful that she didn’t want to leave. But she didn’t belong here. She wasn’t a part of Simon’s world any more than he was of hers. It would have been so much easier if his family hadn’t been so nice.

“Thank you for such a lovely invitation, but I’m not certain what my plans for the holiday are at the moment.”

“Nonsense.” The woman sniffed and brushed Ivy’s objections aside. “Simon, you must convince Miss Beecham to spend the day with us.”

“I’ve learned from experience that Miss Beecham does not like to be coerced,” he said with a slight smile. “However, I will do my best to convince her to come.”

“I can only say, we shall see.” Unwilling to subject herself to any further persuasion, Ivy rose to her feet. “For now, I must say good night as it is growing late.”

“I’ll see you home then.”