“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.
