“Not tonight, darling,” he rejected the beautiful woman without regret.
“I will be waiting if you change your mind.” The woman swayed her hips seductively as she walked away.
“Damn it all,” Blaise muttered under his breath, downing the remainder of his brandy in one fiery gulp. The burn did nothing to quench the fire Iris had ignited within him.
The usual allure of the private salon felt hollow and stale. No other woman could compare. Not when the defiant Little Blossom occupied every shadowed corner of his mind. Annoyedby his uncharacteristic fixation, Blaise pushed to his feet. He tossed a generous handful of coins onto the table and strode out, the cool night air hitting his face like a sobering slap.
As the carriage rode through the darkened streets, the rhythmic clop of hooves did little to calm the storm in his blood. Tomorrow, he would step fully into her world and begin methodically dismantling the walls the way she desired.
One month.
He would honor the time she had bargained for so desperately. He would let her play at repairing the house andhelpingwith Marcus’s bride. And if she were willing, then he would collect on their agreement with exquisite, unrelenting thoroughness. Binding her, teasing her, breaking her open until she knew exactly who owned her pleasure.
Iris had no idea what manner of storm she had invited into her life. But Blaise intended to make certain she craved every thunderous moment of it.
* * *
Dear Marcus,
I trust this letter reaches you in good health at Oxford. I shall refrain from unnecessary formal pleasantries. Your presence in London is anticipated within the upcoming month. Preparations are currently in progress for your arrival at Hentley House.
There are extensive discussions to be had concerning your future. I have initiated plans that will guarantee your position and dispel any remaining doubts regarding your legitimacy.
Do not delay. I await your arrival.
Your uncle,Blaise Vale
Duke of Knoxford
Blaise sealed the letter with the heavy Knoxford crest. He rang for a footman and handed it over with curt instructions.
“See that this reaches Marcus at Oxford with haste.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” As the servant departed, Blaise rose, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension coiled there.
The memory of Iris’s defiant amber eyes and her sweet taste still lingered on his lips. She thought their bargain gave her control, and he would enjoy disabusing her of that notion.
He strode through the grand halls of Knoxford, his boots echoing sharply on the marble floors. Servants bowed hastily as he passed, sensing the storm of determination rolling off him. Outside, his carriage was already waiting. Blaise mounted with fluid grace.
“Hentley House,” he ordered the coachmen.
He cast one last glance at the imposing façade of the London residence before the carriage turned toward the streets. A dark, predatory smile played on his lips as he set out to meet the menacing widow.
CHAPTER 9
“Iexpect every one of you to carry on exactly as we always have,” Iris declared to her staff.
She kept her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her stomach as she faced the small, gathered group. Mrs. Henkings, the housekeeper, the elderly footman, the coachman, and the cook stared at her expectantly with fear in their eyes. They were just a handful, but they were loyal to her, and she never doubted them.
“We will not change a single thing about our routine. No special preparations, no extra deference. If His Grace is uncomfortable enough, perhaps he will tire of this place and leave us in peace.” Iris kept glancing toward the large window, expecting his carriage to show up at any second.
Mrs. Henkings twisted her apron in her hands, her kind face creased with worry. “My lady, are you certain this is wise? He seems a determined sort.”
Iris swung around to face her. “Determined or not, this is stillourhome… at least, for the moment.” She lifted her chin. “We have kept these walls standing for seven years with very little. If we simply continue as we are, he and any of his family will feel like outsiders. They will see that they do not belong here. Be polite, but… do not go out of your way for him. In fact, we are going to subtly do the opposite of everything he asks.”
The small staff nodded, exchanging worried glances.
“My lady,” Johnson,the onlycook of Hentley House, stepped forward. “Will our jobs be safe? We have families to feed and cannot anger His Grace if it leads to displacement.”
