“I—” she began, then faltered. “It … I believe you’re mistaken about the masquerade, my lord. It was not me you danced with.”
Hadrian frowned. “Are you certain?”
“And … and the tea house?—”
“I assure you, Lady Iris, I would not ask you to give up The Charmed Leaf. If Lady Rivenna intends it for you, then it shall be yours. We could surely find a reliable person to manage its daily affairs while you guide it from afar and visit Bloomhaven as needed to ensure all is well. The arrangements can be determined once we are wed. But please, do not distress yourself with the notion that you must give it up.”
“I, uh …” That wasn’t quite the way Iris had envisioned her future at the tea house, but she supposed she couldn’t expect Lord Hadrian to upend his life and move permanently to Bloomhaven if that was not the Blackbriars’ custom. There was, however, one another pressing matter that required mentioning.
“There is something else I must tell you,” she added, guilt washing over her. “My … my family’s circumstances are not what they may appear. In truth, our situation is quite grave. We face significant financial difficulties, and I—I must inform you that I have no dowry to speak of. I have nothing save my family name. I should have disclosed this matter sooner, and for that I feel most dreadfully?—”
“None of that is of any concern,” Hadrian interrupted, a gentle smile smoothing away his frown. “I care nothing for dowries or financial considerations, Lady Iris. It is you alone whom I desire.”
His words struck her with unexpected force. Here was a man who wanted her for herself, who saw value in her mind and character, who cared not for distinguished bloodlines or a possible fortune. After weeks of judgment and scrutiny from Bloomhaven society, after Jasvian’s rejection, Hadrian’s unconditional acceptance felt like cool water to a parched soul.
She thought of her family’s desperate financial situation, of her grandparents’ thinly veiled anxiety as the Season progressed without a match, of her father’s warnings that their very survival depended on her securing an advantageous marriage. She thought of Jasvian’s stony expression as he had told her his duty must take precedence over whatever had been growing between them.
“Yes,” she heard herself say, the word escaping before she had fully formed the decision. “Yes, I will marry you.”
Hadrian’s face lit with joy as he rose to his feet, producing a ring from his pocket. It was a delicate gold band set with aluminous pearl surrounded by tiny diamonds that caught the light like stars. As he slipped it onto her finger, Iris tried to focus on the happiness she should be feeling, rather than the strangely hollow sensation spreading through her chest.
“You’ve made me the happiest of men,” Hadrian said. “Shall we share our news?”
Iris nodded, allowing him to guide her back toward the main room where her grandparents waited. The buzzing in her head made it difficult to focus on anything beyond putting one foot before the other. She was engaged. She would be Lady Iris Blackbriar. This was what she had been brought to Bloomhaven to accomplish—a match that would secure her family’s future.
Her grandparents’ faces transformed with undisguised delight when Hadrian formally requested their blessing. Her grandmother actually clasped her hands together in pure joy, while her grandfather clapped Hadrian firmly on the shoulder in a rare display of emotion. Their relief was palpable, like a physical wave that washed over their table.
“We would be honored to welcome you to our family,” her grandfather declared, his voice unusually warm. “This calls for a toast!”
As word of the engagement spread through the tea house, guests began to approach with congratulations and well-wishes. Lady Lelianna offered a gracious smile, while Rosavyn squeezed Iris’s hand warmly, though her eyes held a hint of something Iris couldn’t quite decipher. The noise and chatter seemed to increase with each passing moment, pressing in upon Iris until she felt she could hardly breathe. The ring on her finger felt both foreign and unnaturally heavy.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she managed to say, offering Hadrian an apologetic smile. “I … believe Lady Rivenna may need me in the kitchen.”
She turned, intending to make her way toward the kitchen where she might find a moment’s peace, only to collide solidly with a tall figure. Strong hands steadied her, grasping her upper arms briefly before withdrawing as if burned.
“Lord Jasvian,” she gasped, stepping back to find herself staring up into his face. His expression was carefully controlled, but something dark and turbulent lurked in his eyes. For a long moment, they simply stared at one another, the noise of the gathering seeming to fade into muffled irrelevance. Then she blinked and remembered herself. “I—excuse me, my lord.”
She stepped past him and wove her way between the tables and guests until she pushed through the door into the kitchen, where blessed quiet greeted her, interrupted only by the soft clinking of porcelain as kitchen pixies methodically washed teacups and arranged them in orderly rows. The familiar scents of herbs and spiced tea brought a momentary comfort that vanished instantly when the noise from the tea house’s main floor surged—the door had opened again.
She turned to find Jasvian walking in, the door swinging closed behind him.
“What are you doing?” he asked as he stopped a few paces away, his eyes dark with an emotion that seemed to hover between anger and desperation.
Iris blinked. “What do you mean?”
“This.” He gestured vaguely toward her hand, where Hadrian’s ring glimmered. “This isn’t what you want.”
Anger flared within her, hot and sudden. “How do you know what I want? You made it abundantly clear that my wishes were of no consequence to you.”
“That’s not—” He broke off, inhaling deeply. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, but no less intense. “Please. Think carefully about what you’re doing.”
“I have thought carefully,” she retorted, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her uncertainty. “Lord Hadrian is kind, intelligent, constant, and values me for who I am. I could not ask for a better match.”
“Is that enough for you?” Jasvian pressed, stepping closer. “To build a life on kindness and intelligence alone?”
“It’s certainly more than duty and obligation,” she shot back.
His jaw tightened. “You don’t understand?—”
