by Eva Shepherd
‘It would be hard to believe there was a storm last night if it weren’t for the sodden driveway and the fallen branches,’ she continued in that bright tone. ‘Although the gardeners are already clearing everything away and making it tidy again. I popped outside before I came in to breakfast to enjoy the fresh air and they were busy at work.’
It seemed Lady Iris’s sunny disposition was just as cheerful in the mornings as it was in the evenings. Some people were morning people, some evening people, but Lady Iris appeared, unfortunately, to be both.
‘Now that the storm has passed, you’ll be wanting to get home as soon as possible,’ he said, and took a sip of the reviving coffee.
Or at least I will be wanting you to depart, the sooner the better.
‘Yes, it would be best if I returned to the Walbertons’ estate as early as possible. Hopefully, if I get home before anyone rises no one will know that I was even missing. Fortunately, they tend to retire late and rise late, so I should be safe.’
He nodded his head in agreement. Good, she would be gone soon. But there was something he had to do before she left. Something that gave him great pain. He had to make that apology.
He took another sip of his coffee, placed the cup back in the saucer, drew himself more upright, took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘About last night.’ He took in another deep breath. Who would expect a simple apology to be so hard to make? But then, Theo was not used to explaining himself to anyone, and he most certainly was not used to apologising.
‘Oh, yes, about that,’ she said as her coffee cup clinked into its saucer. ‘I used to have bad dreams all the time when I was a child and my mother always used to hold me and stroke my brow until all the scariness went away.’ She paused, then gave a small laugh that sounded awkward. ‘So that’s why I was in your room when you woke. Just doing what my mother would have done for me. Nothing else. Nothing more.’
Theo clenched his teeth together to stop himself from telling her again in no uncertain manner that he did not need mothering, not from her, not from anyone, but he was fairly certain that lashing out was also not how one apologised.
Then his breath caught in his throat as he took in the other part of what she had said. ‘Hold me...stroke my brow’? Was that what she had been doing? Were those feelings that she had held him, kissed him, caressed him, real rather than something he had conjured up in his dream? But even if they had been real, she had not held, caressed or kissed him like a woman embracing a man, but as a mother comforting a disturbed child. It was an insult, not an act of affection or attraction. He was a man, for God’s sake, not a child.
She had been in his room. She should not have been, but she had meant well. What she had done when she had been in his room, and her reasons for doing it, were neither here nor there. What he needed to do now was to get this damn apology over and done with.
‘I am sorry for being so rude to you last night,’ he said, his still-gritted teeth making the words sound terse. He forced his jaw to relax. ‘You were very brave to react the way you did when you heard...’ He rolled his hand in the air, not wanting to say out loud that he had been screaming in his sleep.
‘Brave?’ she said with a small laugh. ‘I’m not brave. Foolhardy maybe. I didn’t actually think too much about what I was doing. I just reacted, I suppose. Heaven knows what I would have done if you actually had been under attack from an assailant or this really was a haunted castle.’
There she went again, prattling on. Did she ever stop? But he held his tongue on that matter. Again, he was not meaning to criticise her but to apologise.
‘Well, thank you.’ There. He had said it. Hopefully, that would be the end of it and now he could drink his coffee in peace.
‘That was my first thought when I suddenly woke,’ she continued, destroying his hope for silence. ‘That the house was haunted—after all, it is an old castle. Then I imagined some ruthless assassin was wandering the corridors, causing mayhem, or a band of desperate brigands.’
He continued drinking his coffee, unsure how or if he wanted to respond to such absurdities.
‘Did I mention that I like to read gothic novels, and they do tend to make my imagination go off on some wild tangents at times?’
‘No, but you have now. And with those thoughts in your mind, it is a wonder you even left your bed, never mind entered my room.’
‘Yes, I suppose so, but I’m always being told off about doing things like that.’
He lowered his coffee cup. ‘What? Do you make a habit of going into men’s rooms in the middle of the night?’
‘No, of course not. Don’t be silly. I’m always being told off for acting before thinking.’
‘Oh, I see. Like going for a walk when there’s a storm on the horizon.’
‘Hmm, yes, I suppose so. And thank you again for taking me in. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t stumbled upon this house.’
He took another sip of his coffee, pleased that he had got that apology out of the way, and for restraining himself from mentioning that he would have preferred it if she had stumbled upon some other house and inflicted her relentless happiness on some other poor sod, someone who appreciated it. But that was unfair. She hadn’t chosen his house, circumstances had forced her to shelter in his home, and at any other home she would not have been woken in the middle of the night by her host’s screaming.
Theo swallowed down his coffee, wishing he could erase the memory of last night from his mind, but instead he remembered something else he should apologise for, something that was perhaps even more sensitive.
‘And I am sorry that last night you saw me...’ He paused, trying to think of the best way to phrase this so he would save her blushes. ‘I’m sorry you saw me in a somewhat less than formally attired manner.’
She laughed. ‘Well, that’s one way of putting it, I suppose.’
He could see nothing funny in this situation. She had entered a man’s bedroom, unaccompanied, and had found him completely naked. That would have sent most young maidens shrieking from the room. But not Lady Iris. And his apology, rather than making her blush, had amused her.
Was that because she still did not see him as a real man? Even after seeing him completely naked? Could this be any more humiliating? That anger that he had fought so hard to suppress while he was making his apology started to ferment within him.
‘But that was hardly your fault,’ she continued. He detected some muffling of her voice, suggesting she had placed her hand over her mouth. At least she had the decency to show some embarrassment about seeing a man without a stitch of clothing on.
‘You’re right, I shouldn’t have rushed into your room without thinking. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known you were—’ she laughed again, the sound still holding a hint of awkwardness ‘—less than formally attired.’
‘Well, we’ve both apologised, so the less said about it the better.’
‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘We certainly wouldn’t want it getting out that I had seen you less than formally attired.’
‘Hmm,’ he murmured, not wanting to continue this conversation and wishing she’d stop repeating that phrase. With the apology out of the way, finally he could drink his coffee in peace. He rarely ate breakfast, and this morning he had even greater reason to refrain. He had no intention of delaying Lady Iris’s departure any longer than was necessary. Although she apparently liked to partake of a hearty breakfast. Knife and fork scraped against her plate, and the smells wafting across the table suggested bacon, eggs, sausages and freshly baked bread. Cook must have decided the guest needed to be fed well before she departed.
Hopefully, she would eat quickly and refrain from talking while she did so.
‘And your servants have managed to get my clothes dry and remove all the mud,’ she said, his hope for silence dying an immediate death.
‘Y
ou’ll be pleased to know I’m now dressed like a lady again and not in gentlemen’s attire,’ she said, open amusement returning to her voice. ‘Although they couldn’t do a thing with my hat. It still looks like a poor, drowned creature. I don’t know what I’m going to tell my mother. I’ll have to think of some reason why my hat spent the night out in a storm while I was tucked up safely in my bed at the Walbertons’. Although I can’t for the life of me think what that reason might be.’
‘Are you always this cheerful in the morning?’ Theo said, cutting through the chatter that threatened to go on without end.
‘Yes, I am. Thank you.’
‘That wasn’t a compliment.’
‘Oh, wasn’t it?’ She stopped talking and Theo hoped that would be the end of it, even though he now knew from painful experience that such a hope would be in vain.
‘But it can’t be an insult. After all, there’s nothing wrong with being cheerful, is there? Particularly on a morning like this, when the sun is shining, the birds are singing and everything has that lovely fresh smell you get after it’s been raining all night. It’s simply glorious and makes you glad to be alive.’
‘Some people like silence in the morning, even on “simply glorious” mornings,’ he said, making ‘simply glorious’ sound like the worst type of morning there was.
‘Well, nobody I know likes to be silent in the morning. At least no one in my family. Well, my father is rather quiet, but he’s never objected to my mother, my sisters and I talking while he eats his breakfast, and my brother, Nathaniel, is just as talkative as me. If you think I’m noisy you should meet the entire family. Then you’d realise I’m actually one of the quieter members.’
Heaven forbid he should meet more like Lady Iris. But fortunately he was never likely to have the misfortune of meeting any other members of the Springfeld family, and certainly not the entire family en masse.
‘It’s just a man likes to drink his coffee before he’s hit with a barrage of such buoyancy,’ he said, explaining something that he did not believe needed explaining in his own home.
‘Oh, I see. Would you like me to wait till you finish your coffee before I hit you with the full force of my cheerful good nature?’
He made no reply, merely refilled his cup as a signal that he still wanted silence.
‘And I could say the same thing to you,’ she continued, not picking up on his signal. ‘Are you always this grumpy in the morning?’ She waited a mere second. ‘No, don’t answer.’
As if he were going to.
‘I think I already know what you’re going to say about your moods in the morning.’ The trilling note in her voice suggested that, if anything, she found his mood to be a source of great amusement.
Theo reached out to the bell that always sat in the middle of the table and gave it a hearty shake, hoping to drown out her infernal teasing about his moods.
‘Charles, has the coachman prepared the carriage yet?’ he asked the moment his servant entered the room. ‘Lady Iris wishes to return home as early as possible.’
‘The coachman has been informed to make haste and to let us know the moment it is ready,’ Charles replied.
‘Good.’ Theo wondered whether the servants were delaying Lady Iris’s departure, because it did seem to be taking an inordinate amount of time. They couldn’t be that disloyal, could they?
They had never shown disloyalty before, even following all the changes that had taken place after his accident. Their lives, as well as his own, had altered irreparably following that fateful night. He had once entertained regularly. While that meant additional work for the servants, it also meant they got to socialise with the servants from other households who stayed over so they could attend to their masters and mistresses. He suspected they missed that aspect of their work. He knew Cook missed being able to organise lavish dinner parties, and the butler and housekeeper missed running a busy household. But despite the changes in the way he lived, he had retained all the servants as part of his household. They now simply had much less work to do. Surely that was an improvement on the long hours that servants in most households worked, and they were happy with their lot. He was certain of that. At least, he had never before had any reason to doubt their loyalty.
No, he was sure they wouldn’t be so impertinent as to delay Lady Iris’s departure any longer than was absolutely necessary, not when it must be quite obvious that he wanted the woman gone. It was her—she was making him imagine things.
‘Charles, would you please go and see what is holding up the coachman? The man has had ample notice to get the horses and carriage ready. Remind him that it is imperative that Lady Iris gets home as soon as possible.’
‘Very good, my lord,’ Charles said before departing.
‘You really are anxious to get rid of me, aren’t you?’ Iris said. ‘You must really like spending all your time completely alone.’
A sudden, painful contraction gripped his stomach, as if he had been drinking a noxious substance instead of coffee. ‘I enjoy my own company,’ he said, horrified to hear a constricted sound in his voice.
‘Hmm.’ Her reply sounded as if she did not believe him.
But what did he care if she believed him or not? He did not need to justify the way he lived to her or to anybody.
‘We are not all the same, Lady Iris. Some of us enjoy solitude and quiet,’ he said, trying to justify himself, even though he believed it was not necessary.
‘And living in solitude and quiet is what makes you such a contented person, is it?’ she said quietly.
How dare she? This really was outrageous. Was she expecting him to defend the way he lived, to her?
‘You don’t have to be on your own, you know,’ she continued, her voice still quiet.
Theo was too astounded to speak. Did this slip of a girl really think she could give him advice on how he was supposed to live his life? She knew nothing of him. Knew nothing about anything.
‘Your neighbours, the Walbertons, are very friendly, very welcoming people. And I’ve met some of your other neighbours at their house. They are all very nice people. Perhaps you should make more of an effort to spend time with them.’
‘And perhaps you should keep your opinions to yourself.’
She really was the limit. He could inform her that he knew exactly what sort of people the Walbertons were. He had once spent a great deal of time in their home, and they had attended many social events at this very house. He had also once entertained his neighbours on a regular basis. But that was in the past. He lived a different life now and had absolutely no intention of changing the way he lived just because she did not approve.
He waited for her to continue with her relentless chatter. To give him another piece of unwanted advice. She said nothing. Finally, he had the silence he was craving, but damn it all, he had been rude to her again. Although this time it was no less than she deserved.
‘Thank you for your advice on how I should live my life,’ he said, fighting to keep the sarcasm at an acceptable level. ‘I’ll give your opinions the consideration they are due.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ she said with equally false politeness. ‘And I’m sure we won’t be seeing you at the Walbertons’ or any of your other neighbours’ very soon.’
In response he merely took another drink of his coffee.
The door opened. ‘The carriage is ready, my lord, to take Lady Iris home.’
Thank God for that, Theo almost said. At least now this ridiculous conversation could come to an end, at least now he would not be subjected to her advice or have to put up with her laughter and unrelenting chatter.
‘Very good, Charles. I’m sure Lady Iris will be leaving soon, assuming she has had sufficient breakfast.’
‘Yes, I have, thank you, Charles.’ Fabric rustled as she stood up. ‘I’ll leave you to drink your coffee in peace, shall I
?’
‘No, I’ll accompany you to the carriage.’ Why had he said that? After being less than welcoming to her last night and snapping at her this morning, why the sudden compunction to be courteous? Was it guilt over his bad manners, or was it just that he wanted to make sure she really did get in the carriage and leave?
He followed the sound of her swishing skirts down the hallway and out through the entranceway. She was right about the change in the weather. The sun was shining warm on his face, the grass and the trees smelt fresh and the soil had a rich, loamy scent. It was as if the world had been born anew after last night’s storm.
Counting the steps, he walked down the front entrance to where the carriage was waiting.
‘Well, goodbye,’ she said. ‘And thank you so much for your hospitality.’
Hospitality. Surely she was jesting. He’d provided her with shelter, nothing more. He had done everything he could to be as inhospitable to this cheerful young thing as was possible, without being openly hostile.
‘Goodbye, Lady Iris,’ he said, with finality.
With much rustling of fabric, she entered the carriage. Then the coachman flicked the reins, the horses whinnied in reaction to the effort needed to get the vehicle moving, coach wheels crunched on the gravel, and the carriage left the house.
He remained standing at the entranceway, just to assure himself that she really had gone, then walked back up the stairs.
‘Good riddance,’ he said under his breath as he entered the suddenly quiet house.
Chapter Eight
Iris turned in her seat and looked out of the carriage window at the lone figure walking up the stone steps into his home.
It was unlikely she would ever see the Earl of Greystone again, but Iris knew she would never forget him, nor the night she had just experienced. He was certainly intriguing, and Iris could not remember any other time when a man had so piqued her interest.