by Lucy Monroe
In her impossible attempt to earn her parents’ approval, she had allowed herself to become little more than a paper image of a woman. And it was that paper image that had drawn Lucas, not the heart that beat within.
Thea defied convention to run her own business, although she did it discreetly. Miss de Brieuse faced being a social outcast to have a relationship with the man she wanted. Even Lady Preston had more courage than Irisa. The young widow lived for her own pleasure, not the approval of the ton.
It was time for Irisa to show the same sense of daring. An idea began to form in her mind, a plan that would rid her of her faithless fiancé and her dull reputation at the same time. She realized that in all likelihood, it would not be merely Lucas who would no longer wish to marry her, but no gentleman in the ton would link himself with a notorious woman.
Irisa considered that an additional benefit to her plan. She didn’t want to get married, not ever. She could not imagine loving anyone else like she did Lucas, had absolutely no desire to do so. Nor did she desire to enter into a marriage of convenience. If she could not trust Lucas, a man she admired more than any other, to be faithful, what chance would there be that any other gentleman of her acquaintance would be any better?
She wasn’t completely naïve. She knew mistresses were a way of life for many members of the ton, but she had believed that The Saint was different. More the fool, her.
As she considered her plan, she realized it would probably give Mama and Papa a complete disgust of her. But then that would hardly be different than the current cold disapproval she felt in their presence. Perhaps Drake would agree to her coming to live with him and Thea. Irisa was good with the children and would make herself useful in their household. They would not mind that she was no longer socially pristine.
***
It took nearly another full week for Irisa to put her plan into action. Bedridden with a headcold for the first three days, she had to rely on Pansy to get the information she needed. Although the cold caused her some physical discomfort, it gave her the perfect excuse to avoid her fiancé and the rest of her family.
No longer confined to her bed, she nevertheless refused to attend soirees or entertain callers with the excuse that she was not yet completely well.
Lucas sent flowers every day, the blackguard. As if she wanted his paltry tokens of a lukewarm affection when she knew he was giving something far more important to another woman - himself! Saying that they made her sneeze, she refused to allow the flowers to remain in her room. When he sent her candy, she said she couldn’t abide the thought of sweets right now and gave it to the servants.
Her mother, who had a horror of getting sick, did not even come to Irisa’s room to harangue her about her ill-mannered behavior.
On the fifth day, Irisa put her plan into action. Pansy had discovered that Miss de Brieuse made a trip to the lending library with her maid every Wednesday morning. Irisa planned to be there when the other woman arrived.
She was perusing one of the stacks nearest the door when the beautiful redhead entered the building. Irisa waited until the other woman’s maid went off to chat with someone in the common area before approaching Miss de Brieuse.
“I see that you like novels. I’m particularly fond of Mrs. Demsey’s. Have you read her?” Irisa asked innocently as she moved to stand in such a way that prevented the other woman from leaving.
Miss de Brieuse lifted her head from the book she was looking at, a smile on her face. When she saw Irisa, her smile faltered and then disappeared altogether. “No. I haven’t. If you will excuse me?”
So she knew who Irisa was? That made sense. She was fairly certain that if she were a gentleman’s mistress, she would make an effort to know his fiancée by sight as well.
Irisa did not move. “I would like to speak to you.”
“I can’t imagine what you wish to speak to me about. We have never met.”
It was a credible performance. She could almost believe the surprised innocence in the other woman’s voice, but then she had been an actress at one time.
“Although we have never met, Miss de Briuese, we do share a mutual acquaintance.”
The woman’s gaze darted around. Irisa was certain that she saw what Irisa did. Several interested looks were directed their way and the hiss of whispered exclamations could be heard.
“This is not wise, my lady. You are drawing attention to yourself. Our mutual acquaintance would not like that.”
Miss de Brieuse did not know it, but those words served to firm Irisa’s purpose as nothing else could have and they told her that her plan was working.
“It is unfortunate, but I assure you, necessary,” she replied, “I really must insist on speaking to you.”
“If you have anything to say, surely you can discuss it with our mutual acquaintance,” Miss de Brieuse said, her voice sounding quite firm.
Irisa smiled politely. She could be very stubborn when the need arose. Had she not stubbornly clung for years to the belief that if she tried harder, she would gain the affection she needed from her family?
“Impossible. Speaking to him will not serve my purpose at all. If you are uncomfortable here, perhaps we can move to the privacy of your carriage.”
An open curricle was hardly private, but she was counting on the other woman believing it was an improvement over making a spectacle of themselves in the lending library. She smiled in satisfaction when Miss de Brieuse signaled for her maid.
“If you insist on speaking to me, I believe you are right that it would be better done in my carriage where prying ears cannot hear.”
The curricle seat was too small for all three women and Lucas’s mistress was forced to leave her maid behind to take a hansom cab home. Perfect.
“You’re very good with the ribbons,” Irisa said as Miss de Brieuse headed the carriage toward a less crowded side street.
“Mercí.”
“Did our mutual acquaintance teach you to drive?” Irisa could not help herself from asking.
Miss de Brieuse gave her a sidelong glance. “Non. I had learned to drive long before we met.”
Well, at least that was something. She did not know what...but something.
“I have just learned to drive myself. My sister is teaching me.”
Miss de Brieuse looked confused by the direction the conversation had taken. “It is enjoyable, non?”
“Yes. Very. However, I’ve never driven a curricle. Thea has a phaeton, you see. I don’t suppose you would allow me to take a try with the ribbons?”
Looking even more confused, but not yet wary, Miss de Brieuse nodded. “Ouí. All right.”
She handed the reins to Irisa. It was a bit different from the phaeton, but not enough to make it difficult. Irisa turned the horses up the next street, starting on the roundabout route she had planned earlier should the rest of her plans go well.
Irisa drove in silence for several minutes, allowing the sounds of London to surround her. Small boys hocked meat pies to the side of the road while a young girl pushed a cart with posies for sale.
“You said you wished to speak to me.”
Irisa flicked a glance at the other woman. “Yes. I did.”
“Was it about our mutual acquaintance? I think perhaps you have a mistaken view of the relationship between him and myself.”
After what she had seen last week, Irisa was convinced her view was anything but mistaken.
“I would rather not discuss details of your association.” She filled her tone with enough frozen intractability that it would effectively discourage further confidences. “Should I have any questions on that score, I will pose them to our mutual acquaintance.”
Silence reigned again for several more minutes. Irisa took a side entrance into the park and had guided the carriage to Rotten Rowe before Miss de Brieuse realized where they were.
“You are mad. Aller. Aller. Nous devons partir. Take us out of here rapidiment. Before we are seen together.” In her distress, th
e other woman’s French accent became quite marked.
Irisa ignored the command and nodded pleasantly to an acquaintance. It was Cecily’s mother. The older woman’s eyes bugged out of her head like a newly caught fish. She was an avid theater goer. Her reaction indicated she had most certainly recognized the former actress.
There was no question in Irisa’s mind that news of her drive with Miss de Brieuse would spread rapidly among the ton.
Satisfaction in using Mrs. Carlisle’s social snobbery for her own purposes filled Irisa. “If we leave right now, my intentions would be defeated. Why would I do something so foolish?”
“C'est aliéné! This thing you do is foolish,” Miss de Brieuse exclaimed, her agitation clear.
By the time they had reached the exit from the park, Irisa had seen and been seen by numerous members of the ton. Some had recognized the woman next to her. She could tell by the narrowing or widening of their eyes, depending on their reaction. Miss de Brieuse had given up begging Irisa to leave and subsided in silence on the other side of the carriage, her face averted from those they passed.
When they exited the park, she roused herself. “Why? Why did you do that?”
Irisa sighed. “I’m sorry if I upset you, but it was necessary.”
Miss de Brieuse shook her head. “Ashton will be furious with us both.”
“I will explain to him that it was my doing, if you like.”
“You are not concerned about his anger toward you? How can this be?” Miss de Brieuse asked in amazement. “He is a gentleman with a highly developed sense of dignity.”
Irisa was counting on it. “I know.”
“Yet, you purposefully set out to make yourself outrageous. My lady, you make no sense.”
Now that Miss de Brieuse had calmed down, Irisa could barely hear the French undertones in the woman’s voice.
“I’m afraid that others will agree with you, but what is done is done,” Irisa said.
They did not speak again until Irisa pulled the curricle to a stop in front of Langley House. She turned to Miss de Brieuse intent on asking the one question that burned in her mind before a footman came out of the house.
“Do you love him?”
She had to know. Had Lucas given his passion to a woman who saw him as merely a means to an end or was he loved? Somehow she could not bear the thought that mercenary motives had been the cause of her losing Lucas.
Miss de Brieuse met Irisa’s gaze, her own eyes intent, but remained silent. A footman came out of the house and offered his assistance to Irisa so she could alight from the curricle.
She turned for one final glimpse at Lucas’s mistress and was shocked by the look of understanding now filling the other woman’s eyes. “Ouí. I love him, but not like you do, I think.”
Irisa nodded and turned to go. Miss de Brieuse’s voice stayed her. “My lady, you would not listen to me regarding the details of my association with Ashton. S'il vous plait. I beg of you. Ask him. It is not what you think.”
Irisa acted as if she had not heard. She could not bear the pain of discussing such a thing with Lucas. She doubted she would be given the opportunity regardless. Once he had heard about her notorious behavior, he would withdraw his offer and she would never see him again.
Which was exactly what she wanted, she told herself fiercely, even as those bloody, bloody tears once again burned her eyes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lucas looked up from the plans he was drawing for a new model at the sound of Clarice’s agitated voice coming from the hall.
She burst into his study with a torrent of French. “Elle est aliénée. Vous êtes fiancee est devenu fou. Je ne puis pas croire ceci. Il est incompréhensible! Ashton, vous devez faire quelque chose ou tous seront détruits!”
He stood up and walked swiftly across his study to greet her. Her torrent of words did not cease, but she was speaking too quickly for him to understand what had her so agitated. It sounded like she said something about a fiancé.
He gripped her by the shoulders. “Calm down. Tell me what has happened. Has something happened to Maurice?”
Clarice’s eyes were damp from weeping. She took a deep breath and then let it out slowly before speaking again. “Non. It is Lady Irisa. She took me for a drive in the park. It was awful. Oh, sacré bleu! You must do something, Ashton, before she destroys her reputation.”
“Irisa took you driving?”
How? Irisa had never met Clarice and if she had, she would not go driving in public with the other woman. It simply wasn’t done although to Ashton’s way of thinking, Clarice would make a better friend for Irisa than Lady Preston and her ilk. Unfortunately the Polite World would not see things that way.
“Ouí. She has heard rumors about me. Only I think they were to the effect that I was your mistress. It is all so terrible, Ashton. Her eyes were filled with a daring that comes from a woman’s pain that frightens me very much.”
Could that explain Irisa’s strange behavior these past weeks?
“Tell me what happened,” he commanded and stood, listening in stupefied silence as Clarice told him about Irisa meeting her at the lending library and the carriage ride that followed.
“Why did you let her into your curricle?” he asked when Clarice finally finished speaking.
She gave him a long, level look. “I think, Ashton, that your fiancée is not nearly so biddable as you led me to believe.”
Lucas had begun to wonder on that score as well. Irisa had a latent courage and boldness he was just beginning to see and appreciate.
“But why did she take you driving through Hyde Park?” It was a recipe for disaster. Irisa’s reputation would be ruined.
“Je ne suis pas sûr. I cannot be certain, but it was as if she wanted everyone to see us together.”
“But why?”
Clarice frowned. “I really don’t know. She acted very strangely. I thought she wanted to ask me about our association, but she told me very firmly that she didn’t want to hear the details.”
“You did not tell her that you aren’t my mistress?”
“Non. Je suis désolé. I’m so very sorry, Ashton. It was a most upsetting course of events. I could not seem to think straight and she was very insistent about not wishing to hear about it from me.”
He could understand Clarice’s confusion. Irisa’s actions bordered on the insane…or the notorious. Bloody hell. Why had she done it? Surely she realized that if she insisted on making a spectacle of herself like this, he could not marry her. He had told her enough about his mother and his vow not to marry a woman like her for Irisa to be aware he would not tolerate such outrageous behavior in his fiancée.
Which is exactly what she planned. The knowledge seared his gut. She wanted to end their engagement. There could be no other explanation.
Was it because she felt betrayed or had her suspicions been a convenient excuse? Even if she wanted to end their association, her actions were foolish. If Irisa thought he had been unfaithful, why didn’t she just cry off? And why in the bloody hell hadn’t she talked to him? How could she have believed him capable of such dishonorable behavior?
Rage filled Lucas at the proof of her lack of trust in him. He didn’t care what the rest of the ton found acceptable. He would never do something so despicable as carry on a liaison with Clarice while courting Irisa, much less during their engagement.
Still, she must have felt very betrayed to act so unthinkingly. For her to have such a strong reaction, she had to be motivated by more than a passing fondness for him. It was that thought alone that allowed his temper to cool enough for him to consider the alternatives.
He could not let her do this to herself. He would not lose her to a misunderstanding or her own outrageous behavior. It was time she accepted that she belonged to him and learned to trust him in the bargain.
***
Irisa sat in curiously numb silence while her parents took turns ringing a peal over her. News of her drive with Clarice de Brieus
e down Rotten Rowe had reached their ears shortly after the occurrence.
Papa had heard about it at his club and come home in a towering rage, much worse than any anger she had witnessed in him before. Irisa wondered if this is the way he had behaved toward the first Countess of Langley. If it was, it was no wonder Anna had run away to the West Indies to raise Thea.
So far, Papa had called Irisa horrible names, accused her of unspeakable deeds and proclaimed to her and the rest of the household within shouting distance that he wished she wasn’t his daughter.
The words would hurt if she felt anything, but blessedly she didn’t.
Mama’s tactics were not nearly so loud, but they were intended to be just as hurtful. She had been calling on an acquaintance when Mrs. Carlisle had arrived. Evidently Mama had fainted upon hearing the news and then revived enough to return to Langley House for a bout of hysterics. She sobbed into her hanky, calling Irisa an unnatural daughter.
“After all I sacrificed for your welfare, to be stabbed in the back like this. How could you do such a thing to me?”
Irisa’s eyes narrowed and some of her numbness wore off. “You did not sacrifice for me, Mama. More like I was the sacrifice for your upward movement among the Polite World. Papa would never have married you, legal or otherwise, if you were not pregnant with me.” Not when he had still been married to someone else.
Mama’s eyes widened in shocked disbelief and she gave a very creditable imitation of a swoon. It was too well timed and convenient for it to be real. Mama fell directly onto the fainting couch with a dramatic little sigh.
Papa did not seem to notice the fakery. He turned even more furious eyes onto Irisa. “How dare you speak to your mother like that? She risked her own reputation to give you a home, to see you raised with my name. Your lack of gratitude is as appalling as your sluttish behavior.”
Irisa met his accusation with silence. She would not attempt to defend herself to Papa. He had never loved her in the first place and now he clearly hated her. There was nothing she could say to change that. Her actions were unconscionable in his mind.
