by Eva Shepherd
Iris very rarely took a dislike to anyone, but she was starting to take a strong dislike to Lady Redcliffe.
‘So why did you not marry?’ she asked, horrified that her question came out sounding like an accusation.
Lady Redcliffe’s eyes grew wide and she glared at Iris as if she’d just asked why she had not run off and become a clown in the circus.
‘Do you really need to ask that?’
Iris held her gaze, her look saying, Yes, I do.
‘Well, I hardly need to mention his facial deformity, nor his affliction. He appears to be able to hide it well, but you do know he’s completely blind, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I had noticed,’ Iris said, fighting to keep her voice as neutral as possible so she would not reveal the level of her anger.
‘Well, there you are, then,’ Lady Redcliffe said, picking up her cup and taking a small sip.
‘So why didn’t you marry him?’
Lady Redcliffe’s eyebrows drew together and she tilted her head, as if trying to work out whether or not Iris was a simpleton.
‘Like you, my dear, when I was an unmarried young lady I was considered an exquisite beauty. Some say I still am.’ She smiled at Iris and paused as if giving space for the expected compliment. When none came, she frowned slightly then continued. ‘Until the accident, Theo was the ideal husband, the man that every young woman that Season was hoping to catch. He was handsome, wealthy, well-connected, perfect in every way.’ She sighed lightly. ‘Yes, I was disappointed that the fire ruined him. My husband is perhaps not as exciting and attractive as Theo was, but it is a good marriage and I am content.’
Iris wanted to condemn Lady Redcliffe for her callousness, but how could she? Young women were expected to make the best marriage they possibly could. Love rarely entered into it. Her parents were in love, as were her married sister, Hazel, and her husband, Lucas Darkwood, but they were the exceptions. Marrying for love was not what women of her class were expected to do. They were expected to marry well, and if they were also in love, that was simply all good and well, but most certainly not the aim of the union. Lady Redcliffe had done no less than was to be expected of her.
‘Although, between you and me,’ Lady Redcliffe said, leaning forward, ‘it was rather wonderful for a man to have made such a romantic, such a heroic gesture.’ She sat back and smiled. ‘It is something I’ll always cherish.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Iris both wanted and did not want to know what she was talking about. Did she really want to hear what the hopelessly in love Earl of Greystone had done to show the depth of his admiration for another woman?
Lady Redcliffe tilted her head and sat up straighter in her chair, still smiling wistfully. ‘Oh, do you not know what caused his scars? He was saving me. He was so in love with me that he risked his own life to save me from a burning building.’
Iris stared back at her in shock.
‘Oh, it’s true,’ she simpered. ‘The man was besotted with me. He was staying at my family home the night the fire broke out. He immediately ran to my room and carried me out in his arms to safety.’ She smiled and placed her hands on her heart. ‘Then he went back in to rescue some of the servants who were trapped upstairs. Something happened, I’m not sure what—a burning beam fell or something—and that’s how he got those burns across his face. The servants ended up having to save him in the end. It was all very dramatic.’
‘That’s terrible.’
‘Oh, it was. The damage to the house wasn’t too bad and was easily repaired, and everyone got out safely, but Theo was never the same afterwards. His scarring was frightful to begin with, even worse than it is now. No one knew whether he’d make a full recovery and it was immediately apparent that he’d never see again. Lord Redcliffe had proposed to me earlier in the Season and I’d turned him down because I had much preferred to marry Theo, but under the circumstances I thought it best to accept Lord Redcliffe. And it seems I made the right choice, as Theo has never really recovered, and I don’t just mean his appearance. He retreated to his home and has become quite the hermit, I hear.’
Iris hardly knew what to say to this woman. Lady Redcliffe had no understanding that anyone would find what she had just said objectionable, that she had done anything wrong, that she had hurt and mistreated a man who loved her and had risked his own life for her.
Lady Redcliffe shook her head, her big blue eyes sad. ‘I could never live like that, and really, my dear, as an older, more experienced woman, I counsel you to consider whether such a life would be right for you either.’ She smiled at Iris and gently patted her arm. ‘After all, you are a pretty young woman. You want to attend social functions where people can appreciate your beauty. You want to spend your time mixing with fashionable Society, not be stuck away in the country, having no fun whatsoever.’
Arguments spun round in Iris’s mind. She wanted to tell Lady Redcliffe that if she loved a man she would not care about such things. But was that true? Hadn’t she already decided that she could never love a man like the Earl, a man who did not laugh, who shunned Society and gave every appearance of disapproving of people who liked to enjoy themselves? And yet she wanted to defend him, to insist that he would make a wonderful husband, and was a man it would be easy to love.
Instead, she merely furrowed her brow, trying to organise her thoughts and digest what Lady Redcliffe had said.
The doors opened and the men entered the drawing room, bringing with them a waft of cigar smoke and the bonhomie of men who had enjoyed their brandies.
Both Iris and Lady Redcliffe continued to watch the door, even after Lord Redcliffe had entered. Was Estelle too watching out for the Earl of Greystone? wondered Iris. Despite all her protestations that she had made the best choice, was content with her marriage, did Lady Redcliffe still harbour some lingering affection for Theo Crighton? Or did this rather vain woman just like the thought that there was a man present who had once been so in love with her that he had risked his life to save her, and destroyed his own life in the process?
The room filled up with loudly talking men, but there was still no sign of the Earl of Greystone. Lord Redcliffe joined them. He sat beside his wife then looked around the room, smiling to himself as if proudly showing off a priceless artwork he expected others to admire.
The remaining men joined the party but there was still no sign of the Earl. Iris excused herself and left the room to see what the delay was. He wasn’t in the hallway. She made her way down to the dining room, but that too was empty of guests, with only a few servants clearing away the remaining glasses and putting the room back in order.
‘Excuse me,’ she asked one of the footmen. ‘Do you know where the Earl of Greystone has gone?’
‘He asked for his coach a few minutes ago, my lady,’ the footman replied.
‘His coach?’ Iris stared at the footman as if he could explain the meaning of this, but, as she should have expected, the man’s face remained impassive and he made no reply.
With a nod of thanks, she left the room and walked down to the entrance hall. There was no sign of the Earl or his coach. He had left without saying goodbye. Iris remained standing at the doorway, staring out into the dark night, unsure what to make of the Earl’s sudden departure, but suddenly feeling very angry with everyone—with Theo Crighton, with Lady Redcliffe and most of all with herself for standing in an empty entrance hall lamenting the departure of a man who was supposed to mean nothing to her and was still in love with another woman.
Chapter Fifteen
Iris was exhausted. All the emotions that had spun through her head throughout the night meant she hardly got a minute’s rest. One moment she was angry with Lady Redcliffe for her appalling treatment of the Earl. The next moment she was angry with the Earl for being in love with such a self-centred woman. Then she was annoyed with herself for getting so worked up and letting it disturb her sleep. Th
en she felt sorry for the Earl, for allowing his love for Lady Redcliffe to destroy his life. Then she felt intense admiration for him, for his heroism when he had rushed into a burning building. Then it was back to anger again. Anger at his treatment of her. Anger that he had left the dinner party so suddenly, without speaking to her again, without saying goodbye.
She had thought they were getting on much better. After all, she was sure she had nearly made him smile at least once and he had almost laughed at one stage. Hadn’t he? But perhaps she had been wrong. Perhaps he hadn’t enjoyed her company after all. As soon as that thought entered her mind she would circle back from feeling sad and defeated to being angry again, and, in particular, angry at herself for caring whether they were getting on or not and whether he had or hadn’t enjoyed her company.
And in amongst this mix of anger, admiration and sadness there was another pesky emotion that kept poking in its unwanted head. It felt a bit like anger but wasn’t. And, like her anger, it was directed mainly at Lady Redcliffe. It was that horrid little green-eyed monster, jealousy. She was jealous that the Earl should be in love with a woman like Lady Redcliffe, a self-serving woman who had seen the Earl merely as a means to her self-advancement. Despite that, he had loved her. Was probably still in love with her. That was the worst emotion of all. That was the one that made her toss and turn the most, unable to shake it off. And what was worse, it was an emotion she had no right to feel. After all, she wasn’t interested in the Earl, so why should she be getting so upset because he was in love with another woman?
And thoughts of love and things she should not and did not feel would unfortunately bring up the memory of how he had looked standing in front of her beside his bed, naked, his skin a warm hue in the candlelight. When those images invaded her mind, that increasingly familiar tingling would erupt deep within her body. Iris would have to jump out of bed and pace backwards and forwards until her mind moved on to something else and she could return to bed and go back to feeling angry.
After such a night, no wonder she was completely exhausted. As she dragged herself out of bed following what was at best a fitful sleep, she had to fight to stop her mind from going over and over the unsolved questions that had been whirling in her brain.
Today was a new day, she told herself, determined not to think about Lady Redcliffe or the Earl’s love for her. She would focus her mind on one feeling, one less disconcerting than her anger or any of those other vexing feelings. And the chosen feeling was that of disapproval. That at least was something she was allowed to feel. Disapproval at the Earl for leaving last night’s dinner without even showing the courtesy of saying goodbye to her, her mother, or the Walbertons.
Iris stood up straighter, pleased that she was now looking at things from a completely objective point of view.
It was outrageous and she had every right to be offended by such behaviour. She could forgive him for not saying goodbye to her—after all, he owed her nothing. She could almost forgive him for not saying goodbye to her mother, as her mother hadn’t been the hostess, and she had all but press-ganged him into attending the dinner party. But she could not forgive him for being rude to Lady Walberton. That was an inexcusable breach of etiquette.
Yes, disapproval over his rudeness to Lady Walberton made much more sense than all those complicated emotions that had been warring for supremacy last night.
And she was completely within her rights to disapprove of what he had done. Being rude to one’s hostess simply would not do, and someone needed to tell him so. And, as there was no one else, that someone would have to be Iris.
She tugged on the velvet cord to call for her lady’s maid while she continued to seethe with self-righteousness. And that seething did not let up as Annette helped her change into her white lacy blouse and dove-grey skirt. Her emotions now had nothing to do with what Lady Redcliffe had told her, nor how the Earl felt about Lady Redcliffe, Iris reminded her reflection as Annette brushed and styled her hair.
Last night, while she was trying to get to sleep, she may have gone over and over everything that lady had said, but that was last night. In the cold light of day, she now did not care one fig if the Earl was still in love with Lady Redcliffe. That made no difference whatsoever to how she was feeling now. It was his bad manners she could not abide. Even if he was upset about Lady Redcliffe being present at the dinner party, that was no excuse for unbecoming behaviour. And this morning she would tell him so.
‘It’s such a lovely day. Let’s go for a walk,’ she said as Annette put the finishing touches to her hair. ‘I don’t even think I’ll bother with breakfast, I’m so keen to get out and enjoy this weather.’
They both looked out of the large sash window at the grey sky and the trees bending in a stiff breeze.
‘I so love walking in weather like this,’ Iris said, hoping that the dark clouds were not a signal that it was about to rain. ‘It’s so invigorating, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, my lady,’ her maid replied in a voice that was somewhat less than enthusiastic. ‘I’ll lay out your coat and umbrella, shall I?’
‘Yes, perhaps that might be wise,’ Iris said, casting another glimpse at the ominous sky. Was she about to turn up at the Earl’s during yet another storm? She would hate him to think she made a habit of such imprudent behaviour, but there was nothing for it. Even if it was about to rain, she needed to visit the Earl immediately so he could be informed of his appalling lapse in etiquette while it was still a recent occurrence.
Iris stood up and did a little twirl in front of the full-length mirror to view herself from every angle, then frowned at her own foolishness. Who was she trying to impress? The Earl of Greystone couldn’t see how she looked and wouldn’t know whether her dress was fashionable or not, whether it flattered her figure or made her look like a complete frump. And more than that, she did not care one iota about such things anyway, did she? She was not going to visit the Earl so he could show his admiration for how she looked in her pretty new outfit. She was going to visit him so she could give him a piece of her mind.
Annette helped her into her coat, and while she was putting away Iris’s nightclothes Iris quickly pushed her reticule into the gap beside the dressing table.
She headed down the stairs and out of the house at a brisk trot while still pulling on her gloves, as if anxious to get outside and enjoy the bracing weather, followed by a reluctant Annette.
‘Let’s take the coastal path,’ Iris said, striding off towards the track that would take them along the dramatic cliff top that overlooked the sea.
Iris had to admit, the wind was perhaps a little brisk to make walking entirely enjoyable. Her skirt and petticoats whipped around her legs, and all the trouble her lady’s maid had taken with her hair was wasted, as it soon became tangled by the breeze. Walking into the wind, both women kept their hands firmly on their hats to stop them from being lifted off their heads and carried away, out to sea.
‘I think we should stroll down to the village. It will be lovely to have a look at the shops,’ Iris said, raising her voice to be heard above the wind and the sound of crashing waves hitting the boulders below. ‘Oh—but I appear to have forgotten my reticule.’ She frowned at her maid in feigned disappointment. ‘Would you please go back and get it? I’ll meet you at the village.’
‘Very good, my lady,’ Annette said and turned quickly, presumably pleased to get out of the wind.
Iris watched her lady’s maid hurry back along the path. As soon as she was out of sight, she turned and headed across the grassland to the country road that would take her to the Earl’s estate.
She hesitated when she reached the driveway that led up to his home, and for the first time wondered if this really was such a good idea. Forcing her indignation to reignite, she remembered sitting in the drawing room with Lady Redcliffe, waiting for him to enter, then realising he had left without even saying goodbye. It had been so r
ude and so insulting, and he deserved to be called out for such a complete lack of basic manners.
Her ire sufficiently rekindled, she straightened her spine and strode down the driveway.
The butler opened the door, smiled and bowed in greeting.
‘Good morning, Charles,’ she said, trying not to smile in case it undermined her serious mood. ‘Would you please inform Lord Greystone that Lady Iris is here to see him?’
Charles looked over her shoulder to see who was accompanying her.
‘My lady’s maid will be arriving shortly.’
That was another little white lie to add to the growing list. Hadn’t she sworn an oath that she was finished with telling white lies? But then, she had promised she would not lie to her mother again. She had said nothing about lying to Charles. Iris wondered whether that counted, then shook her head to drive out such frivolous thoughts. She needed to focus on the task at hand, not get caught up in such nonsense.
‘Very good, my lady.’ Charles stood back for her to enter and walked down the hallway and into the drawing room. While she waited, Iris went over in her mind what she would say, how she would remind him of how a gentleman was supposed to behave at a social event, and how he at the very least should have shown more respect for her mother and the hosts.
Charles opened the door to the drawing room and bowed to her before departing.
The Earl was standing in the middle of the room, facing her. She stood at the entrance to the room and suddenly all her self-righteous indignation deserted her. He looked a bit too imposing, a bit too unnervingly handsome, a bit too manly for her to feel entirely comfortable about what she planned to do. Her heart beating rather faster than the easy walk should have provoked, she remained frozen to the spot, staring at him. Even with the scars distorting the skin of his forehead and across his left eye, he was undeniably breathtaking. No wonder Lady Redcliffe had once been so taken with him.