by Eva Shepherd
He knew from experience how fickle beautiful women were, how self-serving and how they used their beauty for their own advancement. Although, to be fair, Lady Iris did not really fit into that pattern. She was a young woman and not yet wed. As her mother had said, she was sweet, well-mannered and, he reluctantly had to agree, some would consider her rather charming. If she had good looks as well, and the sizable dowry that her mother had hinted at, there was no reason why she should not be married advantageously already. Perhaps there was something amiss with Lady Iris that he literally and figuratively could not see.
Finally, after an interminably long time, Lady Springfeld began to chatter about returning to the Walbertons’ house. He stood up before she had a chance to change her mind.
‘I hope you have a pleasant walk home,’ he said.
And I hope you leave now and never return.
‘Oh, we will, we will,’ the cheerful woman said. ‘And we will look forward to seeing you tonight, do you not agree, Iris?’
‘Yes, I’m looking forward to it with as much anticipation as the Earl,’ Lady Iris said, almost causing Theo to smile.
‘I don’t believe that could be possible,’ he said instead with a bow. ‘Until tonight, Lady Springfeld, Lady Iris.’ With the greatest of pleasure, he rang the bell and Charles came to escort them out of the room.
The two women bustled their way to the door, followed by the traitorous Max, who reluctantly came to heel at the flick of Theo’s fingers. When the door closed Theo collapsed into his chair, relieved to finally be alone again. All he had to do now was suffer one tedious social evening and his life could return to normal, the way it had been before the perpetually sunny Lady Iris and her equally irritating mother had burst into his life.
* * *
It had been a long time since Theo had dressed in formal evening wear. He had once enjoyed the ritual of preparing for an evening out and had done so full of anticipation of the pleasures to come.
But not tonight. Having to shave for a second time that day and change into his evening suit was a rigmarole he had avoided for the last six years, and now all he could think was that it was more effort than it could possibly be worth.
Damn woman. Damn daughter. The sooner this evening was over the happier he would be. He’d much rather spend the evening in front of the fire with his faithful companion, Max. Well, his companion who was usually faithful. When the dog was in Lady Iris’s company, he immediately forgot who and what he was. He ceased to be a noble, faithful Irish wolfhound and became a doting lapdog called Maxie-Waxie.
‘Maxie-Waxie, indeed.’
‘I beg your pardon, my lord?’ his valet asked.
Theo was shocked that he had voiced his annoyance out loud. Those women really were getting under his skin. ‘I’d appreciate it if someone could take Max for his evening walk tonight, as I will be otherwise engaged,’ he said, to cover his awkwardness.
‘Very good, my lord,’ James said, and continued to brush down Theo’s jacket. ‘I’m pleased to say, my lord, the suit still fits you perfectly,’ he added.
Theo could tell from his voice that James was now standing back and admiring his handiwork. He could also detect that the man had been smiling while he made that observation. What on earth did the man have to smile about? Why should he care about the way his master was dressed? He could not have fallen under Lady Iris’s spell the way Max had so easily done, could he? Or was it merely that he was pleased that Theo was attending a social event after all these years?
Whatever it was, James had better enjoy it while he could, because after tonight he would not be going out into Society again, and he hopefully would not be seeing Lady Iris or her infernal mother again either.
Six years ago he had turned his back on a life that included endless dinner parties, balls, nights at the theatre and other such fripperies. It was a life that had eventually brought him nothing but disappointment and pain. He gritted his teeth together to push away all memories of his life before the accident. He had once lived in a delusional bubble, where he had not known what people were really like, what coldness could lie behind a pretty face and an enchanting smile.
No, he would not be returning to that false world. The neighbours now knew better than to disturb him—he just had to get the same message through to those infuriating women. They had to be made to understand that tonight would be an aberration, one that would not be repeated.
The valet carefully tied Theo’s bow tie.
‘You look quite your old self, my lord,’ James said, ‘if I may be so bold as to say so.’
Theo was tempted to tell him that no, he should not be so bold, but he knew the man meant well. It was hardly James’s fault that Theo was in a bad mood that was all down to Lady Iris, her mother and this damnable dinner party.
‘Thank you, James, that will be all,’ he said instead, dismissing both his valet and the man’s unwanted good mood.
James handed him his cane, top hat and gloves, then left.
Theo counted his steps towards the door, down the hallway, the stairs and the route out of the entrance hall. Using the snorting of the horses to guide himself to the carriage, he waved away the help of the coachman, and climbed up the steps. Then, with an exasperated sigh that no one would hear, he sat down and tapped his cane on the roof to signal to the driver he was ready to depart.
He rarely carried his cane. He knew every inch of his home and was familiar with the estate and surrounding area, so could easily find his way around, but he had not been in the Walbertons’ home since the accident, so he would need it this evening. He had been a regular visitor to the house when he still had his sight, so knew the layout well, but he knew from bitter experience that when he was out of his own environment there were myriad obstacles that could trip him up, and he was loath to make even more of a spectacle of himself tonight than was absolutely necessary. That meant he would still have to draw attention to himself and his infirmity by finding his way with the aid of a walking stick.
Damn that as well.
He did not need his neighbours treating him in a pitying manner, did not need to hear the condescension in their voices, did not need to experience the indignity of their rushing to the aid of the poor cripple. He would not allow them to feel sorry for him, to judge him, to see themselves as his superiors.
His teeth grinding together, his muscles clenched tightly, he cursed Lady Springfeld for inflicting this torture on him.
Chapter Eleven
Lady Iris paced up and down outside the entrance hall and scanned the driveway for the sight of the Earl’s carriage. Her anxiety wasn’t for herself—of course not. Nor was she worried that the Earl would be unable to cope in an unfamiliar house. She was sure he’d cope admirably. After all, he appeared to cope admirably with everything...everything, that was, except her mother.
But at least her mother had been able to get him out of the house, something Lady Walberton said no one else had been able to do for many years, and she was most impressed that her friend had done something so many others had tried and failed to do. The Earl had been extended countless invitations by the Walbertons and other neighbours, but he had declined them all.
Yes, her sweet, cheerful and always friendly mother could be a force to be reckoned with when she set her mind to something.
And for some reason she had got it into her head that the Earl would make a perfect husband for her second daughter. It was most unlike her mother to be so determined when it came to marriage. Previously she had been happy for nature to take its course in the hope that Iris would meet a suitable man before it was too late. Why she had set her sights on the Earl, Iris could not imagine, but she had certainly been none too subtle in front of him. It had all been so embarrassing.
And it was that reason, no other, that had her anxiously waiting for the Earl’s arrival. She merely wanted to inform him at the first oppo
rtunity that all this matchmaking was completely her mother’s idea. As tactfully as possible, she intended to tell him that he had nothing to worry about. She had as much interest in marrying him as he had in marrying her.
He had made it blatantly clear that he did not want her, even if her mother had missed or ignored all his hints. And Iris had no intention of marrying a man who was a grumpy recluse who thought laughter and having fun were beneath him.
She stopped her pacing and looked up the driveway again. Was he going to be late? Was he even going to come to the dinner? Iris’s hand flew to her chest, where her heart had given a peculiar jump. That was a possibility she hadn’t considered until now. Perhaps he had merely agreed to attend so he could stop her mother from badgering him, but had never intended to actually do so. Could he be that rude? Iris suspected he could be—after all, being rude was his speciality.
There was no point waiting if he wasn’t going to even bother to come. She looked up at the steps leading back into the house. This was a waste of time. All her anxiety had been for nothing. He wasn’t even coming.
With a resigned sigh she walked up the steps, then took one last look up the driveway before entering the house. And there he was. His carriage had just turned in.
Like an excited child she skipped back down the steps, and actually waved her hand above her head, then remembered he couldn’t see her.
Thank goodness for that, she thought, then pulled herself up for being uncharitable. He was blind, and she should not see his inability to see her making a fool of herself as a good thing.
The two-horse carriage drew up in front of the entranceway. She brushed down her pink silk gown, the one she had chosen because everyone said it flattered her complexion, and patted her hair to ensure every strand was still in place. What was wrong with her? The Earl was the one man who would not care what she looked like, but she patted her hair again anyway.
‘Good evening, Your Lordship,’ she said as soon as the liveried footman opened the carriage door and lowered the steps. ‘I’m so pleased you actually came. If you hadn’t my mother would have probably dragged me over to your house for another visit. And neither of us would want that. Would we? Certainly, I wouldn’t.’ She laughed lightly, embarrassed that she was burbling. He had made it perfectly clear when she was at his house that he did not like it when she did that, but she found it impossible not to chatter at the best of times, and the intensity of her burbling became even worse when she was nervous. And the Earl did make her nervous, as much as she wished that wasn’t so.
‘But I had to catch you before you entered the house,’ she rushed on. ‘I just had to let you know that none of this was my idea. It was all my mother’s. So please, do not think that I put her up to this.’
She looked up at him expectantly. He didn’t respond. Merely climbed down the steps and, using his silver-topped cane, tapped his way towards the steps.
She hovered around him, unsure what she was supposed to do or say now.
‘You may take my arm, if you wish,’ Iris said, extending a bent arm in his direction.
‘That will not be necessary.’
‘No, but it might be good manners,’ Iris said, somewhat affronted. It was all but unheard of for a woman to offer her arm to a man, and the least he could do was to graciously accept it.
He paused, then extended his arm for her to take. She hooked hers through his and placed her gloved hand on top of his. Since her debut she had walked arm in arm with many a man, but for some reason with the Earl it felt like a much more intimate act, one that had set off those strange reactions. There it was again, that odd trembling that came from deep within her body. And there was that fluttering in the middle of her chest, the one she kept experiencing when she was in his house. This should not be happening. He was just a man after all, and one she didn’t particularly like. There was no reason for her to either tremble or flutter just because he had taken her arm.
Perhaps it was because of all they had shared when she had spent the evening at his house, or because she knew this was the man her mother wanted her to marry. Whatever it was, it was making Iris almost light-headed, and ridiculously conscious of how close he was to her.
They walked slowly up the steps, his cane tapping out in front of them. When they reached the top the footman bowed and opened the large doors that led into the well-lit entrance hall.
‘Everyone is in the main drawing room having drinks before dinner,’ she said as they walked through the entrance hall.
‘Everyone?’ He stopped walking and inclined his head. ‘I was under the impression it would merely be you, your mother and Lord and Lady Walberton. Didn’t your mother say the other guests had left?’
‘She said most of the guests had left. There are only a few still remaining, and Lady Walberton decided to invite a few local people as well. I think there are about twenty for dinner.’
He clasped his cane more tightly and drew in a deep breath.
‘They’re all very friendly,’ Iris quickly added, trying to reassure him. ‘And I’ll be here along with my mother. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’
‘I am not worried,’ he retorted. ‘I merely do not like being deceived. Your mother gave me the impression that this would be a small dinner party.’
‘Well, my mother probably does consider twenty guests to be a small dinner party.’
He exhaled loudly. ‘So be it,’ he said and commenced walking.
Iris put her other hand on top of his to halt his progress. ‘And... I also wanted to warn you.’
‘Warn me?’
‘Um...yes. For some reason my mother has got it into her head that you would make a good husband for me, so she might be a bit... I’m sorry... I honestly have done nothing to encourage her.’
He removed her hand from his. ‘Yes, I’m well aware of what your mother wants.’
‘But honestly, it’s just my mother. I don’t want to marry you.’ Her hand shot to her mouth. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with you. But it’s not as if we’re...you know... I...um...’
She waited for him to say something, anything, to save her from this embarrassing moment. He said nothing. Was he deliberately waiting for her to dig herself into an even deeper hole?
‘I just wanted to say, please ignore my mother,’ she added quietly.
‘I intend to do so,’ he said and recommenced walking.
‘Good.’ She nodded rapidly, her cheeks burning, partly from yet again making a fool of herself in front of him, but also because of her disloyalty to her mother. After all, her mother always did what she thought was in her children’s best interests. It was just that in this case she was terribly misguided.
They reached the drawing room and a footman opened the door. The guests had already assembled and were chattering amiably as they partook of their pre-dinner drinks.
The moment they stepped into the room the polite chatter died a sudden death and everyone in the now silent room turned to stare at the Earl.
Iris glared back at them, shocked by their bad manners. She looked up at the Earl, trying to think of something she could say to make this better. But no words came. All she could think was how rude they were all being and how bad she felt for the Earl.
‘Whatever you’re wearing tonight, Lady Iris, you appear to have shocked the guests into silence.’ His comment was for her ears alone.
Her eyes grew wide as she continued to stare up at him, trying to read his expression. Was he making a joke? As far as she knew, the Earl never made jokes. Never laughed. His posture did not suggest it had been said in jest. His chin was tilted upwards, and, if he had been able to see, he most definitely would be looking down his nose at the other guests.
But it had to be a joke. And he was right, the best way to handle this situation was to make light of it. ‘Well, as my mother kept trying to tell you, I’m a rare and exqu
isite beauty that no man can resist,’ she said, forcing a laugh.
‘One who is also reputed to be charming, sweet-natured, a natural mother and well adept at running a household efficiently, if I remember correctly.’
‘And don’t forget my highly skilled embroidery and watercolours,’ she said, her laughter becoming genuine.
‘Oh, who could forget those? Your mother made sure I never would by repeating your list of accomplishments over and over again. And now we can add to the list that you cause both men and women to become mute by your mere presence.’
‘Yes, I’m one of a kind, that’s for certain,’ Iris said, pleased that quiet chatter had finally resumed among the guests, although quite a few were still staring in the Earl’s direction, some discreetly and others quite openly.
* * *
Lady Walberton and Iris’s mother emerged from the crowd, walked across the room to the doorway and joined them, smiling enthusiastically the entire time. ‘I am so pleased you accepted my invitation, my lord,’ her mother said.
‘And I’m delighted to see you again,’ Lady Walberton added.
The Earl paused and Iris was sure he would point out that he had been given no option to attend and the Walbertons’ drawing room was the last place he wanted to be, but instead he merely bowed his head politely.
‘So, I am sure you want to meet everyone present and reacquaint yourself with some old friends,’ Lady Walberton said. ‘Iris, will you please introduce the Earl to the other guests? I have...things to attend to.’
She sent Iris’s mother a knowing look, which was returned with an equally conspiratorial smile.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ he said with finality.
‘Yes, it will,’ Iris’s mother said, her tone cheerful but showing she would allow no objections. She nodded to Iris to do as she had been instructed, and wandered off to talk to a group of older women standing by the ornate fireplace, while Lady Walberton halted the progress of the nearest footman and took him aside, as if she had something vital she needed to tell him, all the while keeping her eye on Iris and the Earl.