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 opportunity 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 exquisite 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.
‘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 of
f. 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.
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