Page 9 of The Duke’s Untouched Bride (Regency Second Chances #3)

Singing. Soft and sweet, drifting down from upstairs.

“Her Grace is in the nursery,” Peters informed him. “With Lady Evangeline.”

Owen climbed the stairs slowly. Despite the resolution he’d just made in the carriage, he was drawn to the sound.

The nursery door stood ajar. Through the gap, he could see Iris in the rocking chair with Evie cradled in her arms. The baby’s dark hair caught the lamplight as Iris sang something low and soothing.

She’d changed since dinner. Her hair was braided for bed, and she wore a simple robe over her nightgown.

The formal Duchess who’d sat across from him at dinner had been replaced by someone softer and more genuine.

As he watched, Evie’s tiny hand reached up and grasped at the air. Iris caught it gently, letting the baby wrap those impossibly small fingers around one of hers. The smile that crossed her face was radiant. It transformed her exhaustion into something luminous.

This. This was what Felix had told him to see. Not the abandoned wife or the Duchess, but this woman who sang lullabies at midnight to a child who wasn’t even hers.

“She knows you’re there,” Iris said without looking up. “Babies can sense these things.”

Owen pushed the door open fully. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not.” She continued rocking and her voice took on a slightly teasing note. “Though you smell like a gentlemen’s club. All smoke and brandy. It can’t be good for her.”

“I’ll keep my distance, then.”

“No.” She looked up at him and her blue eyes caught him off guard as they always did. “Just wash before you come near her next time. Mrs. Pemberton says that babies have sensitive noses.”

Next time. As if this were normal, the two of them in a nursery at midnight, discussing infant care.

“How were things at the club?” she asked. “Felix didn’t cause too much trouble, I hope?”

“He told half of White’s about Evie.”

“Ah.” She didn’t seem surprised. “I thought he might. He always thinks it’s better to control the story than let gossip run wild. Was he right?”

“Probably.” Owen moved into the room but maintained a little distance from the rocking chair. “Ashford wants to discuss business. Apparently, family men make better investment partners.”

“How practical.” Something flickered across her face too quickly to identify. “I’m glad it’s working to your advantage.”

They fell into silence. Evie had drifted off. Her tiny chest rose and fell with each breath. Iris made no move to tuck her into her cradle.

“You could put her down,” Owen suggested. “Get some rest.”

“I will. In a moment.” Iris traced a finger along Evie’s cheek with infinite gentleness. “Sometimes, I just like to hold her. To know that she’s real. That she’s safe.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” he said carefully.

“No?” She looked up at him again. “Can you promise that? Can you swear that nothing will take her from us? No illness, no accident?”

“Duchess…”

“I know it’s foolish.” She returned her gaze to the baby. “I know I can’t protect her from everything. But when I hold her like this, I can pretend, just for a moment.”

The raw honesty in her voice made his chest tighten. He wanted to offer comfort, but what did he know of loss?

“You should sleep,” he said instead. “You’re exhausted.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. You barely ate at dinner, despite my efforts. And you’ve been up since dawn with her.”

“How do you know that?”

“Mrs. Pemberton mentioned it. She’s worried about you.”

“Everyone’s worried about me.” A trace of her earlier fire returned. “I’m perfectly capable of managing.”

“No one said you weren’t.”

“Then stop hovering like I’m about to collapse.” She stood up slowly holding Evie securely in her arms. “I’m stronger than you think, Your Grace. I survived a year alone. I can survive this, too.”

The accusation in her words was subtle but unmistakable. He’d left her alone, and she’d survived. If she didn’t need him then, she certainly didn’t need him now.

“I know you’re strong,” he acknowledged. “I’ve never doubted that.”

Something in his tone must have surprised her because she paused on her way to the cradle. “Haven’t you?”

“No. It takes strength to stay when someone gives you every reason to leave.”

She tucked Evie beneath the blankets with practiced ease and adjusted them just so. When she straightened, she kept her back to him.

“I had nowhere else to go,” she said simply. “Your name was my only protection from a worse fate.”

He moved closer despite himself; drawn by something he couldn’t name.

She turned then, and he was struck again by how beautiful she looked in the soft lamplight.

“Iris…”

“It’s late.” She moved past him toward the door. They had been standing close enough that he caught her scent as she walked away. She did not smell of honey tonight, but something warmer. “Good night, Your Grace.”

She was gone before he could respond, leaving him alone in the nursery with a sleeping baby and too many thoughts.

He stood there for a long moment watching Evie sleep. She was so small, so trusting. The world hadn’t tainted her yet with disappointment or loss.

Maybe that was what Iris was trying to preserve. Not just the child’s life, but her innocence. Her ability to trust that when she cried, someone would come. Iris sought to make Evie feel as if she was wanted, loved, and safe.

He thought of his childhood. There were so many nights he cried alone in his nursery while his parents raged at each other below. Owen had learned early on that tears brought no comfort, that need was weakness, and that love was just another word for pain.

“You’ll have better,” he told the sleeping infant. “I may not know how to be a father, but I know what not to do. That must count for something.”

Evie slept on with one tiny fist curled against her cheek.

After another moment, Owen left the nursery, closing the door softly behind him. The house had settled into quiet, but he felt too restless to sleep.

Instead, he went to his study and poured himself another glass of brandy. The ledgers sat waiting on his desk. Those columns of numbers usually brought comfort in their predictability. Tonight, they held no appeal.

Felix was right. Everything had changed. He had a wife upstairs who sang lullabies to another woman’s child. A daughter who would grow up calling him her father. A charade that felt more real with each passing day.

And somewhere during it all, he suspected he’d made a terrible mistake by leaving Iris alone for so long.

Initially, Owen had run from her to avoid the possibility of pain.

He’d fled Carridan Hall and left her there because he did not wish to discuss what came next, what duty dictated, or when they might produce an heir.

But in leaving Iris behind, he’d made the mistake of banishing all the good things that came along with having her by his side.

Because of running from the possibility of pain, he’d also run from the possibility of something else. Something he’d seen tonight in the way Iris held Evie, in the fierce protectiveness of her love.

He’d run from the possibility of happiness .

The thought terrified him more than any threat of future pain. Because pain, he understood. Pain was familiar and almost comfortable in its predictability.

But happiness? That was uncharted territory.

And Owen Sencler, the Duke of Carridan, had never been brave enough to explore it.