14 #2
“My dear,” her friend began, voice tight, “I know that Heloise concluded during her investigation of Dionysus last year that seduction was the way to succeed. And she was incredibly lucky that the man she decided to seduce became so much more to her. But that does not mean you have to do such a thing.”
“Seduction?” Iris held her hands up in front of her, horrified that she had been misunderstood to such a degree. Horrified and, if she was being utterly honest with herself, a bit intrigued.
She shook her head sharply. But no, she was most certainly not planning on seducing Oliver.
Something she repeated to Euphemia. Loudly. “I am not planning on seducing Oliver.”
“ Oliver ,” Euphemia choked. She drew in a steadying breath. “Then why did you kiss him?” she asked with utmost patience.
“Because I wished to see what his lips felt like,” she replied honestly.
Which, now that she said it aloud, sounded absolutely ridiculous.
Oh, it had been completely logical at the time.
But in this moment, away from the feel of Oliver’s body pressed to hers and his full lips not directly in front of her eyes—and Euphemia looking at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses—she felt the worst sort of fool.
Which was a too-common occurrence for her, really.
“I am not planning on seducing him,” she repeated.
Euphemia, however, did not look convinced.
Rather, she looked even more concerned than before, if that was at all possible.
Explanations knocked at Iris’s lips of how she had gotten to the point of kissing him: how she had spent the day with Verity and been discovered by Oliver and been invited in to dinner by his mother—was there anything she could concoct to relieve the pain in the woman’s hands?
—and how kind he had turned out to be, defending her oddness and revealing that he had not told Lord Durand about her because he’d wanted to protect her.
At the last minute, however, she stopped herself.
Revealing all of that would not help her case at all.
She recalled Sylvia’s lessons in distraction over the past five years, necessary training that she’d had all the Widows take part in for when they were in danger of revealing too much.
And though guilt filled her, she used those lessons on Euphemia now.
“Has Heloise written?”
Blessedly the question had the desired effect. She blinked, no doubt thrown off by the swift change in subject before her expression cleared.
“Actually, yes, we received a letter just this afternoon,” she said with a smile. “I’m so happy she was able to return to London while we wait for Lord Durand’s return. She was missing Ethan dreadfully.”
Indeed she had been. Iris had not been able to fully understand it at the time, of course. It was only for a couple of weeks. Surely they could live without one another for that long.
But something had shifted in her within the last hour, some new longing. Not that she was at all in love with Oliver, or even close to it. Certainly not.
Even so, she was anxious to see him again. Strange, that. How much worse must it have been for Heloise, who was so deeply in love with her Ethan?
She stilled. But did that mean she was beginning to feel something more for Oliver? Could it be possible that kiss had opened something deep in her she had not thought she’d even possessed?
But Euphemia was talking, and she’d best pay attention before she gave away more of those secret inner thoughts that she had no desire to share.
“.? .? .? seems very happy. While I do hope Lord Durand returns soon so we might make progress on this case, I am glad she has a bit of a reprieve.” She frowned.
“Especially as my inability to secure a position in the earl’s household has put us at a distinct disadvantage. I am sorry about that, by the way.”
Euphemia was not the only one disappointed that she’d been turned away by Lord Durand’s housekeeper. They had all hoped she might be hired as a maid or some such to give them someone on the inside to take stock of the house and perhaps search for Iris’s mother’s papers.
But she had been summarily refused employment before she had even gotten her foot in the door. They had known going in that the chance had been slight. Even so it had been a blow.
That, however, did not mean that Iris would allow her friend to take on any guilt for it. “What have you to be sorry for?” Iris asked. She gently grasped Euphemia’s callused hands. “You have gone above and beyond in trying to infiltrate the man’s house. I truly cannot thank you enough.”
Euphemia pressed her hands warmly. “Thank you, dearest. But we are not out of options yet. We shall get in that man’s house one way or another.”
She gave Iris a bracing smile and headed for the stairs. Before she was halfway up, however, Iris recalled something imperative that had to be addressed.
“Um, Euphemia? I don’t suppose we can keep my lapse in judgment between us?”
Euphemia turned, face blank with incomprehension for a moment before her brows drew together in the middle as realization dawned. “You are certain everything is well?”
Iris forced a smile, no easy thing. Was she certain everything was well? No, not a bit. That kiss had affected her in ways she had never in her wildest imaginings believed possible.
But something had to be said, and it certainly wasn’t the bald truth as she was typically wont to do.
In the end she settled for repeating a truth she had already voiced. “I have absolutely no plans to seduce him,” she replied firmly.
Which must have been the right thing to say, for Euphemia’s face cleared. “All right, then,” she said with a smile before she continued up the stairs. Leaving Iris alone in the front hall to deal with the swirling storm of relief and guilt and anticipation that churned in her stomach.