14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

L ady Camilla Rosier crept into her youngest daughter's bedchamber, her silk slippers making no sound on the polished wooden floor. She paused at the foot of the bed, gazing upon Iris's sleeping form with a mixture of affection and concern. The girl had seemed out of sorts at dinner, picking at her food and responding to conversation with distracted murmurs.

As she turned to leave, a glint of white caught her eye. A corner of paper peeked out from beneath Iris's pillow. Lady Rosier hesitated, her hand hovering uncertainly. She knew it was wrong to pry, but motherly concern won out over propriety. With trembling fingers, she eased the paper free.

It was not one letter but several, bound together with a length of blue ribbon. Lady Rosier's eyes widened as she recognized the bold, masculine hand that addressed each missive to "Lady Iris." Her heart began to race as she unfolded the topmost letter and began to read.

My darling Iris ,

Your latest composition has set my soul aflame. Each note speaks of a passion I scarcely dared hope you might feel. When I close my eyes, I can almost imagine your delicate fingers dancing across the keys, creating such exquisite beauty...

Lady Rosier sank into the nearby armchair, her legs suddenly weak. She read on, her alarm growing with each passionate declaration, each thinly veiled suggestion of impropriety. When she reached the final letter, her hands shook so badly she could scarcely hold the paper.

"Oh, Iris," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "What have you done?"

A soft sound from the bed made her start. Iris stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She stared at her mother in confusion for a moment. Then her gaze fell upon the letters in Lady Rosier's lap, and all color drained from her face.

"Mama," Iris breathed, sitting up abruptly. "What are you doing?"

Lady Rosier rose, clutching the letters to her chest. "I think, my girl, I should ask you that question. What is the meaning of this... this correspondence with Lord Thornbrook?"

Iris swung her legs over the side of the bed, her nightgown twisting around her ankles as she stood. "Those are private, Mama. You had no right to read them!"

"No right?" Lady Rosier's voice rose sharply. "I am your mother, Iris. I must protect you, even from yourself, if need be. Do you have any idea what scandal this could cause? The damage to your reputation, to our family's good name?"

Iris lifted her chin defiantly. "There is nothing scandalous in those letters, Mama. Lord Thornbrook and I merely discuss music and literature. He is my teacher, nothing more."

Lady Rosier laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Your teacher? Is that what you call a man who writes of your ‘bewitching eyes' and ‘ intoxicating presence'? Who speaks of wanting to ‘lose himself in your embrace'? Do not insult my intelligence, Iris. This goes far beyond the bounds of a teacher and student."

Iris flushed, her hands clenching at her sides. "You don't understand, Mama. Lord Thornbrook is not the monster society paints him to be. He is kind and brilliant, and—"

"And utterly unsuitable!" Lady Rosier cut her off. "Have you forgotten the rumors that surround him? The whispers of scandal, of tragedy? He is a ruined man, Iris. To align yourself with him would be social suicide."

"I don't care about society's opinion!" Iris cried, her eyes flashing. "Lord Thornbrook understands me in a way no one else ever has. He sees me for who I truly am, not just as a marriageable young lady to be paraded before eligible bachelors."

Lady Rosier's expression softened slightly. "Oh, my dear girl. Is that what this is about? I know the season can be overwhelming, but there are other ways to assert your independence. Lord Edgar, for instance—"

"Lord Edgar?" Iris scoffed. "A man who can scarcely string two words together about anything more profound than the weather? He could never comprehend the passion I feel for music, for life itself. Not like Lord Thornbrook does."

Lady Rosier sank back into the chair, suddenly looking very tired. "Passion," she murmured. "Such a dangerous word, my dear. It can lead one down treacherous paths."

Iris knelt before her mother, taking her hands. "Mama, please. You must trust that I know my own heart. Lord Thornbrook is a good man, despite what others may say. If you would only give him a chance—"

"Enough!" Lady Rosier pulled her hands away, rising abruptly. "I was a fool to allow these music lessons. They end now, Iris. Do you understand me? You are forbidden from seeing Lord Thornbrook again."

Iris recoiled as if she'd been slapped. "You can't do that! I'm not a child to be ordered about!"

"Then stop acting like one!" Lady Rosier snapped. "This... infatuation with Lord Thornbrook ends now. For your own good, Iris. One day, you'll thank me for this."

With that, Lady Rosier swept from the room, taking the letters with her. Iris stood rooted to the spot, trembling with rage and despair. Then, without conscious thought, she found herself moving. She threw on a dressing gown and fled the suffocating confines of her bedchamber.

The gardens of Rosewood Manor were silent and still in the early morning light. Iris wandered aimlessly along the gravel paths, her mind awhirl with conflicting emotions. How dare her mother invade her privacy? And yet, a small voice whispered, was Lady Rosier not justified in her concern? The letters, when read by an outsider, could indeed seem scandalous.

Iris sank onto a stone bench, burying her face in her hands. She had been so careful, so discreet in her dealings with Lord Thornbrook. Or so she thought. Now, with the harsh light of day revealing her actions, she could see how foolish, how reckless she had been.

"My Lady?" a soft voice interrupted her reverie. Iris looked up to find Lucy, her maid, standing before her with a concerned expression. "Are you well? I saw you leave the house in such a state..."

Iris managed a warm smile. "Oh, Lucy. I fear I've made a dreadful mess of things. "

Lucy sat beside her on the bench, propriety forgotten in the face of her mistress's distress. "What's happened, My Lady? Can I be of any assistance?"

The whole story came tumbling out—the letters, her mother's discovery, the heated argument that followed. Lucy listened with wide eyes, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"Oh, My Lady," she breathed when Iris had finished. "What a pickle you're in! You mustn't have done such a thing. If I had known…"

"You too, Lucy?"

Lucy let out a little noise, then looked as if she was about to say something but had thought better of it. Instead, she said, "If… if I may be so bold, there's something I just learned about Lord Thornbrook."

Iris turned to her, suddenly alert. "What do you mean, Lucy? What do you know?"

Lucy bit her lip, clearly wrestling with whether to speak. Finally, she seemed to come to a decision. "Well, My Lady, you remember how you asked me to gather information about his lordship's past? I've been talking to his staff, particularly his housekeeper, Mrs. Winters. She's been with the family for years and told me... oh, it's such a shocking tale, My Lady."

"Please, Lucy," Iris urged. "I must know."

Lucy nodded, taking a deep breath. "It's about the accident that killed his lordship's parents and sister. Mrs. Winters says it wasn't Lord Thornbrook's fault at all, though many blamed him for it. She says he was in the carriage that day, yes, but it was the horses that spooked. Instead of riding inside the carriage, his lordship chose to sit next to the driver. A tree had fallen across the road, and they reared up something awful. His lordship did everything he could to control them, but the carriage went over the edge of the road. He was thrown clear, but the others..."

Iris felt her heart constrict. "Oh, how awful. Poor Lord Thornbrook. To survive such a tragedy, only to be blamed for it..."

Lucy nodded solemnly. "Mrs. Winters says he was never the same after that. He blamed himself, you see, even though everyone who knew the truth said it wasn't his fault. That's why he shut himself away in that big old house and turned his back on society. She says the guilt's been eating him alive all these years."

Iris sat in stunned silence, her mind reeling with this new information. Suddenly, so much about Lord Thornbrook made sense—his brooding demeanor, reluctance to engage with society, the pain she sometimes glimpsed in his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking.

"Thank you, Lucy," she said softly. "You've given me much to think about."

As Lucy excused herself to return to her duties, Iris remained on the bench, lost in thought. Her heart ached for the young man Lord Thornbrook, who had been suddenly thrust into a world of grief and undeserved blame. How lonely he must have been all these years, carrying the weight of such guilt.

With sudden clarity, Iris knew what she had to do. Rising from the bench, she hurried back to the house and up to her room. Seating herself at her writing desk, she pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and began to write.

My dearest Lord Thornbrook,

I write to you in distress. My mother has discovered our correspondence and, I fear, has greatly misinterpreted the nature of our relationship. She has forbidden me from continuing our lessons or having any further contact with you.

But I cannot; I will not let this be the end of our association. I have learned of the tragedy that befell your family and the unjust blame placed upon your shoulders. My heart breaks for the pain you have endured, and I long to offer what comfort I can.

If you have any regard for me, please do not let my mother's misguided actions drive us apart. I believe in you, Lord Thornbrook. I believe in the good man I have come to know through our lessons and letters. Whatever the world may say, know that you have a steadfast friend in me.

Yours, with deepest affection,

Lady Iris

As she sealed the letter, Iris felt a flicker of resolve settle over her. She would find a way to continue seeing Lord Thornbrook, to give him this letter and help him heal from the wounds of his past. In doing so, she might find a balm for her own restless soul.

Little did she know that even as she plotted ways to maintain their connection, her mother was already taking steps to ensure their separation, but Iris had faith in Lucy, her trusted confidante. With the maid's help, she was certain she could find a way to keep the flame of her relationship with Lord Thornbrook alive.