“I do hope your daughter inherited her father’s sense of adventure.” He spun her again, using the movement to draw her slightly closer. “Though perhaps not his appetites. They can be so destructive under the wrong circumstances.”
From across the room, Iris caught sight of Owen. He’d noticed her partner and his expression darkened with each passing moment.
The sight sent an unexpected thrill through her.
Was he jealous? Angry? She couldn’t tell at this distance, but the intensity of his stare made her pulse race.
“Tell me,” the Duke of Richmond continued, seemingly oblivious to Owen’s scrutiny. “Who do you think little Evangeline favors? You or Carridan?”
She felt the weight of his gaze like a scalpel, precise and unrelenting.
“It’s difficult to say,” she answered. “She’s still so little.”
“Indeed. Though family resemblance usually shows early. The shape of the nose, the set of the eyes.” He studied her face with unsettling intensity. “You have lovely eyes. Such a deep blue. One would expect to see them reflected in your daughter.”
“Perhaps she’ll develop them as she grows.”
“Perhaps.” He leaned closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Though I’ve heard from those who’ve seen her that she’s the spitting image of her father. Dark hair, dark eyes, narrow chin. Nothing of you at all.”
His words struck a nerve. Iris forced herself to keep dancing and maintain her smile even as her mind raced.
Who had seen Evie? What rumors were already spreading?
“Children change so quickly at that age,” she managed.
“True. Though blood will tell, as I said.” His smile was sharp as a blade. “My brother’s blood always told. Even in the most… unexpected places.”
She frowned again. What did that mean?
The music continued, forcing her to remain in Richmond’s arms even as questions multiplied in her mind.
She’d been so certain of her husband’s story. His protectiveness over Evie combined with the way he’d gradually let down his guard these past weeks had comforted her. But what if it was all an act? What if Evie were his child from some liaison during those travels Richmond mentioned?
The thought made her stomach twist. She was appalled not just because of the potential betrayal, but because of the idea that the Duke could lie so convincingly. She now questioned every tender moment, every shared glance, and every touch because they might all be part of his calculated manipulation.
“You’ve gone quiet,” Richmond observed. “Have I said something troubling?”
“Not at all, Duke. I was simply enjoying the dance.”
“Were you?” His knowing smile suggested he saw right through her. “How delightful. Though I notice your husband seems less pleased. He’s been glaring at me since we took to the floor.”
Iris glanced toward Owen again. He’d moved closer to the dance floor and his expression was thunderous. Felix was beside him, apparently trying to engage him in conversation, but Owen’s attention never wavered from her and Richmond.
“He is protective,” she said carefully.
“Protective of what?” Richmond executed another turn, this one bringing her close enough to feel his breath on her cheek. “Of you as his wife, or of you as the Duchess of Carridan?”
The music was ending.Thank God.
But Richmond’s words echoed in her mind, mixing with her doubts and fears.
What did she really know about her husband? About his past his travels?
What if everyone was lying to her? What if she were just a convenient cover for her husband’s indiscretions, a respectable duchess to legitimize his bastard?
The final notes faded. Richmond bowed over her hand. His lips barely brushed her glove.
“Enchanting,” he murmured. “We must do this again soon, Duchess.”
