They’d made it halfway down the main path when Evie began to fuss. She created a small sound at first, but then it built to a cry.
“She’s hungry,” Iris murmured while leaning over the pram.
“She was fed before we left,” Owen reminded her quietly.
“I know, but…” She reached to adjust Evie’s blanket at the same moment he did.
Their hands touched over the pram handle. For a moment, they were both bent close with their faces inches apart.
Iris could hear whispers rising around them. She forced herself to pull back slowly, naturally, as if this was perfectly normal.
Owen did the same, though she caught the slight flush on his cheeks.
“Perhaps she’s too warm,” he suggested.
Together, they adjusted Evie’s blankets. Their movements were careful and coordinated. The baby settled, pacified by the attention.
They resumed walking, but Iris was acutely aware of how they must look—the Duke and Duchess fussing over their baby like any ordinary couple.
Except they weren’t ordinary, and this wasn’t real, and everyone was watching.
She was so focused on maintaining her composure that she almost missed the man on horseback.
He sat motionless near the trees, watching them with an intensity that made her skin crawl. He had blonde hair, sharp features, and there was something cold in his expression.
“Owen,” she muttered.
But when she looked back, the rider was already turning away and disappearing into the shadows of the trees.
“What is it?” Owen followed her gaze.
“Nothing. I thought I saw…” She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
They completed their circuit of the park, accepting dozens more congratulations and deflecting a few more questions.
By the time they returned to the carriage, Iris felt like she’d run a marathon. Her feet hurt, her face hurt from smiling, and her nerves were completely frayed.
Owen handed her into the carriage with the same formal courtesy he’d shown all afternoon. The footman efficiently secured the pram beside the driver’s box while she settled Eviein her arms and Owen took the seat across from her. Moments later, the carriage lurched forward.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Then, Iris let out a shaky breath.
“We survived,” she said.
Owen glanced at her, then at Evie, sleeping peacefully in her arms. His expression was unreadable in the dim light of the carriage.
“Barely,” he replied.
But there was something in his voice that might have been relief. Or pride. Or something else entirely that made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, they’d done more than simply survive.
Maybe they’d taken the first step toward becoming what they pretended to be.
CHAPTER 14
Sleep eluded Owen, as it often did these days.
The townhouse was quiet, the servants long in bed, but his mind refused to settle. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Hyde Park again. The whispers, the calculating looks, and the smile that never quite reached Iris’s eyes haunted him.
And the rider. Iris had mentioned seeing someone, but the man had disappeared before Owen could get a proper look at him. It might have been nothing. London was full of gentlemen who spent their afternoons in the park, after all.
