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“Indeed.”
He rose, as did she, and they moved away, to be soon joined by his mother and a number of other people, some of whom were obviously Lady Iris’ family. There was no space for anything approaching private conversation, and no words that he might say which would not be, one way or another, inappropriate. He rather thought that she felt the same, from her expression.
The swirling of conversation soon drew them apart, and he felt the loss of her presence acutely, even though he knew that it was for the best. If she knew the truth of his life…
It was best that she never discover the things which his family kept close, the things which prevented him from ever being able to offer her more than conversation, and music, despite his rather terrifying realisation that with her, he was quite capable of wanting more.
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Thorne Gardenbrook, Marquess of Wildenhall, looked at his youngest sister and raised an eyebrow.
“Was that wise, Iris?”
Iris met his gaze, her own challenging.
“You know full well that it wasn’t, dear brother, and you also know that I could no more have stopped myself from taking that chance than Father could stop himself from obtaining more exotic plants.”
“Was it worth the gossip which will result?”
“Yes.”
“That certain?”
“Yes.”
“Worth it for the music, or worth it for the excuse to be scandalously close to Greenleigh?”
It took the utmost effort for Iris to keep her expression bland.
“Thorne! You know me – the music of course. Whilst I cannot deny that Lord Greenleigh is a well-made man, you know that for me, music is always the most important thing.”
“So the fact that he is accounted handsome, as well as being a skilled musician, has nothing to do with it?”
There really was no stopping Thorne when he decided to tease. Iris sighed, for truthfully, it was difficult to contend his point, when she did, very much, want to be close to Lord Greenleigh for more than just his magnificent musical ability. She forced her smile to its best false cheer.
“Perhaps ‘nothing’ is too strong a word.”
Thorne laughed softly.
“Then you will have a challenge ahead of you, if you wish to pursue that possibility. From everything I have heard, Greenleigh looks to consolidate his place amongst the ton, and in the House of Lords, but has shown virtually no interest whatsoever in the idea of women and marriage. None of us know him well, nor did anyone know his father very well. The family have been rather reclusive. The gossips were startled that he even spent time in London these last few months.”
Iris had already come to that same conclusion, and had, in her attempts to discover more about Lord Greenleigh, found almost nothing. But such things only made her more stubborn in her intentions. Far better a man about whom little was known, than one with a reputation for debauchery and gambling.
“Perhaps. But when have any of us ever allowed a challenge to stop us? And you should be grateful. Unlike all of your other sisters, I have not sought your assistance for introductions to gentlemen. I prefer to do my own choosing of whom I may consider worthwhile – even if that means that achieving introductions is sometimes a convoluted process. I shall not give you grounds to complain about my lack of appreciation.”
Thorne laughed again.
“I will just find other things to tease you about, Iris, never fear.”
“I am sure that you will. But… if you do hear anything of interest about Lord Greenleigh, you will let me know, won’t you?”
Perhaps she was foolish to ask, but her brother was often an excellent source of information, even if the price of it was being teased.
Chapter Two
Leon lifted his hands from the keys, and the last notes died away into the silence, replaced only by the soft snoring of the young woman in the next room. Through the open double door, he could see the figure of his sister Maggie, curled under the coverlet in her bed.
Mrs Withercombe crossed through his line of sight, going to close the bedroom windows for the night. The candles in that room cast it as a scene of night in a forest, the deep green of the wallpaper added to by the shades of green of the bed hangings and the coverlet, echoed by the deep carpet on the floor. Leon shuddered, turning his eyes away. He had come to hate green, as deeply as Maggie obsessively loved it. In every memory he had of her, in her descent from a healthy laughing child to the faded shell she now was, she was wrapped in green. It was her choice, and his father had indulged her, but over the years, it had become more than a simple liking, had become, instead, something which drove every part of her life.
