“I was just telling Lady Ashford how devoted you’ve become to family life. Such a leap from your bachelor days.” Richmond’s calculating gaze darted between them. “Fatherhood suits you remarkably well.”
“Thank you,” Iris said when Owen remained silent.
“I confess I am surprised by how quickly you adapted. Most men find the change to domestic responsibility rather difficult.” Richmond paused delicately. “Of course, some find creative ways to maintain their previous freedoms while appearing thoroughly domesticated.”
The implication hung in the air like poison. Iris felt heat flooding her cheeks and she was uncertain whether she ought to feel embarrassment or anger.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Owen said coldly, “I promised my wife the next dance.”
“Naturally. Do enjoy yourselves.”
As Owen led her onto the dance floor, Iris caught sight of Lady Pembridge whispering behind her fan to Lady Ashford. Both women watched Owen with obvious appreciation. The sight sent an unexpected spike of jealousy through her chest.
“What did Richmond mean about creative freedoms?” she asked as they took their positions for the waltz.
“Nothing worth discussing.” Owen’s hand settled on her waist with formal precision. “Jasper enjoys stirring up trouble.”
The music began, and they moved into the familiar steps. But tonight felt different. Their movements were charged with the tension that had been building between them for weeks.
Iris was acutely aware of Owen’s hand on her waist and the solid warmth of his shoulder beneath her palm.
“You’ve been avoiding my questions,” she hissed.
“I’ve been busy.”
“Busy with what? These mysterious meetings that keep you out until dawn?”
“Business obligations.”
“What sort of business requires such secrecy?”
Owen’s jaw tightened. “The sort that doesn’t concern drawing room conversation.”
“I’m not asking for drawing room conversation. I’m asking as your wife.”
“Are you?” His gray eyes searched her face. “Or are you asking because you suspect something?”
The question caught her off guard. “Should I suspect something?”
For a moment, something vulnerable flickered in his expression. Then, his usual mask slipped back into place.
“You should trust your husband.”
“Trust requires honesty. And you’ve been honest about very little since we married.”
The dance ended in a silence thick with tension.
As they moved toward the edge of the ballroom, Lord Bradford appeared with his usual predatory smile.
“Your Grace, you grow more lovely each time I see you.” His gaze lingered on her neckline with obvious appreciation. “Surely you can spare one dance for an old friend?”
“I’m afraid my wife’s card is full,” Owen said before Iris could respond. His voice carried an unmistakable warning.
Bradford laughed. “Come now, Carridan. One dance won’t hurt anyone. Unless you don’t trust your beautiful wife to behave herself?”
The insult was subtle but unmistakable. Iris felt Owen go rigid beside her. Fury radiated from him.
“I trust my wife completely,” he said with lethal quiet. “It’s you I question.”
