‘I’m so pleased I stumbled upon your home,’ she said, keeping her voice light and friendly. ‘Otherwise I’d probably still be wandering around in this storm. And I saw no one during my walk, so I couldn’t ask for any directions to get back to Lord and Lady Walberton’s house.’
He said nothing, just nursed his drink and stroked the head of his dog. The animal growled with contentment, looked up at Iris with its liquid brown eyes then went back to sleep.
‘That’s where I’m staying. At the Walbertons’ estate,’ Iris continued. ‘For a house party. My mother and I. We’re both staying there. All week. But I decided to go for a walk. Silly, really.’
He still said nothing.
‘I didn’t think the storm would come up so quickly,’ she burbled on, trying to fill the silence. ‘One minute the sky was clear. Well, not exactly clear. It was cloudy, and there were a few dark clouds on the horizon, but still, I didn’t expect the sky to open up and for there to be such a downpour. And as for the wind, my goodness, it can certainly blow here, can’t it?’
Her prattling was making her sound like a ninny, but what choice was he giving her? This uncomfortable silence had to be filled, and he wasn’t doing much to help. Iris was not used to anyone sitting in her company and not speaking. At home there was always constant chatter from her mother, brother Nathaniel and sister Daisy, along with her older, married sister Hazel during her frequent visits. And when she was at social events people always made conversation with her, especially men. But this one, this Earl of Greystone, looked as if he was as sparse with his words as he was with his candles.
‘I mean,’ she continued after she had given him enough time to reply, time which he chose not to use, ‘who would expect the weather to change so quickly?’
‘Anyone familiar with English weather, I would have thought.’
Iris laughed, even though the expression on his face suggested he was criticising her, not teasing.
They sank back into an awkward silence, broken when the butler re-entered with a pile of clothing. Iris smiled at him, so grateful for the interruption.
He looked down at the clothing, blushing slightly, an unusual sight as servants were usually well-trained to keep their faces impassive under all conditions. ‘I’m afraid the maids are all somewhat shorter than you, my lady, so their dresses would be rather immodest if you wore them. I hope these will suffice, my lady.’ He blushed a slightly darker shade of red.
Iris took the clothes from his outstretched hands. ‘I’m sure they’ll be perfect,’ she said, trying to reassure the uncomfortable servant. Then looked down at the clothing and frowned. He had handed her a pile of men’s garments.
‘I’m sorry, my lady,’ he rushed on. ‘We tend to retire early in this house, and the other servants are already in bed, but I shall call for a maid to help you change.’
‘Oh, no,’ Iris said. ‘I’ve caused enough inconvenience already. I wouldn’t want to disturb the household any further.’
She looked over at the Earl, expecting him to contradict her, to say it was no inconvenience whatsoever, that her presence was not a disturbance.
No contradiction came, so she continued. ‘Thank you for the clothing and I’m sure I’ll be able to manage on my own.’ Iris knew that the maids would have been working since the early hours of the morning and would have to be up again early tomorrow, so she was not merely being polite when she said not to disturb them. And how hard could it be to dress yourself in men’s clothing? Iris didn’t know but was about to find out.
‘Very good, my lady,’ the butler said with a bow. ‘When you have changed, I’ll take your damp clothing to be cleaned and dried.’
‘You’re very kind.’ She smiled at the butler and was pleased that he smiled back. At least someone in this house was friendly.
The butler departed and the Earl rose from his chair. ‘I’ll give you some privacy and leave you to get changed beside the fire where it’s warm,’ he said, which was possibly the longest sentence he had said since she had arrived.
‘Thank you. And I hope you’ll be joining me for tea. I wouldn’t want to drive you away from your room.’ And what presumably was the only lit fire in this dark, gloomy house, she added to herself.
Instead of a response, he merely bowed and left the room, his dog trotting at his heels.
As she pulled off her damp dress and underclothes Iris tried to count her blessings. She was out of the storm. She had a fire to warm herself beside. Now she had clean, dry clothes to wear, and she wasn’t in the company of a hobgoblin or a diabolic creature from the underworld. She smiled as she undid her corset. Although perhaps falling into the hands of a hobgoblin might have been a better outcome. Such a creature would probably be a better conversationalist than the morose Earl of Greystone.
CHAPTER TWO
Her damp, muddy clothes discarded on the floor, Iris looked around the room for a mirror, curious to see what sort of figure she cut in her gentleman’s attire and to try to tidy up her dishevelled hair.
But there were no mirrors hanging on the walls, which made perfect sense. What use would a blind man have for a mirror? She was going to have to do her best with what she had. Taking the brush Charles had kindly left her, she tried to tame the mass of wet, tangled hair and clip it up off her face. It was a lost cause. To restyle her hair was going to demand the skills of her lady’s maid, and every attempt resulted in the hair falling back to her shoulders in a damp mess. Eventually she conceded defeat and pulled it over her shoulder into an untidy plait.
She looked down at her peculiar attire. Wearing a man’s shirt and trousers, she knew she looked ridiculous, but it would be nice to know just how ridiculous. Without a mirror there was no way of knowing. She twisted and turned to see how she looked from behind, but that was about as successful as her attempt to style her hair.
But she was sure the view from the back would be no less unflattering. How could anyone look attractive wearing trousers that were so long she’d had to turn them up at the bottom, and so baggy she’d had to pull the belt in to the very last hole, a white shirt that swamped her and hung down to her mid-thigh and had sleeves so long they had to be rolled up numerous times before her hands could reappear?
Oh, well, she consoled herself. She might not look particularly elegant or fashionable, but at least she was dry and comfortable, and no one would see her in this rather outrageous costume. And even if the Earl could see her, she doubted he would care what she looked like and he certainly would not pass comment. To do so would require him to actually speak to her, something he was apparently loath to do.
She rang the small silver bell on the table beside the Earl’s chair to signal that she was now respectably dressed and the Earl could re-enter his drawing room. Well, that was perhaps an exaggeration. Her attire might be considered respectable for a pantomime character but certainly not for a fashionable young lady.
She brushed down the soft linen shirt and wondered about the clothing. The cut and quality of the material marked it out as gentleman’s attire, so presumably it belonged to the Earl. She was wearing his clothing. Iris was unsure how she felt about that.
She looked towards the door and listened to see if anyone was approaching, then lifted the shirt and gave it a tentative sniff. Still staring at the door, fearful that someone might burst in and catch her in such indecorous behaviour, she inhaled again, deeply and slowly. The clothing was freshly laundered, but it still held an underlying masculine scent, deliciously musky with a hint of lemon, presumably from his soap. Briefly she closed her eyes and drew in another deep breath as that same unexpected sensation she had experienced when she had touched his hand once again rippled through her body. Tingly, unsettling but not unpleasant. Definitely not unpleasant.
The door opened. She dropped the material and quickly sat down, fire erupting onto her cheeks. The Earl entered, the wolfhound padding along behi
nd him. He sat in the chair he had occupied before. The dog curled up at his feet, and with a small, satisfied grunt closed his eyes to sleep.
‘I look a fright, I know,’ she laughed, lifting her hands to indicate her shirt and trousers. The heat on her cheeks intensified. She was such a numbskull. He couldn’t see what she looked like.
He merely nodded.
‘But thank you so much for providing me with clean, dry clothing. I feel so much better now,’ Iris said through her embarrassment.
Instead of answering he took a sip of his brandy and scratched the dog’s head.
Iris waited for him to say something, anything. He continued to pat the dog, saying nothing. She coughed, to remind him of her presence, in case he needed reminding that he was not alone. He still said nothing.
She lightly tapped her fingertips together as she looked around the room, trying to think of something, anything to say that would engage this antisocial man in conversation.
The door opened and the butler entered. Iris turned and beamed a smile at Charles, so grateful was she for the interruption to the interminable silence.
He bent down and removed her pile of clothing.
‘Thank you, Charles,’ she said, even though it wasn’t her place to thank the Earl’s servants. ‘I’m so sorry about the state of my clothing. I did get rather caught out in the weather, and the paths became so muddy, so quickly.’
Charles merely nodded. He at least had the excuse of being a servant for not engaging her in conversation. ‘I’ll do what I can to clean your clothing and get it back to you as soon as possible, my lady,’ he said with a bow.
As he departed, Iris noted one of her muddy silk stockings was trailing out behind him and heat rushed to her cheeks. She looked over at the Earl, hoping he hadn’t noticed, then remembered he would not be able to see. It did not matter that such an intimate piece of clothing had been on display, but that did nothing to quench the fire burning on Iris’s cheeks.
If her mother knew that she had allowed her underwear to be on display in such a manner she would be outraged. Just as she would be horrified to see Iris sitting in front of a fire with a man she had not been formally introduced to and dressed as a gentleman.
But her mother couldn’t see her and would never know. No one would ever know. Iris smiled to herself. She was dressed as a man. No one could see her and no one cared, certainly not the Earl. Really, she owed it to herself not to let this opportunity go by and to enjoy the novelty.
She looked around the room as if proving to herself that it was true, that no one she knew would ever know that she had spent an evening dressed as a man. Still smiling, she moved from sitting on the edge of the seat as young ladies were expected to do and slouched against the back of the armchair.
Such a relaxed posture could never be achieved when wearing a corset, which demanded the body remain completely upright. Relishing the freedom, she unclasped the hands folded neatly and decorously on her lap and placed one on each arm of the chair, then crossed one leg over the other, placing her ankle on her thigh, the way she had seen many a man do.
This was glorious. It was so comfortable, and she almost felt powerful. Smiling to herself, she tilted back her head and pretended she was smoking a large cigar and puffing out smoke rings to the ceiling.
She could get used to dressing like this, although she knew she would never dare to do so if anyone could see her.
The door opened and she quickly resumed her usual ladylike manner of sitting ramrod-straight at the edge of her chair, with her hands neatly folded in her lap.
Charles entered and placed a tray of tea and sandwiches on the side table.
Her heart thudding with guilt, she nodded her thanks and without comment he departed.
She was so naughty. It really was not right for a woman to behave in such a manner, even if no one could actually see her. Even though it had just been a bit of childish fun, the sooner her own clothes were returned to her the sooner she would be able to leave and stop misbehaving.
‘I do hope Charles is able to dry out my clothing soon,’ she said. ‘I’m very grateful for the change of clothes, but I will have to change back into my own before I go home. If my mother saw me dressed like this she would be mortified.’
‘You won’t be going home tonight,’ the Earl said, not turning from the fire.
Iris stared at him, wide eyed. What on earth did he mean? Was he going to force her to stay all night? Was he now about to turn into that depraved creature she had feared? Should she be scared? Making a run for the nearest door? A man she did not know was threatening to trap her in his home, and yet that unfamiliar sensation deep within her was not fear. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it most definitely was not fear.
‘This storm will not be over before daybreak,’ he continued. ‘I will not risk my coachman’s life by sending him out in this weather.’
‘Oh, I see.’ She laughed to cover her embarrassment. Is that really what she thought he would do? That he was going to keep her captive in his castle so he could use her for his own licentious pleasure? She squirmed slightly in her chair and her naked toes curled up on the woollen rug. She really had been reading far too many gothic novels. Held captive, indeed. What a joke.
‘No, I wouldn’t want to put anyone’s life at risk,’ she said, hoping her voice didn’t betray her overreaction.
He humphed his approval. ‘We can only hope that your family are equally sensible and don’t risk anyone’s life either by sending out a search party in this weather.’
Iris shook her head. ‘No, they won’t. They don’t know I’m missing.’ Her hand shot to her mouth as if to take back those words. Why had she told him that? He had already told her she would not be leaving until the morning. Did he really need to know that no one would be looking for her?
‘Well, I’m sure they will notice I am missing, eventually,’ she continued. Why did she keep imagining he was about to imprison her in his castle? Lock her up in the turret? If anything, he had given her every impression that she was here under sufferance, and if there weren’t a storm outside he would be tossing her out at the first opportunity he got.
‘I’m sure they will,’ he said, his voice sounding bored as he stretched in his chair, drawing Iris’s gaze to his long legs.
Thank goodness there wouldn’t be a search party. She wouldn’t want to put anyone to any trouble, but more than that, it would all be too embarrassing to be caught out in a lie and to be found in her present awkward situation. Her eyes flicked back to his face as her cheeks reddened. But her mother thought she was tucked up safe and sound in her own bed, behaving herself as a proper young lady should, and hopefully would not be tempted to check on her daughter before morning.
‘I’ve asked Charles to prepare a room for you, and the coachman to take you home first thing in the morning, weather permitting.’
‘Thank you,’ she said.
They fell back into silence. Iris looked around the room for something else to talk about. Nothing came to mind. Her gaze returned to the untouched tea and sandwiches. Although neither hungry nor thirsty, she poured herself a cup and added a dash of milk. At least that gave her something to do, which was preferrable to sitting in silence or desperately trying to make strained conversation with the austere Earl. And perhaps tea and sandwiches would distract her overly imaginative mind from inappropriate thoughts about ravishment and imprisonment.
‘The butler has only brought one cup. Shall I ring for another?’
‘I don’t drink tea,’ he said.
And you don’t believe in making polite conversation either, or in putting your guests at their ease.
Picking up her teacup, she looked over at him, sitting slouched in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He really was the most inhospitable, grouchy man she had ever met. Perhaps whatever had caused his scarring had also cause
d him to become cantankerous. She supposed that being blind could make a person bad-tempered and bitter.
She chewed on her bottom lip as she continued to stare at him. But it didn’t have to. Her Uncle Henry was blind, but he was still a friendly, lovely man. But then, like herself, Uncle Henry was surrounded by a warm, happy family, not living alone with only servants and a dog for company.
Although, surely that was his choice and if he didn’t like being alone he should just change it. And he did have a lot to be grateful for, such as this wonderful home, plus, despite his scars, he was still an extremely handsome man. Iris was sure she would not be the only woman to think so.
She continued to stare at him and wondered if he knew just how good-looking he was. His dark hair was thick and perhaps a little long for what was fashionable, but it gave him a certain rakish quality, like a buccaneer or warrior of old. She was tempted to reach over and smooth it down, or perhaps to ruffle it up even more with her fingers. She smiled. Wouldn’t he be shocked if she did so?
Her gaze moved down to his strong jawline, which was shadowed by dark stubble. Perhaps he had not shaved today. Although, if he did not like having visitors, she wondered why he bothered to shave at all. He could grow a long, tangled beard like a hermit and who would care?
Yet it seemed he did care. His clothing was fashionable, clean and tidy, his boots were buffed to a high shine and his cravat was expertly tied. And he did wear his clothes rather well. Her gaze ran down his body, dressed in a dark grey suit. He certainly had a nice physique. Her scrutiny moved along his legs, where she could see the outline of his thigh muscles under the fabric of his trousers, then slowly back up his body, to his narrow hips, flat stomach under his white linen shirt, and broad shoulders. No, there was certainly nothing wrong with his body. And at over six feet, he’d be head and shoulders above her own five feet six.
Iris smiled to herself and sighed with satisfaction. Observing him like that had been rather pleasant. It was certainly nice to be able to stare at a man without his knowing or without causing any breach of propriety. She was usually the one on the receiving end of such scrutiny, as men weighed up her beauty to see if she was worthy of their attentions. Now she was doing the same. And if she was in the market for a grumpy, rude, irritable recluse, his appearance would make him top of her list.
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