Page 67 of Appointment in Bath

Chapter Nineteen

Meg poured a cup of tea for Ivo, amazed by the steadiness of her hand. He’d never seen her in a domestic environment. Indeed, outside of their dinner at the vicarage, he’d never encountered her inside of a house at all.

When Mrs. Church had come to Meg’s bedchamber earlier to inform her that Ivo had arrived to speak with Sir Frederick, Meg had been frozen to the spot.

“The brazenness,” Mrs. Church had remarked unkindly as she departed Meg’s room. “And no horse or carriage! I believe he walked all the way from Beasley Park.”

Recovering from her episode of shock, Meg had shot up from the window seat where she’d been embroidering a handkerchief, and made straight for her wardrobe. Her first instinct had been to change out of her simple woolen day dress and into something soft and pretty. She’d just removed a pale blue cashmere gown when she forcibly stopped herself.

Ivo wasn’t courting her. It wouldn’t do to keep thinking of him as a suitor. To continue featuring him in her daydreams. He’d insisted on restricting their acquaintance to friendship, despite having kissed her and having repeatedly held her hand.

He didn’t want a romance. Not one with her. She only diminished herself by desperately clinging to the hope of one.

With that in mind, she’d returned her cashmere day dress to the wardrobe and, after taking a brief moment to repair her hair, descended the stairs to the kitchen to see to arrangements for tea for Ivo and her father.

“No milk or sugar for me,” Ivo said. “Nor lemon, either. But you may slice me a wedge of that cake if you please.”

He was seated on the damask-upholstered sofa beside her, the loaded tea tray arranged on the table in front of them. It hadn’t been Meg’s intention. On entering the drawing room together, she’d anticipated him taking a chair. Instead, he’d sat down next to her, near enough that the full skirts of her gown brushed his leg.

Her pulse had been fluttering ever since. “You p-prefer your tea black?”

“Today I do. I must keep my energy up for the journey back to Beasley.”

She passed him his cup. “Mrs. Ch-Church said you walked here.”

A glimmer of rueful humor shone in his eyes. “I did. It was the only way to make my escape.”

Meg cut a piece of Mrs. Stapleton’s seedcake for him. As she handed him the plate, their bare fingers brushed. It sent another wild tremor through her veins. Her voice, when she spoke, was a trifle breathless. “You m-make it sound as though you’re a prisoner at Beasley Park.”

Ivo was quiet for the space of a heartbeat, his attention fixed on where their fingers had touched. When his gaze returned to hers, there was an intensity in it that hadn’t been there before. “I own that it often feels that way. Particularly now I have somewhere else I’d rather be.”

Her cheeks warmed. She poured out her own cup of tea, adding both milk and sugar in generous amounts. “Your parents don’t know you’ve c-come here, I gather.”

“Not yet.” Still gazing at her intently, Ivo took a long drink of his tea, not seeming to notice how hot it was. “I’ll tell them about it soon. I wanted to speak with your father first.”

She hesitated to ask. “And did he—”

“He’s receptive to the idea. Or, at least, he seemed so. Then again…” A frown crossed Ivo’s brow. “I suppose he could merely have been being polite.”

“That isn’t his habit. If he seemed receptive to the idea, it’s because he finds merit in it. Had he felt differently, he wouldn’t have refrained from voicing his opinions in the frankest manner possible.” She paused to sip her tea. “Has he agreed to support the venture?”

“Not yet. He says he must write to my partner, Lord Pershore, and to my partner’s father, the Marquess of Bruton.”

“Did he not trust you enough to take you at your word?”

“Who knows?” Ivo smiled again with that same irrepressible humor. “I’ll say this, he isn’t as monstrous as I anticipated. Not when it comes to affairs of business.”

“No,” Meg acknowledged. “He wouldn’t be.”

“But in other matters?”

“He’s improving,” she said. “Or I am, rather. I’m not as frightened of him, and he respects me the more for it. He’d never say so, but…that’s what I believe.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Setting aside his teacup, Ivo tucked into his slice of cake. He didn’t use the fork she’d given him, or even the napkin, merely picked the wedge up with his fingers and took a ravenous bite. “My parents appreciate boldness, too, even if it unsettles the balance of things for a time. Which this is certain to do when I tell them about it.”

“Won’t they support the railway coming to Maidenbridge?”

“It’s not the railway. It’s the connection to your father that will give them pause.”