Stranded with the Reclusive Earl

by Eva Shepherd

  She sat back on the leather seat. Now she would return to the endless round of balls, parties, picnics and soirées that constituted her life. It was just a shame none of the men she met at those social events were as interesting as the Earl of Greystone. Not that she would see him as a potential husband. The mere thought of it was enough to make her laugh. The man treated her with contempt and behaved as if enjoying oneself were a crime against nature. These were certainly not characteristics she was looking for in a potential husband.

  She looked back out of the window, at the retreating house. He was grumpy, ill-mannered, and had chosen to cut himself off from the rest of the world. No, he was most definitely not husband material, and even if she were interested in him, which she wasn’t, he most certainly was not interested in her. He had made that abundantly clear. This morning he couldn’t push her out of the door fast enough.

  But on the other hand, even though he was grumpy, at least he didn’t fawn over her and treat her like a pretty ornament the way most men did. And yes, he was rude, but he spoke his mind to her, rather than treating her with kid gloves as if she were a sensitive, delicate little thing who was easily hurt. It had all been rather refreshing in an unexpected way.

  And in an equally unexpected way she suspected she would not be able to forget Theo Crighton, the Earl of Greystone.

  Just as she knew she would not be able to forget or stop worrying about those demons that tormented him in his sleep. The carriage turned onto the country road, obscuring the house behind a row of elm trees. What those demons were, Iris would now never know. It presumably had something to do with whatever it was that had caused his scars, possibly even his blindness. Would he be afflicted by those dreams again tonight, with no one in the house to help him, to hold him? He was such a physically strong man, and yet he could be reduced to a state of thrashing, sweating agony by something that invaded and possessed his sleeping mind. He needed help, but he had made it perfectly clear to Iris that he was not prepared to accept it, and certainly not from her.

  She released a long, sad sigh. Why did he think he was so different from everyone else? Everyone needed the help of others. Everyone needed to be supported at times, to know that they weren’t alone and that help was at hand should they require it.

  But there was nothing to be done about it. Probably, that would be the last time she would see Theo Crighton, so she might as well try to put him and all her unanswered questions out of her mind, especially as she had other worries that should be occupying her thoughts. Right now, she needed to focus on returning to the Walbertons’ house as discreetly as possible. She should not be thinking about the Earl, his behaviour, his demons and she most certainly should not be thinking about how he looked when he was less than formally attired, as he had so euphemistically described it. Iris smiled and bit her bottom lip.

  Less than formally attired, indeed.

  She shouldn’t be thinking about it, but she knew she would never forget what the Earl looked like less than formally attired, and really, why would she want to forget such a sight? He had been quite simply magnificent, a feast for the eyes, and she should have been ashamed of herself for doing exactly that, feasting her eyes on his beautifully formed body last night.

  But it certainly wasn’t shame that was causing that little tremor to ripple through her body. She sat up straighter on the bench, trying to suppress that strange feeling and reminding herself that she had to stop thinking about the Earl. She needed to keep her wits about her so she could creep into the house without anyone seeing her or asking any difficult questions.

  They had not travelled far, but the surrounding countryside already appeared familiar. Iris twisted in her seat to watch a group of pretty thatched cottages perched on the top of a cliff overlooking the ocean pass by the carriage window. She had admired those cottages when she had first set out on her walk yesterday, a walk that had lasted several hours. And yet the cottages were but a short carriage drive from Theo Crighton’s home. She must have been walking round and round in circles. No wonder the Earl had thought she was a ninny, getting lost so close to where she was supposed to be. If she’d only stuck to the road. If only she’d walked in the correct direction, she could have been back in a matter of minutes instead of wandering endlessly and aimlessly until she was hopelessly lost and disorientated.

  The Walbertons’ home soon appeared, looking grand and stately on the top of a hill. The curtains were all firmly closed in the upstairs bedrooms of the three-storey house. Good, no one had as yet risen from their bed. The coachman turned into the long gravel driveway that led up to the front of the house.

  ‘Excuse me, driver,’ she called out. ‘Would you please drop me off here? I can walk the rest of the way.’

  ‘Very good, my lady,’ the driver said, pulling on the reins. He jumped down to help her out of the carriage and after thanking him Iris looked up at the house to reassure herself that it was still completely quiet.

  As quickly as possible she walked up the long driveway, avoiding the puddles left by last night’s rain. The servants would already be up and about their work, even if the guests were still sleeping off last night’s entertainment. Hopefully if any of them did see her they would merely think she had been out for an early stroll and not mention it to their mistress or master.

  As quietly as possible she entered the house, and on tiptoes ran up the stairs to her bedroom. No one was about. It had all been surprisingly easy. Smiling to herself, she entered her bedroom. Then stopped, her hand still grasping the doorknob.

  Her mother, the last person she wanted to see, was standing in the middle of the room, staring at Iris’s bed, its tucked-in corners and pristine silk cover revealing that it had not been slept in.

  ‘Good morning, Mother,’ Iris said, fighting to keep her voice as even as possible.

  Almost before the words were out, her mother flew across the room and threw her arms around Iris, clasping her tightly and rocking her from side to side.

  ‘Oh, Iris, I thought you were... I thought... I don’t know what I thought. That you were kidnapped, maybe, or something else terrible had happened to you.’ She stepped back and placed her hand on her heart. ‘I am so relieved to see you.’ Then she frowned. ‘Where on earth have you been?’

  Last night Iris had sworn an oath to the gods, that if they took pity on her and found her refuge from the storm she would never lie to her mother again. They had played their part, and now it was up to her to keep her side of the bargain.

  She sent her mother a forced smile, trying to think of the best way to explain herself that would not be a lie but would also ease her mother’s concerns. Her mother waited, her face contorted with worry while Iris tried to come up with the best way to say she had spent the night alone, with a man she did not know, had seen him naked and spent part of the night in his bed. There was no way to say any of it that wouldn’t cause her mother an unforgivable amount of distress. Surely the gods wouldn’t mind if she told one more little white lie...after all, it wasn’t for Iris’s sake, but for her mother’s.

  ‘Oh, I... I woke up early and went out for a walk.’

  Her mother raised one suspicious eyebrow and slowly looked Iris up and down. ‘You are wearing the same clothes you were wearing yesterday.’

  ‘I didn’t want to disturb my lady’s maid, so I dressed myself,’ Iris blurted out.

  The suspicious eyebrow rose further up the forehead.

  ‘And what happened to your hair?’

  Iris looked down at the frizzy mess falling around her shoulders and tried to come up with a logical explanation.

  ‘It looks as if you have been dragged through a hedge backwards.’ Her mother reached out and removed a small twig that had lodged itself inside the plait. ‘And what happened to your hat?’

  They both looked down at the limp rag dangling from Iris’s hand. How was she going to explain that? If she di
dn’t stop now her little white lie was going to get decidedly grey. She had no option. She was going to have to tell the truth. At least some of it.

  ‘Oh, all right, Mother. I’ll tell you what happened, but you have to promise not to get angry.’

  ‘I will make no such promises. But one promise I can make is that I will get very angry indeed if you do not tell me exactly what happened. And no lies, mind you.’

  ‘I went out for a walk in the early evening and got lost.’

  Her mother frowned as she looked towards the window, gesturing wildly with her hand. ‘What? In that storm?’

  Outside the window the sky was blue. All was calm and tranquil, as if such things as wind and rain did not exist.

  She turned back to Iris, her brow furrowed as she waited for an explanation.

  ‘Yes. It wasn’t raining when I set out, but then it was, and I got very wet. Plus, I got lost. So, I took refuge at the home of the Earl of Greystone. He kindly allowed me to stay the night until the storm had passed,’ Iris rushed out in one breath.

  Her mother’s furrowed brow smoothed over as her eyes grew enormous. ‘You stayed at a man’s home? Was there a Lady Greystone present?’

  ‘It’s all right, Mother, he was the perfect gentleman.’ That perhaps was an exaggeration. He was bad-tempered and inhospitable. Then there was the incident in his room when he had been less than formally attired, but perhaps it would be better not to mention that.

  ‘Does anyone else know?’ her mother asked quietly, as if they could suddenly be overheard. ‘Did you tell anyone you were going for a walk? Did anyone see you coming home this morning, dressed in the same clothes, looking like that?’

  ‘No, no and no.’

  Her mother exhaled slowly through pursed lips. ‘Good. Hopefully this Earl of Greystone is discreet. Do you think he will be discreet?’

  Iris nodded rapidly. ‘Yes, I’m sure he will be.’

  ‘Hmm, but I think I need to ascertain that for myself.’ Her mother placed a thoughtful hand on her chin. ‘After all, he now holds your reputation in his hands, and he could easily destroy it if he has a mind to.’

  ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t, Mother.’ For a start, if he was going to gossip he would actually have to socialise with others, and that was unlikely to happen.

  ‘I think we need to pay him a visit.’

  ‘No, Mother, that won’t be necessary,’ Iris all but shouted. ‘I’m sure the Earl of Greystone is the very soul of discretion,’ she added, her voice now more neutral. And I’m even more sure that the last thing he will want is another visit from anyone, least of all me and my mother, she wanted to add.

  ‘Hopefully you are right. But I am still going to pay him a visit.’ Her mother nodded, her mind made up. ‘After all, I should thank him for his kindness towards you. Heaven only knows what might have happened to you if he had not offered you refuge from that storm. Visiting him and thanking him in person would be the polite thing to do.’

  ‘Perhaps you could just send him a thank-you note,’ Iris said, starting to feel desperate.

  ‘No, I want to see the man for myself so I can be certain that your reputation is safe. If all is well, then I will just thank him for his kindness. If not, then I will impress on him that it is in his best interest to keep this incident to himself.’

  Iris’s heart sank. This was getting worse. The last thing she wanted was her mother issuing threats to the Earl.

  ‘So, as soon as you have changed your clothing, we will set off. Is it far? Do you now know the way?’

  ‘No and yes. It’s actually easily within walking distance.’

  Her mother raised those eyebrows again, as if to say, So how did you get lost? but thankfully said nothing.

  Her mother left the room and a defeated Iris threw her ruined hat onto the bed. The Earl of Greystone was not going to like this, not one little bit. He had only just got rid of her, and now he was not only going to have to deal with another visit, but this time she would also have her mother in tow.

  She could only hope that she had not been lying to her mother when she said that the Earl could be discreet. The last thing she wanted was his letting her mother know anything at all about how Iris had actually spent the night.

  Chapter Nine

  Iris’s mother was waiting for her in the drawing room, dressed for a stroll in the countryside.

  Iris’s head was still aching slightly, having just undergone a period of torture at the hands of her lady’s maid, who had furiously brushed her hair to restore it to a neat and tidy state. A disgruntled Annette had then taken her clothes away to the sound of much tut-tutting at the condition of her stockings, which still bore some signs of last night’s ordeal.

  But at least now she was sensibly dressed for her latest unwanted visit to the Earl. She had chosen her dark brown walking dress embroidered with black thread, a matching hat, which she felt gave her a jaunty look, and sturdy black button-up leather boots. It was how she should have been dressed last night, rather than wearing her cotton skirt and jacket and such impractical silk boots. Not that it would have made much difference. She couldn’t imagine what sort of clothes you would have to wear to protect yourself from a storm. Certainly nothing she had packed for a genteel country-house party.

  But at least today she felt a little more like a sensible young woman, rather than the dishevelled wreck who had washed up on the Earl’s doorstep last night.

  ‘Right,’ her mother said slightly more loudly than was necessary as she picked up her parasol. ‘A nice stroll in the country on a beautiful morning—what could be better?’

  Iris merely smiled her agreement. The loud comment was not for Iris’s sake, but so that anyone who might be listening would think it was a stroll with no purpose, rather than a mission to save Iris’s reputation from possible ruin. Not that anyone else in the drawing room was paying much attention. The two elderly gentlemen sitting by the empty fireplace were perusing their newspapers, and the young couple in the corner were more interested in each other than anything Iris’s mother had to say.

  They set out along the country lanes that Iris had travelled earlier that morning, her mother keeping up a constant chatter the entire way, informing Iris of all that had happened during the evening while she was missing, commenting on the scenery as they passed and exclaiming on the pretty country roads, the delightful hedgerows and the lovely green fields dotted with white sheep.

  Iris merely agreed with all she said, nodding and saying yes, it was indeed delightful, all the while worrying about the reception they might get at the Earl’s home.

  The house loomed up before them. Although today, with the bright blue sky as a backdrop, elm trees gently waving in the light wind and the stonework sparkling silver in the sunlight, it didn’t look quite so forbidding.

  Iris placed her hand on her hat and looked up. Only the crenellated roof and those proud turrets of the original castle suggested the owner wanted to repel any intruders. And that was exactly how the Earl was going to see Iris and her mother, as unwanted intruders.

  ‘Simply delightful,’ her mother said. ‘It’s almost medieval, is it not? Yes, quite delightful. If nothing else, seeing this ancient home makes it worth a visit. The Earl must come from a long line of very distinguished family members to live in a house such as this.’

  Iris cared little for historic homes so could not share her mother’s enthusiasm, particularly as they were about to storm the Earl’s castle, armed only with their unwanted good cheer.

  Gardeners were still clearing away fallen branches as they walked up the driveway, and her mother sent hearty greetings to each workman as they passed. When they reached the door she gave it a resounding knock and stood back, still smiling.

  The door was opened by the same servant who had opened the door to her last night, minus his flickering candle.

  ‘Good day, Char
les,’ Iris said. ‘My mother, Lady Springfeld, and I have come to visit the Earl.’

  Charles nodded and smiled in greeting. ‘Good day to you again, Lady Iris.’ He nodded in the direction of her mother. ‘Lady Springfeld. Please come in and I’ll inform the Earl.’

  ‘Oh, this really is lovely!’ her mother exclaimed as they waited in the entranceway, and Iris agreed. It was lovely. Sun was streaming through the large domed window above the front door, lighting up the hallway, which last night had appeared to Iris as a creepy, dark passage leading heaven knew where. Today it wasn’t the slightest bit scary and, she had to admit, rather welcoming.

  ‘Just look at these tiles, Iris,’ her mother said, scraping her boot lightly along the clay tiles underfoot. ‘I suspect they are the original medieval ones. Marvellous. Simply marvellous.’

  Iris looked down at her feet, where an Oriental rug partially covered brown and white tiles featuring swirls and intricate patterns. They were the same tiles Iris had dripped on last night, but she had had as little interest in the flooring then as she did today. Her mind was too occupied by the thoughts of what reaction they were going to get from the Earl.

  Her mother looked at the portraits of who she presumed were his ancestors lined up on the wall. ‘Oh, and I see I was right. The Earl does have a very distinguished family tree,’ she said with approval.

  ‘Mother, before we meet the Earl, there’s something I must tell you,’ she said quietly, placing her hand on her mother’s arm.

  Her mother looked up at her and smiled. ‘Yes, dear, what is that?’

  ‘The Earl’s blind.’

  Her mother’s smile faded and she frowned. ‘Oh, that is a shame.’

  Iris nodded her agreement. ‘Yes, but he copes splendidly. After a while you actually forget that he can’t see.’

  ‘But he will not be able to appreciate just how beautiful you are.’ She gently touched Iris’s intricate coiffure, which Annette had insisted on styling once she had finished furiously brushing out every last tangle and frizz. ‘And you look particularly lovely today.’