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 hisdark 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.”
