Wicked Heart (Brazen Bluestockings #1)

Chapter 5: The Edwards

When Ivy returned home later in the afternoon, her body was still buzzing with the excitement of having spent time with Mr Hemsworth. Sam. She liked his name. She liked a lot about him. And it wasn't only because he was the only eligible bachelor to visit Tilbury lately.

They had walked around the village after the tea shop, and it had been one of the most pleasant afternoons she'd had in a while. Sam was so easy to talk to, and she enjoyed his subtle sense of humour. Anticipation bubbled up inside her when she remembered he had asked her to save him a dance at the ball in a few days. Hopefully, he would still want to dance with her once he was set upon by all the single young ladies of Tilbury.

"Ivy! Where have you been?" Her mother's sharp voice broke through her pondering, and she turned around to offer Mrs Edwards a bland smile. She hadn't told her family about Sam. It wasn't as if she could keep him secret forever, but for now, their friendship was something she wanted to keep to herself. A little something that was just hers. In a family of five siblings, that was a rare thing.

"Just out for a walk with Darcy," she said. It wasn't a complete lie, so she didn't feel too bad. A small fib. She just didn't mention that they hadn't walked alone. "You know how he gets when he has to stay indoors for too long."

Her mother let out a puff of air. "Yes, and he's not the only one."

With a giggle, Ivy walked over and placed a kiss on her mother's cheek. "Aren't you glad I let myself out as well, then?"

"I suppose." Her mother chuckled. "Won't you join us in the parlour? Your sisters and brother are all home. Even your father is free. It's a rare treat to have you all together outside of mealtimes, and I refuse to give these rare times up. Ash even said he will read us all some of that godawful poetry he enjoys so much."

"Byron is quite popular," Ivy pointed out as her mother ushered her towards the parlour while Darcy skipped around them, excited about the commotion.

"Hmph. He is a bounder and had to leave England. Not sure he is someone your brother should look up to. Or anyone, for that matter."

"I think someone can enjoy a man's—or woman's—poetry without condoning their life choices."

Her mother didn't seem interested in debating the topic, so Ivy stopped arguing and resigned herself to spending some time listening to Byron's poetry. While she might defend anyone's right to enjoy what they wanted to, she wasn't a great fan herself.

A moment later, they reached the parlour. It wasn't a huge room, but large enough for their family to fit comfortably despite their number—and despite her mother's propensity for adding embroidered cushions to every available seating area. Mr Edwards sat before the unlit fireplace in his favourite comfortable armchair. His thinning blond hair was a spark of light in a sea of otherwise dark heads.

Her brother and sisters were all copies of their mother. Tall and slender, with thick, dark-brown hair and brown eyes. Ivy liked to imagine them as copies of an original painting, where each copy strayed just a little further from the original source material.

Ash, as the oldest and only male, shared their mother's colouring and Roman nose, but other than that, looked more like their father with a reasonably handsome face. Her older sisters, Marigold and Rose, were both almost identical paintings of their mother, only younger. People who did not know them often assumed they were twins, they were so alike.

Then there was Ivy, who had inherited everything from their father's side of the family. Shorter and curvier than her siblings, she had Mr Edwards's blonde hair and even a few unfashionable freckles, courtesy of her many hours spent outdoors with Darcy.