Page 104 of More or Less a Marchioness
“Lady Annabel.” Iris tried to force a smile onto her stiff lips. “I—that’s very kind of you. It’s lovely to see you again.”
“Is it, indeed? But you look a trifle disappointed, though of course I can’t imagine why you would be. Did you expect someone else? No, I can only suppose your grandmother is right, and you’re suffering from low spirits. Well, come along then. Fresh air will cheer you.”
Iris was quite sure nothing less than a handsome, hazel-eyed marquess would ever cheer her again, but one didn’t argue with Lady Annabel, particularly not when she had such a determined gleam in her eyes.
“There now. This is lovely, isn’t it?” Lady Annabel asked, when they were seated in her phaeton and she’d taken the ribbons. “Well, Iris. Lady Chase despises me, as you know, and yet she put aside her dislike and asked me to call on you, and now I see why. You look unlike yourself—so pale and dispirited. Is something troubling you?”
Iris plucked at her skirts. She hadn’t lived up to Lady Annabel’s faith in her, and now she could hardly look her friend in the eye.
“Iris?”
If she said Finn’s name she’d burst into tears, so Iris didn’t say it. “Have you had any news from Charlotte, Lady Annabel? I’ve expected to hear from her every day since my return to London. She said she’d write to tell me how Chaos did, but she hasn’t. I think Captain West must not have been able to save him, and Charlotte doesn’t want to tell me.”
Despite her vow to avoid another bout of pathetic sniveling, tears flooded Iris’s eyes. She couldn’t think of that race, or of Chaos, without a rush of unspeakable grief.
“Now, Iris. Why do you assume the worst has happened? Perhaps it’s not what you think at all.”
Iris didn’t argue, but stared sightlessly ahead and watched one street blur into the next as Lady Annabel guided the phaeton through London.
“What of Lord Huntington?” Lady Annabel asked, after they’d driven for a while in silence. “Has he called on you since his return to London?”
“Lord Huntington is back in London?” For one moment Iris’s heart burst with hope, only to be dashed again when it occurred to her Finnhadn’tcalled on her. “When did he return?”
“Just last night. No doubt he hasn’t had a chance to call on you yet, but no matter. We’re very near Grosvenor Square, so we’ll just call on him, shall we?”
“What? No, my lady! He won’t want…I don’t think he wishes to see…that is, it isn’t proper for me to call on a gentleman!”
Considering what else she’d done with Finn, propriety was a thin excuse indeed, but Iris clung to it with both hands. What if she appeared on his doorstep, and he refused to see her? Her heart wouldn’t survive the blow if he sent her away—
“Proper?” Lady Annabel waved that away with a tinkling laugh and turned onto Brook Street, where Finn kept a handsome townhouse at the north end of Grosvenor Square. “Oh, what nonsense. I’m certain he’ll be pleased to see you.”
Panic seized Iris, and she gripped Lady Annabel’s arm. “He won’t be, Lady Annabel. I left him in Hampshire without a word of explanation. I don’t know that he’ll ever forgive me.”
“Why not beg his pardon and see? Ah, here he is.”
Iris mouth went dry. Dear God, Finn was standing in the drive watching the phaeton approach, an indecipherable expression on his stern face.
Iris fell back against her seat as every hope of escape evaporated.
“Lord Huntington—how convenient we should find you right here, waiting. I’ve brought you Miss Somerset, as promised. Do hand her down, won’t you? She looks a trifle unsteady.”
Finn’s large hand enveloped Iris’s, and he helped her to alight. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her since he sighted the carriage, but now he tore his gaze away to bow to Lady Annabel. “Thank you, my lady. You’re very kind to bring her to me.”
Lady Annabel raised an eyebrow at that. “I assure you, I’m not kind in the least. I do this for my own amusement only.” She set the horse in motion with a practiced flick of the reins, and disappeared down Brook Street.
Iris and Finn stood in silence for long moments, staring at each other, until at last Finn cleared his throat. “I hope you’ll forgive me for bringing you to Grosvenor Square. The proper thing would be for me to call on you at your grandmother’s house, but I, ah…I have something to show you I hope will please you.”
Iris’s throat worked. Oh, how she wanted to tell him she was pleased already—pleased to be near him, to inhale his clean scent and look into the beautiful hazel eyes she’d dreamed about every night since she’d left him, but a tight ball of emotion welled in her throat, and she could only nod.
He flushed a little when she didn’t answer, and an anxious frown crossed his lips, but he held out his arm to her. “It’s just this way.”
Iris slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, her breath catching at the familiar feel of his muscled forearm flexing under her fingertips, and let him lead her through a garden still scented with lavender, despite the lateness of the season.
He didn’t pause, but led her through the garden to the mews behind the house and into a spacious stable with a grand, wood-timbered ceiling.
“My lord?”
Iris searched Finn’s face in the dim light, but he only tucked her arm closer against his side and led her down a long central corridor, past rows upon rows of stalls.
