Wicked Heart (Brazen Bluestockings #1)

Chapter 22: Out in the Cold

Determined to forget all about a certain Mr Sam Hemsworth, Ivy threw herself wholeheartedly into the evening's entertainments. Games had been set up in different rooms, and she walked between them, imbibing—perhaps—a little too much of the eggnog. She laughed and chatted with multiple eligible gentlemen, all introduced to her by Olivia, who already knew them all from her London seasons.

There were so many names and titles, she would never remember them all. How did Olivia do it? She seemed to know everyone's names and their families, always inquiring how they were faring. Ivy was happy she at least remembered the names of the men who had attended Ravenscroft's ball in the summer. Lord Wyndon had danced with her the previous night, and even the proper Lord Richmond had asked her to join him for a set. She suspected he mostly did it because as a bachelor he was expected to be seen tending to the single ladies, and he found her an easy conversational partner, but she didn't mind. The man was blunt and honest, but not a terrible dance partner.

She'd always known Olivia was popular, and why wouldn't she be? She was a wonderful friend and person. But Ivy had never realised quite how many people liked her before attending this house party. Nearly everyone seemed to know her friend and wanted a word. Fortunately, Alice and Imogen were also in attendance, so she was rarely left alone. However, Alice kept disappearing to speak to Mr Montgomery, who was obviously quite smitten with the beauty.

"She ought to be careful with that one."

Ivy nearly jumped when the dark voice spoke. She turned her head and noticed the Marquess of Richmond standing beside her, his sharp blue eyes fixed on Alice and Mr. Montgomery as hers had been a moment ago.

"Why is that?" she asked. "He seems quite fond of her."

Richmond scoffed. "He may be enthralled by her beauty, but he is after a hefty dowry, which she has not."

"Oh." Frowning, she looked back over at her friend and the brown-haired Mr Montgomery. They were sitting a little too close on a chaise longue, laughing at something they were reading in a book. "Isn't love more important than money?"

"Few people are in a position to choose love over money." The marquess lifted a glass to his lips and took a sip. It looked like pure whisky rather than eggnog. "It is rather naive to think differently."

She raised her eyebrows. "Are you calling me naive, my lord?"

The shadow of a smile touched his lips as he glanced down at her from his towering height, a knowing glint of amusement in his eyes. "Perhaps."

"I take it you would not marry someone without a dowry?"

He lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. "I am one of the few fortunate enough to do as I wish, but I am in no hurry to marry. My days are quite busy as it is."

"Oh, and here I believed you to be a man of leisure," she teased.

It surprised her when the marquess chuckled quietly. "I am a man of many things, but I am not that."

Not knowing how to react, she turned back to watch her friend. "Well," she said. "I will continue to think the best of people."

"As is your prerogative," he agreed. "But do not be surprised if he fails to meet your expectations of him."

Although she believed in giving people a chance, she couldn't help but be wary of her friend and Mr Montgomery throughout the rest of the evening. The marquess's words didn't sit right with her, and she couldn't quite let go of the niggling worry in the back of her head that said he might be correct.

This niggling fear was how she found herself wedged in a horse-drawn sleigh with Alice and Mr Montgomery the next day. Three sleighs had been readied to take those interested for a ride across the snow-covered grounds of the estate. Two were larger and comfortably fit a handful of people, while the final one was smaller and only really suitable for a couple. However, after Richmond's warnings, Ivy panicked when it looked like her friend would go alone with Mr Montgomery, and she quickly interjected herself into their party.