“Do you not wish to dance?” Beth Deville leaned in to whisper. “I’ll plead a torn hem and that you need to accompany me if you wish it.”
“I am well, but thank you, Beth.” Iris put the tips of her gloved fingers on the man’s arm and allowed him to lead her to the floor. She took her place in the line across from Mr. James, relieved it was not a waltz.
“Are you really a friend of that fool Plunge’s?” The words came from a woman to her left.
She was younger than Iris and pretty. Her dress of cream silk was in the latest style, and her deep brown hair was pinned in place with small pearls.
“We were once friends, yes. My name is Lady Challoner.”
“Well, let me advise you to sever all ties with the man. He’s a bumbling idiot.” She gave a delicate shudder. “He offers very little other than he has a lot of money. One day, some woman will look past his ridiculous facade and take him on. However”—she sniffed—“it will not be me.”
The music started, so the conversation stopped, and Iris still did not know the woman’s name, but her words had left a sour taste in her mouth. She did not like to hear Theo spoken of in such a way, even though they were now strangers.
She found him dancing farther down the line and watched as he tugged the right cuff of his jacket with his left hand twice. He then lowered the hand to his side. Seconds later, he repeated the gesture.
Why is it you do that, Theo? she’d once asked him after seeing the gesture several times in their youth.
He’d been uncomfortable about her question, but as they were always honest with each other, he had answered. “It helps me focus when I am unsure what to say, or of the situation” had been his reply.
Iris remembered being surprised by his words because she’d always thought Theo was confident.
Theo’s head turned as if sensing her regard. Their eyes met, and she felt it again. Awareness shot through her. That look had none of the silliness she’d seen from him this evening. It had been hard and searching.
What was going on with that man?
She lost sight of him briefly as they turned to the music.
“Allow me to offer my sympathies for the loss of your husband, Lady Challoner. He was a well-respected member of society,” Mr. James said. “I’m sure you feel his loss greatly.”
“Thank you,” she said with a small fake smile.
“Are you staying for the entire season, my lady?” he asked.
“I am unsure yet.”
Some would say he was handsome. Iris would not be one of those. She’d vowed, when she was finally rid of the devil she’d married, never to wed again. Her future was her son, and that was more than enough.
“It’s my hope you are, Lady Challoner.” His smile showed his interest in her this time.
“I spend all my time with my son,” she said. “He, of course, is my focus after losing his beloved father.”
The man’s face fell. She was lying, of course. Henry loathed his father, just as she had.
When the dance was over, Mr. James escorted her back to her uncle, who still stood with some of the Deville family members who were not dancing.
“Would you allow me to take you to supper, my lady?” Mr. James asked. It seemed she had not done enough to dissuade him.
“It’s her first social event, James. Don’t overwhelm the woman,” Lord Raine said with a smile to take the sting out of his words.
“Of course.” Mr. James bowed, looking disappointed, and walked away.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“If anyone bothers you, Iris, let me or one of my family know,” he said. “And call me Gabe.”
“Thank you, Gabe. That is very kind of you, but I will not be in London long enough to find trouble.”
“I’m sure you are right.”
