“Haven’t you?” Grace glanced meaningfully at Evie. “You’re raising a stranger’s child as your own because he asked you to. You’re playing Duchess to protect his reputation. You let him kiss you senseless at Morrison’s ball.”
“You can’t know that’s what?—”
“Please. You were gone for twenty minutes. Everyone noticed.”
Iris groaned while covering her face with her free hand. “Oh God.”
“Don’t worry, most people assumed you were arguing about Richmond. Only those of us who know you realized it was probably something else entirely.”
“This is mortifying.”
“This is marriage,” Grace corrected with a smile. “The question is, what do you want from yours?”
Iris looked down at Evie who had managed to get the rattle thoroughly covered in drool.
What did she want?
A proper family. A husband who stayed. A home filled with laughter instead of secrets.
But wanting things and having them were two very different things.
“I want him to trust me,” she said finally. “To stop hiding behind those walls and let me see who he really is.”
“And if he can’t?”
“Then we’ll continue as we are. Polite strangers raising a child together.” The thought made her chest ache. “It’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Is it?” Grace stood up and gathered her things.
After she left, Iris remained in the morning room. She held Evie close as the baby slept peacefully in her arms. The rattle had fallen to the floor, forgotten in favor of dreams.
Grace was right, of course. Half a marriage was its own kind of torture.
But what choice did Iris have? She couldn’t force Owen to want her—really want her, not just in moments of passion. She couldn’t force him to trust her with his secrets and his heart.
All she could do was what she’d been doing so far. Care for Evie. Keep up appearances. Try not to think about how his hands felt on her skin or how his voice had broken when he said he wanted everything.
“Your papa is a complicated man,” she told the sleeping baby. “But we’ll muddle through, won’t we? For your sake, if nothing else.”
Evie slept on, unaware of the adult complications surrounding her. Iris envied her that innocence--that ability to trust completely in the arms that held her.
CHAPTER 20
“Your Grace looks troubled tonight.”
Owen glanced up from his untouched brandy to find the barkeep studying him with professional curiosity.
The gaming hall reeked of cheap gin and cheaper perfume—exactly the sort of establishment a duke had no business frequenting. But respectability held little appeal when weighed against the need for information.
“I’m looking for someone,” Owen said, sliding a coin across the stained wood. “French. A woman who might have come seeking work recently.”
Even though he’d decided otherwise, a big part of him couldn’t stop whispering to him about Adele’s fate. She was Evie’s natural mother, and the girl deserved to know about her, eventually.And if Owen waited for too long, perhaps he’d never find Adele. So, he renewed his search, for Evie’s sake.
The barkeep’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Ah, a taste forchampagne, have we? Let me see what I can arrange.”
Owen’s jaw tightened. He should clarify his purpose, but explanations would only complicate matters. Better to let the man draw his own conclusions.
“Any French girls on your roster?” he pressed.
