Harlequin Historical February 2017, Box Set 2 of 2 by Margaret Moore

Author:Margaret Moore
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781488021169
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2017-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Hilda’s rush down the hallway was slowed some by the food clattering on the tray, but she was still a good distance ahead.

And she was quicker than Ivy would have given her credit for. Maybe she was younger than she let on.

Hilda made it to the door. While balancing the tray on one hand, she dug into the pocket of her stark black dress and retrieved a key.

With a backward glare, she slipped inside.

Ivy heard the lock slip into place.

If she had to break down the door, she would not be denied seeing Agatha.

She pounded on the door. The impact made her bones hurt, a splinter jabbed her palm. It didn’t matter. She’d chew through the blasted wood if she had to.

“Open the dad-gummed—” Ivy caught herself, took a breath. She was the one in charge, the lady of the ranch. “I insist that you open the door.”

The only answer was silence, then the sound of the tray being slammed down on a table.

Ivy had never considered her temper to be out of the ordinary, no hotter than anyone else’s. But it flashed through her now as hot and quick as a boiler explosion.

She raised her foot, ready for another attack on the door.

She heard a jingle.

“No need to break a foot, Ivy.” Travis handed her a ring of keys, the one she needed pinched between his fingers.

She drew in a composing breath, went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

Antie stood beside him, frowning. Ivy reckoned she ought to have kept that kiss in her mind, but she was downright grateful to have the key.

A lecture was coming later, she saw it in her teacher’s severe expression.

Ivy shoved the key into the lock, turned it. She shoved the door, felt the resistance of someone pushing. Suddenly, it swung open wide.

“You have no right,” Hilda hissed.

In the soft glow of the parlor lamp, Ivy saw her sister sitting in a chair—too thin, too pale and very frightened looking.

Ivy had every right—and obligation—to protect Agatha.

Still, setting straight who had what rights would wait for another time.

“Agatha,” Seeing the apprehension in her sister’s eyes, she approached the chair slowly. She knelt down beside it. “It’s me… Ivy.”

“Mother Brunne?” Agatha cast a frantic look at her nurse.

Mother? If Agatha really had put Nurse Brunne in their mother’s place, Ivy would have to deal with the woman more subtly than she wanted to. She’d have to bide her time, send her packing when Agatha was ready for it. But oh, how she wished to do it now.

“I’m your sister, Ivy.”

Agatha’s hand trembled. Ivy touched it, stroked it gently. But her sister jerked away as though she had been burned. Then she started to weep.

Hilda reached for a bottle on the table and took the stopper off.

“Take your medicine like a good girl, Agatha.”

Agatha tried to push it away. “No, mother, I don’t like it.”

“You must. You are too frail for all this agitation.”

Before Ivy could grab the bottle, Hilda pinched Agatha’s hollowed cheeks and forced her mouth open.

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