“He was filled with love and then filled with sadness.” Blaise looked into her eyes, and Iris could not read him.
“What happened between him and his wife?” she pressed. “The elopement must have caused such pain in your family.”
His jaw tightened.
“Some things are mine to carry alone, Iris. I will not speak of it.”
“But surely?—”
“No,” he cut in quietly but firmly. “I have said enough on that matter.”
Iris nodded, respecting the boundary even as curiosity burned inside her. She sat back and reflected on how the pieces of Blaise’s past were gradually forming a picture far morecomplicated than she had expected. He was a man who carried heavy guilt and was willing to give up everything for his family. The realization softened her heart toward him, and that frightened her more than anything else.
She took a steadying breath.
“I will help you,” she said, her voice slowly gaining strength.
Blaise chuckled darkly. “Are you not going to ask what is in it for you if you truly help?”
“I do not care; I simply want to help you.” She lifted her chin, and Blaise’s eyes traveled along her jawline to her neck.
Iris gulped.
“What do you suggest, Little Blossom?” The endearing name never failed to send a shiver down her spine.
“I suggest that you host another party at Knoxford, and I will ensure every eligible young woman of good character and suitable age attends. My sister and I know the ton well enough to curate the guest list, and I am certain that we will find someone worthy of Marcus.”
Blaise looked at her curiously, one dark brow lifting. The intensity of his gaze made her pulse quicken.
“And what about Lady Pamela?” he asked.
“Her debut is next year, and you do not have time.”
After a long silence, Blaise leaned on the desk and lowered his voice. “I know you never truly meant to fulfill your side of the deal, Iris. You only wanted to buy time to keep your house and to delay the inevitable. We have one week left, and I cannot help but wonder how long you would keep up this act.”
Iris’s cheeks burned. She opened her mouth to protest. “That is not true...”
But she faltered under his knowing stare. No excuse sounded convincing, even to her own ears. Blaise saw straight through her, as he always seemed to.
Suddenly, he leaned back and gestured for her. “Come here.”
Iris glared at him, but eventually she pushed aside her doubts, got up, and obeyed him. She moved until she stood directly in front of him and close enough to feel the heat radiating from his taut body. Blaise did not get up, and Iris felt powerful as she towered over him.
He looked at her from head to toe, then whispered, “Have you touched yourself again since that night in the dining room?”
The question sent a rush of heat through Iris. She had tried her best to keep that intimate moment out of her mind ever since he left, but she failed miserably.
She shook her head. “No, I did not. That is absurd, and it will never happen again!”
Blaise chuckled as if he did not believe her. The heat of his breath landed on her arms and left goosebumps there.
“Why not?” he asked as he looked into her eyes.
Iris swallowed hard, her heart hammering. The truth slipped out before she could stop it. “Because… I would rather you do it.”
The admission hung between them, raw and honest. Blaise’s eyes darkened with unmistakable hunger.
He studied her for a long moment, then asked roughly, “Are you ready to be drawn properly this time?”
