Monty ran his thumbs over her cheeks.
“What was your life like, Iris?”
“I was controlled. Even when he left to enter society, he had his spies watch me. I received visits from him often and letters dictating what I must do.”
“Bastard. Surely your family—”
“I tried when he first showed his true colors, but my father said things would settle and that my husband was head of the household. My sister was busy with her life. But my aunt and uncle demanded to see me when they called. It was they who kept me sane and showed Henry I was not the only person to love him.”
Monty hated her husband was dead, because had he not been, he would relish sending him to his grave.
“Why wouldn’t he let you enter society, Iris?”
“Because he wanted to live his life as he chose. Mistresses, parties, and likely a lot more. He told everyone I was a nervous sort and prone to illness, and this stopped me from enjoying the excitement of society.”
“I never asked after you, and I should have.”
“I think you had other things on your mind, Theo.”
He sighed. “I chose the path I took to seek vengeance and find who had killed my parents. Until now, with you handing me that letter and other information that has come to light, I had found no clues.”
“You became Plunge for that purpose alone?” Iris asked him.
He still cupped her cheeks, and her skin was so warm beneath his hands.
“All I can tell you is that I’ve been hiding in plain sight for most of my life, Iris. Trust me when I say it’s best you know nothing more, but that it was my choice.”
He kissed her again, and his body stirred to life as if waking from a lifetime of slumber.
“Theo, we shouldn’t—”
“I’m not sure I can let you go, Iris.” He whispered the words against her lips. “I would never hurt you.”
“I know that.”
He felt the tension slide from her body as he continued to kiss her. Monty told himself it was just kisses. He would leave soon and return to his cold, lonely house. They were in her bedroom in the early hours of the morning. Her staff were downstairs, and he was taking advantage of her.
His hands stroked down her spine.
“Tell me to go, Iris.”
“I can’t. You make me feel things I never thought to feel, Theo. I’ve been scared and alone for so long.”
“As have I. So cold and empty.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Her hands went to his shoulders as his roamed her back through her clothes. He was desperate to feel the warmth of her skin against his.
“I want you, Iris.” His words were raw and honest.
“My experience with him… my husband was horrid and painful. I vowed I would never again do that with a man.”
“‘That’ being make love?” Theo asked.
Iris nodded. “It was very wrong of me, but when he died, I rejoiced. I dutifully went through the mourning period, and the entire time I felt like a weight had been lifted from the house Henry and I lived in. That finally we could walk out of the dark and into the light. The scars he left us with will take time to heal.”
“I remember your father being a bit stuffy, but he loved you. Surely he knew nothing of Challoner’s character, or he would never have allowed the wedding,” Theo said.
