Stranded with the Reclusive Earl

by Eva Shepherd

  ‘It’s either me, my mother or Lady Walberton,’ Iris whispered to him.

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘And presumably you see yourself as the lesser of three evils.’

  ‘No, but I suspect you do. Lady Walberton appears to be in on the marriage-making plans, so if you don’t want to be subjected to another list of all the reasons why I would make a perfect wife, I think you had better let me do the introductions.’

  He gave a small huff that almost sounded like a laugh but nodded his agreement.

  She took his arm again and led him across the large drawing room to where the guests had gathered.

  ‘Lord Hamilton, may I present Theo Crighton, the Earl of—?’

  ‘Theo and I are old friends,’ he interrupted. ‘So good to see you again.’

  Theo bowed his head. ‘Lord Hamilton.’ Then took Iris’s arm to indicate he wanted to move on. She sent the surprised Lord Hamilton an apologetic smile and led the Earl to the next group.

  ‘May I present Lord and Lady Smythe?’

  The couple smiled at Theo, and he sent them a curt nod.

  ‘Theo, my boy,’ Lord Smythe said. ‘Haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays—what have you been up to all this time?’

  ‘I have been busy on my estate. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe there are others I must meet.’

  And so it continued with each person he was introduced to. The Earl showed more politeness to those he had never met before than he did to his old friends, all of whom he dismissed with a brusque reply. Many tried to ask questions and to make overtures of friendship, but each person was rebuffed, often with little more than a one-word answer.

  The Earl was making it very clear that he might be attending a social event, but he had no intention of actually being sociable.

  They made it back to where they had started in what must have been the fastest circuit of a room Iris had ever witnessed, and stood apart from the other guests.

  ‘Well, you’ve got that out of the way,’ she said. ‘Now I suppose you can stand in the corner and scowl at everyone all night.’

  The furrow in his brow deepened. ‘I do not scowl.’

  Iris couldn’t help but smile. ‘So what do you call it when someone is standing on the edge of a room full of people and frowning as if he’s willing every possible misfortune to befall the assembled guests?’

  ‘I wouldn’t call it a scowl,’ he said, and Iris almost detected movement in his lips. Was he about to smile? No, the frown remained in place. ‘I simply have no interest in making polite chit-chat and I certainly have no interest in discussing what I have been up to since I last spoke to these people, something in which they are all inordinately interested.’

  ‘Perhaps they just care about your well-being?’

  ‘Nonsense, they’re just being nosy.’ Any hint of a smile had disappeared, and his expression could now most definitely be called a scowl.

  ‘When I ask someone about their health, or what they have been doing, it’s because of concern for them, or because I’m taking an interest in them, not for nosiness’s sake.’

  ‘That’s you, not everyone.’

  Iris didn’t know whether to be pleased that he had singled her out as different, or annoyed that he should be so dismissive of other people. It was that sort of dismissiveness that had led to his being a recluse, and it really was quite unfair. Everyone in the room appeared to be pleased to see him again. Even the guests’ apparent rudeness when they had first entered she now suspected was merely surprise that he was actually attending a social function.

  ‘Well, you’re here now, so you might as well at least talk to some of these people,’ she said.

  ‘I’m talking to you, aren’t I? You’re one of these people, aren’t you?’

  So much for being special. She was now being classed as ‘one of these people’, and, as he was scowling at ‘these people’, it was unlikely to be a compliment.

  ‘Well, I suppose it’s making my mother happy that we’re spending time together,’ she said. ‘And I know how much you like doing that.’

  He gave another huff that almost, almost, sounded like a laugh. ‘What would make your mother happy would be to marry you off. So perhaps you shouldn’t be wasting your time talking to me. Isn’t there another man here whom you can captivate with your charm and beauty?’

  He had a way of making charm and beauty sound like the least attractive attributes that a woman could possess.

  She looked over at Lord Pratley, a man who took every opportunity he could to praise her, for real and imagined qualities. If Lord Pratley mentioned her charm and beauty it most certainly would not sound like an insult. Lord Pratley raised his glass at her and smiled. Iris swallowed a sigh but nodded in acknowledgement. ‘No, there’s no one here who is capable of appreciating me in quite the way you do,’ she said, not bothering to keep the facetiousness out of her voice.

  ‘I doubt that to be true.’

  She looked up at him. Did he think she was serious? And was that an insult or a compliment? It was so hard to tell with him. She turned back to face the room. It was probably safer to assume it was an insult.

  ‘Anyway, there is no one else here that I have the slightest interest in marrying, so I might as well talk to you as to anyone else.’

  ‘I’m flattered. I suppose that was what your mother would describe as part of your delightfully endearing manner.’

  She laughed at yet another insult. ‘I must admit, it’s rather agreeable to be able to talk to someone who doesn’t expect me to be polite or amiable,’ she said, realising just how much truth that statement held. Since her coming out five years ago she had been expected to play the role of a pretty, agreeable and well-mannered young woman. After all, that was all that was expected of a débutante. She had been doing it for so long it had become a part of who she was. But with the Earl of Greystone, she was finding that another side of her personality was emerging. It was all rather interesting.

  ‘You had better be careful,’ she continued. ‘If you stay talking to me all night it won’t be long before I become downright rude.’ She really was enjoying this. ‘Then you’ll be damn sorry.’ Oh, yes, this was fun. When had she ever used a word like damn in public? Never, was the simple answer to that. It was tempting to say it again just to hear the word out loud.

  ‘I look forward to it. And presumably you’ll extend the same courtesy to me and allow me to be downright rude back to you.’

  ‘Well, I haven’t been able to stop you so far, have I?’

  My goodness. He actually did it. He actually smiled. And oh, what a smile. He certainly should smile more often. Iris stared at him as if transfixed. Those full lips had parted to reveal perfect white teeth. Lines had crinkled around his eyes, suggesting that he had once smiled a lot. And oh, my, he actually had a small dimple. Who would have thought the grumpy, reclusive Earl of Greystone would have something as cute and adorable as a dimple on his left cheek?

  Warmth flooded through her and she was tempted to hug him, that smile was making her so happy. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished, like a dream upon waking, and the frown reappeared. It was as if he had caught himself doing something he knew to be forbidden. But it was too late. She had seen it and would never forget it. She now knew he was capable of smiling, possibly even laughing. And she intended to make him smile and laugh again, as soon and as often as possible.

  She looked around the room, trying to think of something else she could say that would make him smile again, but nothing came to mind. The chatter in the room had gone back to the same level as it was when they had first entered, although the frequent glances in their direction did make her suspect that the Earl was still a topic of conversation.

  Before she could think of anything else to amuse him, the room unaccountably descended once more into silence, and every head turned towards the ope
n door. Iris looked around to see that Lady Estelle and Lord Thaddeus Redcliffe had entered. As one the heads moved from the couple at the door to the Earl, then back again, as if following a rather slow tennis match.

  What on earth was going on? wondered Iris. Why would Lady Estelle and Lord Thaddeus Redcliffe cause the same reaction as the entrance of Theo Greystone? They had been guests in the house since the beginning of the week, they were well-known to most of the people in attendance, and their entrance had never caused this reaction before.

  Lady Redcliffe certainly looked stunning tonight, but then, she always did. She was indisputably the most beautiful woman Iris had ever seen, with her striking violet-blue eyes, thick black hair, porcelain skin, and tall, elegant figure. She was also the epitome of charm and grace.

  Despite the somewhat startling reaction of the guests, she was smiling at them as if their stunned silence was only to be expected. Her gaze swept grandly around the room then halted at Theo and Iris.

  ‘Apparently, we’re not the only ones to cause a stir tonight,’ Iris said. ‘Or at least I’m not the only one to cause men and women to become mute.’

  He inclined his head towards her as if asking for an explanation, but before she could think of a witty way to explain the Redcliffes’ entrance she saw Lady Redcliffe murmur something to her husband and gracefully glide across the room towards them.

  ‘Lady Iris,’ she said with a small curtsy. Then she turned her full attention to the Earl, and her beautiful smile became even more radiant. ‘Theo,’ she said, her voice full of affection. ‘I didn’t know you would be here tonight.’

  With each word Lady Redcliffe said more colour drained from the Earl’s face. His body became increasingly rigid and his teeth were clenched so tightly the muscles on the sides of his jaw stood out.

  ‘It’s so wonderful to see you again,’ she continued as if impervious to his shocked reaction and his lack of reply. ‘So much has happened since I last saw you, we must take some time to chat, but I see my husband wants me to join him. Until later, then.’

  With that she swept her way across the room, followed by the eyes of everyone present, including Iris’s. Only one person was not following her progress. The Earl of Greystone, who was standing stock still, his chin lifted, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

  Her heart pounding furiously within her chest, Iris flicked her glance between the stern man standing beside her and the beautiful woman chatting to her husband and smiling as if she did not have a care in the world.

  It was obvious that something had happened between these two, something that virtually everyone else in the room knew about. Was Lady Redcliffe the reason why he had secreted himself away in his castle? Was she the reason why he was so hostile to the world? Had he once been in love with Lady Redcliffe? Was he still in love with her?

  A pain gripped her stomach and the tightness in her chest was making it hard to draw in a breath. She tried to tell herself she was merely upset because of the obvious distress that the Earl was in, but knew that was a lie.

  This pain was not just sympathy for another person’s agony. As much as she was loath to admit it, this reaction was personal and it felt suspiciously like jealousy.

  Chapter Twelve

  Theo struggled to breathe. He struggled to keep his equanimity. He would not let anyone know how much Estelle’s presence had affected him, not these guests, not Estelle or her husband, and not Lady Iris Springfeld. Although he had already failed when it came to Lady Iris. He could tell she was staring up at him. What expression was on her face? Was it pity? Was it curiosity? Was it amusement? No, he doubted the last. She did not strike him as the sort of woman who took enjoyment in other people’s suffering.

  ‘Lady Estelle and I are old acquaintances,’ he finally said to satisfy what he assumed would be her curiosity. ‘But we parted many years ago and have not seen each other since.’ He hoped his voice sounded sufficiently brusque so it would eliminate any pity she might be feeling.

  ‘More than just acquaintances, I suspect.’ Her terse voice held none of the laughter that was usually present. It seemed she too was affected by his reaction to Estelle’s presence. Perhaps she was feeling pity for him after all.

  He shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. ‘Perhaps, but that was a long time ago, before she married the Earl of Redcliffe.’

  He braced himself for a bombardment of questions, ones he was going to have to deflect with his practised acerbity. He would not be explaining how Estelle had destroyed him, how she had been the love of his life and she had turned her back on him when he needed her most. He would not be telling Lady Iris how Estelle had taught him the fickle, fraudulent nature of love.

  But no questions came. Good. For once she was silent. He waited. Surely she was going to say something? She was rarely quiet, and certainly not for this long.

  * * *

  Normally he would be silently begging for her to stop her constant chatter, her teasing and her jokes, but now these things were exactly what he wanted. Anything was better than this silence that had fallen between them. Anything would be welcome that would take his mind away from thoughts of Estelle and her husband.

  He waited for her to say something, to tease, to make one of her little jokes, but still she remained silent.

  ‘I’m sorry if you’re upset,’ she finally said, quietly. ‘When my mother invited you, she would not have known that any of the guests would cause you such disquiet.’

  ‘It makes no difference to me who the guests are,’ he fired back. That was quite clearly not true, but his reaction to Estelle’s presence was not something he wished to discuss with her or anyone.

  They sank back into silence, something he was usually comfortable with, but not tonight.

  ‘Lady Redcliffe and I were once engaged,’ he finally said, surprised that it should be he who broke their uncomfortable silence and even more surprised to find himself doing exactly what he had vowed he would not do, explaining his reaction to Estelle’s presence.

  ‘I see,’ she murmured.

  He waited for her to ask questions, to make comments, to give her opinion. She said nothing. Was ‘I see’ all she was going to say?

  ‘But it was a long time ago,’ he repeated, despite himself. Was he about to become the one who burbled uncontrollably?

  ‘She is very beautiful,’ Iris said, her voice still quiet.

  ‘Yes, she was, and presumably she still is, but that hardly matters to me now, does it?’

  ‘No, I suppose not. If you’d like to...’ He heard a deep inhalation. ‘If you’d like to go and talk to her, please feel free. You don’t have to stay with me.’

  ‘I’m happy with the present company.’ Theo frowned, realising that there was indeed some truth in his statement. As much as he was loath to attend this dinner, he had no objection to Lady Iris’s company. ‘But if there is anyone else you wish to talk to yourself, please, do not let me keep you.’

  ‘No.’ She paused. ‘I’ve spent all week with these people, and most of them have attended various balls and other social occasions with me throughout the last five Seasons.’ Her voice had almost gone back to its usual cheerful tone. ‘I doubt if there’s anything new we have to say to each other.’

  He suspected her joviality was forced, but he was grateful for it. He wanted to put all thought of Estelle Redcliffe out of his mind, but he also did not want Lady Iris to be upset, as she had so obviously been. He paused to absorb that unexpected reaction. Why did he suddenly care what Lady Iris was feeling? Previously, all he had wanted was for her to leave him alone. Now he was pleased to have her company.

  ‘So I have novelty value?’ he said in jest, before he could analyse this change in opinion too deeply.

  She gave a little laugh and he had to admit he was pleased to hear it again. ‘I suppose you could say that. You’re certainly different from everyone else here.�
�� Her laughter suddenly halted. ‘I mean... I don’t mean...’

  He patted her arm in reassurance. ‘I know what you mean.’ His hand lingered. Her arm was bare above her gloves, her skin soft and supple. The desire to run his hand up her arm, to see if her shoulders were equally naked was an almost overwhelming temptation.

  He quickly withdrew his hand as if he had placed it too close to the fire. What on earth was wrong with him? He may have become resigned to Lady Iris and her relentlessly cheerful nature, might even have come to appreciate it, at least when it provided a diversion to his thoughts of Estelle. But that was all. He did not want Lady Iris. He was not attracted to her, and most certainly did not want to do anything to encourage her mother in her marriage-making plans. The last thing he should be doing was touching her in any manner that could be misconstrued as affection.

  It was not that he could find any real fault with her, unless one regarded a pleasant disposition and a tendency to being over-talkative as faults. He was sure many a man would be more than happy to have her as his wife. Just not him. He did not want anyone. He turned his head in the direction that Estelle had gone in when she walked away from him. He did not want anyone ever again.

  And Lady Iris did not deserve him. She did not deserve a damaged man, one who was still foolishly in the thrall of another woman, a woman who quite sensibly had made it clear she did not want him. Lady Iris deserved a man who was capable of loving her wholeheartedly. And that was simply not him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The dinner gong sounded and Lady Iris slid her arm through Theo’s, taking him by surprise.

  ‘I’m not offering you my help,’ she said, her voice containing a hint of censure as if trying to stop him before he made another objection. ‘You can be a gentleman and escort me into dinner.’

  ‘I’d be honoured,’ he said with a bow of his head. He had not intended to offend Lady Iris, neither the first time she had taken his arm, nor this time. And she was right. Taking her arm was merely the polite thing to do, although it had been a while since he had felt the need to be polite to anyone. Not since the last time he had been in company, and he was somewhat rusty.