Page 13 of The Duke’s Untouched Bride (Regency Second Chances #3)
“ H er Grace will take breakfast in her room this morning.”
Mary’s voice drifted up from the entrance hall, followed by Peters’s measured response.
Iris remained at her window, watching Owen’s carriage disappear into the morning traffic. He’d left earlier than usual, before the sun had properly risen.
Good. She needed time to think without his presence clouding her judgment.
The events of last night felt like a fever dream.
She vividly recalled the way he’d held her tight as if he were afraid that she might disappear.
And then, there was the kiss. She had wanted Owen to kiss her, but more than that, she knew that he felt the same way.
A feeling of desire had drawn them together and they were suspended in that moment by their shared wanting.
Wanting . Such a small word for what had happened between them.
Iris pressed her fingers to her lips, still feeling the ghost of his mouth. Her body remembered, too; a warm ache had kept her awake long after she’d tucked Evie in for the night. She’d never imagined a kiss could be so consuming or so thoroughly devastating to one’s composure.
But what did it mean? What did any of it mean?
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
Mary entered with a breakfast tray and set it on the small table by the window. “Cook sent extra portions, Your Grace, and those honey biscuits you favor.”
“Thank her for me.” Iris didn’t move away from the window. “Is Lady Evangeline still sleeping?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Mrs. Pemberton is sitting with her.”
When Mary left, Iris finally turned to the tray. The sight of the honey biscuits made her pause. She’d never mentioned liking them. Had the Duke noticed and told Cook?
The thought disturbed her more than it should.
She forced herself to eat, though the food sat uneasily in her stomach.
Everything about this situation was so challenging. At least when Iris was at Carridan Hall and Owen was in town, she comprehended where she stood in his estimation. But now? Suddenly, she had a husband who kissed her like she was his salvation, then pushed her away.
And, in the next room, there was baby who might or might not be his. Their entire marriage was built on secrets and silence.
For all she knew, the Duke could be the most accomplished liar in England. His story about Evie’s parentage could be pure fabrication, designed to garner her sympathy. The kiss could have been calculated to muddle her thoughts and ensure her cooperation.
She’d seen enough of Society marriages to know how men operated. They compartmentalized their lives with ease. A wife for respectability, a mistress for pleasure, and children scattered between them like chess pieces. Why should her husband be different?
Except… there had been a tremor in his hands when he’d held her. She’d detected the raw pain in his voice when he’d spoken of his parents.
A liar that accomplished would be terrifying, indeed.
Iris abandoned her breakfast and moved to her writing desk. She had letters to answer and household matters to address. She must tend to normal, practical things that didn’t require her to untangle the mess that was her marriage.
But her thoughts kept drifting to her husband’s claim that he wasn’t Evie’s father, the mysterious woman who’d abandoned her child and the fear she’d heard in the Duke’s voice when he’d insisted on secrecy.
If he was telling the truth, then someone had driven a desperate woman to abandon her baby. Someone dangerous enough that the Duke felt the need to lie to the entire ton. But if he was lying?—
A wail from the nursery cut through her speculation. Iris hurried to find Mrs. Pemberton attempting to soothe a red-faced Evie.
“She won’t take the bottle, Your Grace. Been fussing this past half hour.”
“Give her to me.” Iris gathered the baby in her arms, and Evie’s cries immediately softened to whimpers. “There now, sweetheart. What’s all this noise about?”
“You’ve a magic touch with her,” Mrs. Pemberton said. “Never seen a baby take to someone so quickly.”
“She knows I won’t leave her.” The words came out fiercer than intended. “Whatever happens, she’ll always have me.”
Mrs. Pemberton studied her with knowing eyes. “If I may say so, Your Grace, babies need more than one person to rely on. They need families.”
“She has me.”
“And His Grace?”
Iris didn’t answer, but instead focused on settling Evie against her shoulder. What could she say? That she didn’t trust her own husband? That last night’s kiss had shaken her so badly that she could barely think straight?
“His Grace is very busy,” she said finally.
“Busy men have been known to make time for their children.” Mrs. Pemberton gathered the discarded bottle. “My father worked from dawn to dusk, but he never missed tucking us in each night. Said it was the best part of his day.”
After the housekeeper left, Iris sank into the rocking chair with Evie. The baby gazed up at her with unfocused eyes. One tiny fist waved in the air. So innocent. So trusting.
“I don’t know what to do,” Iris whispered. “How do I protect you when I don’t even know what’s true?”
Evie made a soft sound, almost like an agreement.
Despite everything, Iris smiled.
“You’re right. We’ll figure it out together.” She traced a finger along Evie’s cheek. “But we’ll be careful. We won’t trust too easily. We won’t let anyone hurt us.”
The morning passed in the familiar rhythm of caring for Evie.
Feeding, changing, soothing. The new candidates would begin arriving soon, but part of Iris hoped none would prove suitable.
She’d grown accustomed to these quiet hours with Evie.
The simple purpose of seeing to the baby’s needs consumed so many of her waking hours and she was satisfied with that notion.
It was so much easier than trying to understand her husband. Evie’s wants were straightforward: food, warmth, comfort. But the Duke’s wants…
She wouldn’t think about his wants. Or the way he’d pressed her against the dining table. Or the sound he’d made when she’d touched his hair.
“Your Grace?” Mary appeared in the doorway. “Lord Halston is here. Shall I tell him you’re not receiving?”
Felix.
Iris felt a rush of relief. “No, I’ll see him. Can you take Evie?”
She found her cousin in the morning room where he paced before the fireplace. He turned when she entered and she could see immediately that his face was creased with concern.
“You look terrible,” he said without preamble.
“How charming. Is that how you greet all ladies?”
“Only the ones I care about.” He crossed to take her hands. “What’s happened? And don’t say nothing. You have that look.”
“What look?”
“The one you used to have after your father’s lectures. Like you’re trying to disappear inside yourself.”
Iris pulled her hands free. “It’s nothing. I’m tired.”
“Iris.”
“I can’t, Felix.” She moved to the window, needing distance. “There’s too much I don’t understand. Too much that doesn’t make sense.”
“About the baby?”
“About everything.” She pressed her forehead against the cool glass. “How well did you know Nicholas?”
Felix was quiet for a moment. “Nicholas? Which Nicholas?”
“That’s just it; I don’t know. Owen let the name slip when he was talking about Evie, but he won’t tell me anything more.
” She turned to face him. “He left me for a year, Felix. A full year without a word. Now he returns with a baby and a whispered reference to someone named Nicholas, and I’m supposed to just accept it? ”
“What does your instinct tell you?”
“My instinct?” She laughed bitterly. “My instinct is compromised.”
Something in her tone must have caught his attention.
Felix’s eyes sharpened. “What did he do?”
“Nothing. Everything.” She sank onto the sofa, suddenly exhausted. “I barely know him, Felix. How can I trust someone I don’t know?”
Felix sat beside her. His expression was uncharacteristically serious. “Then get to know him.”
“He won’t let me.”
“Won’t he? Or are you both so busy protecting yourselves that you’re talking past each other?”
The observation stung because it held truth. “You’re defending him now?”
“God, no. I still think he’s an arse.” Felix’s usual humor flickered briefly. “But I watched you last year, Iris. You didn’t just survive his absence. You built a life. Made friends. Found your strength. Maybe he sees that, too.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying maybe it’s possible that he’s not the only one with walls.” Felix took her hand gently. “Don’t trust him blindly. But maybe stop assuming the worst?”
“When did you become wise?”
“Horrifying, isn’t it?” He squeezed her fingers.
“Look, I can ask around about someone named Nicholas, but without more information…” Felix spread his hands helplessly. “It’s not exactly an uncommon name among our set.”
“I don’t know anything else.”
Felix began ticking off on his fingers with theatrical precision.
“The first Nicholas that comes to mind is Lord Hartwell, but he’s currently scandalizing Bath with a merchant’s daughter.
Another is Lord Crawford, who is approaching seventy and hasn’t been capable of fathering anything more demanding than a strongly worded letter in decades. ”
Despite everything, Iris felt her lips twitch. “This is serious, Felix.”
“I’m being serious. Let’s see… Lord Fairfax is in India with the East India Company, presumably still breathing.” He paused dramatically. “Oh, and there’s Lord Whitmore, but he’s been more interested in young men than potential mothers since Eton.”
“Felix.”
“I’m simply being thorough. Without more details about your mysterious Nicholas, I’m rather shooting in the dark.
” His expression grew more serious. “Though I could make some discrete inquiries if you’d like.
See if any recently deceased Nicholas was known for leaving calling cards in nurseries, so to speak. ”
Iris pressed her fingers to her temples. “The Duke is being deliberately vague. He knows exactly who this Nicholas was, but he won’t tell me.”
“Then perhaps the question isn’t who Nicholas was, but why the Duke won’t trust you with the truth.”
Felix studied her face. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “Nothing.”
“Iris, I’ve known you since you were in pinafores. That’s your guilty face.”
“I don’t have a guilty face.”
“You do. Your nose does this little thing when you’re hiding something.” He wrinkled his nose to demonstrate. “See? Just like that.”
Despite everything, she laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But effective. Come on, Cousin. What happened?”
She couldn’t tell him about the kiss. The words wouldn’t come. But she could share other fears.
“What if Evie is his?” she asked instead. “What if this whole elaborate story is just a cover for his indiscretion?”
“Then he’s going to extraordinary lengths for a lie. He could have rejected her and sent her away. Instead, he’s claimed her in public and allowed the ton to believe she’s legitimate.” Felix shook his head. “Whatever else your husband is, he’s not stupid. This course puts him at risk, too.”
“Unless he’s playing a longer game.”
“Chess master Carridan, planning twelve moves ahead?” Felix snorted. “The man’s barely holding himself together, Iris. Didn’t you see him a few days ago? He looked ready to crack when I swung at him.”
She had seen. There had been a flash of something raw when he’d spoken of Nicholas. He had only managed to dodge away from Felix because of careful control that seemed more desperate than cold.
“I hate this,” she admitted. “Not knowing. Wondering. Every time I think I understand something, it shifts.”
“Then ask him.”
“I have. He deflects.”
“Ask better questions.” Felix rose and pulled her up with him. “And maybe try not looking like you’re about to bolt every time he enters a room. Men are simple creatures. We respond better to honey than vinegar.”
“Now you’re giving me marriage advice?”
“Terrifying times we live in.” He kissed her cheek. “I should go. But Iris? That baby upstairs needs more than one person to protect her. Maybe it’s time to find out if your husband can be trusted with that job.”
After he left, Iris stood in the empty morning room. His words were so much like the ones Mrs. Pemberton had said not an hour before, and so they echoed through her mind.
Maybe it was time. The kiss had shown her that the Duke wasn’t as controlled as he pretended. There was passion beneath that ice and pain beneath the distance.
But passion wasn’t trust. And pain could make people dangerous.
She returned to the nursery to find Evie awake and content in Sally’s arms. Taking the baby back, she settled into the rocking chair.
“Your papa is a mystery,” she murmured softly. “But we’re going to solve this puzzle, you and me. For your sake, if nothing else.”
Evie gazed up at her with those eyes that might or might not be her husband’s.
Iris traced the curve of her cheek and tiny nose while looking for clues. But babies were mysteries too because their features changed daily.
“Whatever the truth,” she whispered, “you’re ours now. His and mine. That must count for something.”