16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

L ady Rosier's summons arrived in the morning before breakfast, a crisp word through Lucy commanding Iris's presence in her private sitting room. Iris's stomach churned as she made her way through the Manor's winding corridors, her footsteps echoing off the polished floors. She paused before the ornate door, steadying herself with a deep breath before knocking.

"Enter," came her mother's clipped voice.

Lady Rosier sat ramrod straight in her favorite wingback chair, her face a mask of stern disapproval. "Sit down, Iris," she said, gesturing to the settee across from her.

Iris perched on the edge of the seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "You wished to see me, Mama?"

"Indeed." Lady Rosier's eyes narrowed. "I think it's high time we discussed your... behavior yesterday."

Iris felt her cheeks flush. "I'm not sure I take your meaning. "

"Oh, come now," Lady Rosier scoffed. "Your shameless flirtation with Lord Thornbrook was painfully obvious. Have you no regard for your reputation? For the family's standing?"

"Mama, I assure you—"

"I will not be interrupted," Lady Rosier snapped. "Your infatuation with that man is unseemly and must end at once. You should be grateful that Lord Edgar still doesn't suspect anything, even after yesterday's debacle."

Iris felt a flush rise in her cheeks, a bit disappointed by her mother's words. "Does he not? I saw him looking at me after…"

"No, you ridiculous creature. He thinks very highly of you. He cannot imagine you would be foolish enough to entertain Thornbrook's advances."

Iris scoffed. "More like he cannot imagine a lady would ever prefer his cousin to him! He thinks he's such a prize that he—"

"Silence! Lord Edgar is a far more suitable match, and you would do well to encourage his attention."

Iris's hands clenched into fists. "And what of my feelings? Do they count for nothing?"

"Feelings?" Lady Rosier's laugh was brittle. "My dear girl, marriage is not about feelings. It's about security, about forging advantageous alliances. Lord Thornbrook may set your heart aflutter, but he cannot offer you the life you deserve."

"You don't know him," Iris protested. "He's not the man society paints him to be."

Lady Rosier's eyes flashed dangerously. "I know enough. His scandalous past, his reclusive ways... he's utterly unsuitable. I forbid you from seeing him again, Iris. Do you understand me?"

Iris rose, trembling with a fury that masked her despair. "You cannot dictate my heart, Mama. "

"Perhaps not," Lady Rosier conceded, her voice ice-cold. "But I can and will control your actions. You will not leave this house without me. Clearly, Lucy has been an inadequate chaperone. If you defy me in this, I shall send you to your Aunt Agatha in Bath until you come to your senses."

Iris fled the room, tears blurring her vision as she ran to the sanctuary of her bedchamber.

***

Lord Horatio Ainsworth, Earl of Thornbrook, paced the length of Lord Rosier's study, his customary composure slipping with each agitated step. He had been summoned here under the pretense of discussing estate matters, but the glint in Lord Rosier's eye suggested a far more personal agenda.

"Brandy?" Lord Rosier offered, already pouring two generous measures.

Horatio accepted the glass with a curt nod. "You wished to speak with me, My Lord?"

"Indeed." Lord Rosier settled behind his imposing mahogany desk. "I'll come straight to the point, Thornbrook. What are your intentions towards my daughter?"

The question, though not unexpected, still caught Horatio off guard. He took a fortifying sip of brandy before replying. "I hold Lady Iris in the highest esteem, My Lord. She is a remarkable young woman."

"That she is," Lord Rosier agreed. "Which is precisely why I must know your designs. Your... reputation precedes you, Thornbrook. The scandal with Mrs. Black—

"Was grossly exaggerated," Horatio interjected, his grip tightening on the brandy glass.

Lord Rosier raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps. But you cannot deny that your past has cast a long shadow. Are you prepared to subject Iris to the whispers, the sidelong glances that would inevitably follow such a match?"

Horatio's jaw clenched. "My Lord, I assure you that my regard for Lady Iris is of the purest nature. I would never do anything to compromise her reputation or disgrace your family."

"Noble sentiments," Lord Rosier mused. "But intentions, however pure, are not always enough. You must see that a union between you and Iris would be... problematic, to say the least."

Horatio set down his glass with more force than necessary. "With all due respect, My Lord, I believe that decision should be left to Lady Iris."

Lord Rosier's eyes hardened. "My daughter is young and impressionable. I must protect her, even from herself, if necessary. I would strongly advise you to consider your position carefully, Thornbrook. Any further... entanglement with Iris will not be looked upon favorably."

The threat, thinly veiled though it was, hung heavy in the air between them. Horatio bowed stiffly. "If that is all, My Lord?"

Lord Rosier waved a dismissive hand. "You may go."

Horatio strode from the study, feeling tense. Of course, he had known that pursuing a relationship with Iris would be unwise, but faced with the stark reality of her parents' opposition, he found himself at a loss.

As he made his way through the Manor, his steps slowed. After the tragedy that had marked his life, he had given up entirely on notions of romance. It was a distraction that led to foolishness and a loss of one's faculties. For years, no woman had caught his interest...until her.

The thought of giving Iris up, of never again seeing the light in her eyes as she played, of never feeling the warmth of her smile... it was nearly unbearable. And yet, what right did he have to subject her to the scandal that would inevitably follow such a match?

Lost in his tumultuous thoughts, Horatio nearly collided with a maid hurrying down the corridor.

"Oh! Begging your pardon, My Lord," she stammered, bobbing a hasty curtsy.

Horatio's eyes narrowed as he recognized Lucy, Iris's personal maid. "No harm done," he assured her. Then, lowering his voice, he added, "How fares your mistress?"

Lucy glanced nervously over her shoulder before replying in a hushed tone. "Not well, My Lord. Her ladyship was most... forceful in her disapproval. I fear Miss Iris is quite distraught."

Horatio's heart clenched at the thought of Iris in distress. "I see. Thank you, Lucy."

***

Iris stood at her bedroom window, gazing at the rolling hills beyond Rosewood Manor. The urge to flee, to escape the suffocating expectations that pressed in on her from all sides, was nearly overwhelming.

Without allowing herself time to reconsider, Iris hastily changed into her riding habit. She scribbled a brief note explaining her need for solitude and left it on her dressing table. Then, with the practiced stealth of one long accustomed to slipping away unnoticed, she made her way to the stables.

The grooms were occupied with the morning's chores, allowing Iris to saddle her mare, Lyra, without interruption. As she led the horse from its stall, a flicker of doubt gave her pause. Was she being foolish, running away like this?

The memory of her mother's cold ultimatum steeled her resolve. The very thought of being sent to Aunt Agatha sent a chill down her spine. That woman's reputation for cruelty rivaled that of Elizabeth Báthory.

Iris swung herself into the saddle and urged her horse, Lyra, into a canter, relishing the rush of wind against her face as they galloped away from Rosewood Manor.

For a time, Iris allowed herself to simply revel in the freedom of the ride. Lyra's steady gait and the familiar countryside soothed her frayed nerves, but as the initial exhilaration faded, her face fell as she realized the hopelessness of her situation.

How could she possibly choose between her heart's desire and her family's expectations? The thought of life without Lord Thornbrook's music, without his intense gaze and challenging conversation, left her feeling hollow. Yet the prospect of defying her parents, facing society's censure, and possibly being cut off from all she had ever known was equally daunting.

So lost was Iris in her ruminations that she failed to notice the gathering storm clouds until the first heavy drops of rain began to fall. She looked up, startled to find that she had ridden much further than intended. The landscape was unfamiliar, the sky ominously dark.

"Come, Lyra," Iris murmured, turning the horse back towards home. "We'd best return before this squall worsens."

And yet, as she spoke, a brilliant flash of lightning split the sky. It was followed almost immediately by a deafening crack of thunder. Lyra reared, whinnying in terror. Iris, caught off guard, felt herself slipping from the saddle.

For one heart-stopping moment, she was falling through empty air. Then pain exploded through her skull as it struck something unyielding, and darkness claimed her.

***

Lord Thornbrook was midway through a walk with his cousin Edgar in the gardens of his manor when the commotion erupted. Shouting voices and hurrying footsteps encouraged both men to follow as they made their way from his gardens to those of Rosewood Manor.

The place was in chaos. Distant feminine shouts came from the Manor, and suddenly, the main doors burst open as a pale-faced Lord Charles Rosier stepped out. Edgar scurried past Horatio to join him.

"What's happened, Lord Rosier?" Edgar asked with concern.

"It's Iris," Lord Rosier replied, his voice strained. "She's gone missing. Rode out hours ago and hasn't returned."

Horatio's blood ran cold as he stepped forward. "In this weather? We must organize a search party at once."

"Yes, of course. Horatio is right, Lord Rosier," Edgar panted. "We need to set out now."

Horatio and Edgar locked eyes momentarily, their mutual concern for Iris temporarily overshadowing their rivalry. Even Lord Rosier glanced at Horatio suspiciously but cleared his throat, breaking the tension. In an instant, he was issuing rapid-fire orders to the assembled servants and neighboring landowners who had come to aid in the search.

"Thornbrook, you know these lands well," Lord Rosier said. "Take the eastern path. Edgar, you'll lead a group to the west. I'll coordinate efforts here at the manor in case she returns."

Horatio nodded curtly, already striding towards the stables. He saddled his horse with practiced efficiency, his mind racing. Where would Iris have gone? What could have possessed her to ride out alone in such weather?

As he urged his mount into a gallop, the rain lashing against his face, Horatio found himself uttering a fervent prayer.

"Lord, please," he whispered. "Please let her be safe."

The search seemed to stretch for an eternity. Horatio's clothes were soaked, his hands numb and cold as he gripped the reins. He called Iris's name until his voice was hoarse, straining his eyes against the gloom for any sign of her.

Pure chance—or perhaps fate—led him to the small clearing where a mare stood, neighing mournfully. And there, crumpled at the base of a large oak, lay a figure in a sodden riding habit.

"Iris!" Horatio's cry was anguished as he leaped from his horse, rushing to her side.

She was so still, so pale. With trembling hands, he felt for a pulse, nearly sobbing with relief when he detected a faint but steady beat. Gently, he gathered her limp form into his arms, cradling her head against his chest.

"Hold on, my love," he murmured, pressing a desperate kiss to her forehead. "Please, hold on."

Horatio carefully maneuvered Iris onto his horse, mounting behind her to keep her secure. He spurred the animal into motion, racing back towards Rosewood Manor with his precious cargo.

As they rode through the rain-soaked countryside, Horatio's heart was filled with fear for her safety. If only he had stood up to Lord Rosier more forcefully. If only he had found a way to speak with Iris and assure her of his feelings despite the obstacles they faced.

This is why he should never have loved her. Everything he touched, he destroyed. His love was a curse that he should have shielded Iris from. Instead, he had doomed her with it.

"You must live, Iris," he whispered fiercely. "You must live so that I might have the chance to rectify my mistakes. Oh, my darling, how ardently I love you…"

With Iris secured in front of him, Horatio urged his mount into a gallop, heedless of the treacherous conditions. Nothing mattered now but getting her to safety, to warmth so she could receive medical attention.

As Rosewood Manor came into view, Horatio allowed himself a moment of desperate hope. He had brought her home. Now, it was up to Iris to fight her way back to consciousness, back to life, back to him.