But Blaise had no intention of giving up. Marcus would see reason eventually, even if he had to drag him into it. His mood darkened further as he tossed the crumpled paper aside. He reached for another document when the door opened again without a knock, and Iris stepped inside, clearly intending to grab something from the desk. She froze when she saw him, looking embarrassed to be caught.
“Blaise,” she said his name on a breath, and his body reacted instantly.
“Iris,” he said her name like a prayer, and she blushed in response.
He wanted her on her knees again.
“I did not realize you had returned. I only came to fetch some papers for the restoration work.” She hurried forward and picked up a stack of paper on the corner of the desk.
Blaise leaned back in his chair, studying her. She looked lovely in the firelight. Her curls were loosely pinned, and she wore a simple evening gown. Blaise looked around and was surprised to find that there were no flowers in the study tonight.
A small surrender, perhaps?
“Breakfast will be ready at nine tomorrow morning,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “If you will attend, that is.”
He noticed the way she avoided his eyes for a moment and the slight tension in her shoulders. They both studied each other in tense silence; the air between them was thick with everything unsaid and undone.
“Is something wrong?” Iris asked finally, her voice softer than he had ever heard before.
“Yes.” Blaise exhaled. “I just had some family issues. But it is nothing new.”
She nodded with understanding. “Is it about your nephew?”
How does she know?
“Yes.” He rubbed his temple. “He is… resistant to my plans.”
“How old is he now?” she asked, tilting her head.
“He is one-and-twenty.” Iris’s expression shifted thoughtfully. “What is it, Iris?”
“Oh, it is nothing. I just all of a sudden thought about my niece, Lady Pamela. She will be eighteen next Season.”
Blaise’s interest sharpened immediately. “Lady Pamela? Tell me about her.”
Iris hesitated at first, then spoke with quiet fondness. “She is the niece of the Duke of Brentmere; she is a bright young lady and extremely artistic. She loves poetry and sketching. She has a romantic soul, and she is always dreaming of grand passions. Her mother passed tragically during childbirth, and Pamela was raised by her uncle after that.”
Blaise froze. The similarities between Pamela and Marcus were uncanny.
“And what of her father?” Blaise asked.
Iris’s face hardened. “He is not around. Nor should he be. He was an evil man.”
Blaise inclined his head and noticed her fury immediately. “I apologize for bringing up painful memories.”
“Do not apologize,” she said firmly. “The truth is usually painful.”
Blaise thought of this for a while until Iris broke the silence again and said almost casually, “The reason why I guessed it was your nephew troubling you is that he visited while you were away.”
Blaise’s head shot up. “He visited?”
Iris nodded. “Yes. He seems a fine young man, though… a bit on edge.”
“He got that from me.” Blaise sat up straighter, genuinely concerned about his nephew. “What did he want?”
“He said he received word from you, and he was… unsettled by your plans for him. Especially about finding him a bride. Although he listened to me, I cannot help but feel like it is my fault because I assumed he knew that you were searching for a wife for him.” Iris’s gaze fell shamefully, and Blaise had to hold himself back from reaching out to her and comforting her.
“It is not your fault, Iris. The boy is under my care, and I should have told him.” His fists clenched under the table as he pictured Iris bringing herself down the entire day because of his mistake.
