* * * *
Iris stood on the front terrace, her reflection staring back at her in a small puddle. She pursed her lips. She was tall, like her daughter Alexandra, and had thick golden hair, streaked with only minimal silver. Though not as classically beautiful as her sister, Flora, the Countess of Ashford, she was attractive, with an oval face and high cheekbones, almond-shaped hazel eyes and a wide full-lipped mouth. Her nose had always bothered her. She thought it too large for her face. Thankfully her daughters’ noses were smaller. They were both beautiful girls, and she had no doubt that they would make fine matches. She hadn’t been so lucky.
Awkwardly shy when she was younger, she hadn’t received an offer after four seasons, so at twenty-five, her parents, the Baron and Baroness White, had married her to Angus MacIntyre, the Earl of Longarry, a short and stout Scotsman, whose holdings were in jeopardy. He was attracted by Iris’s substantial dowry. She was transported to Scotland for a quick ceremony attended only by her parents. Angus had been jovial, even affectionate…until Iris’s parents returned to London. After that he had become abusive, especially when it took five years for her to give him a child, and then it was a girl, Sophie. Two years later Alexandra came along. The earl became a tyrant, He raped Iris weekly, demanding an heir, but one never came. He mistreated his children as well, blaming them for not being boys. Longarry had died of consumption two years previously, leaving Iris and the girls penniless. But penniless was so much better than living with Longarry. Iris thanked God every day that he was gone. And she thanked God for her sister and brother-in-law, the Earl and Countess of Ashford, who had supported her and the girls since his death.
Despite her hatred of him, Iris had been a good wife to the earl. She had taken care of his estate, what little was left of it, seen to his needs, and had never strayed from his bed. Except for once.
“Are you ready, Iris?”
Iris jumped at Lucy’s voice, her thoughts muddling, as did her reflection when a bird dropped into the puddle.
“Yes, yes, let’s go.”
“Now, tell me,” Lucy said, as they began walking down a stony path. “What is going on?”
“Oh, nothing, really.”
“Iris, we may have lost touch over the years, but we were best friends once. Something is bothering you, and I’d wager a guess that it has something to do with our weekend visitors.”
Iris sighed. She had kept the secret for nearly twenty years. “Oh, Lucy, it’s… Oh I can’t even say it.”
“Of course you can, dear. I’ll keep your confidence, if that is what you require.”
“I definitely require confidence. And…”
“And what?”
“If you could possibly…not judge me too harshly.”
“I won’t. Goodness, Iris, what is it?”
“It’s the Earl of Brighton,” Iris said, swallowing to keep her voice from cracking. “I…had an affair with him.”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “How in the world?”
“It was about twenty years ago. Sophie was two and Ally was just a babe, and the girls and I had traveled to Hampshire for a house party at Flora’s estate. Longarry stayed in Scotland to tend to business matters, and frankly, I was looking forward to escaping him for a month. Oh, it was so beautiful, Lucy, and Lily and Rose’s nannies took care of my girls, so I had a lot of time to myself. Walking about the estate one day, I met David.”
“The Earl of Brighton.”
“Yes. You know how shy I always was, but somehow I could talk to him. We walked and laughed, and he introduced me to his children, who were romping about. Young Evan was six, Miranda was seven, and Jacob, his heir, was ten. I asked to meet his wife, but he said the countess had been feeling poorly and had chosen to go to Bath, to take to the waters for a month.”
“Oh, Iris.”
“As you can imagine, one thing led to another. We shared a bed for most of the house party. I had only recently recovered from having Ally, and I hadn’t slept with Longarry in quite some time. He found my pregnant belly unattractive. Frankly I was glad for the respite. Being with David was…lovely. Just lovely.”
“What of his wife?”
“It wasn’t a love match. They had been promised to each other since birth. Still, he told me that he had never strayed from her until me.”
“And you believed him?”
; “I did, actually. Perhaps it was silly, but I believed him. He told me that he loved me.”
“And did you love him?”
Iris warmed at the memory. “Yes, Lucy, I did. He was kind and compassionate. Tender and loving. Everything that Longarry wasn’t. Plus he was handsome as the devil.”