The Edward East clock in her drawing room chimed the hour, and it echoed down the hall and into the study where Ivory sat behind her desk.
In front of her she had a single sheet of paper, laid out precisely in the center of her desk. The sound of the chimes had barely faded when Roddy appeared in the doorway.
“The Duke of Alderidge is here for his appointment,” he said.
Ivory’s heart pounded, and butterflies swarmed through her stomach. “Please send him in, Roderick.”
The boy vanished and, within a minute, was replaced by the broad figure of Maximus Harcourt. He was dressed as he had been the very first time she had seen him, in rough breeches and boots, a worn linen shirt, and a faded waistcoat. His hair was loose, brushing his shoulders, and he hadn’t shaved in a number of days. He looked just like a pirate. He looked perfect.
“I do hope I am on time,” he said.
Ivory’s fingers were clenched in her skirts. With an effort she uncurled them and gestured to the empty chair in front of her desk. “You are indeed. Please, be seated.”
Max approached the desk and settled his bulk into the chair. His eyes went to the papers on her desk. “I see you got my letter.”
“I did. I also received the cloak. It’s beautiful.”
“I had it made for a beautiful woman.”
A silence fell as they watched each other across the desk. God, he was breathtaking. And he was here, in her study. Not heading into the Atlantic winds.
“How did the Harris brothers fare?” he asked, breaking the deafening silence.
“Quite well. Though they weren’t entirely sure what to do with an emerald of that size.”
“I have faith that they will figure it out. I would think it will be sufficient to keep them from harassing anyone else for a very long time.”
“It should be,” she agreed. “I will take care to remind them of that from time to time.”
“And Captain Black? I hope he was not difficult.”
“He was not.”
“I didn’t think he would be. He is utterly besotted with you.”
“Mmmm.”
Another silence fell.
“Is it adequate?” he asked finally.
“I beg your pardon?”
“My list of references.” He gestured at the papers that sat between them. “I’m a good hand with a blade, and have an excellent working knowledge of cannon, although you probably don’t need to deal with heavy armaments that often. I’m quite comfortable with heights. Ropes and rigging and the like. I can speak three languages well, another less so, but enough to order an ale. I have excellent connections within the British navy and the East India Company. I suspect that within the month, those connections will have extended into the House of Lords. Once I start attending, that is.”
“Max—”
“I have more recently discovered that I am adept at redressing corpses and staging accidental deaths. I’ve learned the value of clever restraint and careful patience, but then again, I learned those things from the best.”
“What is this, Max?” Ivory asked.
He gazed at her. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s an application.”
Ivory was struggling to draw a full breath. “An application?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
Max leaned forward, his clear grey eyes trained on her. “For Chegarre and Associates.”
“You want me to give you a job?”
“I want more than a job, Ivory. I want whatever you’re willing to give. Whatever you wish to be. I want you under any terms you set.”
Oh God. A kernel of hope was lodged deep in her heart, and with each of his words it sent tiny tendrils reaching warily through her chest.
“But what about the Odyssey?”
“It left without me.” He ran his palms over his thighs and shrugged. “She’ll be back in two years.”
She bit her lip, fighting for composure. “Beatrice must have been thrilled.”
“She was. I have found myself the reluctant, if sudden, owner of a number of invitations to events that she seems to think her brother should escort her to.”
“Mmm. And Lady Helen? How did she react?”
“Lady Helen departed yesterday from Liverpool on a packet ship destined for Boston. She took with her a companion, two trunks, and a terribly awkward case of purple orchids. It would seem she has some unfinished business there.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” Max stood, coming around the side of the desk and dropping to a knee in front of her. “I am willing to try to be a duke. And the brother that Beatrice deserves. But I can’t do that if I don’t have somewhere I belong. And I belong with you.”
Ivory could feel the emotion rising in her throat and burning the backs of her eyes. She reached out and touched his face, and he caught her hand and brought it to his lips.
“Yes,” she whispered. “You do.”
“Does that mean you have a place for me?”
“I’ve had a place for you since the day you charged into my life like a Smithfield bull in a china shop,” she said a little unsteadily.
He closed his eyes briefly, squeezing her hands. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“As it turns out, I haven’t gone very far.”
“I love you, Ivory Moore. I hope you know that.”
A joy unlike anything she had ever experienced burst through her. “I love you too.”
“Don’t ever change to please me. Promise me that.”
“I promise.”
Max stood and pulled her to her feet. He bent and kissed her, a sweet, tender kiss. He drew back slightly and reached for the blue velvet cloak draped over the back of her chair. Very deliberately he spread it over the surface of the desk.
“I never should have asked you to choose between Chegarre and me,” he said, straightening.
“About that—”
“It will never happen again. That is my promise to you.”
“Max, there is something that you should know—”
“Indeed. Like how beautiful Chegarre looks in blue velvet? Or how much better she’ll look naked in blue velvet?”
Ivory stilled. “You knew.”
“I didn’t know. And it almost took me too long to figure it out.” He was pulling at the pins and ties of her dress. “But now that your secret is mine, I intend to use that to my every advantage.” Her dress fell away, and his hands were on her, his heat burning through the thin fabric of her chemise.
It was getting harder to think. “How?”
“First I’m going to kiss you,” he said, his mouth a breath away from hers. His fingers were easing her chemise off her shoulders. The linen slipped to the floor, and Max caught her at the waist, then set her gently on the velvet-covered desk. “And then I’m going to make love to you.” He glanced at her desk with a slow smile. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”
Ivory looked up at him, catching his face in her hands. “Then do it.”
“Are you giving me orders again, Miss Moore?”
She looked up at him, drowning in the love shining from his eyes. “Yes.”