Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,112

he had no doubt she was capable of doing something equally as foolish. He’d left the house early, deciding to pay her a call.

He’d said last night he would, but perhaps he’d arrived earlier than was polite. The aunt didn’t seem too worried about that. Miss Redfern, however, was not happy at all.

“Now, how about we try this again? Why is it you no longer need my assistance in locating your brother, when last night you were quite desperate I do so?”

“I have told you why.”

He wondered if she knew she was backing away from him. When he’d walked in, she’d been clutching that doll and looking nervous. Wearing a simple day dress, she had a thick blue shawl around her shoulders, and her hair was in a bun at her nape. She was certainly not dressed to entice a man, and yet something about her disturbed him. He felt it again, that tightness in his chest. Perhaps he’d caught something?

“Considering you told me you don’t lie, you have in fact told two in a very short time. Shall we have truth now?”

“How dare you accuse me of lying! I assure you, I am being completely truthful.” She had backed around the small table that sat in front of the sofa.

“Tea is ready!”

“Saved by an aunt,” he said so only she could hear.

Something had happened since he’d seen her last night. Rory knew she could have received word from Jackson that he was returning home, but then shouldn’t she be happier about it? Her gray eyes were troubled, which told him something else was afoot, and he believed it was to do with her brother. The fact she no longer wanted him involved was a further development that niggled at him. What had changed?

Of course he could just let her do as she wished. Really, she was no concern of his, and yet something stopped him from walking away.

He remembered Jackson telling him his sister cared about everyone and everything to the point that he feared one day she’d storm into trouble and he wouldn’t be there to protect her. It seemed he was right. Entering Bastil’s had been the action of a woman who had no regard for herself but a great deal for her brother.

“How do you take your tea, Mr. Haddon?” Ivy’s aunt asked.

“Just milk, thank you.”

“Ivy takes it with honey, and yet she’s clearly sweet enough.” The aunt gave him a sly smile, then turned to look at her niece, which told him she thought he was here because he found Miss Redfern attractive… which he did, but that was another matter.

“Ivy?” He looked from the aunt to Miss Redfern, who was still standing. In fact, she was shifting her weight from one foot to the other, clearly agitated he was still here.

“Arantxa is quite the mouthful for a child, so Jackson chose Ivy, her middle name, and we have called her that ever since.”

“It is a lovely name.” He smiled, but Miss Redfern did not return the gesture. It suited her. There was something sweet about Ivy, and he thought she was definitely that.

“Yes, most adults cannot even pronounce Arantxa clearly, so it was hopeless for a child. Ivy’s father took to calling her Rant, which is not a nice name for anyone, hence Jackson decided on Ivy.”

“Yes, thank you, Aunt Bea, I’m sure Mr. Haddon has no wish to hear more.” Miss Redfern was extremely uncomfortable now.

“Ivy is a lovely name, Miss Redfern,” he said to put her at ease, “as is Arantxa.” He pronounced it perfectly, but only because he’d asked his sister how to do so.

“Oh, well done!” Aunt Bea clapped. “You pronounced that beautifully.”

“Thank you.” He’d always been good with the elderly. They seemed to respond to him, and his brother said that was because he was able to rattle on about a lot of endless drivel for hours. Rory preferred to think it was because he was patient.

“I’ve had Parslip bring a few of those little cakes too. Young men are always hungry. Take Jackson, he is perpetually hollow-legged.”

She didn’t know, he realized. Shooting a look at Miss Redfern—Ivy, as she would now always be to him—he saw the small shake of her head to confirm his suspicions. Ivy was shouldering the burden of finding her brother alone.

“I’ll be pleased when he is back. He’s gone to Scotland, you know, for some odd reason. But Ivy tells me he will return soon.”

They talked, he listened and answered questions, and Ivy