‘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 open 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 v
ery 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.
But she had been wrong about the reason for his surprise. While he did object strongly to anyone who dared to see him as in need of their help, if he had shown any reluctance it was because when he had touched her naked arm, when his fingers had felt her bare skin, he’d had a somewhat disconcerting reaction, one which he did not wish to experience again.
They formed a line of couples, then paraded out of the drawing room, down the hallway and into the dining room. Lady Iris led him to their chairs and he was pleased to discover they were seated together. No doubt that had been arranged by the mother.
He tilted his head and concentrated, listening carefully until he detected Estelle’s sweet voice from the end of the table, chatting happily, presumably to her husband.
Bitter bile rose up his throat. He should not have done that. He did not need to be reminded that she was now happily married. The pain she had caused him meant nothing to her. She had moved on with her life and left him far behind, discarded and forgotten.
If he was to survive this dinner party he was going to have to do his darnedest to ignore Estelle’s presence.
Taking his napkin, he flicked it hard, then, gripping the edges, placed it on his lap, trying to blot out the sound of her voice.
But that was impossible. It was as if all his senses were focused on Estelle. The sound of her laughter rose above the cacophony of voices, causing him to wince. Once that laughter had brought him so much joy. Now it cut through him like a lance.
‘I’m sorry you have to endure this,’ Lady Iris said quietly. ‘I don’t know what has happened between the two of you and I don’t expect you to tell me, but I can see that this is causing you pain, and I am sorry you were forced to attend this dinner party.’
He shook his head. ‘It is of no mind.’
‘Please be assured, my mother is not a cruel woman. She would never do anything to anyone that she thought might hurt them and would never have expected you to attend this dinner if she had known it would cause you to suffer such distress.’
He could point out that her mother had all but threatened him, had given him the option of attending this dinner party or having to suffer the horror of a constant stream of visitors, but Lady Iris was trying to be kind and was showing remorse on her mother’s behalf.
‘You have nothing to remonstrate yourself for.’ And in that he was not merely being polite. This dinner party was not her fault. Estelle’s presence was not her fault. And he had to admit, having her at his side was at least making something that would otherwise be intolerable, almost bearable. It was as if there was someone on his side, and for that he appreciated her.
Perhaps he had somewhat underestimated Lady Iris. He had dismissed her as a mere chatterbox with a perpetually sunny disposition, but there was much more to her than that. She had shown bravery when she had entered his room, and now he could see that she also had a sensitive, compassionate nature. She had also refrained from asking him about his reaction to Estelle’s presence. He had expected her curiosity to get the better of her and for her to at least ask some subtle questions to prompt him into revelations, but she had not even hinted that she expected him to reveal all. He knew from experience that young women loved to gossip, but maybe this young woman was the exception.
That was something else he should perhaps apologise for. He had unfairly misjudged her when she had entered his life, dripping wet but still cheerful. Yes, there was certainly more depth to the young lady than he had at first assumed.
The first course was served and Iris made the required polite conversation. Theo forced himself to make equally polite responses—after all, as he’d already conceded, none of this was Lady Iris’s fault. In fact, she was giving him every impression that she had his best interests at heart, something he had not experienced for a long time, if ever.
So the least he could do was be civil and polite, even if what he really wanted to do was leave this damn dinner party and escape back to his sanctuary, away from these people, away from Estelle and away from the reminder of what he had once had.
When the next course was served, Lady Iris turned from him to speak to Lord Pratley, while Theo made murmured agreements to the lady on h
is left while she twittered on about the weather and the highlights of the Season, the favoured conversation topics of Society ladies.
Rising above the politely murmured conversation, Theo could hear Lord Pratley talking to—or should that be talking at?—Lady Iris. His conversation appeared to consist entirely of compliments, telling Lady Iris how beautiful she looked tonight, how her pink gown flattered her complexion, a complexion he compared to the pink blush on a white rose, how her blue eyes were sparkling like sapphires, and her beautiful blonde hair was like rich, creamy buttermilk.
In response to each compliment, Lady Iris merely said a polite, almost bored thank-you. Could the man not tell that his compliments were not having the desired effect, that the recipient was not enjoying his flattery? A lack of vanity was another of Lady Iris’s more admirable qualities, or at least she was not susceptible to flattery the way so many other young ladies were.
In that way she differed remarkably from Estelle, who could never get enough compliments. And when he had been with Estelle he had indulged her vanity at every opportunity. Had he sounded as pitiful as Lord Pratley did right now when he had showered Estelle with compliments? That was not what Theo had thought at the time. All he was aware of was the wonderful fact that he was engaged to the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, a woman who was desired by so many men. She had never tired of hearing how beautiful she was and he had never tired of telling her so.
He had to admit that sometimes it had been as if he was praising his most prized possession, and the compliments were for himself and his ability to attract the attentions of a woman so many other men wanted. Like a puffed-up ass, he had thought being the fiancé of such a beautiful woman somehow reflected on his prowess as a man. He had enjoyed being the envy of other men and had been proud to have Estelle on his arm. Such conceit now seemed so petty and pointless.
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