Free A Bluestocking Christmas by Monica Burns Page B

heaven,’t was mutter’d in hell, And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell.
    He stared down at the words and grinned. If that didn’t make Ivy laugh then he’d been wrong about her quick mind. He snorted at the idea as he shoved the note card into its envelope and paid for the rose. Ivy would understand his surrender as easily as he’d understood her attraction to him.  
    The memory of her pressed into the bookshelf and the flutter of her heartbeat made his groin tighten with anticipation. He had no doubt Ivy was attracted to him, and capitalizing on that fact was going to be a pleasurable exercise in seduction. Rose in hand, he returned to Ivy’s house and climbed the steps to announce his arrival with a hard press to doorbell. Behind the door, he heard the sharp sound of the bell jangling, and he smiled. Confidence bolstered his spirits as the door opened. The butler eyed him with a hint of dismay, and Simon capitalized on that fact.
    “I’m expected,” he lied in a bored drawl. “Please convey this humble token of my esteem to Miss Beecham. I’ll await her reply in the foyer.”  
    The tall man in front of him hesitated before taking the card and rose from Simon. The man looked decidedly uncomfortable as he opened the door wider to allow Simon into the house. With a smile of satisfaction, he stepped into the large foyer to await Ivy’s response to his latest message.  
    As the butler crossed the floor into what Simon presumed was the salon, he stared around the front entrance. The quiet elegance of the entryway made him clench his teeth. Anthony had been right. Ivy had no need of money, and it was quite possible the woman might view him as a fortune hunter. He scowled at an exquisite statue sitting on a small table.  
    The knowledge made him question his shameless assumption that the Voltaire Papers would intrigue her enough to give him the chance to woo her. The sudden sound of laughter made him jerk his head toward the door the butler had passed through. A small smile of triumph curled his lips as the butler emerged from the room and held the salon door open to allow him entrance. That was one battle one, but there were more to win if he was to win the war.
    Simon walked into the salon and halted just a few feet inside the door stunned to find himself feeling a bit awkward. Yesterday she’d presented the appearance of a straight-laced spinster, but today she was a seductress in her red gown. At first he thought she was completely unaffected by him. Her serene expression made him grit his teeth. Had he overestimated his ability to make this woman fall into his arms?  
    His gaze skimmed over her and the way her fingers fidgeted with the skirt of her gown made him certain that behind Ivy Beecham’s calm appearance was a woman on edge. Certain she would not come to him, Simon crossed the room to stand in front of her. He bowed slightly and waited for her to offer him her hand.  
    Tension filled the air, and Simon looked up to see her sapphire eyes dark and stormy with anger and something else. He frowned. He’d done more than anger her. His actions had wounded her. Remorse crashed through him. Ivy jerked back away from him then gathered her skirts and swept around him with an abruptness that took him by surprise. As she passed him, his nose caught the scent of her. Yesterday she’d smelled like lilies, today it was crisp and sweet like citrus. Desire rose inside him, and he quelled the sensation. All in good time. Simon straightened upright then turned to face her.
    “I deserved that,” he said quietly. “I insulted you yesterday, and I regret that.”
      “My lord, is there some reason why you called on me today?” Her expression was cool, but he saw the fire in her eyes.  
    “I thought we might make a fresh start between the two of us.” He placed his hands behind his back as he studied her.
    “Forgive me, my lord, but I see little point in doing so.” The slight hitch in her breath made