Page 102 of More or Less a Marchioness
Captain West searched Finn’s face for a long moment. Finn held his breath, his chest tight as he waited for West to make up his mind.
I’ll do anything, whatever it takes…
At last the other man blew out a long sigh. “It looks like we’re going to find out.”
Chapter Twenty-three
“Iris? It’s been four days, and I’ve had quite enough of this nonsense. Open this door at once.”
Iris let out a low groan and threw her arm over her eyes. Had it really been four days since she’d locked herself in her bedchamber? One would think Violet would have given up and gone away by now.
“Grandmother is threatening to send for Dr. Graham if you refuse another meal. Do you really want him here, prodding at you with his cold hands? At least open the door, if only to prove you’re still able to move.”
Iris’s mouth pursed with self-righteous indignation. Violet might be terribly clever, but she didn’t know as much as she thought she did.
Irishadmoved. Not ten minutes ago, she’d rolled from her left side to her right.
She sagged against her pillows and squeezed her eyes closed. If she’d spent most of the morning languishing in her bed—just as she’d done the day before, and the day before that—it was no one’s concern but her own.
There was a faint thud, as if Violet had let her forehead fall against the door. “I know your heart is broken and you feel wretched, Iris, but you can’t hide in your bedchamber forever.”
Certainly she could. If a lady couldn’t hide in her bedchamber when her heart was broken, then when could she? Heartbreak seemed a perfectly good reason to never rise from her bed again.
And shewasheartbroken. It had been two weeks since she’d fled Hadley House, and each moment of that time she’d thought of nothing but Finn. She woke every morning with her foolish heart leaping wildly in her chest, certain he’d call on her, and retired to her bedchamber every night with every hope dashed.
Finn didn’t come.
Her heart wasn’t just broken. It was shattered.
She longed for him with a visceral ache that left her breathless and teetering on a precarious edge between hope and anguish. Each day he didn’t come another piece of her heart splintered loose with a dry crack, until she was left with nothing but thousands of tiny shards.
So many shards there was no hope of it ever being whole again.
But just when she’d thought there was nothing left of her heart to break, Honora had paid her a visit and given her some news that had toppled Iris into an abyss of misery the likes of which she’d never known before and despaired of ever escaping.
Lord Derrick, who’d been paying Honora frequent calls since their return from Hampshire had told her Finn wasn’t even in London. Honora had pressed him, but Lord Derrick had been either unwilling or unable to say where Finn was, or when he intended to return.
Or if he intended to return at all.
That had been four days ago. Iris hadn’t left her bedchamber since.
She tried not to think of Finn, but he invaded her every waking thought, and when she did manage to fall into an exhausted sleep he haunted her dreams. She was tormented by the memory of his cool gray eyes as they’d looked that day in Charlotte’s drawing room, when she’d told him she intended to race Chaos. He’d looked at her as he’d done early in their courtship, before he’d cared at all for her.
Before he told her he loved her.
The next day Chaos had been injured in the race, and she’d been so overwhelmed with guilt and grief she’d left Hampshire without a word to Finn. She’d fled like an overwrought child at the first sign of strife, and now, two weeks later, she bitterly regretted it.
Hiding in her bedchamber was hardly the answer, but here she was nonetheless, staring at the ceiling, her heart as heavy as a stone in her chest.
Her grandmother and sisters continued to lay siege to her locked door, but Iris had responded to Violet’s threats and Lady Chase’s scolding with a resounding silence. Even Hyacinth’s gentle pleas had failed to lure her out again.
There was another quiet thud, and then Violet’s voice came through the closed door again, shakier this time. “You’re not the only one with a broken heart, Iris.”
Iris’s eyes flew open, and she struggled upright. “I’m not?”
“No, you’re not.”
Lord Derrick had called on Lady Honora every day since their return…
