A deadly silence stretched, and she realized that she was holding her breath.
“Because I did kill my brother,” His Grace said with an unreadable expression.
Iris’s spine went cold. The little hairs at the back of her neck rose as she searched his face, desperately, for some sign of jest, some betrayal of irony, but there was none.
“How can you say that so lightly?”
His Grace tipped his head slightly until his scar caught the light. “How did you think I got this?” he asked.
She stared at the jagged mark. Images she did not want flew through her mind. If she were in danger, she should call for help, but Iris stood still and gazed up at the duke. Her stomach lurched. She knew nothing about him, yet she felt intrigued rather than scared.
“Your Grace?—”
“I have decided,” he said, as if they had been discussing nothing more consequential than the arrangement of chairs, “that I will reside in this house in a room that you prefer.For now.”
He stalked out of her chamber, leaving her confused and flustered. Iris followed him and watched as he strolled down the corridor with the carelessness of a man who had never truly been denied anything.
“For now? What did you mean by that?” she asked nervously.
The duke turned his head slightly, considering her. “You will need to move, eventually.”
His words struck her, and all Iris could do was laugh, but the duke looked at her with a darkness behind his eyes. Iris backed away from him slowly.
“And in case you have not yet understood, Little Blossom,” he said. “Youwillmove because I am the heir and this ismyhouse. Under the law and under the title. You have no choice but to obey me.”
He reached for the chamber door not far from hers; it was Hentley’s chamber. Iris opened her mouth to protest, but the duke shut the doors between them with a soft, ruthless finality until she heard the latch click.
“Damn him!” she hissed under her breath.
Iris stared at the painted wood and tried to calm her frantic pulse.
He has locked me out of a room in my own house.
For a heartbeat, the absurdity of it was so complete she could only stand and gape. Then fury rose.
She lifted her hand and pounded on the door. “You cannot do this! Do you hear me? You cannot simply arrive and take everything!”
Silence.
“Open the door,” she snapped. “At once.”
She did not even hear the discreet creak of a floorboard to suggest he had moved.
“I know you can hear me.”
The house was old, and sound traveled through it like gossip. She imagined him standing just beyond, perhaps with that infuriating curve at his mouth, enjoying her rage as he had enjoyed her mortification in that wicked red room.
“This is not the end of this,” she threatened, leaning close so every word struck through the wood between them. “My brother-in-law isthe Duke of Brentmere. And he will help me untangle this ridiculous situation!”
For a moment, only the thudding of her own blood filled her ears. Then his voice came, muffled but clear, through the panel.
“Good,” he said. “Then you had better start packing.”
She frowned.
“Because once you step outside this house, Little Blossom,” he went on conversationally as though they were discussing the weather, “you will not be able to return.”
Iris stared at the door as if it had grown teeth.
