12. Chapter 12

Chapter twelve

June, 1920

The last place Iris wanted to be was in Rowland’s sister’s shop. But Sybil had a fitting for the dress she ordered to wear to Iris’s upcoming birthday party. And Iris found it difficult to explain why she wanted to avoid members of the Sinclair family. Even though it had been three weeks since she saw Rowland and threw herself at him, her face burned with shame every time she thought about it. And Jo was a continuous reminder of him—she had the same bright blue eyes, sharp features, and dark curls as her brother.

“If you want, we can take the waist in some,” Jo said, her voice in stark contrast to Rowland’s. She had none of that gruff edge. “Show off the baby bump.”

Sybil’s cheeks reddened. “Oh, I don’t think it’d be proper.”

“Don’t concern yourself with that, Sybil. You should be proud of your status as a mother,” Iris said. “It’s ridiculous that men demand we bear them children, but hide the evidence of it while we do.”

“She’s right,” Jo agreed with a soft smile that was also alarmingly akin to Rowland’s. “And you’re carrying beautifully.”

“Thank you, but I’m not that bold,” Sybil said. “Even if I agree with the idea, I’ll be even bigger by the party.”

“We’ll keep it loose then. The most important thing is that you’re comfortable.” Jo knelt down and folded the bottom of the dress up to Sybil’s calf. “Is this a good length for the hem?”

“Oh, yes, that’s lovely.”

Iris offered her agreement, but at that moment, the bell above the door jingled as it swung open. A woman about her age—perhaps a few years older—entered, a dress draped over her arm. She wore a simple day dress and hat, beneath which her mousy brown hair was cut into a bob. Her pale cheeks were covered in rouge. She offered Iris a red lipsticked smile before heading toward the counter.

“All right if I drop this off, Jo?”

Jo stood up and swept her hair out of her face. “Oh, hello, Lizzie. Sure, you can leave it. Anything drastic?”

“No, just a customer angry he had to pay upfront,” Lizzie said. “Started to try to do things by force before I told him where I live. He left me well enough alone after that, but the dress is still torn.”

Jo frowned. Now the resemblance to her brother was uncanny. She glanced at Sybil and Iris. “Pardon me a moment, ladies.”

She strode over to the counter and spoke lower, but Iris could still hear.

“What was the man’s name?” Jo asked.

Lizzie shrugged. “John, same as all the rest.”

“You know Rowland will step in if—”

“I know, and really if I knew anything about the man, I’d say something, but I don’t, so I can’t.”

“Is there anything you remember that could identify him? Even something small?”

“I know he was Irish, but nothing more. And even that might have been fake.”

Jo sighed. “I’ll pass it along to Row and Ezra, anyway. They won’t let you and the other girls be mistreated, not on their watch.”

“I know. We all know, and we’re grateful to them.”

The pieces came together for Iris. Lizzie was a prostitute, and like many in her profession, ran into trouble at work. But Jo’s words indicated that Rowland and his family protected women like Lizzie from customers who treated them poorly. A stunningly progressive notion, considering how most men viewed them. And it made one thing abundantly clear to Iris—Rowland meant it when he said he believed in her cause.

She had begun work on restoring the schoolhouse, but so far, only had gotten it inspected and put together an estimate for the cost of repairs. She would need to take it one fix at a time in order to keep it financially stable, but the prospect had her excited. Hearing Lizzie, she wondered if she might open the shelter beyond women seeking refuge from abusive husbands. Perhaps it could be a safe place for women like Lizzie too. Iris made a mental note to ask Rowland how he went about protecting these women and how she could help. That is, if she could ever muster up the courage to look him in the face again.

“Never mind,” she muttered under her breath.

“Pardon?” Sybil asked.

“Nothing,” Iris answered quickly. “Just…you really do look lovely.”

Sybil flushed as she glanced back at herself in the mirror. “I don’t think I’ve worn anything this nice since I borrowed your evening gown.”

Iris smiled fondly at the memory. It was aboard Titanic , and Sybil was going to meet Charles for the evening, but her dress had gotten dirty. She had changed into her old house maid’s dress, but Iris refused to let her go out in that. Instead, she offered up one of her own gowns, and Sybil wore it beautifully.

“It’s a shame that dress was lost,” Iris said with a shake of her head. “Especially the way Charles looked at you in it.”

“How did he look at me?”

“Let’s just say that if a man ever looked at me that way, I might have to reconsider my stance on never marrying again.”

Sybil giggled. “He was rather smitten, wasn’t he?”

“Smitten is a vast understatement.”

Sybil’s smile faded. “I know you don’t want to marry again, Iris, and I understand why, but…I hope you know I pray for you to find your happiness. You deserve to be loved. By someone who is beyond smitten with you too.”

Iris’s chest constricted as the memory of Rowland’s eyes surged to the front of her mind. The intensity of them, the passion of them. She kept telling herself she’d been caught up in the moment, her feelings swayed by the way he put Lewis in his place. But when she took the time and thought about it, she knew. Rowland’s eyes had been on her since the day they met. Now that they were gone, she felt their absence. And it made her ache.

“Thank you, Sybil,” she said, patting her hand. “I won’t hold my breath, though.”

Sybil started to reply, but Jo reappeared.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “Where were we?”

“The hem,” Sybil reminded her.

“Oh, yes. I do think that length suits you.”

She crouched down and began to pin the rest of the skirt in place. Iris gazed out the window and watched Lizzie disappear down the street, her shoulders back and her chin up. Iris marveled at the confidence that Rowland instilled in the women around him. He had even encouraged Iris. Until he rejected her, of course.

“So, what’s the special occasion?” Jo asked, glancing up at Sybil.

“It’s Lady Iris’s birthday,” Sybil answered.

Jo’s eyes slid over to Iris.

“I must know,” she said, plucking a pin from the cushion around her wrist and driving it into the fabric. “Are you the same Lady Iris my brother bought a schoolhouse for?”

Iris blanched, fixing her eyes on the floor to avoid Sybil’s questioning gaze. “I—yes, that’s me.”

“I only ask because I run the family finances,” Jo went on. “I saw the purchase on a statement and I saw whose name he put on the deed.”

“I assure you, you’ll be repaid in full. Mr. Sinclair and I worked it all out, and eventually it’ll be my own.”

Jo rose up and raised a gentle hand, easing Iris’s worry with a smile. “Not to worry. I know my brother, and he’d never buy something that he wouldn’t get a return on. I was only curious because he’s rather taken with you.”

Sybil’s eyes were boring in Iris, but she fixed her gaze on Jo. “Taken with me?”

“He finds any excuse to go to Yorkshire these days. And my daughter, Claire—she came with him for the tour of your estate—she said he’s always looking at you, even when you aren’t looking at him. I brushed that off at first, but when he bought the building, I began to wonder.”

Iris swallowed hard. “Did he tell you about his business with my brother?”

“He did, but I’m no longer convinced that’s the reason for his visits.”

“I…” Iris trailed off, her face burning. Her bruised ego longed to hear that she was the reason for his visits, even if he had stated his intentions of winning her over. Turning her down that day made her question all of it. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Rowland has never shown interest in a woman,” Jo said. “Not real interest, anyway. And now, he has—quite literally—invested in you.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, but I want to make sure he’s not putting his heart somewhere he won’t get a return either. He’s not as savvy about those matters.”

Iris blinked. Rowland teased and joked about winning her over, and all this time, she’d assumed it meant getting her into bed. She never dreamed his feelings were genuine. Was Jo right? Rowland was offering her more than the schoolhouse? If that was the case, could she accept it? She shook her head.

“I have no intentions of hurting him,” she said firmly.

Jo nodded. “Good to know.”

Finally, Iris locked eyes with Sybil, who appeared as if she was about to burst. She held Iris’s gaze as she silently mouthed, “What is going on?”

“Later,” Iris answered, equally silent.

As they made their way back to Sybil’s home, Iris told her everything. From the moment they met to his purchase of the schoolhouse and their confrontation with Lewis. They stopped on the front stoop, Sybil tapping her chin thoughtfully.

“I think you’re right,” she said. “Smitten is an understatement.”