Iris stopped short when she saw a young man standing just inside the doorway. He was tall and lanky with dark hair and blue eyes that reminded her of someone. He looked around the house with mild confusion, and he was startled when he saw Iris.
“Lord Vale. His Grace, the Duke of Knoxford’s nephew.” The butler’s voice boomed in the silent hallway.
Iris smiled politely at the young man before she curtsied, and he bowed. The butler did not bother to announce her.
“You are not my uncle,” the handsome young man said with a small, familiar smirk as he tried to hide the surprise on his face.
“No, I am not.” Iris let out a soft laugh.
Lord Vale blushed and shook his head. “I apologize; I received a letter from my uncle with this address, and I assumed he was living here.”
Iris offered a warm, calming smile. “You must be Marcus then.”
“Yes, you know me?” He seemed surprised.
“Yes, of course, your uncle talks a lot about you.” Iris beamed at him.
Marcus’s expression shifted from delight to awkward discomfort. His gaze flicked over Iris. “Are you… his…?”
“Oh, no!” Iris said quickly, understanding at once. “Goodness, no. I am Lady Hentley. Widow of the late Lord Hentley. His Grace inherited this house through the title. We have an… arrangement of sorts while the property is being prepared for you. Nothing improper, I assure you.”
She felt heat flush her face; ‘improper’ was actually the only word to describe her situation with Blaise.
Marcus cleared his throat. “I see, so this is your house?”
Iris shifted uneasily under his gaze. She could see that he was most definitely raised by Blaise with the way he stood tall and looked down at people from the bridge of his nose.
“By law, it isyourhouse,” Iris finally spoke. “But please, do not fret over that. Come in for tea. You must be tired from your journey.”
Marcus hesitated, then nodded stiffly. “That will be nice, thank you.”
Unlike his uncle, he was sweeter and did not demean people with dry humor. Iris led him to the drawing room, and her mind was racing.
Marcus entered the drawing room and looked around with a distasteful look. “Did my uncle design this?”
Iris felt a sense of victory. “Yes, he did.”
She looked around, equally disgusted.
Marcus scoffed. “He has terrible taste for decorations.”
Thank you! My thoughts exactly!
Iris could not stop the smile that pulled at the corners of her lips.
“Lord Vale?—”
“Please call me Marcus.”
Iris smiled knowingly at the young man. “If you can excuse me for a few minutes, I have my sister in the study, and I just want to inform her that I have a guest.”
Marcus held up his hands. “Oh, I do not want to be a bother and keep you from your family?—”
“It is not a bother at all. Please make yourself at home, and we will get you some tea and something to eat as well.”
Iris gave Mrs. Henkings a nod, and the woman scurried off with a line of blushing maids behind her. Marcus smiled at Iris and then sat down on the new chaise.
“All right then, thank you,” he said quietly.
