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. Then 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 o
n 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 rude 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.
Lady Redcliffe.
Suddenly Iris’s anger came back, its flames burning fiercely. That was why she was here, standing at the door of his drawing room, staring at him, awkward and tongue-tied. She wasn’t here to admire his appearance. She was here to rebuke him for his behaviour last night, behaviour which had been unconscionable.
She strode into the room, her head held high. ‘I’ve come to tell you that I was more than disappointed by your actions last evening. You were very rude to my mother and Lady Walberton.’ There, she had said it. She tilted up her chin in defiance of any objection he might now raise.
His eyebrows drew together and he frowned slightly. ‘Your mother? Lady Walberton? I hardly spoke to either woman, so I cannot see how anything I said to them could have given offence.’
‘That’s exactly it,’ she said, standing up even straighter and lifting her head even higher. ‘You left without saying goodbye. That was extremely rude of you.’
He said nothing. Iris stared at him and waited to hear his excuses. He still said nothing. Was he not going to respond? This was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. She forced herself to maintain her affronted posture. Forced herself to remember how ill-mannered he had been. Forced herself to ignore the way her heart was now beating even faster, and her entire body seemed to be blushing.
‘I fail to see how it is any concern of yours,’ he finally said, his voice low and disquieting.
‘Well, yes... I mean, no,’ Iris said, suddenly flailing and uncertain what it was she really wanted to say. Fortunately, he could not see her confusion as she bit the side of her lip and tried to gather her thoughts. ‘No one else would tell you, so yes, I do feel it is up to me.’ She nodded, confident in her assertion.
He walked towards her, and she resisted the temptation to take a quick step backwards.
‘And did either your mother or Lady Walberton comment on my rudeness?’
Iris swallowed to try and relieve her suddenly dry throat.
He took another step towards her. ‘Did either of them suggest that someone needed to put that ill-mannered man in his place so in future he would know the correct way to behave in Society?’
‘Well, no...’ Iris pursed her lips, determined not to be undermined by his close proximity. ‘But then, both of them are very well-bred women, so they wouldn’t, would they?’ She smiled in satisfaction with her answer.
‘What does that mean, Lady Iris? That you are not as well-bred as either your mother or Lady Walberton?’
Her satisfied smile died. ‘No, that’s not what I’m saying. Stop twisting my words. I just... It’s just, I think you need to know that when you’re invited to a social event it’s good manners to say goodbye to the hostess before you leave. That’s all. And it would have been polite to say goodbye to my mother as well, as she was the one who had extended the invitation.’ She placed her hands emphatically on her hips to underline the point, even though he couldn’t see how emphatic she was being.
‘And perhaps a well-bred young lady should be sure of her facts before she arrives at a man’s home, unaccompanied, and starts making unfounded accusations.’
‘I am sure of my facts,’ Iris stated, biting her lip again and trying to think what facts she actually was sure of.
‘If you’d asked either your mother or Lady Walberton, you would know that I asked Lord Walberton to pass on my apologies for leaving so early.’
Oh, it was those facts he was referring to.
‘You would also know that I sent over a card this morning, thanking the Walbertons for their hospitality.’
Drat. Perhaps she should have got her facts right.
‘Would that be deemed suitably well-mannered for you? Or is there some other breach of etiquette you’d like to point out to me?’
Iris’s hands dropped from her hips. She was no longer feeling quite so emphatic. ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘No, you didn’t. And perhaps I can now give you a lesson in etiquette. Should I remind you that young ladies do not reprimand gentlemen, particularly ones they are not related to? And that they do not arrive at a man’s home, uninvited and alone? Something you appear to be making a habit of.’
‘My lady’s maid will be joining us shortly,’ she blurted out and said a silent apology for yet another little white lie.
‘Shortly?’ He inclined his
head. ‘A lot can happen in a short time. A young lady’s reputation can be destroyed in a short time. What would your mother say if she knew that you were in my home, alone? And I believe this time you are neither lost nor needing shelter from a storm.’
Iris continued staring up at his proud face, at the uplifted jaw, at the full lips that were pinched together in annoyance, and wished the fog in her brain would clear so she could think of a suitable counter-argument.
‘It is rather windy outside,’ she finally muttered, then cursed herself for being such a dunderhead.
He gave a small, dismissive laugh. While his laughter was something she’d longed to hear, this laugh contained no humour.
‘Or do you think such rules do not apply when it comes to me?’ He took hold of her arm, holding it tightly, causing Iris to gasp. ‘Is that the reason, Lady Iris? Is it that, as I am a blind man, you do not see me as a real man, one that you should not be alone with?’
Iris did not move, unable to breathe, unable to talk, unable to think. All she was aware of was the touch of his hand on her arm. A touch that was burning into her, causing her skin to come alive.
And he was wrong. So wrong. Right now, there was no way she could see him as anything other than a man, a man who was so close to her she could feel the warmth of his body, could smell his masculine scent, the one she remembered so well from his nightshirt, from the night that she had held him in her arms. It would be so easy for her to reach out and touch his chest, to reacquaint herself with those hard, strong muscles. And more than that. With him so close, all she had to do was rise up on her toes and she could kiss those full lips.
She swallowed and drew in a quick breath, her hand flying to her tingling lips. This was so wrong. What was he doing? He should not be this close to her. He should not be holding her arm. And she should not be letting him do so. She should admonish him in no uncertain terms, break from his grasp and storm out of the house, never to return. But she knew she was not going to do that.
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