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Page 16 of The Duke’s Untouched Bride (Regency Second Chances #3)

Iris thought of Evie’s different cries and of how she’d learned to distinguish hunger from discomfort from the simple need for contact. The idea of ignoring those cries, of leaving Evie alone to ‘self-soothe,’ made her stomach churn.

“What about affection?” she asked carefully. “Surely babies need love as well as structure?”

Miss Hartley’s expression grew even more pinched. “Affection has its place. Ten minutes in the morning, ten in the evening. More than that creates dependence.”

“Twenty minutes a day?”

“Sufficient for bonding without spoiling. The rest of the time should be spent on beneficial activities. Fresh air, proper feeding times, and scheduled sleep.”

“And if she needs comfort outside those times?”

“She’ll learn not to.” Miss Hartley straightened her already rigid spine. “I’ve trained dozens of children, Your Grace. None of them grew up weak or demanding.”

Iris wondered how many of them grew up feeling unloved.

She thought of her childhood and the distance that had grown between her and her parents after her brother’s death. Each of them had wedged their grief into acceptable portions, leaving no room for a little girl who just wanted to be held.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Hartley. I’ll consider your application.”

“Consider?” The woman’s voice sharpened. “I understood the position was mine if I wanted it. Lady Morrison was quite clear?—”

“Lady Morrison was kind to recommend you. But the decision is mine.” Iris stood up, which forced Miss Hartley to do the same. “I’ll send word within the week.”

Miss Hartley’s expression could have curdled milk. “I see. Well, I hope you find someone who meets your… standards, Your Grace.”

The implication was clear: Iris’s standards were foolishly high and probably misguided.

She maintained her smile until the woman left, then slumped in her chair.

“Dreadful woman.”

She looked up to find Mrs. Pemberton standing in the doorway with a tea tray in hand.

“You heard?”

“Enough.” The housekeeper set the tray down with unnecessary force. “Twenty minutes of affection a day! As if babies were plants that only needed occasional watering.”

“Grace’s sister swears by her.”

“It sounds like Lady Brentwell’s sister also keeps her children in the nursery and sees them once a week for tea.” Mrs. Pemberton poured her a cup with practiced ease. “Is that what you want for Lady Evangeline?”

“No.” The answer came immediately. “No, I want… I want her to know that she’s loved. Every moment of every day.”

“Then trust your instincts, Your Grace.”

But as Iris made her way to her husband’s study, she wondered if her instincts could be trusted.

She was becoming too attached and caring too much. Maybe someone like Miss Hartley was what Evie needed—someone who could maintain a proper distance.

She knocked on the study door and entered at the Duke’s call. He glanced up from his ledgers, and she was struck again by how tired he looked.

“The interview?” he asked without preamble.

“Dreadful.” She moved to stand before his desk, feeling oddly like a schoolgirl summoned by the headmaster. “She believes in letting babies cry themselves to sleep and limiting affection to twenty minutes a day.”

“Ah.” He set down his quill. “Not suitable, then.”

“You agree?” She’d expected him to argue and point out the benefits of distance.

“You’re the one caring for her. If you’re not comfortable with the nurse’s methods, then she’s not right for the position.”

“But surely you want someone quickly? So you don’t have to deal with—” She stopped, realizing how that sounded.

“Deal with what?” His gray eyes were steady on hers.

“The disruption. The crying. The… chaos she’s brought.”

He was quiet for a moment, studying her with that intense focus that always unsettled her. “Evie isn’t a disruption.”

“But you value order. Control. She’s changed everything.”

“Yes.” He leaned back in his chair. “She has.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Many things bother me, Iris. But Evie’s presence isn’t one of them.” He paused. “We’ll keep looking for a nurse. Someone you’re comfortable with. There’s no rush.”

“But—”

“No rush,” he repeated firmly. “Take whatever time you need.”

She stared at him. She felt confused by his show of patience.

This wasn’t the cold, controlling man she’d married. This was someone else, someone who understood that Evie needed more than schedules and discipline.

“Thank you,” she said awkwardly.

“You don’t need to thank me for wanting what’s best for our daughter.”

Our daughter.

The words sent a shiver through her. When had Evie become “theirs” so completely?

They looked at each other across his desk, and Iris felt heat rise in her cheeks.

She was acutely aware of being alone with him and of the way the morning light caught the silvery threads in his dark hair.

The memory of last night when he covered her with his blanket and promised to watch over them flashed through her mind.

“I should go,” she mumbled. “Evie will be waking up soon.”

“Of course.”

But she hesitated at the door and looked back. “Your Grace? Last night… thank you. For the blanket.”

Something flickered in his eyes. “You needed rest.”

“Still, it was kind.”

“Kindness had nothing to do with it.” But his voice was softer than the words. “You’re no good to Evie if you exhaust yourself.”

Always practical. Always focused on duty rather than emotion. But she’d felt his gentleness last night. There had been care in his touch. Whatever he claimed, there was kindness in him. Tenderness, even.

She just didn’t know if he’d ever show it again.

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