Iris inhaled deeply. “Do not fret. I will not allow that.”
The elderly man nodded and stepped back into line. They had been loyal through lean years, through creditors pounding at the door, and through the quiet dignity Iris had maintained. She saw the resolve in their eyes and felt a surge of affection mixed with guilt. This was risky, but it was the only plan she had, and she would protect them more than herself if it all went wrong.
“You are all—” Just as she was about to dismiss them, the back door opened with a firm, authoritative creak, and heavy boots sounded in the hall.
Iris’s pulse spiked. She did not hear his carriage arrive. She looked at her staff and placed a finger on her lips; they nodded silently until Blaise stepped into view.
Iris’s breath caught at the sight of him, and she cursed herself for the damned reaction. In the daylight, he was even more mesmerizingly tall and broad-shouldered, his dark curls slightly tousled from the ride, and that savage scar caught the light. His presence instantly filled the modest space, making her and the hallway feel smaller. Blaise eyed the staff before he turned to Iris with an unmistakable interest in his dark gaze.
“What is the meaning of this gathering?” His deep voice carried easily through the hall.
There was no accusation in his tone, only a cool curiosity laced with that ever-present amusement that grated on her nerves.
Iris smoothed her skirts and stepped forward, forcing a polite smile. “Nothing of importance, Your Grace. Just a routine household discussion. The staff and I were reviewing the week’s tasks. Forgive us, we did not hear your carriage approaching.”
Blaise’s dark blue eyes narrowed slightly in her direction, as if he could see straight through her polite deflection. He studied the small group for a moment longer before turning his full attention back to Iris.
“I see,” he said simply. Before she could steer the conversation elsewhere, he continued, his tone brisk and commanding. “I came through the back entrance. I had to survey the gardens for the renovations. I have already hired additional staff to assist. Carpenters, painters, and laborers will begin arriving this afternoon. I have also engaged more permanent servants. Housemaids, a butler, and kitchen help. Your current numbersare hardly sufficient for a proper household, let alone one undergoing repairs.”
Iris felt her jaw tighten as the group looked helplessly at her.
“Of course, everyone’s occupation is safe here in Hentley House unless there is reason to let you go.” Blaise smiled warmly at her staff.
The implication stung.
“Your Grace, we had managed perfectly well with what little we have and?—”
“I also sense a rather… particular loyalty among your current staff toward you, Lady Hentley. Bringing in new people will help restore balance. Fresh eyes and new routines will be better for everyone.”
The sour expression must have shown clearly on her face, because the corner of his mouth curved in satisfaction when he finally looked at her.
“Yes,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I believe I am right.”
Iris’s cheeks burned, but she kept her mouth shut. Arguing now would only make him more pleased.
Without waiting for further invitation, Blaise moved past her toward the study, the room she had long considered her sanctuary for managing accounts and correspondence. He paused at the threshold, then glanced back at her with provocative intent.
“I shall be using the study as my own for the duration of my stay,” he said smoothly. “And the main bedchamber as well. I hope you do not mind, Little Blossom.”
The endearment, spoken so casually in front of the staff, sent heat rushing through her. Iris clenched her fists at her sides, biting back the sharp retort that rose to her lips.
“Oh, and Mrs. Henkings, I will have some of that divine tea inmystudy,” he called out as he shut the door behind him.
Mrs. Henkings, who had sauntered closer to her, turned to Iris with concern etched across her features.
“My lady,” she whispered, “how do you feel about all of this?”
Iris met the housekeeper’s eyes, then looked past her to where Blaise had already claimed the spaces that had once been hers. Defiance ignited in her chest, hot and bright.
“If he desires a duel, then he shall receive just that!” she said firmly.
* * *
Blaise sat behind the heavy oak desk in the study; despite the overwhelming florals, the room was now clearly his territory. The day drifted by like a haze, and the sunlight began to slant through the windows, reminding him that time was slipping away.
Blaise breathed in deeply. Iris’s scent still lingered despite his intrusion, and he found it annoyingly distracting. The door to the study opened softly, and Mrs. Henkings entered carrying a silver tray. She moved with quiet efficiency, setting his afternoon tea before him without fanfare.
“Thank you, Mrs. Henkings,” Blaise said politely.
