Chapter 9
Ivy gasped with delight and tugged her arm free of Owen. She ran across the remaining distance and flung herself into Barnes’s arms.
Her eldest brother’s stiffness slowly receded as she clung to him, until his arm wrapped around her shoulders and he said gruffly in her ear, “I missed you too, Trouble.”
Ivy pulled away and studied him. His eyes were a solemn gray as always, and his dark hair was neatly cut. His stature was so imposing that it was nearly identical to Brackley’s. “What are you doing here? I thought you were abroad? Is something the matter?”
“Father wrote to me.”
That somber statement chased away the small amount of pleasure she had felt at being reunited.
“Who is that?” a girlish voice asked before it was hushed, and only then did Ivy remember they had an audience.
She stepped back and wiped her palms on her skirts.
The dowager and Miss Pithins were eyeing her brother in a way that made her hackles rise, while the girls curiously studied him on shifting feet, and Brackley…
when her eyes landed on him, she was taken aback by the strange mixture of longing and fury in his eyes.
What had happened between them?
Barnes dragged off his hat and bowed to the dowager and Miss Pithins. “My deepest apologies for not introducing myself. I am Mr. Bennett, Miss Bennett’s eldest brother.”
“We are ever so pleased to meet you,” the dowager purred. “Will you be joining us for tea?”
“It pains me to decline, but I have come to speak with my sister about an urgent matter.”
“Girls, go inside,” the dowager snapped, the sweet tone she had used on Barnes absent. The girls reluctantly shuffled indoors, but neither the dowager nor Miss Pithins joined them.
“Perhaps Miss Bennett and her brother would like some privacy,” the viscount said in a deep voice beside her.
Barnes practically snarled at him. “Miss Bennett does not require you to speak for her.”
Ivy’s eyes widened at the obvious animosity. Heaven knew her brother could be difficult, but he was not typically that rude.
Miss Pithins pulled a handkerchief from her dress and pressed it to her lips, obviously thrilled with the unexpected drama.
“You might as well stay, Brackley,” Barnes said, making no apology for his aggression. “You ought to know that as of this moment my sister resigns her post.”
Ivy’s head jerked. “Pardon me?”
Barnes gave a curt nod, affirming that she had heard him correctly.
Ivy recognized the stubborn jut of his chin as The Barnes Look.
It was the same expression Barnes had worn when he had ordered their father out of the house and informed him that he would live in their London residence, far away from their mother, and would not ever return.
It was the look he’d had when he had dismissed their brother’s tutor for cruelty.
If fortified stone were to come up against The Barnes Look, it would crumble.
This was the immovable Barnes, the Barnes who brooked no argument.
“Barnes, no,” Ivy said, despite The Look. “The girls need me.”
He tore his eyes from Brackley, the dislike so palpable between them that Ivy could brush it with her fingertips. “I came the moment Father wrote that you were employed here. I would no sooner allow you to work for this dishonorable swine than I would allow you to join a pirate ship.”
Ivy swore she could feel Brackley stiffen behind her shoulder. She divided a disdainful look between Barnes and her employer. “Whatever happened between the two of you does not involve me. Now if you will excuse me, I have duties to attend to.”
“Did you not hear me, Ivy? You cannot stay here.”
Ivy’s temper was always slow to heat, her disposition naturally leaning toward forgiveness, but once it did—and lord knew Barnes always had a knack for stoking it—she was as much a force to be reckoned with as her brother.
If mulishness ran in the blood, then the Bennetts were half donkey. “You cannot stop me.”
“You know I can.”
Ivy’s fingernails bit into her palms. She hated feeling impotent simply because of her sex.
Her eldest brother could, in fact, make decisions for her, but if he forced her to leave her position because of a grudge he held against Brackley, she would make him pay dearly.
There was no place he would be able to escape her rage, no continent far enough, no civilization remote enough.
He must have caught a glint of the devil in her eye because he added, “I am not here only because you have taken employment with him, Trouble. Father has found you another suitor. He wrote that he will not tolerate his daughter, the granddaughter of a marquess, ‘masquerading as a governess,’ and insists you quit your post at once.” His eyes trailed over Brackley, who stood as still as stone.
“Considering the circumstances, marriage is the preferable choice.”
“Who is it? Who is the suitor?”
“Mr. Ellis Reedly.”
Ivy paled. Mr. Reedly was her father’s age and a widower three times over.
He had pouty lips and lovely locks threaded with gray.
Women flocked to him, and used words like “distinguished” and “beautiful” when speaking about him.
But Ivy had seen his true personality one too many times and knew he was no better than he had to be.
Ivy would not become her mother, trapped in a poisonous cage with bars formed of vows.
“No.” She felt Brackley’s gaze boring into the space between her shoulders as she spoke. “I shan’t marry him.”
“Reedly is well off and a distinguished fellow.”
Tears stung the backs of her eyelids. She wanted to teach her classes at night and the Dove’s school during the Season. She wanted to make a difference that went beyond how many children her hips could bear. Marriage to one of her father’s monsters would dash all of her hopes and dreams.
“We shall miss you,” the dowager said, with as much warmth as a soldier saying goodbye to the pox.
Ivy’s throat closed. She could not speak. She could not move. She could barely think.
“Let us take this indoors,” Brackley said quietly.
“I would not step foot inside your—”
“Can you not see that your sister is affected and needs a moment? Have some compassion.”
Barnes’s eyebrows snapped together, and he opened his mouth to retort, but he must have seen something on Ivy’s face that stilled his tongue. Grudgingly he said, “Yes, let us find you a spot of tea, Trouble.”
The dowager and Miss Pithins hooked arms to enter the house.
Ivy’s desperation was so crushing that she barely noticed the dowager calling for Barnes to escort them into the sitting room.
The two women and her brother disappeared down the corridor.
Ivy knew she must be following because when she looked down, her feet were treading marble tile, and yet she felt as if someone else were maneuvering her body.
“Miss Bennett.”
Ivy paused, and when she turned, it was to find Brackley so close that she had to take a step back to meet his eyes.
“Do you wish to marry Reedly?”
“No. He is unkind. That is probably why my father likes him.”
Brackley pressed a hand to the wall beside her, his gaze raking over her face. “Tell your father no, like you did with Marthin.”
Ivy’s temper returned, burning through some of the cool numbness.
“I said no to Marthin and found a position as a governess instead of as a wife, and that clearly did not deter my father. You do not know him, Lord Brackley. He will not stop until I am unhappily wed.” She halted, realizing who she was speaking with and the inappropriateness of it.
“It does not matter, my lord. It is not your problem, except I fear you will have to find a new governess.”
She stared over his shoulder, blinking back tears of rage.
“Look at me.”
When he gave her an order in that low, shivery voice, she had no choice but to obey. Her eyes met his.
“It matters.” He opened his mouth as if to say more, and then shut it again. He turned his profile to her, his jaw clenching. “You said there is someone you do wish to marry. Why do you not have your father approach him?”
She gave an incredulous laugh. “He is a marquess! I am nobody to him.”
“I wonder… if there is a way we can help one another.”
“How?”
“Perhaps there is an alternative to marrying Reedly.”
She considered what he was saying. “I suppose I could run away.” She would hate to never see her brothers again, and what of the girls, and the women in her classes? Which would be worse: to isolate herself from everything and everyone she loved, or to marry Reedly?
“Do not do that.” His command was immediate and firm, as if she were a horse to be handled.
“I shall do as I like.”
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “My apologies. I should not talk to a young maiden in that tone. What I meant to say is, please do not run away, because I may have a solution that could suit us both. Allow me to court you.”
Her jaw dropped.
“Not in truth,” he added hurriedly. “It would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. If your father knew I was courting you, it would, at the very least, delay the arrangement with Reedly. Your father sounds like the sort of man who would prefer the chance of having a viscount for a son-in-law over an untitled man. Similarly, the dowager would leave me alone and cease her attempts to match me with Miss Pithins.”
“But then we would be expected to marry,” she said slowly, as if he were very stupid.
“No. After a few months passed, you would end the courtship. A lady may call off a courtship or engagement, even in instances where a gentleman may not.”
“Are you mad?”