She sighed, then stopped walking for a moment, then told herself she was being silly. She’d never expected a passionate marriage, so why was she pining over one now? She had become Lady Kenworthy, as strange as it seemed, and she had a reputation to uphold.
Iris straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and entered the breakfast room.
Only to find it empty.
Bloody hell.
“Oh! Lady Kenworthy!” Mrs. Hopkins came bustling into the room. “Annie just told me you’ll be wanting your breakfast downstairs this morning.”
“Er, yes. I hope that won’t be a problem.”
“Not at all, my lady. We still have the sideboard laid from when Sir Richard ate.”
“He has already been down then?” Iris wasn’t sure whether she was disappointed. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be disappointed.
“Not even a quarter of an hour ago,” the housekeeper confirmed. “I believe he thought you would be taking your breakfast in bed.”
Iris just stood there with nothing to say.
Mrs. Hopkins gave her a bit of a secret smile. “He asked us to put a flower on your tray.”
“He did?” Iris asked, hating the way her voice seemed to gulp from her throat.
“It’s a pity we have no irises. They bloom so early, they do.”
“This far north?” Iris asked.
Mrs. Hopkins nodded. “They come up each year on the west lawn. I like the purple ones myself.”
Iris was just about to agree with her when she heard footsteps in the hall, brisk and determined. It could only be Richard. No servant would ever move about a house with so little regard to noise.
“Mrs. Hopkins,” he said, “I’m going—Oh.” He saw Iris and blinked. “You’re awake.”
“As you see.”
“You had told me you were a late riser.”
“Not today, apparently.”
He clasped his hands behind his back, then cleared his throat. “Have you eaten?”
“No, not yet.”
“You didn’t want breakfast in your room?”
“No,” Iris said, wondering if she’d ever had such a stilted conversation in her life. What happened to the man who had been so charming the night before? The one she’d thought would visit her bed?
He tugged at his cravat. “I was planning to visit tenants today.”
“May I come with you?”
Their eyes met. Iris wasn’t sure which one of them was more surprised. She’d hardly realized what she was going to say until the words were out.
“Of course,” Richard replied. What else could he say, right there in front of Mrs. Hopkins?
“I’ll fetch my spencer,” Iris said, taking a step toward the door. Spring was still a chilly season this far north.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
She turned.
He made a motion toward the sideboard. “Breakfast?”
“Oh.” She felt her face flush. “Of course. How silly of me.” She walked back to the food and took a plate, nearly jumping when she felt Richard’s breath near her ear.
“Should I be worried that my presence turns you off your food?”
She stiffened. Now he was flirting with her? “Excuse me,” she said. He was blocking the sausages.
He stepped aside. “Do you ride?”
“Not well,” she admitted. And then, just because she was feeling peevish, she asked, “Do you?”
He drew back, his eyes startled. And vexed. More vexed than startled. “Of course.”
She smiled to herself as she took a seat. Nothing got to a gentleman quite like an insult to his horsemanship.
“You needn’t wait with me,” she said, cutting her sausage with surgical precision. She was trying so hard to appear normal, not that he knew her well enough to know what was normal. But still, it was a matter of pride.
He slid into the seat across from her. “I am at your disposal.”
“Are you?” she murmured, wishing that such a comment did not make her pulse race.
“Indeed. I was about to leave when I saw you. Now I have nothing to do but wait.”
Iris glanced at him as she spread jam on her toast. He was sprawled in his chair in a most informal manner, leaning back with the lazy grace of a natural athlete.
“I should bring gifts,” she said, the idea coming to her rather suddenly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Gifts. For the tenants. I don’t know, baskets of food or some such. Don’t you think?”