“Iris!”

By the time Iris set foot in the richly decorated front hall, Anora was poking her head out of the sitting room, ready to scream again. Impatience lined her face. “There you are! Hurry up. I’ve brought Lady Griffin to take a look at you.”

Iris’s spine stiffened, but she followed her aunt into the sunlit room. Chairs and settees dominated the space, along with small tables and useless décor that only made the room look chaotic. Iris spied a stringed instrument in the corner, set out on a stand. She idly wondered if anyone even played the thing, or if it was yet another decoration. Her aunt seemed to favor a lot of useless things.

Lady Griffin sat on the edge of the settee, a small dog balanced in her lap. She petted the animal absently as her eyes raked over Iris from head to toe. The woman was probably a dozen years older than Anora, perhaps in her early fifties. She wore her graying blond hair in an elaborate twist and her dress was a deep emerald. The cuffs of her sleeves draped over her hands, and Iris couldn’t imagine why one would wear such a style—the unnecessary fabric would only be in the way.

“Turn, girl,” Lady Griffin demanded, flipping one hand demonstratively in the air.

Iris nearly refused, but she thought of her estate. She would only get it to herself if she capitulated. So, she twisted slowly. Her white skirt brushed against her legs, and her skin crawled. She knew both women were staring at her.

When she turned back to face Lady Griffin, the woman frowned. “Well, Anora, you did the right thing by summoning me promptly. There is plenty of work to do.” The woman’s dog gave a snappy little bark of agreement.

Iris regarded the dog coolly—then she eyed the woman. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Lady Griffin lifted one eyebrow. “Why, you can’t expect to fetch a good husband looking like this.” She didn’t wait for Iris to respond, but turned to address Anora. “We must make an appointment with the dressmaker immediately. And her hair must be attended to—no more braids, that’s the thing peasants do. We may need to cut it as well, it’s a bit too long to be fashionable. Oh, and we must work on her posture, it’s abysmal. We have three weeks until the Summer Festival, which will be a good first society event for her. Then of course the Thatcher’s ball is the week after, and—”

“I don’t want to fetch a husband,” Iris interrupted.

The woman’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

Anora hurried to stand in front of her. “Iris, you agreed to do as I say. Preparing you for your entrance into society is something you’ll thank me for.” She indicated the woman on the settee. “Lady Griffin has graciously offered to help us. She had four daughters, and they all found powerful husbands. Her reputation for making matches is unparalleled.”

“I don’t want to make a match,” Iris reiterated.

Anora rolled her eyes. “As you’ve said. But the fact remains, we will be judged harshly if we don’t give you every opportunity. Anything less than perfection here could damage Lillin’s chances for a good match. So please, don’t be selfish.”

It was a laughable reprimand, coming from Anora.

Iris thought of her beloved home, took a breath, and released it. “I will not cut my hair.”

Her aunt frowned, but Lady Griffin waved a hand. “That’s a smaller issue, so I’m willing to overlook it. But what are you wearing?”

Iris glanced down at her dress. It was simple, but fit well and was in good repair. “I’m wearing a dress.”

“It has no color.” Lady Griffin shook her head, still petting the dog who all but leered at Iris. “You must wear bright colors, Iris. Blue, pink, green, and red.”

Iris’s head suddenly throbbed. Nausea swirled in her gut. Scarlet hands . . . “No red,” she said, her voice a little thin.

“Very well,” Lady Griffin said, not even looking at her. “Anora, I can give her lessons in etiquette, but I’d like to assess her first over dinner.”

“Of course,” Anora said. “Would you like to join us tonight?”

Satisfaction sparked in the woman’s eyes as she petted her small dog, along with a hungry edge of greed. Did Anora not see that? Or was she simply ignoring it? “Yes, please,” Lady Griffin said. “I may need to attend several dinners, you understand, so I can make a better judgement of her progress.”

“Naturally,” Anora said affably. “Now, who do you think we should enlist for her dance lessons? I was thinking we could . . .”

Irritation burned Iris’s skin, but she somehow refrained from saying anything as the two women continued to chat over her as if she wasn’t even present.

Or like she wasn’t a person at all.