“Go on.” Violet waved her forward. “We’ll wait for you on the terrace.”
Iris plunged blindly into the foliage until she saw him ahead of her, hurrying along the twisting pathways. She would have lost him entirely if she hadn’t caught occasional glimpses of his dark green coat among the brighter greens in the garden.
“Lord Huntington?” She was a bit breathless from chasing after him, but she was only a few paces away when she called out. There could be no doubt he’d heard her. Yet he hesitated before turning to face her, and once he did…
Oh, dear God.
It took every bit of bravery Iris could muster not to flee back into the safety of the garden. He never fell into spasms of joy when he saw her, but he was looking at her now as if she were an offensive bit of garden fungus.
“Miss Somerset.” His smiled was strained. “I suppose you’re on your way back to the terrace?”
Iris gave him a puzzled look. It was an odd question, since she was walking in the opposite direction. “No, my lord. I still need to find the red rose petals for the scavenger hunt, and Lady Honora sent me this way. She said all the nicest red roses are at the back of the garden.”
“I’m sure I saw some closer to the house.”
His tone was polite enough, but a frown played at the corners of his lips. Even so, Iris’s foolish heart began to pound with anticipation when she met his gaze. His hazel eyes were changeable, and this afternoon they were more golden than brown, with just the faintest hint of green.
A little sigh escaped her. If a ladywereto kiss a gentleman, she could do a great deal worse than Lord Huntington.
“I’m sure you must be fatigued after so long a time in the sun. Allow me to escort you back to the terrace.”
He offered his arm, and Iris took it, but she held back when he tried to take her down a path that led to the house. “No, I’m not fatigued. I’m very well, and it’s a lovely afternoon, isn’t it? Such beautiful light.”
“Yes. Lovely.” But he didn’t look as if he were enchanted with the garden, or with her. His frown deepened until it was almost a scowl, and his arm tensed under her fingers. “But I’m certain your sister must be looking for you, and I believe Lady Fairchild was about to serve tea.”
Iris hesitated, puzzled at his curt tone. Lord Huntington hadn’t ever been romantic with her, but he’d also never been anything other than scrupulously polite, and his tone at the moment bordered on rudeness. He seemed agitated, as well, as if he expected someone to jump out of the bushes at any moment.
“Just to the far end of the garden, my lord, to see the roses.” She cast him what she hoped was an encouraging look from under her lashes. “They’re in bloom, and there’s a bench there where we can rest.”
She gave his arm a gentle tug, but he didn’t move. “Why should you need a bench, Miss Somerset? You just said you weren’t fatigued. If you feel the need for a rest, I beg you’ll let me escort you back to the terrace.”
Iris drew in a long, calming breath, and tried again. “It’s not far. Just on the other side of the hedge.” She slid her hand down his arm and let her fingertips rest on the inside of his wrist. “The flowers are especially fragrant when they’ve been warmed by the sun, as they have this afternoon.”
“I’m sure they are, but our friends and your sister are waiting for us, and it’s hardly proper for us to be alone here, out of sight of the house.”
Iris knew very well Violet wasn’t waiting for her, but for some reason Lord Huntington was determined to take her back to the terrace. He was fairly vibrating with impatience, and she couldn’t imagine a less auspicious moment to steal a kiss than this one, but she found herself clutching at the sleeve of his coat before he could stir another step.
Was it propriety holding him back, as Lady Honora suggested, or was he as indifferent as he appeared? He didn’t seem to find anything about her alluring, or even mildly interesting, and she couldn’t bear it a second longer.
This kiss was no longer about passion, or even affection. It was a kiss born out of desperation.
“Wait, Lord Huntington.” She didn’t say anything more, but darted her tongue quickly over her lips to make them glisten and then raised her face to his, her heart pounding with fear and hope. It was clumsily done, but surely the glistening lips would move him this time.
She let her eyes drift closed, and prayed with every breath in her body his firm, sensuous lips would settle over hers.
They didn’t.
Iris’s heart was thrashing in her chest like a trapped bird, but she’d come this far, and she knew she’d never have the nerve to try again if she gave up this time. She drew in a deep breath, rested her hands against his chest, and rose onto the toes of her slippers, but he was so tall she still couldn’t reach his mouth. After another shaky breath she slid a hand up to his shoulder and around to the back of his neck and tugged gently to bring his face down to hers.
It was like trying to bend the trunk of a tree.
He didn’t move. “What are you doing, Miss Somerset?”
Iris’s eyes snapped open, and mortified heat raced into her cheeks. “I—I was…surely it’s not so very improper for a betrothed couple to—”
“Betrothed, Miss Somerset, not married. You’re aware there’s a difference?”
His voice was sharper than she’d ever heard it, and Iris drew in a shocked breath, as horrified by his rebuke as if he’d slapped her. It took her a moment to gather herself, and when she did speak, she couldn’t quite disguise the tremor in her voice. “Yes, I—shall we go back to the house, then?”
