‘Yes, I believe that would be for the best,’ he said, his voice still formal. ‘I shall call for my carriage to take you back.’
‘No, that will not be necessary. After all, if we’re to keep all this between the two of us it would not do for me to arrive at the Walbertons’ in your carriage.’
‘You are right. And I am sorry you are going to have to walk back alone.’
‘Again, not your fault. I came here alone. I’m perfectly capable of walking back alone.’ She looked down at her dishevelled blouse. ‘But I had better tidy myself up first.’
‘Of course.’ He turned his back on her as if giving her privacy, although, as he couldn’t see her, that was a pointless gesture. Or was it a symbolic gesture? Was he telling her that he was turning his back on her, rejecting her?
As she fumbled with her blouse she hoped not. She tucked it into her skirt, and something dropped out from under her clothing and bounced on the carpet. She bent down to pick it up and discovered it was a small button from her chemise.
It was such an innocent little thing, but its presence in her hand was the result of something far from innocent. She smiled as she placed it in her pocket, as if saving a souvenir, a memory of what had happened between them. She was going to have some explaining to do to Annette when she discovered the missing button, but she’d think of an excuse later.
‘Right, then, I’ll say goodbye,’ she said, brushing down her skirt.
‘Goodbye, Lady Iris,’ he said, turning back to face her. ‘And once again, I cannot apologise enough for my behaviour.’
‘And once again, you have nothing to apologise for.’ She continued to stare up at him. She really did not want to leave. Did not want to just walk out of his house, out of his life, and pretend nothing had happened, but that was what they had agreed. For the sake of her damn reputation, they would act as if the most wonderful thing she had ever experienced had never actually happened.
She looked towards the door, the one through which she should be departing, and then back up at him. Would it be completely unacceptable if she rose up on tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss goodbye? After all, she wouldn’t be doing anything they hadn’t done already, and what harm could one little kiss do?
She swallowed down her reservations and took a step towards him, wondering how he would react. Hopefully in a manner very similar to the way he had reacted last time they had kissed.
‘Goodbye, Lady Iris,’ he said firmly. As if reading her mind, he took a step backwards and reached out for the bell to summon Charles, but before he could do so there was a knock on the door.
As if caught doing something she shouldn’t, Iris jumped back. They both stood up straighter, the very picture of propriety—or was that the very picture of guilt?—and turned towards the opening door.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‘Enter,’ the Earl said, his voice overly terse.
Charles came into the room, followed by Iris’s mother, who hadn’t waited to be introduced.
‘Lady Springfeld, my lord,’ Charles said, looking slightly affronted at the older woman’s boldness as she pushed past him.
Theo made a low bow and greeted her mother, while Iris quickly scanned down her dress to make sure all was in order, and patted her hair. At least she could blame any escaped strands on the windy walk over to the Earl’s home. Then she beamed a smile at her mother, as if delighted to see her. But she was no actress and her mother was not convinced. She looked from Iris to the Earl then back to Iris, her raised eyebrows and wide eyes causing increased heat to rise on Iris’s already warm cheeks.
Iris drew in a deep, steadying breath, still smiling as brightly as she could. If ever there was a time for a white lie it was now, and hang any punishment the gods planned to send down on her. She doubted any retribution they could dish out would be worse than her mother’s wrath if she ever found out what had just happened between her and the Earl.
‘Mother, how wonderful to see you.’ White lie number one. ‘I was out for a little walk and decided to call in on the Earl.’ White lie number two. ‘We were just discussing how much fun last night’s dinner was.’ White lie number three. Or was that lie actually white? Given what had really happened, claiming they had merely been talking was at the very least a bit grey around the edges, and possibly even heading towards a rather black lie. Iris forced herself to hold her smile, even though her cheeks were now starting to ache.
Her mother’s eyebrows moved slightly higher up her forehead. ‘Indeed,’ she said, drawing the word out so that it spoke volumes. She slowly looked the Earl up and down, and Iris was certain that he would be as grateful as she was for his long frock coat, which covered up any incontrovertible evidence of what they really had been up to.
‘I discovered Annette in quite a fluster,’ her mother said as she slowly turned her attention back to Iris. ‘She said you had sent her back to the house to retrieve your reticule, but she could not find it. Then she was supposed to meet you in the village. Not at the Earl’s home.’
‘Oh, yes, I got a bit lost, yet again.’ Iris pulled a little moue, as if to say silly old me. It was another white lie, but she had lost count and now had no idea how many they tallied up to. ‘And then I found myself in the vicinity of the Earl’s house, so I couldn’t really pass without popping in and saying hello.’
‘And I assume you have said hello by now?’
‘Mmm, yes, I have.’ And what a way to say hello. Iris’s forced smile became genuine and she had to suppress a little giggle that was threatening to escape.
‘Would you like some tea, Lady Springfeld?’ the Earl said, showing surprising hospitality, particularly under the circumstances.
‘No, thank you. I believe my daughter has intruded long enough,’ her mother said, showing an uncharacteristic lack of friendliness.
‘Then I will call for my carriage to take you home,’ he said.
Her mother waved her hand in dismissal. ‘No, thank you. Iris and I have much to discuss and I think a nice walk back will be the perfect time to have that discussion.’
Iris fought hard to hold on to her smile. Much to discuss? She didn’t like the sound of that. Not one little bit.
* * *
Iris and her mother walked along the now familiar country lane between the Earl’s house and the Walbertons’. The wind had dropped and the walk was rather pleasant. Or at least it would have been if Iris weren’t dreading what her mother was going to say about her latest lapse in propriety by turning up at a man’s house uninvited and unaccompanied. And that was just the impropriety her mother knew about.
As they strolled along, her mother commented on what she was seeing, admiring the trees, the small cottages and the well-tended hedges that lined the road. Iris started to relax and enjoy herself. She had got away with it, she thought with a satisfied smile.
‘I am not naïve, my dear,’ her mother said, suddenly changing the subject from a discussion on the delightful cottage gardens.
Her sense of satisfaction, along with her smile, disappeared. ‘No one has ever suggested you were.’
Her mother sent her a sideways glance. ‘You might be surprised to know this, but I am very familiar with how a woman looks when she is impassioned, and even more familiar with that state in a man.’
Iris grimaced—partly because it was now obvious she had not got away with it, but mainly because she’d rather not think about how her mother knew what a man looked like when he was impassioned. No one ever wanted to think about one’s parents in that way, and Iris was no exception.
‘I know exactly why a woman gets that flush on her cheeks and her neck, and it is certainly not because she’s been discussing what happened during a dinner party which I believe for the Earl was anything but fun.’ Her mother stopped walking and turned to look at Iris. ‘And her lips do not usually get quite so swollen and her eyes are not usually glazed bec
ause she has had a pleasant conversation.’
‘Oh,’ was all Iris could think to say.
‘Oh, indeed,’ her mother replied.
They continued walking, this time in silence. Iris suddenly felt rather guilty. Not because of what she had done, but because she did not want to upset her mother, and most certainly did not want her mother to be ashamed of her.
‘You are in love with him, my dear,’ her mother finally said, breaking the silence in a most unexpected manner. Her voice was quiet, but the words hit Iris as if she had shouted them from the rooftops.
Iris came to a sudden halt. ‘In love? With the Earl? No, I am not.’
Her mother smiled. ‘Yes, you are. I have watched you with all those young men who have tried to court you. You have been friendly. You have even flirted on occasion. But you have treated all of them as if they were nothing more than friends. None of them has affected you the way the Earl of Greystone has.’
Iris stared at her mother, taking in the implication of her words. No, it couldn’t be true. She could not be in love with the Earl. She could not be in love with a grumpy recluse, even if he was handsome and his kisses could make her forget what day it was, who she was and what she was doing.
Slowly Iris shook her head, which caused her mother to smile.
‘I suspected you held the Earl in high regard the first time you mentioned his name. Your voice softened. A sure sign that you had feelings for him. And then every time you mentioned his name after that you reacted in some way—either you softened your voice, you looked flustered, or as if you were deliberately trying to act normally. It has all been rather entertaining, actually.’
Her mother pushed a wayward strand of hair back off Iris’s face. ‘I would have preferred you to have fallen in love with another man, but so be it.’
Iris bristled and she glared at her mother in shock. ‘Why? Because he’s blind? He might be blind but he’s more capable than most sighted men, and certainly a lot braver than any man I’ve ever met. I would have expected better from you, Mother.’
‘Oh, get off your high horse, Iris. No, it is not because he is blind. You know as well as I do why it would be a lot easier if you had fallen in love with one of the other men who have pursued you.’
Iris sighed and her shoulders slumped. ‘Lady Redcliffe?’
Her mother nodded. ‘Yes, Lady Redcliffe. Lady Walberton told me last night all about the Earl and Lady Estelle, as she once was. It would definitely be better if you had fallen in love with a man who was not still in love with another woman.’
‘But I’m not in love,’ Iris said again, her voice sounding defeated.
Her mother merely rolled her eyes, something Iris doubted she had seen her do before, and they commenced walking, although now Iris was finding it all but impossible not to drag her feet.
Was she in love with the Earl? Was that why he had taken over her thoughts every waking hour and was even invading her dreams? Was that why she was going out of her way to see him, even if it meant breaking all the rules of polite society? Was that why she was so desperate to have him kiss her, and once in his arms wanted him to do so much more than just kiss her? Perhaps her mother was right. She was in love with the Earl of Greystone, a man who was in love with another woman.
‘But all is not lost,’ her mother said, returning to her usually cheerful manner. ‘Even if the Earl is in love with another, there is nothing to stop him falling in love with you and forgetting all about Lady Redcliffe. There is no denying he feels something for you, or my eyes are starting to deceive me, which I know they are not.’
Iris made no answer, reluctant to explain to her mother that even though the Earl had kissed her it hadn’t been due to passion but to teach her a lesson about the dangers of arriving unaccompanied at a man’s home. Then he’d rejected her. He had been more than capable of controlling himself, even though she hadn’t been. She doubted that he would have behaved in that manner if he’d had Lady Redcliffe in his arms. No, her mother meant well, but this was a lost cause and the sooner Iris put that kiss behind her the better. She sighed loudly. That was something she knew was going to be an all but impossible task to accomplish.
‘We are just going to have to make him realise that his love for you is much greater than anything he may have felt for Lady Redcliffe,’ her mother continued in a voice full of confidence.
Iris gripped her mother’s arm and stopped her in her step. ‘Mother, you can’t make someone fall in love,’ she stated emphatically. Iris knew that from personal experience—hadn’t enough men over the last five Seasons tried to convince her that she was in love with them, and they had all failed? The Earl was in love with another woman and nothing was going to change that. His rejection of her was all the proof she needed.
‘Yes, you can,’ her mother said, still smiling and not the slightest bit discouraged. ‘Your father didn’t realise he was in love with me until I convinced him of that fact. Then all I had to do was act terribly surprised when he finally proposed, as if I had never even considered him as a possible husband.’
‘But I thought your marriage was arranged.’
‘Yes, it was. Arranged by me. I have not told anyone this, Iris, so please keep this just between the two of us.’
Iris nodded.
‘Without being too obvious, I managed to convince my parents and his parents that our marriage would be advantageous to both families. Then I convinced your father, who until that point had not even noticed me, that he was hopelessly in love with me. They all thought it was their own idea and that innocent little me had nothing to do with it. So, if I could convince two well-established families and a stubborn eldest son who was certain he wanted to remain single that our marriage was exactly what they all wanted, then convincing the Earl of Greystone that he loves you should be no problem whatsoever.’
Iris stared at her mother. In awe? In horror? In admiration? She wasn’t sure.
‘Oh, refrain from looking at me like that, my dear. You know this is exactly what you want. It is what you wanted from the moment you met the Earl.’
‘It was not and it still is not.’ Iris shook her head. ‘I didn’t like him when I first met him. He was rude and bad-tempered, plus he’s a recluse and, as we both know, in love with another woman. I could never be married to such a man.’
Her mother rolled her eyes again. That unfamiliar gesture was almost becoming a habit. ‘You can lie to yourself, Iris, but you can’t lie to your mother. The Earl is the man for you.’
Iris was tempted to inform her that she had now lost count of the number of white lies she had told, but thought it would be in her best interests to keep that to herself.
‘When you lie, you blink your eyes repeatedly. You have done it ever since you were a little girl,’ her mother continued. ‘When you said you had a headache I knew you were lying, but, as I also knew you wanted to escape from Lord Pratley and his relentless courting, I said nothing. Although I did not think you would be silly enough to go for a walk when there was a storm coming and stay out all night. That did take me rather by surprise. Then the next morning when you started telling me about the Earl of Greystone you started blinking hard enough to generate your own storm. All I could think was, oh, this is interesting. That was why I had to meet the Earl. And that was why I took the liberty of inviting him to the dinner party.’
‘You’re so wrong, Mother,’ Iris said, holding her eyes open as wide as she could, so she wouldn’t blink.
Her mother laughed and patted her gently on the arm. ‘Anyway, I know you want to marry the Earl and I think he would make an excellent husband for you, so that is what is going to happen. And after what I witnessed this morning, I would be well within my rights to insist that he do the honourable thing and marry you.’
‘No, please, Mother, no,’ Iris gasped out, trying to form the words in her head that would explain that what had
happened between them was not the Earl’s fault, that he had shown a greater level of restraint than she had been capable of, and he did not deserve to be punished for his actions.
‘Oh, cease your worrying. I would not do that.’ She patted Iris’s arm in reassurance. ‘I do not blame you and I do not blame the Earl. These things happen when young people fall in love. Their passions can get the better of them and they forget all the rules that Society places on them.’ Her mother sighed lightly and looked off into the distance. ‘I know exactly how it feels. Before we married, when your father and I were still courting, we too often—’
‘Yes, Mother, I get the idea,’ Iris cut in, horrified at the thought of what her mother was about to reveal.
Her mother merely laughed. ‘All I am saying is that it happens, and I am not one to judge. Nor will I make the Earl feel any obligation towards you. We do not want him thinking he has been forced into marriage. That is no basis for happiness. This all has to be the Earl’s idea, or at least he has to think it is his idea.’ She looked at Iris and gave her a conspiratorial smile, although to Iris’s mind there was no conspiracy—this was all her mother’s idea.
‘So, to that end, I will ask Lady Walberton if we can extend our stay for another month. That should give us enough time to make the Earl realise just how much in love with you he actually is.’
Iris continued to stare at her mother, her mouth open but unable to speak. Unlike the mothers of so many other débutantes, her mother had never taken an overly active role as matchmaker. But she appeared to be making up for that now and Iris did not know whether that was a good or bad thing, for her or the Earl, or whether she was now about to be punished for all her lies and all her bad behaviour, and was about to suffer a complete and utter humiliation.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lady Walberton was delighted that Iris and her mother would be staying longer and not the slightest bit surprised. It was all so mortifying, the two ladies conspiring together in their hopeless quest. She could almost understand her mother’s delusions—after all, she hardly knew the Earl—but Iris would have expected Lady Walberton to be aware just what an impossible task her mother had set herself.
Harlequin Historical September 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 38
