Page 35 of The Duke’s Untouched Bride (Regency Second Chances #3)

“ S he has your stubborn streak already.”

Iris looked up from Evie to find Owen watching them with an expression of fond exasperation.

The baby had been fussing over her morning bottle, turning her head away each time Iris tried to coax her to drink.

“My stubborn streak?” Iris laughed. “Have you met yourself, Your Grace?”

“I prefer to think of it as determination.” Owen settled into the chair beside theirs, close enough that Evie could see him clearly.

The baby immediately stopped fussing. Her dark eyes focused on his face with obvious delight.

“Traitor,” Iris murmured, though she couldn’t suppress her smile. “One look at Papa and you forget all your protests.”

The word slipped out naturally, as it had been doing more frequently these past few days.

Papa . Not His Grace or Owen, but the simple title that acknowledged what they’d all accepted.

Whatever circumstances had brought them together, they were becoming something that felt remarkably like a family.

“Perhaps she simply prefers male company,” Owen suggested while reaching out to stroke Evie’s cheek. The baby turned toward his touch and made a soft sound of contentment.

“More likely, she’s learned that you’re easier to manipulate. Those sea shanties of yours could charm birds from trees.”

“My grandfather would be pleased to know that his songs serve a useful purpose.” Owen’s expression grew thoughtful. “He used to say music was a universal language. That a pleasant tune could soothe any troubled soul.”

It was the opening Iris had been waiting for.

These past days had brought a new intimacy between them, but Owen still rarely spoke of his past. She treasured each small revelation like a precious gift.

“Tell me about him,” she said softly. “Your grandfather.”

Owen was quiet for a moment. He watched Evie finally accept her bottle with the enthusiasm she’d been withholding moments ago. When he spoke, his voice carried the warmth it always held when discussing his grandfather.

“He was everything my father wasn’t. Patient, kind, genuinely interested in other people’s happiness.” His smile was soft with memory. “He’d spend hours with me in the estate workshops, teaching me how things were made. Said a duke should understand the work his people did.”

“He sounds wonderful.”

“He was. The only person in my childhood who actually liked having me around.” The admission was matter of fact, but Iris heard the old pain beneath it. “When he died, it felt like losing the only ally I had.”

“How old were you?”

“Nine. Old enough to understand that everything good in my world had just disappeared.” He reached out unconsciously to touch Evie’s tiny hand. “Old enough to decide I’d never risk that kind of loss again.”

His careful distance suddenly made more sense. A boy who’d learned from a young age that love meant inevitable abandonment would naturally erect walls to protect himself. That he’d allowed those walls to crumble for Evie spoke to his capacity for affection.

“I had a brother,” Iris found herself saying. “Thomas. He was born when I was ten.”

Owen looked up, clearly surprised. She’d scarcely spoken of Thomas before because she’d barely allowed herself to think of him in years.

“You mentioned a brother once, but I do not recall the details you gave then.”

“He lived only four months.” The words came easier than expected, perhaps because she was cradling another baby and feeling the warm weight of life in her arms. “But those four months were the happiest of my childhood.”

“What happened?”

“A fever. It came suddenly, and the doctors could do nothing.” Iris adjusted Evie’s position.

The baby now contentedly drank while watching their faces.

“I’d helped care for him from the moment he was born.

Fed him, changed him, sang to him when he couldn’t sleep. I thought I was his second mother.”

“You were.”

The simple acceptance in Owen’s voice made her throat tighten.

“My parents never recovered from losing him. Papa had finally had his heir, and then… nothing. Mama fell into such melancholy that she could barely look at me without remembering what we’d lost.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s why I couldn’t let anyone take Evie away, even when I thought she might be yours.

” She looked down at the baby who had finished her bottle and was now studying the morning light with fascination.

“The moment I held her, I remembered what it felt like to have someone depend on me completely. To be needed.”

“She does need you. We both do.”

The quiet confession made her heart skip a beat. Owen had grown so much more open these past days, sharing thoughts and feelings he’d kept locked away for months. But hearing him admit his own need still felt like a small miracle.

“I used to imagine what Thomas would have been like,” she continued. “Whether he’d have been serious like Papa or resilient like me. Whether he’d have liked books or horses or music.” She smiled down at Evie. “Now, I get to find out what kind of person she’ll become.”

“What do you think she’ll be like?”

“Determined, obviously. She’s already shown us that.” Iris traced a finger along Evie’s cheek, marveling at the softness of baby skin. “Intelligent. She watches everything so carefully, like she’s trying to understand how the world works.”

“And beautiful. She’ll be beautiful like her mother.”

“Adele must have been lovely for Nicholas to fall so in love with her.”

Owen’s expression grew sad. “He wrote about her constantly. How she laughed, how she moved, how she made him want to be worthy of her devotion. I think she was the first person who saw past his title to the man beneath.”

“Like you were for him?”

“Nicholas didn’t need anyone to see past anything. He was genuinely good and kind. The sort of person who made everyone around him better just by being himself.” Owen’s voice grew rough. “He would have been an extraordinary father.”

“He still is, in a way. Through us. Through the care we give her.” Iris reached out to touch his hand. “She’ll know about him when she’s old enough. We’ll make sure she understands where she came from.”

“And what about us? What will we tell her about how we became a family?”

It was a question that had haunted Iris’s quieter moments. How did one explain such a complex beginning to a child who deserved simple truths?

“We’ll tell her that sometimes the best families are the ones you choose,” she said finally. “That affection isn’t always about blood, but about who shows up when you need them most.”

“And our marriage? How will we explain what we’ve become?”

Iris studied his face, noting the vulnerability in his gray eyes.

What were they becoming? Something deeper than convenience, certainly. Something warmer than duty. But naming it felt dangerous, as if speaking aloud might somehow break the spell.

“We’ll tell her the truth. That sometimes understanding takes time to grow, but when it does, it changes everything.”

They spent the rest of the morning together. Owen learned the intricacies of caring for a baby while Iris marveled at how natural he was with Evie. He changed her nappy with minimal fumbling, successfully burped her after eating, and seemed genuinely fascinated by her developing personality.

“She likes it when you talk to her,” Iris observed as Owen held Evie up to the window and pointed out birds in the garden. “Look how she follows your voice.”

“My grandfather used to say babies were the best conversationalists.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Mainly because they never interrupted or argued.”

Iris giggled. “How very astute of him.”

Owen shifted Evie to face him, smiling when she grabbed his cravat. “Though this one seems to have opinions about fashion.”

“She has excellent taste. That cravat is so hideous.”

“It was a gift from my aunt.”

“Then she has terrible taste, and Evie is doing you a favor.”

Their easy banter felt like another small miracle. After months of careful politeness, they were finally talking like the friends Iris had always hoped they might become.

We’re more than friends , she realized, as she watched Owen’s face light up when Evie smiled at him.

“I have an idea,” she announced as they settled in the drawing room after lunch with Evie playing contentedly on a blanket between them. “What would you think of inviting our friends for a picnic? Grace and Harrison, Felix, and perhaps others?”

“You want to show us off,” Owen said with amusement.

“I want to share our happiness. They’ve been so patient with us, so supportive despite all our mysteries and complications.” She reached for his hand and entwined their fingers. “I want them to see that we’re really a family now.”

“Where would you like to have this picnic?”

“Hyde Park?” She squeezed his fingers. “Somewhere Evie can enjoy the fresh air, and our friends can see how perfect she is.”

“And how well suited we are together?”

“Are we? Well suited, that is.”

Owen lifted their joined hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Getting there. Every day, we understand each other better.”

That evening, they established a new routine. Together, they gave Evie her bath. Owen held her steady while Iris washed her carefully. The baby seemed to enjoy the warm water because she kicked her legs and gurgled.

“She’s going to be tall,” Owen observed as he watched Evie stretch in the small tub. “Look at those legs.”

“Good. Tall women command more respect.” Iris lifted Evie from the water and wrapped her in a soft towel. “Though I suppose as a duke’s daughter, she’ll have all the respect she needs.”

“She’ll have more than that. She’ll have parents who adore her, friends who cherish her, and enough stubbornness to take on the world.”

They settled into the nursery for Evie’s final feeding of the day. Owen sat in the rocking chair with the baby while Iris tidied the room.

“Sing to her,” Iris requested while settling onto the small sofa where she could watch them both.

Owen’s voice was soft as he sang the familiar sea shanty that never failed to soothe Evie. But tonight, he sang other songs too, lullabies his grandfather had taught him, half-remembered melodies from his childhood.

“ Away, haul away, we’ll haul away together ,” he sang softly. “ Away, haul away, we’ll haul for better weather .”

Evie’s eyes grew heavy, and her small body relaxed completely in his arms. She was safe, cherished, and surrounded by the voices and scents of home. Whatever dangers might exist in the wider world, in this room, at this moment, she was safe.

“She’s asleep,” Iris whispered.

“Finally.” But Owen made no move to put Evie in her cradle. He seemed content to hold her while she slept. “I understand now why you never wanted to put her down those first few days. There’s something about holding a sleeping baby that makes everything else seem manageable.”

“Even the frightening parts?”

“Especially those.” He looked up at her with a serious expression on his face. “I used to think that caring about people made you vulnerable. That the more you invested in others, the more you had to lose.”

“And now?”

“Now, I think the opposite might be true. That having something worth protecting makes you stronger, not weaker.” He stood up carefully and tucked Evie into her cradle with practiced ease. “Caring doesn’t make you vulnerable. It makes you brave.”

Later, in the privacy of his chambers, they came together with a tenderness that spoke of growing intimacy rather than desperate need. Afterward, Iris lay curled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and marveling at how right this felt.

“Owen?”

“Mmm?”

“When we have our picnic, will you tell our friends about Nicholas? About Evie’s real parentage?”

He was quiet for so long that she thought he might have fallen asleep. When he finally spoke, his voice was thoughtful.

“Some of them, perhaps. Grace and Harrison certainly. Felix already knows about it.” His hand stroked her hair gently. “But carefully. The fewer the people who know the truth, the safer she is.”

“Of course.” Iris pressed a kiss to his chest, tasting the salt of his skin. “I just want them to understand how much we cherish her. How real this has become.”

“They’ll understand. Anyone who sees us together will understand.”

She hoped he was right. Because this happiness felt too precious to be questioned, too perfect to be anything but genuine. They’d built something beautiful under the most unusual circumstances, and she wanted the whole world to see it.

Starting with the people who mattered most.