Iris hesitated. Not from fear, but from the gulf of time and silence that had grown between her and the Duke over the past year.
She looked up, catching sight of the dark bags beneath his eyes. Was it worry? Regret? She wasn’t sure. A flicker of sympathy stirred inside her, quickly smothered by the stubborn ember of anger that still burned.
She stepped closer, close enough to catch his scent—sandalwood and brandy. It made her stomach twist with unwanted memories.
He leaned in and studied Evie’s tiny features with an intensity that made Iris hold her breath.
Then, his face changed. The mask cracked and revealed something raw underneath.
“Nicholas,” he breathed.
“What?”
He straightened then ran a hand through his black hair. For a moment, he looked younger, almost vulnerable. Then, the walls came back up.
“This child is not mine,” he said. “But she is here now.”
“That’s all you’re going to say?” Iris stared at him incredulously. “You recognize something. I can see it. You know who she belongs to.”
“It’s not my secret to tell.”
“Of course not.” Bitterness coated her throat. “Why should I expect honesty from my husband? Silly me, thinking marriage meant trust.”
“Duchess—”
“No.” She turned away while settling Evie against her shoulder. The baby’s weight had become familiar, almost comforting. “I’m tired, Your Grace. Tired of being ignored and cast aside.”
“Then what do you want?”
The question surprised her enough that she turned back. He stood rigid by the fireplace with his hands clasped behind his back like a soldier at attention.
“I want the truth,” she said simply. “But apparently, that’s too much to ask.”
Silence stretched between them, broken only by Evie’s soft breathing.
Iris studied her husband. She really looked at him for the first time in a year. He seemed harder, somehow. The lines at the corners of his eyes were deeper. Whatever he’d been doing in London, it had cost him something.
Not enough, the hurt part of her whispered.Not nearly enough.
“So, what happens now?” she asked when the silence became unbearable.
His gaze dropped to Evie, and something shifted in his expression. “Now… we give her a home.”
“We?”
“She was left at our doorstep, as you said. That makes her our responsibility.”
“How noble.” Iris couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice. “And convenient. This way you get offspring without having to actually—” She broke off, horrified at what she’d almost said.
Without having to touch me. Without having to pretend you want me.
“Without having to what?” His voice had gone dangerously quiet.
“Nothing. Forget it.”
“Duchess—”
“I said, forget it.” She bounced Evie, who was starting to fuss again. “She needs changing. And feeding. And about a dozen other things I barely know how to do.”
