5. Chapter 5

Chapter five

Unable to stand being around her brother, Iris left Buckland Hall and headed for Liverpool to visit Sybil. Hugh made several efforts to talk to her—to apologize—but she ignored him. She needed time for her anger to fade before she got answers from him, and that was best done away from the house.

While Sybil wrangled her children into the sitting room to play with their gifts from London, Iris poured and prepared their tea. The first time she did it, Sybil tried to take over, but Iris firmly reminded her they were no longer servant and mistress. They were truly friends, on equal footing. And she was more than happy to pour tea for her friend. The years, and occupation with children, had relieved Sybil of any further worries about impropriety.

“What do you say to Auntie Iris for the gifts she brought you?” Sybil said with soft admonishment.

“Thank you,” Effie and John replied in chorus.

“You’re quite welcome, darlings,” Iris told them. “I hope you enjoy them.”

Sybil finally took a seat, resting a hand on her slowly swelling belly. Child number three was on their way, though it would be months yet.

“And how are you feeling?” Iris asked.

“All right,” Sybil said. “This time around, I’m much more tired than I was with those two.”

“You are growing a child while caring for two others. That’s bound to be exhausting.”

“It is, rather.”

Sybil tossed her long braid of chocolate brown hair over her shoulder so it hung down her back. She leaned forward to pick up her tea.

“By the way, your haircut is lovely,” she said before taking a sip. “I love the modern look, I wish I was bold enough to wear it.”

“Thank you.” Iris smiled. “And you are bold enough, even if you don’t believe it.”

Sybil only offered a tired smile in return. “What are you up to these days?”

“I helped out at the fundraiser for Titanic survivors in London.”

“Oh, I heard about that. How’d it go?”

“About as well as it could. Ada Murdoch’s speech was far more moving than mine, but that was to be expected.”

“How is she?”

“From what I can see, she’s doing quite well. She’s still broken-hearted about her husband, of course, but held herself together most impressively.”

“And after the war, I’m sure even more could empathize with her,” Sybil said with a sigh. “I still shudder to think what life would be like if Charles hadn’t made it.”

“I don’t think God Himself could take Charles away from you at this point.”

Sybil chuckled and opened her mouth to respond, but a knock on the door interrupted.

“I’ll get it,” she said. “Will you watch the children for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Sybil disappeared down the hall. Iris tried to listen for who the visitor might be, but Effie was already tugging on her hand.

“Auntie Iris, let’s play hide and seek,” she said.

“Very well,” Iris agreed. “Shall I count first?”

Effie and John nodded in unison. Iris grinned and then faced the wall, covering her eyes with her hands.

“One, two, three…”

The children giggled and thundered up the stairs. Iris counted to sixty—the house wasn’t large enough that they would need more than a minute to secure a hiding spot. If they were at Buckland Hall, it would be one thing, but the town house had a limited number of places to hide. Once she finished, she followed them to the second floor. On the landing, she listened for any giggles or stray footsteps, but heard nothing. To make a show of true seeking, she glanced out the window. The sight made her blood run cold.

Standing outside Sybil’s door was Rowland Sinclair. She’d recognize that flat cap and those cheekbones from anywhere. He flicked away his cigarette, and to Iris’s horror, Sybil let him inside. The game forgotten, she flew down the stairs.

When she reached the kitchen, she was panting, and the sight was as she feared. Rowland sat at Sybil’s table, a steaming cup of tea in front of him, and speaking to her as if they were friends. Her eyes flicked to the bow pinned to his lapel. She wondered why a man of his nature would wear something that appeared to be made by a child, but she reminded herself that she didn’t care about his personal life. She refused to ask about it.

“What the devil are you doing here?” she demanded instead.

“Hello to you too, Lady Iris,” Rowland replied.

“Hold on, how do you two know each other?” Sybil asked, glancing between them .

“How do you two know each other?” Iris shot back.

Rowland, with that infuriating smirk he had, gestured between Iris and Sybil. “And, uh, how do you two know each other, eh?”

“Sybil was my lady’s maid for many years,” Iris said. She rounded on Sybil. “Explain.”

Sybil, bemused, spoke right away. “Mr. Sinclair was kind enough to pay for John’s medicine at the pharmacy the other day. He stopped by to see how John was getting on.”

“Where is the boy anyway?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Iris answered.

Sybil blanched. “You don’t?”

“We’re playing hide and seek. That is the point of the game, after all.”

“Oh, thank God,” Sybil said, placing a hand to her chest. “All right, now you two.”

“He—”

“Her brother and I are in business,” he cut across Iris. “I paid the earl a visit as Lady Iris was getting back from her trip to London.”

“Do not interrupt me again,” Iris warned. She looked at Sybil. “Hugh has taken a recent interest in horse racing, so—”

“And boxing.”

“What did I just say?” she snapped.

He put his hands up in innocence. Iris shot him a glare before she cleared her throat and continued.

“And boxing, apparently. Mr. Sinclair’s bookies took Hugh’s bets.”

She hated lying to Sybil, but she wasn’t sure how much Sybil already knew about Rowland. Judging by the bewildered expression on her face, Iris guessed it wasn’t much. At least, Sybil didn’t know the depth of his business. And why should she? Sybil was an innocent, upstanding captain’s wife. What went on in the seedy underbelly of Liverpool should make no difference in her life. Which was why it bothered Iris so much to see him there.

Sybil’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t realize Lord Pembleton was much of a gambler.”

“As I said, it’s a recent development,” Iris said.

Sybil didn’t look quite convinced, but dropped the subject. “Well, Iris, why don’t you join us for some tea?”

“I should find the children.”

“I’ll help you,” Rowland said, getting to his feet. “Not to boast, but I am excellent at hide and seek. Especially seeking.”

“I bet you are,” Iris said, half to herself.

“What’s that?” Sybil asked.

“Nothing,” Iris assured her. “I’ll leave it to Sybil. After all, I wouldn’t want to invite a stranger to go snooping around her home.”

Rowland looked at Sybil, who locked eyes with Iris. Behind him, Iris subtly shook her head no. She tried to mouth that Sybil should send him away, but Sybil turned her attention back toward Rowland.

“All right, I suppose,” she said, and Iris bit back a furious groan. “Any friend of the Pembleton’s is a friend of mine. Besides, I really must get supper on before Charles gets home. Will you be staying, Mr. Sinclair?”

Iris briefly considered grabbing her best friend by shoulders and shaking her. Couldn’t she see that this man was dangerous? What was she thinking by inviting him to dinner? Even if he did do something kind for John, that didn’t earn him a spot at their table.

“No, thank you, Mrs. Percy, but I’ve got business this evening,” Rowland said to Iris’s relief.

“Business at this hour?” Sybil asked.

“I don’t exactly keep regular hours in my line of work.”

“Gambling?”

“No, my primary business is textiles,” he told her, and Iris barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “My sister is Jo Brisley, you may know her shop.”

“Oh, yes, I have heard she makes wonderful dresses, but I don’t get over to that side of town much. And I do most of my own mending for small things.”

“Here,” Rowland said, pulling out a card from his pocket and handing it to Sybil. “Next time there’s a special occasion, go see her and show her this. She’ll give you the family discount on a wonderful dress for you.”

Sybil’s mouth fell open. “Mr. Sinclair, I—”

“Come along, Lady Iris, let’s find those children before they start thinking you’ve abandoned them,” he cut across her, climbing up the stairs.

Iris followed him with a scowl. What was he playing at? She found him in the hallway, hands in his pockets, his blue-eyed gaze expectant as she approached.

“What exactly do you hope to gain by being kind to Sybil?” she demanded.

“Would you believe me if I said your favor?” he returned.

She put her hand on her hip and cocked an eyebrow.

“I didn’t think so,” he chuckled, and paused for a beat. “You and Sybil are awfully close to be former employee and employer.”

“Sybil is my dearest friend,” Iris said. “She did more for me than any lady’s maid should even be asked.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

Iris hesitated for a moment, and she prepared to dismiss him.

“She put herself between me and my ex-husband when he struck me,” she said, and her gaze dropped, surprised at herself by saying it. She couldn’t tell him the true extent of everything Sybil had done, but she felt the need to justify their friendship. To prove she was more than what he thought she was. She pressed on, the memory coming forward like a wave. “While we were on Titanic . We’d been having a row and things got…heated. It’s funny, I hardly remember the things he said or how badly it hurt when his hand met my cheek. But I remember staring at the back of her and thinking I had no person in the world who cared for me like she did. Like she still does.”

“So, that’s why you lied.”

Her eyes found his again. “After that moment, I swore I’d always keep her safe. Now, that includes protecting her from you.”

He held her gaze. “Believe me, Iris, if she is dear to you the last person she needs protection from is me.”

Her whole body warmed from her chest out. When had he gotten so close? His face was mere inches from hers. If she craned her neck, it would only take a dip of his chin to kiss her.

“What do you—”

“Shh.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What did I tell you about—”

“Interrupting you? I know, I shouldn’t, but listen.”

She held back her scathing retort and strained her ears. Down the hall, she heard the faint sound of giggles.

“The children,” he said, voice low.

She frowned. “Lady.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“It’s Lady Iris. You and I are not friends, you do not get to address me with such familiarity.”

He smirked. “Excuse me, your majesty—”

“No, Lady Iris or my lady, and stop laughing.”

“I’m sorry, but you people are ridiculous. Insisting on all these titles and—”

“They’re earned!”

“They are not earned, they’re given to you the moment you’re born, before you’ve ever done anything. And by the way, I don’t like being interrupted any more than you do.”

“You are being deliberately obtuse.”

“And you are being deliberately obnoxious.”

Her face burned. His amused expression only made her angrier, so she turned on her heel and stormed down the hall toward the back bedroom where they’d heard the giggles. It was also where Iris usually stayed during her visits. Her trunk was still downstairs, as Sybil insisted they wait for Charles to get home to carry it up. At the window, a pair of small, oxford clad feet stuck out at the bottom of the curtain.

Letting her anger out through a long exhale, she walked around the room.

“Hmmm,” she said theatrically. “Where in the world could John be?”

He snickered, and she heard the smack of skin on skin, so he must have covered his mouth. A similar sound came from under the bed. Effie, of course.

“I wonder if Effie is somewhere nearby,” Iris went on, and there was a shuffle from the little girl’s hiding spot.

To Iris’s irritation Rowland appeared in the doorway. He raised his arm and leaned against the frame.

“We just keep ending up in bedrooms together, eh?” he teased.

Her chest tightened. She spoke quietly. “Don’t say things like that in front of—” she stopped short and nodded toward the curtain.

A flicker of recognition went over his face. He cleared his throat. “So, have you found them yet?”

“No, I think they’re too clever for us, Mr. Sinclair.”

“Oh, yes, much too clever.”

The children giggled again. He stepped closer, so close that his breath graced her cheek. She held back a shiver from running up her spine.

“Where’s the girl?” he whispered.

“Under the bed,” she breathed back.

“Okay, I’ll get her, you get John. On the count of three, you pull back the curtain and I’ll get down where she can see me. Yeah?”

She blinked slowly at him. “All right.”

He moved away. Of its own accord, her body swayed toward the space he’d left, as if chasing his warmth. Gathering herself, she headed back toward the window. She glanced over her shoulder to where Rowland stood by the bed, and he held up three fingers, counting down by mouthing the numbers. On one, Iris yanked back the curtain to reveal John. Rowland dropped to the floor.

“Gotcha!” they cried in unison.

Both John and Effie shrieked with mirth.

“What took you so long?” Effie asked as she crawled out and Rowland helped her to her feet.

“Mr. Sinclair came to visit, so I got sidetracked,” Iris said.

“Hope you two remember me,” Rowland added.

“From the pharmacy, yeah,” Effie replied. “John is feeling much better.”

“It’s true, I am,” John said.

“You look it, mate,” Rowland told him as he got to his feet. “Now, you two better go count, and Lady Iris and I can find somewhere dark and quiet to hide.”

He shot her a wink, and she recoiled.

“Have you lost your actual mind?” she snapped.

“Worth a shot.”

“As long as it took you to find us, we’d have to give you lots of seconds to hide,” Effie said.

“Think we’d be gone for a while, eh?” Rowland asked, raising an eyebrow at Iris. “Probably right.”

“Children, why don’t you go down and help your mother with dinner?” Iris suggested, but her tone indicated it was not up for debate.

After glancing between the two adults, they scampered out of the room and down the stairs.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Iris demanded. “Innuendo in front of children? Are you truly incapable of controlling yourself or are you that desperate to get a rise out of me?”

“It’s your fault, you’re the one who gets more gorgeous when you’re angry.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she groaned, rolling her eyes before pushing past him out of the room.

“I’ll win you over, Lady Iris,” he said, following her into the hallway.

She turned to face him with a raised brow and a skeptical smirk. “You’re extorting my brother for money, Mr. Sinclair. That’s hardly a foundation for winning me over.”

“Perhaps not. But if that hasn’t made it clear already…I’m a man who gets what I want.”

She jerked her chin up. “Not this time.”

With that, she returned downstairs.