“I will. Thank you, Lady Tal—that is, Lady Annabel.”
An enigmatic smile drifted over Lady Annabel’s lips. “Oh, no, Iris. It’s I who should be thanking you.”
* * * *
Iris spent the remainder of the afternoon in her bedchamber. By the time she joined the rest of the party for dinner, she’d been through all forty-seven pages ofDialogues between a Lady and Her Maid.
Twice.
She was prickling with heat, and worried the scorching blush that bloomed when she read the words “…for in his arms you will find such pleasures…” would never fade from her cheeks.
Those words were on page one. In the first paragraph. In the first sentence. The remaining forty-six pages were devoted to a detailed description of those pleasures.
Iris blotted some of the dampness from her forehead with the sleeve of her pale blue gown. Dear God, she could never wear another innocent pink gown again, now she’d read about Octavia and Philander’s bedchamber antics.
She was too wicked for pink.
“Are you unwell, Miss Somerset?” Lord Wrexley, who was seated across the table from her, raised his wine glass to his lips, frowning as his gaze lingered on her red cheeks. “You look flushed.”
Iris raised her fingertips to her face. “I’m quite well, my lord, only a bit warm.”
“It’s not overly warm in here.” Violet, who was seated to her left, turned from her conversation with Lord Derrick to frown at Iris. “My goodness, Iris. You look like a teakettle about to boil over. Whatever is the matter with you?”
Iris stretched a ferocious smile over her gritted teeth and turned this frightening look upon her sister. “Nothing at all, dear, but you’re so kind to enquire.”
Nothing, that is, except she couldn’t bring herself look at any of the gentlemen in the room, especially Lord Huntington, which wasn’t right at all, since of the four gentlemen at the table, she was the least fond of him. Yet she caught her gaze wandering to him again and again, far more often than any of the others. The one small mercy was he was seated at the other end of the table, next to Lady Honora, and so absorbed with her conversation he hadn’t spared Iris a glance all evening.
Just as well. If hedidlook at her, he might be able to tell she was thinking about his…breeches. Or not his breeches, precisely, but, well, something in that vicinity.
Iris twisted her napkin between numb fingers. Perhaps she shouldn’t have read that book, but it was too late now. There was no going back to blissful innocence once a lady understood the particulars of the, ah…transaction.
“Shall we leave the gentlemen to their port?” Charlotte rose from the table and led the ladies toward the drawing room, but Iris didn’t miss the fond look she cast her husband first, or his answering smile, and oh, dear God,thatwas why Charlotte was so taken with her husband! She never spared a glance for any other gentleman, no matter his attractions, and Captain West was equally smitten with his wife.
Don’t think on it—not on any of it, particularly anything to do with Lord Huntington’s breeches, or his long fingers, or the way his hazel eyes darkened when he’d touched her hair today.
“For pity’s sake, Iris, do sit down. You look at if you’re about to fall into a swoon.”
Violet patted the space next to her on the settee, and Iris dropped into it before her wobbly knees could desert her completely.
Lady Honora took a chair opposite the settee and studied Iris, her dark eyes soft with concern. “I blame my cousin for your indisposition, Iris. He was quite wrong to coax you into racing with him. I believe you’ve had too much sun and too much exercise.”
No, only too much reading.
“Oh, nonsense. Miss Somerset is perfectly well.” Lady Annabel settled into a chair at the card table, and motioned for Charlotte to join her. “Isn’t that right, Miss Somerset?”
Lady Annabel raised an eyebrow at her, and Iris straightened in her seat. “Yes, of course, my lady. I’m only a bit fatigued.”
“You need some quiet time to yourself. Perhaps you should retire early with a good book. Have you been to the Hadley House library? It’s an extensive one. I’m sure you’ll find something entertaining to read there.”
The mischievous smile playing at the corner of Lady Annabel’s mouth was too subtle to be noticeable to anyone else in the room, but Iris saw it, and despite her embarrassment, her own lips quirked at the corners. “Yes, I daresay you’re right, my lady.”
Violet, who was too clever for her own good, glanced from Lady Annabel to Iris, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “It’s not fatigue, but agitation. You’re preoccupied by this business with Lord Huntington.”
“Business? What business?” Iris’s voice was much louder than she intended, but if Violet thought she was preoccupied with the business of Lord Huntington’s breeches—
“Why, the jilting, of course! Unless there’s some other business I don’t know about?”
“Oh, right. That.” For pity’s sake, how could she keep forgetting about the jilting?
