He wanted to intercept Ivy before someone else escorted her into the dining room. He knew that he shouldn’t. Knew that his actions were causing a stir. But he didn’t care.
“Miss Birdwhistle.” He held out his arm, ignoring the fact that Forthersham was doing the same from the other side.
She placed her fingers on his arm, and he swallowed the triumphant smile. It was ridiculous that he felt the need to claim her.
“You look nice. New maid?” The words didn’t sound like a compliment; in fact, they were growled.
She shot him a look. “Lady Osborne sent me her French maid for some reason. Also a dress; again, I am not sure why. It was all very odd.”
“Did you ask her?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
“Perhaps she sees herself as something of a fashion icon and decided to take you in hand?”
Breathe, Bram. There was no reason to feel all this anger and tension, surely?
“I’m not sure why she would bother with me when this is my last season.”
He didn’t want it to be her last season. He could see down her bodice, which meant others could too. That made him angrier.
“I liked the way you dressed before.”
“You sound angry.” She looked at him.
“I saw no problem with the way you dressed before. If you’ll remember, I kissed you and wanted to spend time with you before you looked as you do this evening.”
“Which means what?”
“That you didn’t need to dress the way you are to please anyone.”
“I didn’t choose to dress this way. I told you what happened.”
There was a snap in her tone now, but Bram didn’t seem to be able to control the words coming out of his mouth.
“‘No’ is quite a simple word. I’m sure you’ve been saying it for many years now,” he gritted out. Why the hell was he angry that she was suddenly dressed as she was? That suddenly people could see what he’d seen.
And he realized that was what made him angry. He’d seen her, and it wasn’t right that others hadn’t and now were.
Good God, he was jealous. It was such a foreign emotion, it shocked him.
“You’re angry because I’m dressed like the other guests instead of in cat-sick yellow and horse-manure green. That my dress is not ill-fitting and made up of yards of material that cover me from chin to toes?” She sounded like a puppy growling now.
“If you didn’t like the way you dressed, why did you?” he said under his breath. But he knew why. Haldane.
They were entering the room now, and people were taking their seats. She lifted her fingers from his.
“That is my concern, not yours. I have absolutely no idea why you are angry with me. But let me make something clear to you, Mr. Nightingale. If kissing me and spending time with me makes you believe you have the right to an opinion on the way I dress, it doesn’t.” Her words were flat and cold. “In fact, you can keep your opinions to yourself,” she hissed.
Bram cursed as he saw that he’d hurt her. He’d spoken without thought. Spoken because he was jealous and off-balance.
“Ivy.”
She walked away, chin raised, and sat next to Reverend Clavers, who had clearly been called in at the last minute to even out the numbers now Haldane had left. Bram cursed silently and took his seat beside Miss Burrows.
What was wrong with him? He never lost control and never spoke to women the way he just had to Ivy.
Bram fell back on what he knew: How to chat and be pleasant in social situations. He could do that using only half his brain. He also tried not to look at Ivy, who sat across and to his left from him, farther down the table.
