26. Chapter 26

Chapter twenty-six

The scream of the train whistle echoed through the station as the train itself pulled alongside the platform. Rowland puffed on a cigarette, his eyes peeled for Iris in any of the windows. The knowledge that the Crimson Devils were watching around the platform, their eyes peeled for any sign of Bishop Goddard and his boys was his only assurance. It would be foolish for them to try to start a brawl in the middle of the train station, but at this point, Rowland wasn’t putting anything past them.

In the weeks since their failed attempt to kill Declan, Goddard and his men had killed two Devils that worked in their whiskey warehouse. They also instigated a fight with Ezra and a few others in a pub they frequented, and set fire to another of the Devil’s homes.

Rowland paid back in kind—he had the police arrest the men who killed his own, and then had them killed in jail before they were tried. The ones who picked a fight with Ezra were killed on their next outing to the Irish pub that Goddard’s boys ended their days in. They planned to burn down the place, but the publican begged Rowland to spare it, as it was the only way he supported his family. Rowland warned him that allowing anymore Goddard boys inside would result in loss of the pub. He had two Devils stationed there every night, to be sure.

In retribution for the loss of his Devil man’s home, Rowland found the hotel where more than half the Goddard boys were lodging. They had foolishly picked a place Rowland owned, and he had the Devils raid it in the dead of night. Goddard lost five men that day, and the Devils escaped with only injuries. Rowland tripled the pay of the staff that took care of cleaning up.

But the fight was far from over. Rowland worried that Goddard would be coming for the people he cared about. He had two Devils stationed at the Percy’s home at all times ever since one of Goddard’s men was spotted loitering there before he was scared off. With Iris arriving, his worry expanded tenfold.

She stepped off the train looking so beautiful that for a moment, he forgot that Bishop Goddard existed. Then she beamed at him and he could hardly remember his own name, only how lucky he was to have her.

He instructed the man to his right to relieve her of her bags.

“Rowland,” she said with what sounded like comfort.

“Iris.” He encircled her in his arms and pulled her close to peck her lips.

She kissed him again, deeper and longer. While he had planned to keep any public displays of affection brief, he found he was unable to deny her. Not when she was being this sweet.

When she pulled away, she cupped his face in her hands. “Could we go to yours before you take me to Sybil’s? I’ve missed you.”

The way she stroked his cheek with her thumb, he would have signed the deed of his house over to her. “Of course.”

Taking her hand, he led her to the car and helped her inside before climbing in behind the wheel.

It occurred to him as he parked outside his front door that it was the first time Iris would be seeing his house. He wasn’t embarrassed, and he knew she had been in the Percy’s home, which was comparable in size, but there was something eating at his nerves. People rarely came to his house, even his siblings. It was his true sanctuary. And he was inviting Iris into it.

They walked into the front sitting area and Rowland shut the door, muffling the street noise outside. He helped Iris out of her coat as she glanced around, taking in his simple furniture and decor. There was a fire crackling in the hearth to keep out the autumn chill.

“This is rather cozy,” she said.

“Is that the aristocrat’s way of saying it’s small?” he joked.

“It’s small relative to say, Buckland Hall, but it’s a perfect size for just you.”

“I think there’s room for one more.”

She halted mid-stride toward the fire and she turned to gaze at him. His heart jumped into his throat at the stunned expression on her face.

“What?” she said.

“I was thinking you could come and live here,” he said, shifting his weight on his feet, feeling like a schoolboy asking a girl to dance for the first time. “If you want.”

She stared at him for a long moment.

“You could bring your lady’s maid along. My maid and my cook live next door,” he went on. “So you wouldn’t be expected to take over household chores or anything.”

She blinked. He cleared his throat.

“And you’d be closer to Sybil,” he said. “You could help her with the children when Charles is away, or visit them whenever you want. I know how much they mean to you, so—”

“Yes,” she said.

He shook his head. “Sorry?”

“Yes,” she repeated, a slow smile parting her lips. “I’m saying yes. I want to live with you.”

Relief whooshed out of him through a sigh. “Oh, thank God.”

She giggled and leapt into his arms to plant an enthusiastic kiss on his lips. He could picture his life with her in this space, and suddenly it was more than just his house. Coming back to Iris every night would be coming home.

“Fuck, I should have bought champagne,” he chuckled when they parted. “But I didn’t think you would say yes.”

A laugh burst out of her. “Are you serious?”

“I am.”

“Have you got anything else for celebrating?”

“Only one way to find out.”

He led her into the kitchen, a room Rowland had maybe spent a total of an hour in throughout the near decade he’d lived in the house. He checked the ice box, but it contained mostly meat and other perishables. He ran a hand through his hair.

“I’ve got whiskey up in my office. I’ll go get it,” he said.

“No, I’ll get it,” she replied, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Consider it my first action as lady of the house.”

He grinned. “Very well. Office is up the stairs, second door on the right.”

She kissed him. “I’ll be right back.”

He watched her jog up the stairs with a bounce to her step, and sank into the wall, his head tilting back with a sigh. Iris calling herself the lady of the house shifted something inside his chest, as if he’d been walking around all this time with his heart off center. She entered, and it all locked into place. He was impossibly lucky.

Her footsteps approaching made him look up again, but she didn’t have a bottle of whiskey in her hand. All the joy evaporated out of the room at the steely gaze she fixed on him when she held up a small black jewelry box. He inwardly cursed himself for leaving it out on his desk.

“I found this…” she said, her eyes sliding over to it, then back to his face. “And like a fool, I thought you’d gotten me a key. Lo and behold, there’s an engagement ring in here.”

His stomach churned. He bought the ring—a beautiful diamond and sapphire piece—with the hopes of proposing to her years down the road. After they lived together for a time, and he proved to her he could be the husband she deserved. A husband she truly wanted. The ice cold fury in her eyes told him she didn’t share that vision.

“Iris, let me explain—”

“Don’t bother,” she snapped, and hurled the ring box at him.

She was halfway out of the kitchen by the time he fumbled it into security within his pocket. He hurried after her and took her arm.

“Wait, Iris, you don’t understand,” he pleaded.

“I understand perfectly,” she said, whirling around. “You are the same as everyone else! All of this was just a ploy to wear me down until I agreed to marry you, wasn’t it?”

“It’s not like that, if you’ll only listen—”

“I bet you want children too!” she carried on. “Or for me to convert to Catholicism!”

“Convert to—what are you on about?”

“Was the tattoo not enough to show you that I’m committed to you?”

“That tattoo is wonderful, but the rest of the world doesn’t see it.”

She scowled. “I can’t believe I was foolish enough to believe you were better than any other man.”

She freed herself from his grasp and stormed down the hall toward the front door. Rowland followed to find her already scrambling to put her coat on.

“For years, I told myself, it was Lewis,” she muttered. “I didn’t want his children—to be his wife. But I watched my friends and family members have children in their happy marriages, and I still didn’t feel even the slightest bit envious. Once I was free of Lewis, I understood why. I have no desire to go back to the cage of marriage and chain myself down with children. My independence means more to me than anything. I cannot lose it again.”

Rowland frowned, tired of being unfairly compared to her ex-husband. If it was a fight she wanted, well…he’d certainly never backed down from one of those.

“So, you lock yourself in one cage to save yourself from another,” he said.

She gaped at him. “Have you heard nothing I just said?”

“I heard it all. And if you think that living under your brother’s protection is any more independent than being married to me, you’re dead wrong.”

“I’m a captive either way, am I? Trapped by my mere existence as a woman, doomed to depend on a man to protect me.”

“I don’t want to trap you, Iris. I want to love you.”

“Personally, I don’t see the difference.”

His jaw tightened to cover up how she shattered him. What had moments ago been secured was askew again, the pieces of his heart raining down. But he looked closer and saw that she was hurting, too. Her eyes were stony but wild. Like a wounded animal that would rather gnaw off its own paw than accept an outstretched hand, a hand that wanted to free it from a trap. So he pulled back. And he laughed coldly in her face.

“You are such a coward,” he said. “You can hide behind your first marriage all you want, Iris, but we both know what you’re really afraid of. You can’t bear the thought of giving someone the power to hurt you.”

It was the truth. And he knew he’d struck a nerve when her gaze hardened.

“And why should I?” she snarled. “How can I trust that you won’t?”

“I’ve shown you who I am. The choice to trust me is entirely yours.”

She said nothing, snatched up her suitcase, and flung the door open, slamming it shut behind her. Rowland counted to ten before following her out. She was halfway down the street, her heels pounding the pavement as she left him behind. It was all the answer he needed.

As he pulled out a cigarette, he whistled, and Basil Semmons, one of his most trusted Crimson Devils, emerged from the tree line across the street.

“Row?” he asked.

“Follow her,” Rowland said, jerking his head in Iris’s direction. “See that she makes it to the Percy’s house all right.”

Basil nodded, his scarred face disappearing beneath his flat cap, and stalked after her. Rowland took a deep drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke into the twilight air. If it was to be his final glimpse of her, he would watch Iris until she was out of sight.