“Immediately.” He was already moving toward the door. “I want proper arrangements in place by morning.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Iris interjected quickly as her arms tightened around Evie. “I’ve been managing her care myself.”
The Duke paused and turned back to give her that same calculating look. “For how long? The journey alone must have been exhausting. You need help.”
“I need to care for the baby myself.” The possessive tone came out fiercer than intended.
“Your exhaustion suggests otherwise.” His voice remained coolly practical. “A wet nurse will ensure proper feeding schedules and allow you necessary rest.”
Mrs. Pemberton stepped forward diplomatically. “Perhaps we might start with additional support, Your Grace? A nursery maid to assist during the night watches?”
The Duke nodded curtly. “Whatever ensures the child’s welfare and the Duchess’s recovery.”
He was treating this like any other household arrangement, Iris realized. Efficient delegation of responsibilities with no emotional investment required.
“Owen.” The name slipped out before she could stop it. “Will you be here tomorrow? We need to discuss?—”
“We’ll discuss everything that requires our attention in due course.” His voice remained carefully neutral. “For now, rest.”
And then he was gone, leaving her alone with the servants and the echo of his dismissal.
Mrs. Pemberton stepped forward with practiced warmth. “Come along, Your Grace. Let’s get you settled properly.”
Iris followed her upstairs while Evie stirred restlessly in her arms. The blue suite proved elegant and comfortable, with large windows overlooking the square. The adjoining room had already been transformed into a makeshift nursery, complete with a hastily assembled crib.
“Now then,” Mrs. Pemberton said while closing the door behind the departing servants. “His Grace mentioned arranging a wet nurse, but I can see you have your own preferences about the child’s care.”
“She’s been with me since birth. I don’t want to disrupt her routine unnecessarily.”
“Understandable. Though you look as if you haven’t slept properly in weeks.” Mrs. Pemberton approached with the confidence of someone who’d handled countless domestic crises. “May I?”
Iris hesitated, then carefully transferred Evie to the housekeeper’s experienced arms. Mrs. Pemberton handled her with natural ease and examined her with gentle efficiency.
“Beautiful child,” she murmured. “Those eyes will break hearts someday. She’s been well cared for.”
“She’s particular about her routine, from what little I’ve experienced so far,” Iris admitted. “And she doesn’t settle easily for strangers.”
“Intelligent child then. She knows who she can trust.” Mrs. Pemberton settled into the rocking chair. “Though I suspect she’s been keeping you awake more often than not.”
The kindness in her tone nearly undid Iris completely. After months of careful isolation, having someone acknowledge her efforts felt like balm on wounds she’d forgotten she carried.
“It’s been challenging,” she managed.
“I’m sure it has.” Mrs. Pemberton continued rocking gently while Evie remained content in her arms. “The country air at Carridan is excellent for little ones.”
“Yes, though I felt it was time to come to London.” Iris chose her words carefully, aware that the household staff would have their own understanding of the situation.
“Of course, Your Grace. There are advantages to both.” There was something knowing in the housekeeper’s voice, a discretion that spoke of years managing delicate situations. “I imagine the quiet was peaceful.”
Iris sank into the chair beside the fire. She suddenly felt boneless with exhaustion. “Very peaceful.”
“His Grace has been quite occupied with estate matters,” Mrs. Pemberton said diplomatically. “Important business that requires his attention.”
The staff knew. They understood the distance in this marriage and the separate lives lived under one name. But they would never speak of it directly.
“Yes, he works very hard,” Iris agreed, playing her part in the careful dance.
“Indeed. Though I suspect he’ll find new priorities now.” Mrs. Pemberton shifted Evie to her shoulder. She rubbed the baby’s shoulders with a gentle patting motion. “Children have a way of changing perspectives.”
