A Provision For Love (Entangled Inheritance Book 1) Page 18

  His shoulders slumped, and emotion was evident in each of his facial tics. My inexplicable desire to compare Henry to the crumpled list caused unnecessary pain. I winced. I could not watch him suffer a second longer, believing he had lost Bridgestone.

  “Henry.” My lips trembled, and I shook my head. Tears sprinkled my cheeks. I wiped my fingers beneath each eye before turning toward him.

  “What is it?” Henry reached for me, grasping both of my arms in his.

  I closed my eyes and forced the words from my lips. “I have rejected Lord Egerton. Bridgestone is yours.”

  His hands fell away. “You what…Ivy?”

  I bit my bottom lip and nodded. I would say it again and again, until he accepted the reality. “I could not accept him, Henry.”

  “In earnest?” Henry’s eyes snapped to mine, and the line between his brows appeared. Then, as sudden as his surprise, his mouth fell into a frown. He surveyed. “Why?”

  I shrugged. Explaining my reasons felt impossible. Comparing Henry to Grandmother’s list was indulgent enough. I would not bother him by divulging the entirety of my heart, not with so little idea of his own. “The marquess fell short of the list.”

  “But you just—”

  “I spoke of the man I love, not Lord Egerton. The two are utterly different individuals.”

  Henry gasped and pressed a hand to my shoulder. “Then if this other gentleman meets the list, why do you not marry him?”

  At his touch, my breath turned shallow. The sensation of his closeness was enough to prick my eyes afresh. To be touched so tenderly, to be spoken to with such regard…I longed for such a future—if not with Henry, then with another man that inspired such feeling.

  “The man I love has not offered for me, Henry. In fact, he has not shown any intention of doing so. I expect I shall have to find another man that I can love as I do him.”

  Henry’s hand migrated to my cheek, where he brushed his thumb against my tears. “And you are determined to reject anything less than this love you speak of?”

  I clapped my fingers over his hand, leaning into his support. I shook my head, tossing a few ringlets loose from my chignon. His concern would fade as the reality of his fortune struck him, and his comforting touch would be gone forever.

  After a long moment, he lifted his other hand, tucking the loose hair strands behind my ear. His touch was heartbreakingly beautiful, the kind that sent shivers down my back. “You remember my own dilemma, Ivy?”

  I closed my eyes and swallowed a sob. “Yes.”

  “Then—” His voice grew soft, gentler than I had ever heard it. “You remember my mother wishes me to marry by the season’s end?”

  I managed a nod.

  “Ivy?” he asked, pulling his hands away.

  I flinched. My name on his lips sounded perfect, right. More than the familiarity of his tone, the emotion of his voice and the warmth that coated each syllable of my name—Henry’s voice was the one I wished to hear day after day, year after year. I placed a hand against my heart, commanding it to return to its steady pace.

  I looked up at Henry. “What is it?”

  Henry peered down at me. “I believe I shall try for her after all.”

  My mind spun. Were those tears gleaming back at me? The whites of his eyes were tinged with red at the corners, making the color of his eyes glow golden, and his dark lashes were accentuated by the moisture collected upon them. I stared at his lips that tugged on each side; he was happier than I imagined. He was…

  My heart came to a sudden standstill.

  Henry Thorne smiled down at me with a fierceness I had yet to witness. His glance burned straight through me, as if he saw every piece of my shattered heart and wished for it still. Hope was a dangerous tactic when it came to love, but Henry’s expression seemed to wrap me in a blanket of it. I swallowed, tracing his every feature with my gaze.

  “Do you think I have a chance?” Henry asked, taking a step closer.

  “Perhaps.” The word came out as airy as I feared it would.

  His face hung directly over mine, his lips only inches apart from mine. Thank goodness I had opted not to have Cook bring the tea sandwiches. I swallowed hard, suddenly overcome with a mixture of faintness and fluttering. Curiosity almost urged me to close the gap, but I rocked to my heels, dizzy from the effort of restraining myself.

  Soft laughter met his lips, and he placed both hands at my waist. “Is it possible we have both been blind to one another’s affection?”

  His words knocked against the little restraint I maintained. My heart caved, and a tenderness took place of nervousness. “Both? You mean you…?”

  “I love you, Ivy.” Henry leaned his forehead to mine, and his breaths grew shaky. “Will you marry me and come with me to Bridgestone?”

  He loved me. I closed my eyes, wishing to stay in this moment forever—the precipice of unprecedented happiness, the second before all my hopes came to fruition. After a brief silence, I pulled back just far enough to trace Henry’s two dimples with my thumb. I smiled, shaking my head slightly. “There is one part of the list you have yet to prove, Henry.”

  “My repertoire?” His lips spread into an absurdly handsome grin. Without giving me a moment to respond, his lips grazed mine—slowly and carefully as if he worried he might break me with his love.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, rolling to my toes. I ached for a forever with Henry, an eternity of kisses and shared laughter. Bridgestone was no longer the ending I longed for; I had something far greater—memories unmade, stories yet to unfold, and happiness more beautiful than secret gardens. Henry was my sanctuary, my window amongst the hedges. A marriage to Henry was no end at all, but a beginning—one I longed to embark upon.

  Henry broke his lips from mine. “I assume that is a ‘yes’?”

  I leaned against his chest, nodding emphatically. “Do you doubt it?”

  “No, but I would like to hear you say it.”

  I laughed and craned my neck to see his perfectly imperfect face once more. “I can think of nothing greater than marrying you, Henry.”

  He only nodded. Then, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a deliriously different kind of embrace. His lips moved across mine with an urgency; each kiss grew stronger, each movement communicating greater emotion.

  He stole my breath, and along with it, the entirety of my fragmented heart. For the first time in my life, I felt whole. Tears pricked my eyes, unexpectedly.

  Henry had not only claimed my heart; he had healed it.

  Chapter 25

  “What could have induced you to bring me here at this hour?” Grandmother asked, scowling at both Henry and me. “One day, Ivy, you will be feeble and old, and I hope your granddaughter pulls you from mid-morning slumber for some ridiculous discussion.”

  Few things in life could be counted upon with such assuredness as Grandmother’s mood. I gestured to a chair at the study table. “Please take a seat. I would not wish this discussion to shock you.”

  “Shock me? Why on earth would what you have to say trouble me? Has something happened?” The purple bags beneath each eye wrinkled with her apparent concern. “Have you a reason to speak here in the office, rather than the drawing room? I do prefer the light-papered walls to these stacks and stacks of books.”

  I took her hand in mine, patting the top of hers. Grandmother had avoided the study, Percival’s sanctuary of the city. Realization flickered across my gaze. “Henry and I thought the study an appropriate setting. We have another guest—”

  Mr. Elliot led the solicitor to the room. “Mr. Tuttle-Kirk, my lady.”

  Grandmother’s brows rose nearly the length of her entire forehead and her porcelain skin turned scarlet. “Mr. Tuttle-Kirk, I suppose my granddaughter means to stop my heart altogether with so many surprises. Now, what business can you have here?”

  The man wore light trousers, a dark overcoat, and a generically-tied cravat. His mustached smile preceded his rigid bow. “Miss L
infield and Mr. Thorne summoned me, claiming my presence was of utmost importance in regard to Percival’s provision. I am as in the dark as you are.”

  “Ivy? Henry?” Grandmother’s lips shrank into a pucker. Beneath her mob cap, she looked like a shriveled tomato. “Tell us this instant what this is all about.”

  I motioned to a chair for the second time. “Please, sit, Grandmother, Mr. Tuttle-Kirk.”

  Henry assisted her into the chair. His effort to mask his pleasure at the scene about to unfold was already failing by the looks of his upturned lips and his affectionate glances toward me. He stepped beside me.

  I addressed the solicitor. “I am here to report my progress regarding Percival’s provision. I am sorry to report that I did not—”

  Grandmother knocked her fist against the tabletop. “The season is not yet over. Lord Egerton means to offer. You cannot assume you will lose Bridgestone so—”

  I held up both hands in the air to stop her. I had not expected such a display. A lightness touched my cheeks; I did not know what was more satisfying, knowing Grandmother hoped for my success or knowing I was about to reveal it. “Grandmother, will you allow me to finish?”

  She crossed her arms. “If you must.”

  “I must,” I said, waiting until she settled to the back of chair. Suppressing every internal impulse, I frowned. “Lord Egerton has offered, and I have rejected his offer.”

  “Truly? I worried you were about to claim you had given up altogether.” Her shoulders fell. “And have you rejected the marquess because he does not meet my list?”

  I could not hold back a smile. I shook my head. “Perhaps his failing one particular tenet made the decision easier. However, I believe I have learned what you set out to teach me.”

  Her wrinkled lips lifted into a mischievous smirk. Her eyes held a spark of something I had not seen since before Percival’s passing—something akin to pride and approval. “Goodness, you suppose I would do such a thing?”

  “I know so.” I sighed, and laughter cracked against my chest. “I believe the entire design of Percival’s provision was based upon your own stubborn idea of how I should or should not live my life—and only framed by something as important to me as Bridgestone could you see to my learning.”

  “Ah,” Grandmother said, clicking her tongue. “Then let us see if you succeeded in learning what I set out to teach you. What is it?”

  My laughter calmed, and I looked to Henry.

  He dipped his chin, urging me forward.

  “As you wished, I have learned that my life cannot be governed by a list—at least someone else’s. Lord Egerton fit most all of your ideals, Grandmother, but the choice to marry him was impossible. I do not love him, and I will not choose a home, even that of Bridgestone, over love.”

  Her brows wrinkled, and the spark from earlier vanished. “And that is all?”

  Henry’s lips broke apart. “Is there something else you wished her to learn?”

  I nudged him with my elbow. Grandmother’s emotions were a tempestuous sea that day—up and down, back and forth, and a constant threat of danger loomed along the horizon. “Henry, my grandmother—”

  “Yes.” Grandmother’s curt reply startled me. “I rather did imagine she might learn more. More than the faults of following society’s lists, I had hoped Ivy might compose her own idea of a future, that she might show the slightest hint of independence. She did so often as a child, and I wonder she lost that part of herself at all. No matter, perhaps she will learn so now, now that Bridgestone might fall to you, Henry.”

  I gritted my teeth. My revelation would be delightful indeed. I circled the table until I stood directly beside her. I placed my hand on the table and leaned closer. “I am here to tell you that I have not lost Bridgestone.”

  She turned to me, and her wrinkly jowls wobbled after her sharp movement. “You have not?”

  “I have secured a second proposal,” I said with a smirk.

  Her mouth gaped open. “That soon? But you have not had enough association with another man, unless you mean to tell me you have decided in favor of Lord St. Vincent. Henry, speak reason to her.”

  His lips trembled. “Speak reason to her? Dear Lady Barrington, I fear that is the last thing I should do if I intend to keep her.”

  “To keep—” Grandmother’s eyes bulged from their sockets. “You mean to say you have…?”

  Softened at the sight of her shock, I planted a kiss on her cheek. Her chilled skin was as bread dough, soft and mushy. I grinned. “Yes, I am engaged to Henry, Grandmother, and I could not be happier.”

  Henry nodded. “What Ivy says is true, Lady Barrington.”

  She gasped. “And to think I suggested your marriage from the beginning! I might have saved the both of you the headache of the last few weeks.”

  Henry’s deep laughter warmed my already buzzing heart. With any luck, that sound would be mine for the rest of my days. His tone and timbre kindled my own laughter. “I suppose you are right this one time.”

  “Posh,” Grandmother said, fanning herself. “I am right all of the time. When I spoke of the very idea of creating the list, Percival cautioned me to consider Henry. Even he knew the two of you would get on.”

  I fluttered my lashes, still smiling. “You cannot claim to have planned things so perfectly.”

  She tsked and wafted a hand in my direction. “Thank goodness you have not lost your pluck.”

  Chapter 26

  Two Months Later

  Bridgestone in July was more glorious, more picturesque—not to mention as blistering hot—than that of the queen’s royal conservatory. Each ray of sunlight settled upon beauty, if not the stone estate itself, then an ideal tree, a patch of flowers, or a view of rolling countryside.

  I ran the length of the hedge, darting around the next corner. The burning of my lungs, mixed with my broken laughter, made breathing near impossible. I peeked around the edge, pulling at the fabric that clung to the perspiration along my shoulder blades. Henry might end up lost in the maze for hours if I did not wait for him.

  I took in a slow breath, finally regaining a sense of my faculties. I leaned against the hedge, allowing the shade to overtake me. The jaggedness of the pruned plant scratched against my back, but I welcomed the chill of it.

  “What are you waiting for?” came a low voice behind me.

  I squealed, spinning around to meet him.

  Henry’s laughter, along with his arms, wrapped around me. His hands burned against my waist, and he pulled me against his chest. “I have started to learn my way around Percival’s hedges of devious design.”

  The shock of his surprise still sputtered in my chest, and I swatted my hands against his lapel. My words came out as shakily as my wobbling legs. “Henry, you cannot do that. My heart—”

  “Is beating at my touch?” Henry asked, interrupting me.

  I blew a puff of air against my cheek; he was incorrigible. Against my will, my lips grazed his jawline. “You are quite as ridiculous as ever.”

  His laughter settled into a soft smile. His unruly lock of auburn hair fell against his handy forehead, and I almost laughed aloud. Grandmother’s letter was forever engrained in my mind, forever a testament to Henry’s character and my grandmother’s irritating ability to know what I needed even when I did not.

  “I believe you first fell in love with me in one of my silly displays—chasing the turkeys, was it not?” Henry smirked, tightening his grip at my waist. “I like to believe that my graceful gobble was my first action that caught your attention.”

  His absurdness needed no encouragement, but I could not resist teasing him. “Perhaps you should compose another verse of poetry about the incident.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I already know what you think of my poetry.”

  I scrunched my nose, and I pecked his chin with my lips. “Dearest husband, I think it is only right and good that my grandmother did not provide a poetry tenet to the provision. Although, I rather think if
her tenets really were about inferences rather than exact meanings, you would still pass. For though I will deny it if you ask again, I rather liked your love letter better than the marquess’s poem.”

  “Did you now?” Henry’s lashes tangled near the corners, and his eyes were honey in the sunlight. “Perhaps I shall have to write you another one.”

  “Perhaps.” Two months and I had only grown to love his features even more. I would never tire of his dimples or the slant of his lips. I brushed my thumb at the freckle beneath his eye. “I should like a poem right now.”

  “Now?” He leaned his forehead against mine. “Let me see…I once met a girl beneath a table, she looked like a fairy from a fable—”

  “Oh dear.” I shook my head and laughed. I would never tire of Henry’s antics. Even his quirks and oddities had become endearing. “Do not continue. I think I prefer your letters over poems. Besides, perhaps you can show me another of your repertoire…”

  “Hmmm, I think I can manage that.” Henry’s breath brushed against my cheek and over my lips, but he paused and pulled back a few inches. He stared down at me with a tenderness that I had come to recognize, and his hands lifted to my cheeks. “I shall never run out of kisses for you, my darling.”

  And with that, Henry lifted me in his arms, pressing his lips over mine in yet another new technique, playful yet sweet, gentle yet unremitting—as if he meant to keep me there in his embrace forever. I caved to his every touch, useless to resist.

  I had been pitted against Henry in my pursuit for Bridgestone. I had fought for the right for the home I loved…

  And yet, in Henry, I had gained the only home I longed for; in Henry, I had gained something far greater. I gripped his coat collar and returned his love with kisses of my own, allowing myself to get lost in the movement.

  “Ivy,” he said, setting me back to the ground. His cheeks were flushed, and his brown eyes glistened in the sunlight. “I saw a gardener a few turns back. Perhaps we should stop.”