“Lord Hadrian!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lord Hadrian Blackbriarstood hesitantly at the threshold of the tea house’s kitchen, looking remarkably different from his usual polished self. His cravat sat slightly askew, and his dark hair appeared to have been hastily combed with fingers rather than a proper brush. “Lady Iris,” he said with a polite bow. “Miss Rosavyn. I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Not at all,” Iris replied, embarrassingly aware of the tea stains spattered across her apron and the variety of tea leaves that had likely become entangled in her hair. She resisted the urge to attempt brushing them away, which would only draw more attention to her disheveled state.
Lord Hadrian stepped further into the kitchen, his gaze taking in the array of tea-making apparatus and open books before settling back on Iris. “I spoke with Jasvian last night, and he happened to mention you might be here early.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to … that is, you left rather abruptly from the Thornharts’ gathering, and I wanted to ensure you were well.”
Rosavyn suddenly became intensely interested in a jar of dried flowers, though her posture made it abundantly clear she was listening to every word.
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Iris said, genuinely touched by his concern as she took a few steps toward him. While there was no hope of finding actual privacy in a kitchen where it was likely even the spoons eavesdropped, she could at least make the conversation slightly less awkward by not conversing from opposite ends of the room. “I must apologize for leaving without bidding you farewell. It was terribly rude of me.”
“Please, don’t apologize,” he said quickly. “Your comfort is far more important than social niceties. I was merely concerned.” He shifted his weight, his usual easy confidence momentarily absent. “I also wanted to ask if perhaps …” He glanced at Rosavyn, who was now pretending to read a label with remarkable concentration. “If I had said or done something to cause offense? You seemed quite distressed when you left, and I feared I might have inadvertently?—”
“No!” Iris exclaimed, then moderated her tone. “No, Lord Hadrian. You were nothing but kind. I assure you, my hasty departure had nothing whatsoever to do with you.”
Some of the tension eased from his shoulders. “I’m relieved to hear it. I value our friendship greatly, Lady Iris.”
Friendship. Of course. For a brief moment, her mind flashed back to Ellowa’s cruel comments the night before: Men of his standing marry within their class.They may dally with … unusual specimens, but they do not offer them permanent positions.Which was just as well, Iris reminded herself, since she still had no intention of marrying if she could avoid it. She offered Lord Hadrian a smile she hoped appeared genuine. “As do I.”
An awkward silence settled between them, filled only by the rustling of Rosavyn’s unnecessarily loud examination of various tea leaves.
“Will you be attending the Living Portrait Exhibition tomorrow evening?” Lord Hadrian asked, his expressionbrightening. “I hear they’ve added several fascinating historical figures to the collection this year.”
“Yes, actually. My grandmother has been looking forward to it.”
“Excellent!” His face lit up with unmistakable pleasure. “I shall certainly be there as well. The portraits are fascinating, though some can be rather … opinionated.”
“So I’ve heard,” Iris said with a small laugh.
Lord Hadrian nodded, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment longer than strictly necessary. “Well, I shouldn’t keep you from your … baking?”
“Tea blending,” Iris confirmed. “I’m still learning.”
“I’m sure you’ll master it quickly.” His warm smile returned. “You seem to excel at everything you attempt.”
Rosavyn made a small noise that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed snort.
“You’re very kind,” Iris said, ignoring her friend’s reaction. “Thank you again for checking on my welfare.”
“It was my pleasure.” Lord Hadrian hesitated, seeming to gather his courage before adding, “I wonder if I might call upon you one afternoon at Starspun House? Perhaps later this week?”
The question caught Iris off guard. Was he suggesting something beyond the friendship he’d mentioned? A curious wave of vindication washed over her as she again recalled Ellowa’s dismissive words—her assertions that Lord Hadrian couldn’t possibly show genuine interest in someone like Iris. Yet here he stood, in a tea house kitchen at dawn, asking to call upon her properly.
For a heartbeat, that familiar fear fluttered in her chest. The dread of being trapped, of having her independence slowly smothered like her mother’s had been. But looking at Hadrian’s open expression and remembering his gentle manner, that fear seemed as though it might be a little … misplaced. Besides,she reminded herself, one afternoon call hardly constituted a proposal. Nothing that warranted panicking just yet.
“Yes,” she said finally, “I would like that very much.”
The pleased expression that spread across his face was so genuine it made something warm unfurl in her chest. “Wonderful,” he said. “I shall send a note to arrange the details.” He bowed again. “Good day, Lady Iris. Miss Rosavyn.”
As Lord Hadrian departed, Iris became keenly aware that every occupant of the kitchen was staring at her. Rosavyn with barely contained glee, the hearth sprites hovering in mid-air with their tiny flames flickering in evident interest, and even Orrit, who had paused his scone-making to observe the exchange.
“Well!” Rosavyn exclaimed, abandoning all pretense of disinterest. “He arose at this ungodly hour and journeyed all the way here merely to ascertain your wellbeing. I do believe Lord Hadrian Blackbriar is quite smitten with you, Iris!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Iris protested, heat climbing her neck once more. “He was simply being courteous.”
“Most men do not disarrange their cravats and rush across town at dawn for mere courtesy,” Rosavyn insisted. “He’s clearly besotted.”
