Monty watched as Iris looked at the papers in her hand. He should never have kissed her, because there had been tension between them before, but now it was a great deal worse.
“I will look through them and pass any that I think could be of interest to you, my lord,” Iris said. Her voice was cool, but the eyes she shot him and away again were nervous.
“Thank you,” Monty said with more calm than he felt.
He had been trained to be cool and collected. To think before taking action. Right in that moment, he felt the exact opposite. Monty’s focus should be solely on the fact he could finally be closer to finding his parents’ killers. Instead, he couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of Iris in his arms.
As she read the paper in her hand, he slowly inhaled and exhaled quietly. He did it again and felt his calm returning. He could do this. What had happened between him and Iris was wrong.
It hadn’t felt wrong.
“Are you in need of anything further, my lady?” Norman asked returning.
“How is your family, Norman?” Monty said to ease the heavy silence between him and Iris.
“Well, thank you, my lord. My mother and father have plenty of grandchildren, which they are very happy about.”
“What brought you to London?”
“Adventure, my lord. I have always wanted to be a butler, you see. I’d been unsuccessful until Lady Challoner was hiring staff. I applied for the position of footman, and when she realized I aspired to be a butler, she was kind enough to give me a chance.”
Monty saw his old friend now in the boyish smile the man gave him.
“I am glad Lady Challoner found you, Norman.”
He took the tea handed to him but waved aside the food. His stomach was still churning for all he had control of his emotions. He sipped and watched as her fingers picked up and discarded papers. He saw the frown line down her forehead as she read.
Iris Challoner was a beautiful, disturbing woman.
“I don’t want to believe my late husband could have been involved in the deaths of your wonderful parents, and yet…” Iris’s words fell away.
“Yet?” Monty prompted her.
“My late husband was not always what he appeared.”
What the hell did that mean?Had Challoner hurt her?The thought made his stomach clench.
She didn’t chew her lip like Mary sometimes did when she was reading something. Or flick her fingers like Zach, or hum like Nathan. Iris just read through each and then placed it beside her. Back straight, eyes down.
“What do you mean, your late husband was not always what he appeared?” he asked.
“He was a hard, cold, controlling man, Lord Montgomery. He could also be cruel. It would not come as a surprise to me if he was involved in something nefarious,” she said, raising her eyes from the papers in her lap to look at him. “If he had anything to do with your parents’ death, I would rather know.”
Had he been cruel to her and Henry?
Monty nodded in acknowledgment of her words. If her late husband was involved, then her son’s name would be blackened; they both knew that. But they would cross that bridge when and if they came to it.
He would protect them in any way he could.
“I have gone through the box, and this bundle of papers contains the only ones that I cannot explain. They are signed, but I can’t decipher the names,” Iris said. “There is a small wooden carving attached to the black ribbon that bound them.”
Monty rose, heart pounding to look at what she held out to him.
The wooden carving was, he was sure, like the one in his father’s hand Monty had found upon his death. The same symbol, he thought.
What did that mean?
“I believe that is the sign of the devil, my lord.”
