“Iris—”
“I won’t live like this anymore.” The words came out fierce and final. “Either you trust me enough to tell me the truth, or we stop pretending this arrangement is anything more than a contract.”
The ultimatum hung between them.
Owen looked at his wife and saw not the sheltered young woman he’d married, but someone stronger. Someone who’d been tested by a year of abandonment and emerged with steel in her spine.
“You want the truth?”
“I’ve wanted it since the day we married.”
Owen moved to the fireplace. He stared into the dying embers while he gathered the words that would either bridge the gap between them or widen it beyond repair.
“When I told you that Evie isn’t mine, I was telling you the truth. But…” He trailed off.
When he looked back at Iris, she had gone very still.
“But?”
He turned to face her fully. “She belongs to Nicholas, the former Duke of Richmond, and a French woman named Adele Martel.”
Iris dropped into her chair as if her legs would no longer support her. “Nicholas? The friend you’ve mentioned before.”
“My closest friend since school. He met Adele in Paris and fell head over heels in love with her.” Owen’s voice softened with memory. “He used to write about her and proclaim how she made him want to be a better man. How she was all that remained of his heart.”
“All that remains,” Iris whispered, recognizing the phrase from the note.
“I keep remembering something he said to me once, when I asked why he stayed in Paris for so long. He said titles and money were just inheritance, but love was all that remained when everything else was stripped away.”
All that remained…
Those words appeared in the note that had been left with Evie the night Iris had found her. That’s how he knew Evie was Nicholas’s.
“And Adele?” she asked.
“Was pregnant when Nicholas died. Before he passed, he had hinted that he was planning to even marry her. But after… Well, after that, Adele was alone in a foreign country with no resources or protection.” Owen’s hands clenched at his sides. “I should have looked for her sooner. I should have realized that she might need help.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the entire story? Why hide Evie’s parentage?”
There was no accusation in the question, only a quiet hurt that cut deeper than anger might have.
“Because I wasn’t sure I could trust anyone with the truth. Because Nicholas’s death wasn’t an accident, and knowing about Evie puts people in danger. I think Jasper would do whatever was necessary to protect his interests. Including eliminating evidence of Nicholas’s indiscretions if it threatened the family name.”
Iris was quiet for a long moment, processing everything he’d told her. When she spoke again, her tone was thoughtful rather than hurt.
“That’s why you’ve been gone so much. You’ve been searching for Adele.”
“Trying to. She’s vanished completely, so she’s either dead or hidden so well that we can’t find her.” He turned back to her. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but I wasn’t sure?—”
“You weren’t sure you could trust me.”
“I wasn’t sure I could protect you if you knew too much.” The distinction mattered, even if she couldn’t see it. “I didn’t want to drag you into this mess.”
“This mess?” She stood up and moved toward him with that determined stride he was learning to recognize. “Owen, she’s my daughter now. Whatever danger surrounds her, I’m already in it. In every way that matters, she’s mine. I feed her, comfort her, and sing to her when she can’t sleep. I worry when she’s fretful and celebrate when she smiles. Blood doesn’t make a mother.”
The declaration hit him like a revelation. He’d been so focused on protecting Iris from external threats that he’d missed the most important truth: she didn’t need protection from loving Evie. She needed protection so she could continue loving her.
“If anything happened to you…” The words escaped before he could stop them.
