by Gill, Tamara
Josh rubbed a hand over his jaw, glad to speak of his concerns to a gentleman he could trust with his life. The knowledge and constant reminder of Miss Cooper's disability, her injury caused by his youthful foolery, plagued him daily, and he needed to speak of it. Release it into the world and seek penance, if only from a friend.
"The young Baron Redgrove wished to be part of our set. Desperately so. While we never denied or asked gentlemen new to town to associate with us, Redgrove was desperate to be one of our set. Somehow, it went around London that one must perform a risky maneuver for one to enter into our friendship group. Redgrove was determined to succeed, even though we never stopped him from joining us." Josh laid his head against the leather chair, wishing he could take back time, stop what had happened to Redgrove and Iris.
Damn his teasing, his testing of the young buck, all for a lark that went horribly wrong.
"I placed a bet in the book downstairs, stating that anyone who could circle Hyde Park the fastest in a phaeton would be a lifelong member. Redgrove took the bet, and one afternoon while Miss Cooper, his betrothed, was accompanying him, he thought to test his newly purchased phaeton's speed. It rolled, of course, killing him, and Miss Cooper was injured. When well enough, she left London several weeks later and has not returned until now."
Moore stared at him for several moments, and he hoped he did not see judgment, disappointment in his friend's visage, but even he knew it was there. In the shadows, whispered but never said aloud. Not to his face, at least. Perhaps it ought to be. He deserved no less.
"I killed Redgrove and maimed Miss Cooper for life. Mother does not know, and I would like to keep it that way."
"And Miss Cooper, does she not know what part you played in the bet? Even though I do think you take too much upon yourself. A silly bet in the book downstairs is not taken seriously. Everyone knows that. Redgrove was a fool to have tried such a caper. With Miss Cooper at his side at the same time, he was fortunate that she did not die along with him."
Josh stood, walking to the window and looking down on St. James street. The London populace out and about on this sun-shining day, shopping and socializing. He watched three children fleece a gentleman of his wallet, the man unaware of the street urchins’ quick fingers. They darted back into a nearby alley, disappearing like shadows.
"She was severely injured and cannot remember much of that day at all. At this time, she does not know my involvement, and nor will she if I can keep that from her."
"And your plan for the Season now that she's under your family's care?" Moore asked him, sipping his beer.
"I will ensure she has a much happier ending to her Season than her last. This time she will marry a man who loves her as much as she loves him. It is my mission to make my wrong right by helping her, vetting all her gentlemen admirers to be sure she makes the right choice for her."
"Have there been many interested parties?"
Josh frowned, knowing there had not been. As to why though, he could not fathom. She was an earl’s granddaughter. His mother, a duchess, was sponsoring her. There was no dowry, but she was not the only lady in town this year not to have one. Surely her injury was not so off-putting that the gentlemen kept away?
"No one has called, but the Season is young, and there are more events to attend. Tonight, in fact, I'm escorting Mother and Miss Cooper to the opera. I am hopeful that several callers will attend Mother’s home tomorrow afternoon."
"We are attending the opera tonight. We shall join you in the Penworth box, show our support for Miss Cooper also. With us both at her side, she is sure to attract the correct sort of gentleman."
"I do hope so. Her injury is not so bad that they should keep away." He had certainly not thought so. While it pained him to see her uncomfortable at times, she danced and enjoyed her time as much as any young lady. Her injury, if it was so very severe still, she had learned to hide well.
"She has an injury?" Moore queried. "Where?"
"You did not notice her slight limp? Her leg was fractured during the carriage accident. It pains her still."
Damn himself for playing with a gentleman who was not capable of thinking clearly. Who took bets without thought or care. If only he could turn back time, he would change so much.
"Hell, that is terrible for her, but surely that is not enough to keep men away. She is affable and handsome, which is what gentlemen of quality seek first in a woman. I know they are two traits most attractive to me."
That was true. His many friends had succumbed to a pretty face, not necessarily an heiress.
"I agree, of course, but I will evaluate interest and make adjustments where I can. I will not allow her to be a wallflower. She must have suitors, admirers, and a proposal that makes her heart sing. I am determined to have it so."
"You are not to blame for her injury, Penworth. If the situation was explained to Miss Cooper, I'm certain she would say the same thing to you."
The idea of telling her the truth sent a cold shiver down his spine. He could not voice his wrongdoing, but he could change her fate, make amends to her life, and give her what she wanted.
A husband.
* * *
Iris stood in the foyer of the Duke of Penworth's London home and felt like the life she was leading was not her own. Her gown of mint-green silk with tulle that sat atop of it, so fine that it was almost transparent, did not feel real. The life she now led resembled more of a dream than reality.
She turned and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror atop the hallstand, and she did not recognize the woman staring back at her. Where had the woman from Cornwall gone? The cripple who struggled whenever the weather turned chill. The young woman who pinned up her hair with little care whether it remained in place or not.
This evening the night was warm, and her leg hardly troubled her at all. She would make the most of her improvement, enjoy the opera and the ball that proceeded it. Dance until dawn.
Iris smiled at her musings, knowing that was probably not possible, but she would dance as much as she could, enjoy the flatteries the gentlemen made and see if any of them made an impression on her.
The duchess stood beside her, waiting patiently for her son to arrive to escort them for the evening. Although Iris knew His Grace would accompany them to the opera, she was not certain if he was attending the midnight ball.
How well and delicious that sounded. A midnight ball, where anything was possible, even for a woman such as herself. A little broken, but still perfectly fine for someone.
A footman moved and opened the door as if he sensed the duke's arrival. And how could one not sense the arrival of such a man? Her mouth dried at the sight of him. He was perfection itself, tall and handsome and utterly unattainable. Mayhap that was what made him so alluring. His Grace walked into the foyer, pulling his hat from his head, the easy lift to his lips in place making her inwardly sigh. He reached up to adjust his hair, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. How she wished it was her hand running through his dark locks. Would he like her touching him so? Iris certainly knew she would enjoy petting him if she were able.
She still could not believe that she was here, living in this house with the Dowager Duchess Penworth escorting her about town. She would use the connection to her advantage, marry well and soon, so she was not a bother to them any more than she already was.
Not that the duchess would say such a thing. She was more than sweet and welcoming, but she was here for one Season only, and she needed to make the most of her time in London. Her injury plagued her, yes, but she needed to push through that pain, snap up a gentleman she could see herself married to for the rest of her life, and leave the duchess and duke to continue their lives without her.
He bowed before them, the scent of spice and apple renting the air. Iris breathed deep the alluring redolence. Was there nothing sweeter than a man who dressed well and smelled good enough to eat?
She dipped into a curtsy, grateful to bow her head so he would not see the
heat on her cheeks at her wayward thoughts.
"Mother, Miss Cooper, how beautiful you both look this evening," the duke said, his gaze lingering on Iris a moment longer than appropriate before his attention moved over her like a caress right down to her silk-slippered shoes.
She adjusted her gloves, anything but to react to his appraisal.
"Shall we go, my dear? I do not wish to miss the beginning of the opera," the dowager said, moving toward the door.
The duke slapped his hat back on his head and held out his arm as if remembering himself. "Miss Cooper, may I do you the honor?"
She took his arm, his coat as soft as velvet, more than happy to have the duke's arm. "Thank you, Your Grace," she said, looking toward the carriage outside, determined not to be distracted by the man beside her but the others who awaited, yet to be discovered.
Chapter 8
The opera was full, everyone eager to attend the Season's first performance featuring the famous Angelica Catalani. As the cast performed Mozart's Le Nozze di Figaro, the performance captured Iris under its magical spell. She appeared oblivious to everyone in the theater but the people on stage. Her eyes were bright and riveted to the performance,her bottom lip held tight between her straight teeth.
The image distracted Josh, and he doubted he had heard one second of the entertainment playing out before them.
The ton present who did not yet know of his mother's guest surveyed their box, curious about who the lady was and what she was doing with Penworth and his mother. They did not voice their curiosity, but their eyes certainly told a different story.
Josh watched those in attendance, strikingly aware that he had never had any lady sit within these curtained walls who were not his sisters over the past years.
He hoped the statement did not give the impression that Miss Cooper was a potential bride for himself, but he did live in the hope that other gentlemen would be curious as to who she was and make themselves known.
His sister Isolde sat beside him, her husband the duke to her right, who was engrossed in the performance just as Miss Cooper was.
Josh did not care a fig for the opera. He had heard it before. But the woman beside him had captured his attention from the first moment he had seen her this evening.
The vision of her had just about knocked his legs out from beneath him upon seeing her in the foyer of his home.
His breath had lodged in his lungs, and words for a moment or two were impossible to form. He knew she was pretty, but tonight it went beyond that benign word.
She was stunningly beautiful, an allure he had not expected to see blossom from her person. The gown of sheer silk gauze was distracting enough, but also the jewels that he knew were from his mother's private collection. The light-colored emerald that hung about her neck, dipping to the sweet crevice between her breasts, had captivated him. He had dipped into a bow to try to hide his interest, but it was no use. He could not stop admiring her person.
Tonight she looked like a duchess, and the realization gave him pause.
Blast it all to hell. She interested him. And she should not. Not at all. As beautiful as she was, she was neither titled, dowered, nor could she bring connections as lofty as his own.
He wanted a wife of beauty, intelligence, fortune, and breeding. And while Miss Cooper did have those in small articles, it was not enough. He was the Duke of Penworth. He had high standards to satisfy, especially after his parents, who had ruled London for several years.
He could not marry the penniless daughter of a vicar from Cornwall, no matter how shiny she buffed to when dressed up.
You are such an ass, his mind rebeled, taunting him with the truth.
"Miss Cooper is delightful, is she not? When I first met her earlier today, I had no notion that a beautiful swan was hiding under all those ruffled feathers. Did you?" Isolde asked him, staring at him directly. His sister was never one to beat around the bush when she wanted to know something.
"She is most agreeable. I would think that a suiter will make himself known by tomorrow at home with Mother. Will you attend? Help me in choosing a suitable husband for our mother's sponsor. I do wish to make it right."
"Moore told me as to why. I hope you do not mind," she added, patting his hand that tapped on his knee. A tick he had not known he was doing. "I agree with Moore, what happened to Iris is not your fault, but I commend you on helping her, making right what you can. If this brings you peace, then I support you in that decision."
But did it bring him peace? Not really. Something told him he would forever feel guilty in the knowledge of his part of her accident. Until Miss Cooper knew the truth, how could he ever feel easy over the outcome she faced?
Even if he brought to her a most-sought-after gentleman, perfect for her kind heart, it would not change the fact she did not know the truth. She had not had the opportunity to decide who she thought deserved forgiveness or not.
"I will do what I can to make her future a little brighter than it was looking before she departed Cornwall."
"And you, brother. What of your future? I see Lady Sophie Hammilyn is here this evening. And if you have not noticed, she is quite taken with our box."
His sister inclined her head toward a box on the other side of the theater. Lady Sophie studied them without guile, her interest in their box obvious to any who noted it. "I spent some time last year at Lady Sophie's estate, and while she has been bestowed with beauty and a handsome dowry, she is a little curt and lacking in poise that I think is required in a duchess."
His sister chuckled but covered her slip with her hand. "Really, brother. Did she lack poise? Most of your sisters suffer from that very lack of tact as well. I did not think you would mind so very much that your wife would also."
It was not only poise. He clenched his jaw. "She could be quite cutting toward people too. While I do wish for my wife to have a strong constitution—God save her, she will need one being a duchess—I do not want her to be cruel to people less fortunate than she is. I feel Lady Sophie will do and say all that will gain her a ducal coronet, but not act so worthy of the title once the tiara is atop her head."
"Well, she seems quite determined. I would guess that she will visit our box this evening."
Josh cringed, hoping that wasn't the case. His interactions with the lady were awkward at best, especially since he was so keen when he first met her but was soon turned off when he gained a little insight into her personality.
"Victoria did not like her, to be blunt," he stated, not wanting to discuss Lady Sophie when he could continue admiring Miss Cooper. "In this case, I must agree with Victoria as to her feelings about the lady."
Isolde looked back at the stage, listening to the opera a moment. "I think Victoria would like Miss Cooper, just as I do."
He turned, studying his sister. What did she mean by that? Not that he did not know, he knew perfectly well that his sister was hinting at the fact that Miss Cooper would do very well as his duchess.
Josh ignored her and refused to reply to her statement. He turned back to watch the performance and caught Miss Cooper leaning over to say something to his mama.
She had the loveliest neck, her profile accentuating her full lips. He swallowed.
Hard.
She was not for him. She was a family friend, a woman in need of support after her many trials. The last thing she required was a duke breathing down her neck, teasing her into a liaison that would go nowhere.
The idea of bedding her, of kissing her swan neck, of pulling down her mint gown and exposing her abundance of cleavage for his hungry lips made his cock stir.
He tore his gaze away, summoned a footman, and ordered champagne, anything to distract him from the diversion that was Miss Cooper at his side.
* * *
Intermission came too soon, and within minutes of the break in the performance, the Penworth box was inundated with callers. All wishing the duke and his family a pleasant evening, asking what they thought of Angelica Catalani.
Some of the ladies cast curious glances at Iris, but few took the time to speak to her.
Unfortunately, all her friends she had made her debut with were not in London this Season. She supposed they were married now, busy with their own lives and the many children they would have had—no need to attend London every year when one was so happily situated at their country estates.
A young woman entered the box with her father, making their way over to the duke without delay. She was all elegance and beauty and oozed confidence. Out the corner of her eye, Iris watched the woman's course, her fixation on the duke evident to not only herself.
"Lady Sophie, how lovely to see you again. Lord Hammilyn," the dowager duchess said. Lady Sophie dipped into a deep curtsy, demure and everything a good lady of breeding would do when before two ducal families.
"Your Graces," she said to both the duke and his sister. Her gaze moved across them all and stopped on Iris. The warmth she had felt in her gaze a moment before turned chill when her eyes settled on Iris.
Iris lifted her chin and waited for an introduction. A woman from Cornwall was strong of character. She would never look down to criticism, no matter how much Iris may wish to.
"This is my good friend's daughter, Miss Iris Cooper. She's staying with me this Season. Iris, this is Lady Sophie Hammilyn and her father, Earl Hammilyn," the dowager duchess said, introducing them.
Iris curtsied, thankful her hip did not protest the action after so much sitting. "It is very nice to meet you, Lord Hammilyn, Lady Sophie." She smiled, but the lady's fixed smile held little friendship. It seemed they were not destined to be friends. "How are you enjoying the opera so far? I must state that it has been a highlight of the Season so far," Iris said, trying to fill the void of silence.
Lady Sophie moved over toward her, taking her arm and pulling them a little away from everyone else. Iris went with her, unsure what was happening. "I enjoy it well enough, but it is nothing to a ball or musical evening with friends. Are you attending Lord McCalter's ball at midnight? There are to be fireworks, or so a friend of mine said earlier today at the modiste."