“You will be all right,” he whispered, but the words were mostly for himself.
The horse neighed weakly in response.
“I shall leave it to you then, Thomas.”
The groom nodded firmly as he dressed the horse’s leg with a large bandage.
Blaise walked toward the country house and tried to push his brother’s memories aside by thinking of Iris. The image of her came unbidden and vivid.
Iris on her knees before him in the dining room, skirts rucked up around her waist as she pleasured herself under his gaze. How beautifully she had shattered, crying out as her climax took her. He imagined her now, alone in his study, perhaps slipping her hand beneath her skirts again while whispering his name?—
His shaft reacted instantly against his trousers. The memory of her calmed the storm in his chest but stirred a far more dangerous hunger.
Perhaps I should only think of her at night.
“Everything all right, Your Grace?” the butler asked, noticing his distraction at the entrance of his country house.
“All is well, thank you, Jerry,” Blaise replied gruffly. “Make certain that Thomas keeps me informed on the stallion. I will check on him again before I leave.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The butler bowed and went to his station.
As they reached the study, a footman hurried over with a bundle of letters. “These arrived for you, Your Grace.”
Blaise took them and flipped through them quickly.
Business matters, a note from Alistair, several invoices, but nothing from Iris.
Disappointment stabbed through him, sharper than he cared to admit. It has only been two days, but he still expected her to reach out with news about a potential bride. He shook it off with a low exhale. It should not trouble him as much because she was probably busy fulfilling her part of their bargain.
Or perhaps a suitor approached her and?—
“You are being ridiculous, Blaise,” he muttered to himself.
Yet, the lack of even a brief note still lingered. Another week was nearly gone, and soon he would return to Hentley House tocollect what Iris had promised him. He doubted she would leave before then, but he still had to try; even though his nephew was being difficult, there was no more time to delay.
Blaise hardly prayed, but as he thought about what awaited him in London, he let out a soft prayer filled with hopefulness.
“God, help me.”
* * *
“Shall we fill the study with flowers again before His Grace returns, my lady?” one of the new maids asked, barely hiding her smile. “We still have plenty of roses in the garden.”
Almost a week had passed since the duke left, and the house had settled into an odd, expectant rhythm. Iris stood in the hallway near the study with the two new younger maids whom Blaise had hired and Mrs. Henkings.
“We could make it especially grand this time,” Mrs. Henkings added.
Iris couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. They all shared knowing looks and a secret understanding. For a moment, Iris was tempted to make one last act of defiance before Blaise returned. But something in her chest had shifted over these past days.
“No,” Iris said gently. “Not today. Let the study remain as it is.”
The women looked surprised but curtsied and hurried off to their given duties. Iris could hear their soft giggling echoing down the corridor as they disappeared around the corner. She shook her head while a strange mix of fondness and guilt settled over her.
“What was that about?” Camelia asked, sipping her tea and raising an eyebrow at Iris.
Camelia had arrived for a visit earlier that morning and now sat patiently in the study. When Iris finally joined her at the desk, she had a curious look on her face, and one brow arched in expectation.
Iris sighed deeply and sank into the chair opposite her.
