Page 5 of A Rogue for Christmas
Seaford actually paled. “Iris? Devil take it, Lily is going to kill me if we don’t turn you out right now.”
Wentworth raised one shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I don’t expect I’ll be here long.”
Seaford’s entire demeanor changed. He rose to his feet and took a menacing step closer. “If you’re thinking about defiling her and leaving, I’m going to have to call you out right now.”
Wentworth held up his hands. “No, stop. That came out all wrong. But the damned woman has been in my thoughts since the season ended, and I need to exorcise her.” He shook his head, hating that he had to explain himself to these two men, but he couldn’t be turned out before seeing this thing through. “I’m sure a conversation or two will be enough to show me she’s just another silly and frivolous young woman. I just caught her in a serious moment. After speaking to her again, I’ll be able to set aside my curiosity about her.”
Thornton actually laughed. “Clearly you don’t know Iris if that’s what you think.”
Seaford shook his head. “Iris might be young, but she has a level head on her shoulders. All the Rowland women do. It’s unsettling.”
Wentworth frowned, pushing back the doubt that was beginning to creep in. He’d already started on this course of action and must continue. “Duly noted. Am I allowed to leave this room now?”
Thornton let out a resigned sigh. “Just know that we’re watching you.”
Wentworth inclined his head, accepting the inevitable scrutiny. He would expect nothing less and would deal with their overprotective behavior for his short stay.
CHAPTER3
Iris left her bedchamber and made her way downstairs.
She was always late getting started whenever she had to travel. The trip to her cousin Celia’s home wasn’t a long one, so the carriage ride hadn’t been overly strenuous. But she hadn’t been able to sleep last night because of her excitement.
She wandered down to the drawing room, where she could hear voices floating out into the hall. She hesitated a moment outside, listening to the excited murmurs. She caught giggles and only snippets of whispers.Can’t believe he’s here… He never attends house parties… Do you think he’s planning on settling down…
The speculation sparked her curiosity. Hoping to find someone she knew, she stepped into the room.
The space was filled with many of the female guests who were clustered together on the settee or standing in groups. They all seemed to be talking about this mysterious guest.
Iris’s curiosity was engaged. Her thoughts immediately flew to the man she’d met near the end of the season in London. Lord Wentworth. His arrival at such an event would surely spark this level of speculation among all the women, both young and old. But Wentworth would never attend a Christmas house party in the country.
From everything she’d heard about the man, he was a confirmed rakehell. And the way he’d gone from complimenting her to heading off with a buxom woman into the bowels of the garden, a wicked smirk on her face, had set her blood boiling.
No, he would never attend such an event, which was exactly to her liking because she never wanted to see him again.
Her eyes swept over the room and settled on the two women she wanted to see, who were clustered by the window. Her sister Lily and her cousin Celia.
They met her gaze, and she smiled in greeting, but before she took even one step in their direction, the air in the room changed abruptly. Whispers were silenced, and everyone turned to look at her.
She took in their wide eyes and gaping expressions. A few quickly covered their surprise, while others continued to stare at her avidly as though they’d never seen her before.
She looked down at her dress, wondering if something was amiss, but could see nothing wrong. Then she lifted a hand to her hair. She’d pinned it up carefully after waking from her nap. Had it come loose?
“I think they’re staring at me. You, as always, are impeccable and lovely.”
She froze, shock washing over her at the voice coming from over her left shoulder. No, she was imagining things.
Slowly, half expecting to discover that she was still in bed and was, in fact, dreaming, she shifted to the left and met Lord Wentworth’s amused expression.
“I’m dreaming.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Would she even remember this when she woke up? She rarely remembered her dreams. How often had Wentworth invaded her thoughts while she was sleeping?
One corner of his mouth quirked up into that smirk that had so unsettled her when they met.
“I can’t fault you for thinking so, but I am very real.”
She was about to reach out and pinch him but in the end decided it would be best to pinch her own arm. With all the eyes on them now, it wouldn’t do to be caught touching the man in the unlikely event this was actually happening.
She squeezed her fingers together over the skin of her forearm and twisted, then winced at the spark of pain.
