Perfect Little Blossom.
Only he knew the marks his hands and mouth left, hidden beneath fabric. Only he knew how she had sounded calling his name, completely uncomposed.
“Thank you,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.
“Do not thank me as if I lent you a book.” The words came out colder than expected.
“If you tire of playing God, remember you can ask for help.” Iris stood up straight, dusted her skirt, and walked toward the door.
Blaise said nothing, although he wanted to stop her and keep her wrapped up in his arms forever.
Instead, he bowed his head in surrender. “I cannot stop you.”
Iris looked back briefly, and Blaise sought to memorize every line and shade in her amber eyes. He truly did not understand her urgency to leave him, but he was not one to ask questions.
“I know. Goodbye, Blaise.” She opened the door, slipped into the dim passage, and closed it with a quiet click.
CHAPTER 27
“Your Grace,” Blaise’s butler murmured, just for him. “The guests remain assembled.”
Knoxford looked like a nightmare, all columns and glass, and lanterns burning on the lawn. The swell of music from the garden reached him, muffled but insistent, but all Blaise could think about was that Iris may not be there.
He paused on the verandah for a heartbeat, letting the guests look.
Let them see the scar. Let them remember.
The last time he had crossed the party, the widow had been at his side, chin high, defying him and the world. Now?—
His side felt empty.
Blaise ignored the gnawing feeling inside his chest and stepped out, inclining his head to the nearest knot of gentlemen.
Still no sign of Marcus.
His jaw clenched. He would have to pay the boy another visit.
“Knoxford.” Alistair clapped him on the shoulder. “We thought you had abandoned us for good.”
“Alistair,” Blaise replied, hiding the relief he felt to see his friendly face again. “I am not yet so heartless as to desert my own guests.”
“I would understand wanting to deserttheseguests,” Alistair muttered.
“How much have you heard or seen?” Blaise asked curiously.
“Enough to know that you are on a mission to save a particular widow, so much so that you would ruin your own plans of finding Marcus a wife.” Alistair stared at him questionably.
“I will explain when we do not have prying eyes and ears all around us.” Blaise’s jaw clenched.
Alistair raised his glass, and his eyes settled on a beautiful woman nearby. “I am in no rush; I will be around.”
Blaise shook his head as his friend wandered off into the crowd towards the woman. He decided to walk around and socialize then. He skirted the edge of the rose bushes, past couples forming again for the next dance, threading through clusters of color and silk. But all the while he scanned, against his will, for a particular tall, graceful, honey-haired beauty.
But she was nowhere to be found.
You did this, Vale. Do not crave her company now.
If he had stayed away from her and her estate, then none of this would have happened to Iris. Blaise blamed himself for ruining her reputation.
