As he was escorted out, the doors shut on Daniel’s smug grin.
CHAPTER 13
“Imust say, Iris, I rather like the new drawing room,” Margaret declared brightly as she took a delicate sip of her tea and glanced around appreciatively. “That deep burgundy is quite striking. It feels much grander than before.”
Iris’s spoon paused midway to her mouth. “It is distasteful, Margaret,” she replied, a touch too defensively. “It is overly dramatic and far too bold for the house. It does not suit the space at all.”
Camelia raised an elegant brow, exchanging a knowing look with Margaret, who raised her hands as if she were surrendering.
“Calm down, Iris; you do not have to bite my head off. I was just trying to be cordial,” Margaret said sarcastically.
“What orwhohas gotten you so riled up?” Camelia asked, concern etched in her features.
Iris knew that Camelia was only curious about every detail of the Duke of Knoxford. Ever since she told Margaret about him moving in, Iris has been receiving twice as many letters from her sister as she usually did.
She sighed. “I apologize; it is just the renovations that have me on edge.”
“Speaking of edgy things… Where is the duke this morning? We have been here nearly an hour and have yet to catch a glimpse of the mysterious man who has taken over your life.” Margaret said, wiggling her eyebrows. Camelia laughed, her growing belly bouncing with the tinkling sounds.
Iris set her spoon down carefully, keeping her expression neutral. “I am unsure. I heard him return quite late last night, and he sounded rather upset about something. I have not seen him since.”
Both sisters leaned forward at once, eyes sparkling with identical curiosity. The intrigue on their faces was unmistakable.
“What?” Iris asked, narrowing her eyes.
Camelia’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “You simplyhaveto find out what happened! Raph overheard all the men talking about a fight at Reynold’s. Apparently, it was quite the scene. Punches thrown, blood on the floor, the usual male nonsense. Surely it must involve your duke.”
A terrible feeling twisted in Iris’s stomach. She instinctively pressed a hand there, her thoughts darting to Blaise, his strong frame, that jagged scar, and the barely contained fury she had seen in him before.
“I hope he is all right,” she murmured before she could stop herself.
Margaret’s grin widened. “Will you find out what happened, then? For our sake, if not your own?”
Iris sighed, knowing resistance was futile when her sisters united. “All right. I will ask him if he knows anything about it.”
Margaret clapped her hands together happily, practically bouncing in her seat. Iris watched her with gentle frustration. Her younger sister had always been the liveliest, and it was clear she harbored a small, innocent crush on the idea of the dangerous duke. It was understandable, really. The scarred duke had that effect on women.
The three sisters spent the next few hours catching up properly on Camelia’s progressing pregnancy and Margaret’s latest social adventures. Iris was grateful to hear that their father’s health was improving and that Camelia’s husband’s niece, Pamela, was blooming beautifully as her debut Season quickly approached. But inevitably, the conversation turned to the man currently dominating Iris’s household.
“So,” Camelia began, eyes gleaming. “Tell us more about the duke. Is he as brooding and intense as everyone says, or is he just as domineering as he was at the ball?”
“And does he really have that dangerous air about him up close, or is it just the scar?” Margaret pointed a spoon at her and squinted.
Iris shifted uncomfortably in her seat, heat creeping up her neck. “He is… complicated and very focused on the renovations and his nephew’s future. That is all.”
Margaret was not satisfied. “Come now, Iris. You are living under the same roof as one of the most talked-about men in London. Has he been a perfect gentleman to you? If he has not, I will put him in his place.”
“I do not feel comfortable speaking about him in such detail,” Iris said carefully, avoiding their gazes.
She knew her sisters far too well. They would see right through any attempt at deception. The memory of Blaise’s hands on her and the devastating sketch he had left her burned too fresh in her mind. She could not risk them noticing how deeply he affected her.
Camelia tilted her head, studying her closely. “You are blushing, Iris. Quite fiercely, in fact.”
“I am not,” Iris protested, though she could feel the warmth spreading across her cheeks.
Margaret laughed. “You would blush too if you were staying under the same roof as such a mysterious, handsome, and dangerous man. That scar alone?—”
Just as Margaret spoke, heavy footsteps sounded in the corridor. Blaise walked past the open doorway, then stopped abruptly, turning back to regard the three women in the drawing room.
