Duke of Desire (Maiden Lane #12)(66)

Iris stood and walked around the desk. She bent and hugged her brother, appearing to surprise him. “Thank you, Henry. You know how much that means to me.”

“Oh, well,” was all the man seemed able to say as he patted her back awkwardly, a small smile on his face. “Perhaps you’ll want to go on up to your rooms to see about packing. Thought I’d have a word with His Grace.”

She darted an alarmed glance at Raphael.

Which amused him. Did she think he could be routed by a middle-aged banker?

She merely nodded and, with a last look between the two of them, left the room.

He turned to see what threat Radcliffe would deliver.

The other man’s smile had left his face. “I didn’t believe a word of that.”

“As well you shouldn’t,” Raphael drawled.

“Will I be hearing the true story?”

“No.”

Radcliffe pursed his lips. “Did you debauch my sister?”

Raphael looked him in the eye. “No.”

The other man seemed a little taken aback by that answer, and now he was puzzled. Obviously he couldn’t work out why else Raphael would marry her on such short notice.

Well. That was no problem of Raphael’s.

Radcliffe finally shook his head. “No matter. I may not be titled or rich, but duke or no duke, I will make sure you regret it, sir, if you harm my sister in any way.”

“So noted.” Raphael inclined his head. “I expected no less.” He rose and offered his hand to Radcliffe. “I intend to spend my life cherishing Iris.”

Radcliffe looked a trifle startled at his words, and then something seemed to relax in his face and he smiled as he stood to shake Raphael’s hand. “I’m glad to hear it, Your Grace.”

*

Iris watched her husband an hour later as they traveled back to Chartres House in the carriage. “What did Henry want to talk to you about?”

Raphael looked at her for a moment, his eyes fathomless. “Your brother wished to make sure that I would take care of you.”

She frowned. “That was all?”

He shrugged. “Yes.”

She had a sneaking suspicion that there had been more between them, but she also suspected that Raphael wasn’t about to tell her about it.

In any case Iris was rather pleased—and surprised—by how concerned Henry had been about her abrupt marriage. Henry was seven years older than she, and though they got on, they had never been particularly close—at least not in a demonstrative way. It was lovely to know that he did truly care for her.

The carriage drew up before Chartres House, and Raphael helped her out before tucking her hand in his elbow and climbing the steps with her to the front door.

“I have something I want to show you,” Raphael said as the door opened.

“Your Grace,” Murdock the butler said, bowing to Iris. “You have a guest waiting for you in the Styx sitting room.”

Raphael’s brows snapped together. “Who is it?”

Murdock’s eyes widened. “He gave his name as the Duke of Kyle, Your Grace, I—”

“Oh, it’s Hugh!” Iris lifted her skirts and rushed up the stairs to the upper level.

“Iris!”

She heard Raphael’s shout from below but didn’t stop. Hugh must’ve been so worried for her after hearing the news that she’d been kidnapped.

She threw open the doors to the Styx sitting room.

Hugh turned.

He looked as if he’d been pacing in front of the fire. He had shadows under his black eyes and his big frame was held tensely. Two of his men—former soldiers—lurked on opposite sides of the room.

“Iris,” Hugh said. “Thank God.”

She went to him, and though he was normally quite circumspect with her—almost ridiculously formal, considering they’d once thought of marrying one another—he opened his arms to her.

She wrapped her arms about his waist as she felt his arms encircle her in a warm hug.

“Alf has been half out of her mind with worry for you,” he rumbled above her.

Iris looked up into his face. “Is she here?”

He shook his head. “She stayed to guard the boys. When you were kidnapped—”

“Iris,” came a low, smoky snarl from the doorway. “Come here.”

She felt Hugh’s arms tighten around her as she glanced over her shoulder.

Raphael stood on the threshold, Ubertino, Bardo, and Ivo behind him. Her husband’s eyes were so icy a gray that from where she stood they nearly shone.

Oh.

His gaze flicked from her to the man holding her. “Unhand. My. Wife.”

Raphael’s face was set and stern, entirely frozen over, and it occurred to her—strange thought at the moment!—that she’d never heard him really laugh. He’d made only that cawing sound—not joyous laughter at all. Had he ever laughed since he was a boy? Or had his father destroyed all laughter in Raphael that night?

It was a terrible thought.

Out of the corner of her eye, Iris saw Riley and Jenkins, Hugh’s men, sidle closer to her and Hugh.

Raphael tracked their movement.

The potential for violence seemed suddenly very high.

She looked up at Hugh and patted his chest. “It’s all right.”