âMrs.
Larson, I donâtâ¦â
âBarnes, now that Lyndon and my daughter have come this far, why donât we consider setting a date for their wedding?â
Before Lyndon could complete his sentence, Wilton spoke to Barnes.
At this point, Barnes couldnât help but smile as he attentively considered Wiltonâs proposition.
Lyndonâs scowl deepened.
âHold on! Dad, Mr.
Larson, whatâs this discussion about? When did I become involved with Miss Larson to this extent? Why has marriage come into the conversation all of a sudden?â
Ivy, standing beside her mother, murmured timidly, âLyndon, just a moment ago, you and Iâ¦â
She hid her face, leaving her words unfinished, but the implication was clear to any adult.
Lyndonâs expression turned stormy at the sight of her in his suit jacket, her chest bare.
âs BunnyBookery
He had rushed here after hearing Kysonâs words, ascending to the third floor.
Entering the lounge, he found Ivy inside.
She spoke some heartfelt words, embraced him, and kissed him.
He recoiled in disgust, pushing her away, and then his breathing hitched.
For a fleeting second, he thought he saw Rosanna.
Overwhelmed by longing, he embraced and kissed her in his delusion.
Could he have mistaken Ivy for Rosanna in his drunk state?
Impossible!
He hadnât consumed enough alcohol to be so befuddled as to confuse Ivy for Rosanna.
Then, what was it?
His expression turned icy as he regarded Ivy with suspicion.
âIvy Larson, what have you done?â
Upon entering the room earlier, he had detected an odd scent.
Surely, it was Ivyâs doing!
âLyndon, what do you mean? You were the one who was drunk, saying you liked me and pressing for intimacy.
Iâm aware itâs improper before marriage, but for you, I was prepared to concede,â Ivy protested, still feigning innocence.
Lyndonâs sneer was evident as he said, âI like you? Thatâs ridiculous!