“That’s the name I was referring to,” she said with a smirk.
For a moment, Robert didn’t seem to follow, and then he grimaced. “Viscount Ham. Oh, I see what you mean. He is a bit of a porker, though.”
“Ritchfield,” she scolded, although if pressed, she would have to agree the young boy was taking after his other grandfather. The man was rather rotund. At least Charity’s husband, Luke, was still on the leaner side.
“He was just so... pudgy,” Robert claimed.
Ivy did her best to suppress a chuckle.
They stared at one another for a moment before Ivy said, “I can’t help but think my arrival interrupted something… important.”
He shook his head. “Hardly. I brought all my paperwork with me, so I was just paying bills,” he explained with a shrug of one shoulder.
The chill from the window had her moving closer to him. “Is... everything all right?” she asked, as if she feared poking a sleeping bear.
“Oh, it’s fine,” he assured her. “We’re still… wealthy, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Ivy had to suppress the urge to scoff. “I wasn’t.”
He dipped his head before adding, “But that does bring up a matter I wished to discuss with you.”
She stiffened. “Oh?” For a moment, her heart felt as if it had dropped into her stomach. He was there to let her know he had decided to do something more permanent about their estrangement. Some sort of formal separation, no doubt.
Divorce, perhaps?
She couldn’t imagine what her life would become should he do so. He would be generous, though—she wouldn’t be left without an income—but the scandal would require she leaveLondon. Move to a cottage by the sea or the dowager house near York.
They had never talked about divorce. Never broached the subject even in casual conversation. But should he wish it, his title would most certainly ensure he would be granted a divorce.
Once again, Ivy was nearly in tears as she considered what her future might hold. “And what matter might that be?” she asked, her voice quavering.
“It’s about your lack of spending.”
Blinking several times, which had a tear escaping to run down her cheek, Ivy was tempted to ask him to repeat himself. She was sure she heard him clearly, though. “My... my lack of spending?” she repeated, her eyes widening in disbelief.
Well, this was unexpected. What man in the entire world would bring up his wife’s thriftiness as a matter of discussion? He gave her a generous allowance, one which she didn’t always spend because there were some months—especially those outside of the Season—she couldn’t begin to. She had spent this month’s allowance, though, the funds going toward the provisions and gifts she had brought with her for her stay at Ritchfield Park.
Robert held up a staying hand. “I am notcomplaining. Not in the least,” he assured her. “But, my darling, you are a countess.Mycountess,” he stated.
Recoiling at the vehemence in his claim, Ivy blinked. She couldn’t recall him ever sounding so possessive.
“And I shouldn’t want you to be…economizingif you thought I would be angered by an occasional bill from a modiste... or a hat shop, or... or Fortnum and Mason,” he explained. “Because... because I wouldn’t be,” he stammered.
Ivy stared at him, her mouth slightly open, especially after the rather specific mention of the grocer from which she hadpurchased the oranges. “You give me an allowance every month, which more than covers the occasional bill from a modiste or the cost of a hat,” she countered.
“And apparently provisions for this house as well as gifts for the servants,” he said, arching a brow as if in disapproval.
It was Ivy’s turn to lift a staying hand. “Oh, you will be receiving the invoice for the oranges,” she stated in a scolding voice.
Robert couldn’t help but grin at seeing her indignant expression. “Good,” he stated. “And thank you for thinking of the pantry. For doing the menus,” he added.
She gave him a tentative grin. “You’re welcome, although it is my job to do,” she reasoned. “That and seeing to the hanging of the greens, which I hope shall happen on the morrow.”
Visibly relaxing at hearing her plans, Robert said, “It will. Graves assures me the servants have already collected the greenery. It’s in the stable along with a suitable Yule log,” he explained, watching for her reaction.
Ivy beamed in delight. “Oh, thank you for thinking to ask, Ritchfield.” She paused, as if she feared his answer to her next question.
“What is it?” he prompted. He took a step closer.
