12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

L ady Iris stood before her mirror, her fingers trembling slightly as she soothed the delicate folds of her new lavender gown. The garden party awaited, each tick of the mantel clock a reminder of the impending social gauntlet. She closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath to calm her racing heart.

In her mind's eye, she saw the gardens of Rosewood Manor transformed. Delicate china teacups would clink against saucers, while the murmur of polite conversation would mingle with the rustling of silk and taffeta. She imagined the scrutiny of watchful eyes, the carefully crafted compliments, and the subtle jockeying for position that would unfold beneath a veneer of civility.

Iris opened her eyes, meeting her own gaze in the mirror. She straightened her shoulders, steeling herself. The young woman staring back at her seemed a stranger, poised and proper, yet beneath the carefully cultivated exterior, her heart raced with dread .

The garden party represented more than just an afternoon of socializing; it was a stage upon which her future might be decided, where alliances could be formed or broken with a single misplaced word.

Would Lord Thornbrook attend? The thought sent a flutter through her chest. She closed her eyes again, recalling the intensity of their last music lesson, the way his stormy gaze had lingered on her hands as she played. The memory of his deep voice offering guidance and praise made her cheeks flush.

A sharp rap at the door startled her from her reverie.

"Iris!" Lady Rosier's voice called. "Do come down at once. There's still much to be done before the guests arrive."

Iris took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Coming, Mama," she called, casting one last glance at her reflection before hurrying out.

Downstairs, servants scurried about their tasks. In the grand hall, footmen balanced precariously atop ladders, polishing the crystal chandeliers until they sparkled like diamonds. The scents of beeswax and lemon oil pervaded the air, a testament to the vigorous cleaning underway.

In the kitchens, cooks barked orders as underfoot men rushed by with trays laden with gleaming silverware. Outside, gardeners groomed the immaculate lawns while footmen arranged tables and chairs. Every surface gleamed, from the polished silverware to the sparkling champagne coupes awaiting their contents.

Iris found herself swept up in the preparations, directing the placement of chairs and overseeing the arrangement of refreshments.

She couldn't help but imagine Lord Thornbrook's arrival as she worked. Would he seek her out? Would they have a chance to speak privately? Her heart raced at the possibility, even as she chided herself for such improper thoughts.

Lady Rosier's voice carried across the lawn, interrupting Iris's musings. "Now, Iris," she said, approaching with a gleam in her eye, "I trust you'll pay special attention to Lord Ainsworth today. He's been most attentive, and it would do well to encourage him."

Iris felt her heart sink. "Yes, Mama," she murmured, her thoughts straying once more to Lord Thornbrook. How could she focus on Edgar when Horatio might be in attendance?

"I mean it, Iris," Lady Rosier pressed, her voice low and urgent. "Lord Ainsworth is a fine match."

Iris nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She knew her mother meant well, but the thought of encouraging Lord Ainsworth's attentions when her heart belonged to another felt dishonest.

As the first carriages began to arrive, Iris took her place beside her parents, a polite smile on her face. She greeted each guest with practiced charm, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of dark hair and stormy eyes.

At last, she saw him. Lord Thornbrook cut a striking figure as he descended from his carriage, his dark coat starkly contrasting with the colorful array of ladies' gowns. Their eyes met across the lawn, and Iris felt her breath catch in her throat. Even from a distance, the intensity of his gaze made her pulse quicken.

As his carriage pulled away, Iris found herself momentarily adrift. She turned, intending to rejoin her mother, when she caught sight of another approaching carriage. Her heart sank as she recognized the Ainsworth family crest emblazoned on its side.

The ladies nearby seemed to straighten, their fans fluttering with increased vigor. Lord Ainsworth descended with his characteristic grace, easy smile, and charming demeanor, drawing admiring glances from those assembled .

His contrasted sharply with Lord Thornbrook's brooding presence as he made his way through the gathering crowd, stopping to exchange pleasantries with various guests.

Iris found herself torn, her eyes darting between the two men. Lord Thornbrook stood apart, his dark figure cutting a solitary path through the colorful throng. On the other hand, Lord Ainsworth seemed to draw people to him like moths to a flame, his laughter ringing across the lawn.

"Lady Iris," Lord Ainsworth said as he approached her.

With Lord Thornbrook's intense gaze still burning in her memory, she turned to greet his cousin, summoning a warm smile. As she extended her hand, she was acutely aware of the expectations weighing upon her—her mother's hopes, society's judgments, and her own conflicted heart.

Lord Ainsworth brought her hand to his lips in a courtly gesture. "You outshine even the lovely flowers in your garden today."

Iris felt a blush rise to her cheeks, partly from the compliment and partly from the guilt that twisted in her stomach. "You're too kind, Lord Ainsworth," she replied, her voice steady despite her inner turmoil.

As she spoke, Iris could feel Lord Thornbrook's piercing eyes burning into her skin, even though he stood across the lawn. She found herself caught in an intricate dance, trying to give Lord Ainsworth the attention propriety demanded while her traitorous eyes kept seeking out Lord Thornbrook's dark figure.

It wasn't long before Lord Thornbrook appeared at their side, his face hard as usual.

"Edgar. Lady Iris."

"Horatio, cousin," said Lord Ainsworth, clapping Thornbrook on the shoulder. "It's good to see you venturing into society once more."

A flicker of something—annoyance, perhaps?—crossed Lord Thornbrook's face before his usual mask of indifference settled back into place. "Yes, well," he drawled, "I found I couldn't refuse Lady Iris's kind invitation."

As the party progressed, Iris was constantly aware of Lord Thornbrook's presence. It seemed that no matter where she turned, he was there—a dark, brooding figure at the edges of her vision. She engaged in conversation with other guests, laughed at their jokes, and played the perfect hostess, all while feeling the magnetic pull of his gaze.

The ebb and flow of the gathering conspired to bring them together time and again: a shared glance across a crowded table, a brief exchange of words as they passed in the garden. No matter how fleeting, each encounter left Iris's heart racing and her mind reeling.

In one such moment, Iris reached for a glass of lemonade just as Lord Thornbrook did the same. Their fingers brushed; the brief contact sent a thrill that shot up her spine, and she had to suppress a gasp. She pulled back quickly, her cheeks flushing, but the sensation of his skin against hers lingered.

As she glanced up, their eyes met, and in that moment, Iris felt as though the rest of the world had fallen away. There was a look of longing in his eyes and an understanding between them, a shared passion that went beyond music.

These stolen moments accumulated throughout the afternoon, fueling the fire burning within Iris's heart. A casual brush of his shoulder against hers as they walked through a crowded pathway. Meeting each other's eyes from across the distance. Each incident, seemingly innocent to outside observers, had meaning known only to them.

During a lively discussion about the latest gossip, Iris stood near Lord Thornbrook. Though they didn't speak directly, she could feel the unspoken words. She could feel the warmth of his body, so close yet impossibly far.

Before long, Iris began to feel the strain of maintaining her social facade. The constant smiling and polite small talk began to take their toll. Her feet ached from hours of standing and walking, and she longed for a moment of respite, a brief escape from the watchful eyes of the Ton.

Noticing a lull in the steady stream of guests seeking her attention, Iris seized the opportunity to slip away. She made her way towards the rose arbor, a secluded spot at the garden's edge where she hoped to find a moment's peace.

As she approached, her heart skipped a beat. There, standing amidst the fragrant blooms, was Lord Thornbrook. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, their eyes meeting in a moment of unspoken longing.

Without consciously deciding to do so, Iris found her feet carrying her in his direction. The noise of the party seemed to fade with each step she took towards him. As she approached, she breathed in the sweet scent of blooming roses.

"Lady Iris," he said softly, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine.

"Lord Thornbrook," she replied, her own voice barely above a whisper. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"No, of course not," he shrugged. "I…I couldn't stand the crowd. You see, I am not used to gatherings like this. For years, I have avoided them."

With curiosity, Iris weighed her following words. "If I may ask…what has changed now? You haven't missed a single event lately."

Lord Thornbrook looked away momentarily, and Iris wondered if she had overstepped. As she was about to apologize, he said, "Perhaps, My Lady, I have found something worth attending them for…or rather, someone."

Iris felt her breath catch. She stood there with her mouth parted as his words sank in. Someone, meaning her. She didn't know what to say.

Suddenly, an idea struck her. Perhaps an impulsive one, but she could find no other way to make this less awkward.

"My Lord," Iris said softly, "might I persuade you to favor us with a musical performance? Our guests would most appreciate your talent."

Lord Thornbrook raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I'm not in the habit of performing on command, Lady Iris."

"Please," she pressed. "For me?"

Something shifted in his gaze, a warmth that made Iris's heart race. "Very well," he conceded. "But only because you ask it of me."

As Lord Thornbrook made his way to the music room, Iris couldn't help but notice the way his presence seemed to part the crowd. Whispers followed in his wake. She overheard snippets of conversation, some expressing excitement at the prospect of hearing the reclusive Earl play, others muttering about how unusual his presence was.

Iris followed at a discreet distance, her anticipation building with each step. As she stood outside the music room alongside the rest of the guests, she saw Lord Thornbrook seated at the piano, his fingers hovering over the keys. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then his eyes met hers, and he began to play.

The first notes rang out, silencing the chatter of the party. Iris closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her. It was a piece she had never heard, haunting and beautiful in its complexity. Each note seemed to speak directly to her soul, evoking emotions she scarcely knew how to name .

As the music swelled, Iris found herself transported. She imagined herself and Lord Thornbrook alone in the music room, away from society's eyes and the chains of expectation. In her mind's eye, she saw him rise from the piano, crossing the room to take her in his arms. The fantasy was so vivid that she half-expected to find it real when she opened her eyes.

Instead, she saw Lord Thornbrook still at the piano, his eyes closed in concentration as his fingers danced across the keys. She found herself surrounded by guests, all eager to listen to Lord Thornbrook play.

The raw emotion in his playing was evident to all, and Iris felt a surge of pride, knowing she had persuaded him to share his gift.

As she listened, Iris observed the reactions of those around her. Some seemed moved by the beauty of the music, their eyes misting with unshed tears. Others appeared uncomfortable as if the raw emotion of the piece was too much to bear. Lord Edgar Ainsworth stood to the side, his brow furrowed as he watched his cousin play.

When the last notes faded away, there was a moment of profound silence before polite applause broke out. Iris found herself moving towards the piano, drawn by an irresistible force.

Lord Thornbrook still sat at the piano, his fingers resting lightly on the keys. "That was... extraordinary," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lord Thornbrook turned to face her, his eyes intense. "I composed it for you," he said so quietly only she could hear him.

Iris felt her heart skip a beat. "For me?" she repeated, scarcely daring to believe it.

He nodded, rising from the piano bench. "Every note, every phrase... it was all inspired by you, Iris."

The use of her Christian name, so thrilling, sent a ripple of excitement that traveled down her spine. "My Lord," she murmured, savoring the feel of his title on her lips.

They stood there for a moment. Iris found herself wanting to reach out, to close the distance between them, propriety be damned. She could see the same desire reflected in Lord Thornbrook's eyes, and for a breathless moment, she thought he might do it, but then she remembered they were not alone.

"We should return to the party," Lord Thornbrook said at last to the assembled guests, though he made no move to leave.

Iris nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As the guests returned to the gardens, Iris and Horatio had no choice but to follow. Iris felt as though she were walking in a dream, her mind still filled with the echoes of his music.

They found a secluded spot near the edge of the garden, away from the prying eyes of the other guests. The sounds of the party seemed distant here, muffled by the thick foliage surrounding them.

"Tell me," Lord Thornbrook said, his voice low and intense, "what did you think of the piece? Truly?"

Iris took a deep breath, glad they were finally alone. She struggled to find words that could adequately express the depth of her feelings. "It was as if you had reached into my soul and given voice to emotions I scarcely knew I possessed. I felt... seen in a way I've never experienced before."

Lord Thornbrook's eyes softened, a vulnerability she had never before witnessed stealing across his features. "Iris," he began, taking a step closer. "I—"

But whatever he had been about to say was lost as Lord Ainsworth's voice rang out. "There you are, cousin! And Lady Iris, too. How... fortunate to find you both here. "

Iris felt her cheeks flush, acutely aware of how their secluded tête-à-tête might appear to others. Lord Thornbrook, however, seemed unperturbed.

"Edgar," he said smoothly, "Lady Iris was just complimenting me on my performance. I trust you enjoyed it as well?"

Lord Ainsworth's smile seemed a touch forced as he replied, "Oh yes, quite moving. Though perhaps a bit... intense for a garden party, wouldn't you say?"

"Not at all," Iris said, her voice stronger than expected. "I found it perfectly suited to the occasion."

Lord Ainsworth's gaze flicked between them, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. "Well," he said at last, "we should rejoin the others. I believe Lady Rosier is looking for you, Iris."

As they made their way back to the main gathering, Iris sighed in relief. Lord Ainsworth hadn't thought much of their chatter, as if he was too confident in his charms to ever believe a lady could prefer Lord Thornbrook to him.

However, the stolen moment with Lord Thornbrook had shifted something within her, deepening her feelings in a way she hadn't thought possible.

The remainder of the afternoon passed slowly, each minute an exquisite torture as Iris performed the social niceties required of her. When the garden party finally reached its zenith, Iris engaged in yet another round of polite small talk, her smile fixed in place even as exhaustion began to creep in at the edges of her consciousness.

As she excused herself from a particularly tedious discussion about the latest fashions from Paris, Iris noticed a shift in the guests' behavior. Those who had been animatedly conversing now spoke in lower tones, their eyes darting occasionally to the driveway where carriages waited. The clink of teacups being returned to saucers became more frequent, signaling the afternoon's end.

Lady Rosier caught Iris's eye from across the lawn, giving a slight nod. It was time to begin the delicate process of seeing their guests off.

As the guests began to take their leave, Iris stood with her family, bidding farewell to each in turn. When Lord Ainsworth approached, she steeled herself for the interaction.

"Lady Iris," he said, bringing her hand to his lips. "Thank you for a delightful afternoon. May I call on you again soon?"

Iris felt a pang of guilt as she replied, "You're most welcome, Lord Ainsworth. And yes, of course, you may call."

As Lord Ainsworth's carriage pulled away, she caught sight of Lord Thornbrook preparing to depart. He stopped as his eyes fell on Iris, moving towards the Rosiers for farewell.

"Lord Thornbrook," she said, her voice low, as he reached her. "I... I wanted to thank you again for your performance. It meant a great deal to me."

His eyes softened as he looked at her. "The pleasure was mine, Lady Iris. Until our next lesson, then?"

Iris nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She watched as he climbed into his carriage, her heart heavy.

As the last carriage disappeared down the winding drive, Iris stood on the steps of Rosewood Manor. Her mind raced with a tumultuous mix of emotions, each vying for dominance in her heart.

Exhilaration from her interactions with Lord Thornbrook warred with guilt over her perceived neglect of Lord Ainsworth. Joy at the success of the party mingled with anxiety about her mother's expectations. And underlying it all was a deep, aching longing—a desire for something she could scarcely name, let alone hope to attain .

She closed her eyes momentarily, trying to sort through the tumultuous feelings. The memory of Lord Thornbrook's music still echoed in her mind, intertwining with the stolen glances and brief touches they had shared. Yet she couldn't ignore the weight of her family's expectations, the apparent path laid out for her long before she understood its implications.

As she turned to enter the house, Iris felt as though she stood on the edge of a precipice, uncertain whether to step back into the safety of the known or to leap into the thrilling, terrifying unknown.

She had always known her feelings for Lord Thornbrook were strong, but now she realized the true depth of her regard for him, yet even as her heart soared with the knowledge that he returned her feelings, at least in some measure, she couldn't ignore the obstacles that lay between them.

His reputation, her family's expectations, and the very structure of the society in which they lived—all conspired to keep them apart.

With a deep breath, Iris stepped inside, ready to face the consequences of her deepening feelings for Lord Thornbrook.