“The very one. And equally dreadful as the previous candidate.” Iris gestured to the chair Miss Hagarty had vacated. “She wanted to put Evie on a rigid feeding schedule and eliminate all unnecessary physical contact.”
“Unnecessary physical contact?” Grace’s voice rose with indignation. “She’s a baby, not a soldier.”
“Apparently, affection breeds weakness. Or so Miss Hagarty told me.”
“Good God. Where do these people train? The Tower of London?” Grace settled herself with characteristic elegance. “You look rather tired. Are these interviews wearing on you?”
They were, although not for the reasons Grace might think. Each failed candidate reinforced Iris’s growing certainty that she didn’t want to hand Evie’s care to someone else. The baby had become too precious, too much a part of her heart.
“Perhaps I should abandon the search,” she said carefully. “None of the candidates feels right.”
“Or perhaps,” Grace suggested with a knowing smile, “you’ve discovered you don’t actually want a nurse.”
The observation hit closer to home than Iris cared to admit. “Don’t be ridiculous. Every family of our station employs proper nursemaids.”
“Every family doesn’t have what you have with that little one. I’ve seen you together, remember. The way she settles when you hold her, how she watches your face.” Grace leaned forward conspiratorially. “It’s exhausting, caring for a baby yourself, but it’s also wonderful, isn’t it?”
“She’s not truly mine,” Iris said quietly, though the words felt like lies on her tongue.
“Isn’t she? Blood doesn’t make a mother, my dear. Love does. And that child loves you as surely as you love her.”
The truth of it made Iris’s chest ache. Somewhere in the sleepless nights and tender moments, Evie had stopped being Owen’s responsibility and had become her daughter. The fierce protectiveness she felt, the way her day revolved around the baby’s needs and moods, and the simple joy of watching her discover the world… it all felt as real as if she’d carried the child herself.
“The weather’s lovely,” she noted, changing the subject before Grace could press further. “Shall we take Evie for a walk? She enjoys the fresh air.”
They made their way to the nursery, where Evie lay in her cradle, batting at a small rattle with increasing coordination. At the sight of Iris, her face lit up with recognition and delight.
“There’s my sweet girl.” Iris lifted her carefully, noting how much heavier she’d gotten. “Ready for an adventure?”
The process of preparing for their outing took longer than expected. Evie needed a fresh nappy, a warmer dress for the cool air, and the small blanket she seemed to prefer. Grace watched with amusement as Iris fussed over every detail.
“You realize you’re behaving exactly like a besotted new mother?”
“I’m being careful.”
“You’re beingmaternal. There’s a difference.” Grace helped arrange Evie in the elegant pram Owen had commissioned. “And it suits you beautifully.”
As they made their way through the quiet streets near the townhouse, Evie contentedly watched the world pass by from her cushioned perch. The warmth of the afternoon sun briefly chased away the unusually chilly summer breeze, allowing Iris to savor the peaceful domesticity of the moment.
“I keep thinking about what you said, Grace,” she admitted as they paused to adjust Evie’s bonnet. “About none of the candidates feeling right. Perhaps the truth is simpler than I want to admit.”
“Which is?”
“That I don’t want to share her with anyone else. Selfish as that might be.”
“It’s not selfish to want to raise your own child.”
“She’s not?—”
“She is.” Grace’s voice was firm but gentle. “In every way that matters, she’s yours. The sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll all be.”
They were discussing the merits of different feeding schedules when three women approached from the opposite direction.
Iris recognized them immediately: Lady Tremblay, Lady Thornbury, and the particularly venomous Lady Downs. All were wives of prominent members of theton, and each possessed of tongues sharper than their wit.
“Your Grace!” Lady Tremblay’s voice carried false sweetness. “What a lovely surprise. And this must be the mysterious little Lady Evangeline we’ve heard so much about.”
“Ladies.” Iris inclined her head politely, though every instinct urged her to retreat.
