3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

Iris held her compact in front of her face as the car rumbled up the gravel drive toward Buckland Hall. She couldn’t help it. This new haircut had given her such a lift, not only in her face, but in her spirit too. She looked so chic, so modern, so…liberated.

It was a feeling she never took for granted, even all these years after the divorce. There was nothing quite as satisfying as deciding for oneself without fearing the repercussions from someone else. Aunt Violet took one look at it and shunned her for the rest of her visit, and Iris didn’t mind one bit. And now that she was home, she could walk right up to her bedroom and admire herself until dinner. No one would yell. No one would throw things. No one would call her a foul name. It was heavenly.

The car came to a stop, and Iris snapped her compact closed.

“What is it, Rosier?” she asked.

“There’s a group of people by the front door, m’lady,” her chauffeur replied. “Look.”

She peered out the windshield and saw he was correct. A group of what must have been fifteen to twenty burly men had gathered, and by the shaking of their fists, she gathered that they were unhappy. She could hear the shouting from inside the car.

“What on Earth is all that about?” she wondered.

Toward the front of the crowd, she spotted two men she knew—Edward and Stuart Percy. She befriended them years ago, through Sybil’s marriage to their brother Charles, and she still visited them when she had the time. After all, their family had been farming the land on her father’s property for centuries.

“Stay here, Rosier, I’m going in,” she said, and opened the door.

Rosier scrambled out of the front to help her down, but by the time he arrived, she was already standing on the driveway, shrugging her coat back into place.

“My lady, I don’t know if it’s safe—”

“Not to worry, I have friends there,” she said. “Besides, I’ve been in far worse crowds than this. You may take my bags, though.”

Chin up, she strode toward the crowd. She pushed right through them to the front, placing herself beside Edward, who was facing off with her family’s butler, Mr. Oliver.

“I’m telling you, we won’t stand for this!” Edward shouted. “We need to speak to his lordship right away!”

“You can’t come bursting in here and demand to speak to his lordship, that isn’t how things work!” Mr. Oliver replied, keeping his arms out wide to cover the door.

“Make it work then! This is outrageous!”

“What seems to be the issue here?” she asked, glancing between them.

They all turned shocked eyes on her. Edward and Stuart softened their expressions, but the other farmers continued yelling.

“Begging your pardon, my lady, but we’ve just received our rent notice,” Edward answered. “It’s three times what we’ve been paying the last year.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “What?”

He held out a slip of paper, and she took it, eyes scanning the numbers. “This…this cannot be right. That’s far too much.”

“Exactly, my lady,” Stuart agreed. “We asked our neighbors, and theirs are much the same. It’s why we’ve come to speak to your brother.”

“I’ll speak to him,” she said, taking their hands. “Get everyone here to settle down and go home. I promise I’ll deal with my brother.”

“Thank you, Lady Iris,” Edward said.

“And if it’s not too bold of me to say,” Stuart added. “Your haircut is lovely.”

“Thank you very much,” she said, beaming as she tucked it behind her ear. She hadn’t bothered with a hat so that she could properly show it off. “Not too bold at all.”

They barked orders at the other farmers to disperse, and Oliver let Iris slip past him, but held his place until he was sure the farmers were leaving. She marched straight for her brother’s study. Tripling the rent on loyal tenants was not done without cause, and she was determined to find out what it was.

It meant trouble, that much she was sure of. Her brother was a fool in many ways. Namely doing something as obvious as raising rent at such an absurd rate, so there must be some financial strain on the estate. Iris might have understood that more after her split from Lewis, but it didn’t make sense with Hugh’s wife, Cecilia, having such a large dowry. They should all be perfectly comfortable.

“My lady, his lordship is in a meeting right now,” Mr. Oliver said, stopping her outside the door of the study.

“It can wait. My brother is making a terrible mistake,” she argued, and stepped around him. She turned the doorknob and stormed inside. “Hugh, there’s a crowd of farmers outside demanding to know why the rent has gone up at the rate it has, and I have to say I agree with them.”

She stopped halfway into the office, and it took her a moment to register what she was seeing. Her brother was on his knees, arms held behind his back by a man in a suit, long gray coat, black boots, and flat cap. Another man, similarly dressed, held a revolver out in front of him. Beneath the brim of his hat, she could make out his high cheekbones and chilling blue eyes.

She knew she should be afraid, but annoyance prickled at her skin. Whatever had caused Hugh to raise the rent had evidently gotten him in more trouble than he bargained for. She sighed, but it didn’t ease the rising irritation in her. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“What have you done now?” she asked, glowering at her brother.

Hugh held her gaze, his eyes blown wide. “Iris, I…I’m so sorry.”

She wrinkled her nose. What was he sorry for? He locked eyes with the man with the gun and nodded.

“Pleasure doing business with you, m’lord,” the man said, his voice surprisingly deep, with a thick northern accent.

The other man released Hugh, while the one with the gun holstered it, approaching Iris. He was only as tall as her, another surprise, as moments before he appeared to be towering over her brother.

“You are a pretty thing,” he said softly, those icy eyes tracking her face. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

She stepped back, realization hitting her like a brick wall. “No.”

“The deal is done.”

She ignored the man and looked past him at her brother. “Hugh!”

He refused to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry, Iris.”

Her blood ran cold. She moved to take another step back, but the man bent at the waist and scooped her over his shoulder as if she were no more than some laundry he was carrying to hang on a line. She screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Lady Iris!”

Mr. Oliver came running in, but the other man had drawn his own weapon and brandished it at the butler.

“Stay where you are, old man!” he warned, and Oliver stood down, putting his hands up.

Iris pounded on the first man’s back with her fists. “Put me down this instant! You cannot do this! I am a lady!”

He didn’t falter. His stride was sure and balanced as he carried her out of the office and toward the main staircase. She struggled harder, kicking her legs, but he only wrapped his free arm around her knees, locking her into place. She struck out at him with her elbows and fists, to no avail. She might as well have been punching a curtain for all the difference it made.

The housekeeper stood with a couple of maids, who watched with their mouths hanging open as Iris shrieked and shouted, unrelenting even as he took her up the stairs.

Iris’s strength left her as blood rushed to her head, but she refused to give in. Even if her strikes were weaker, she could still use her voice.

“Put me down!” she screamed and repeated it as rapidly as a machine gun. “Putmedown! Putmedown! Putmedown! Putmedown!”

“Stop screaming!” he shot back.

“Fuck off, I’ll scream if I want to!”

She wriggled, but couldn’t shake his grip. He reached the second floor landing, and she carried on with her commotion, determined to make this as unpleasant for him as possible.

“Where’s the nearest bedroom?” he asked.

“As if I’m telling you that, you animal!” she bit back.

She heard him sigh, and he kicked open the first door, which was a smaller study. The next, a powder room. The third door led to a guest bedroom, and he went inside, kicking the door shut as carelessly as he’d opened it. She braced herself for him to toss her unceremoniously upon the bed, but to her surprise, he set her on her feet. She stabilized herself, reared back, and slapped him with such force, his cap flew off, revealing dark hair that was shaved at the sides, but longer on top. She might have remarked on its uniqueness if she weren’t simmering with rage.

“Don’t you touch me!” she warned.

He steadied himself, rubbing his red cheek with a groan. Then he smiled, which only enraged her further.

“Listen—”

She slapped him again, on the other cheek, before he could get another word out.

“OY!” he bellowed.

“There’s more where that came from!”

“Would you settle down? I’m not gonna lay a hand on you!”

She stopped to catch her breath. Her chest heaved up and down as she glowered at him, her eyes narrowed. “You’re not?”

“No. I’ve got no interest in fucking women who don’t want me.”

“Then what is the meaning of all this?”

“Your brother just has to think I’ve taken you.”

“Why?”

“Because then he’ll owe you.”

She blinked. “I don’t understand—”

“I don’t know if you know this, but your brother is an idiot.”

She hesitated, her first instinct being to defend her brother, but considering what he’d done, she decided against it. “I’m aware.”

“He didn’t manage his accounts properly when he got his wife’s dowry, so when that was nearly gone, he made bets. Bad bets. Now, he’s in debt to me.”

That sent her mind spinning. She’d been right all along. Her ire transferred over to Hugh. Not only for offering her up, but he was fully prepared to punish the farmers for his own bad decisions. Without even considering that he’d have a full scale rebellion on his hands if he tried to see that plan through.

She folded her arms over her chest. “And who are you, exactly?”

“Rowland Sinclair,” he said, offering his hand. “We got off on the wrong foot, I’m sorry. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Iris.”

Her eyes bounced between his hand and his face. “You don’t honestly expect me to shake your hand after that performance back there, do you?”

“That performance is now your bargaining chip,” he said. “Your brother will be indebted to you because of his guilt. I’ve given you leverage.”

“I’ve known you for all of ten minutes, Mr. Sinclair, and I can tell you aren’t a man who does anything without intention. Why do you want me to have leverage?”

“Because our deal was, I’d cut his debt in half in exchange for one hour with you. I want to actually get that half of the debt back, and the way I see it, the best way to do that is with you in charge.”

“And why would you trust me any more than you do him?”

“Because I’ve seen you in action,” he said. “You don’t survive the Titanic , divorce your husband, and lead charge for the women’s votes without having a brain. And you’ve got one, Lady Iris.”

The things he knew about her made her stomach do a flip. “You’ve done your research.”

“I always do.”

“I still don’t quite understand,” she said. “You’re going to sit here for an hour, gaining nothing, and still only accept half your money back?”

“It’s that or shoot your brother dead and get none of it back.”

“And I am only collateral damage?”

“Nothing damaging is going to happen.”

“But people will think it did.”

“So?”

She rolled her eyes. “Typical man. Of course you haven’t thought of the consequences for me with this farce in play. I have a reputation, you know. I’m a lady.”

“Your brother won’t tell anyone outside of this house. The shame it’d bring on him would be too great.”

“Not greater than the shame it would bring on me.”

“I know it’s…difficult for women when these things happen, but believe me, it’d be worse for the brother who let a man like me have my way with his sister.”

“That’s what you think, but if word ever got out, I’d be ruined. Everyone will talk. No one will want to marry me—” she stopped short. “Hold on, this may be mutually beneficial.”

“There’s a good girl,” he said with a wicked smile. Now that she wasn’t fuming, she noticed how handsome it was. “We need to make it convincing though. Moan, in case they’re listening at the door.”

She swatted his arm. “You moan!”

He chuckled. “Taking the piss.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

“We should at least mess up your hair or something.”

“Absolutely not, I’ve just had it done.”

“Lady Iris, we’re staging a—”

“I know!” she cut across him, and she shrugged off her coat. “You may rip the sleeve of my dress if we really must make a show of it.”

“Your skirt would be more convincing.”

“Ugh, fine,” she scoffed.

He crouched down, took handfuls of her skirt, and with an ease that made her gasp, yanked a tear in it that went all the way to her thigh. She smacked her hand down to cover herself.

“That’s a bit much!”

“For what we’re doing?” he questioned with raised brows.

She rolled her eyes again. “Oh, all right.”

“Nice legs, though.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “Fuck. Off.”

He shot her a wolfish grin. “You keep saying you’re a lady, but you sure don’t talk like one.”

She wanted to put her own head through the wall. The nerve of this man. He was putting her through all this, he could at least have the decency to be less annoying about it.

“For God’s sake, do we have to stay in here the whole hour?” she said. “Surely, it wouldn’t take this long.”

“If you were a willing participant, it’d actually be taking much longer.”

Her mouth fell open and her stomach fluttered. “You disgusting little—”

He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a watch on the end of a gold chain. “I suppose for this, it’d be enough time, eh?”

He moved toward the door, but she grabbed his arm. “Wait. After we…do this, my brother and I get the money you’re owed and then you leave us alone for good, right? That’s the deal?”

“That’s the deal. Believe me, we won’t let your brother gamble with us again.”

“And…you’ll stay away until we get the money?”

“Oh, no,” he laughed. “I’ll be around to make sure things are coming along. Plus, I wouldn’t mind getting another glimpse of those legs.”

Her face got hot again. “You’re impossible.”

He opened the door and gestured for her to walk ahead of him. She swept out of the room and started further down the hall.

“Tell my brother, I’m going to get changed, and I’ll speak to him later.”

“All right,” Rowland agreed. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

She raised a brow. “For what?”

“Your leverage.”