by Gill, Tamara
How had he not seen that she was such a treasure? How had the other gentlemen not have seen either?
Were they all blind?
He glanced about the supper room, many eyes upon them, men with admiration, curiosity, and interest, women with annoyance and disdain.
Lady Sophie Hammilyn one of them, watching them play at their table as if they were all sport. He no longer thought of the possibility of them, not after his time with her in Hampshire. As well-bred as she was, or how refined, she would never be his duchess.
"I'm going to go for a ride tomorrow in the park. Would you like to accompany me, Miss Cooper? Mother can ride alongside us in the carriage to ensure you're suitably chaperoned."
Her eyes widened with pleasure. "I would like to, yes. If your mama says she will accompany us."
His mother bit into her millefruit biscuit, and it took her several moments before she replied, "Of course, I shall accompany you."
"I think Daisy will suit Miss Cooper. She is calm and tame around traffic," he stated, wanting to put Miss Cooper at ease over the mount she would ride.
"You are always so thoughtful and protective, my dear."
Josh ignored his mother's words, unsure if she meant kindly by them or was pointing out his overprotective nature. Iris’s accident had been his fault, and fear had spiked within him of causing another, of not being a good brother, keeping his sisters safe from harm, be that of the male kind, or some other type of accident.
He may have been too protective at times, but at least they were all safe and happily married now. He would do the same for Miss Cooper. "Do you have any dances left on your dance card this evening?" he asked her, sipping the claret and wishing he'd taken a glass of brandy instead of the dry red beverage.
"I have one left, a waltz." Miss Cooper lifted up the little card hanging off her wrist, reading it as if to ensure she was correct. "All the others are taken."
"How popular you are this evening, my dear," his mother remarked. "Is it the gown? It suits you, and you look simply lovely."
"Or it could be that the gentlemen have finally noticed your beauty, inside and out." His mother's gasp brought his to attention to what he had just said.
Aloud.
Miss Cooper grinned into her dessert, his mother looking at him as if he had lost his mind. Which, when he was around Miss Cooper, had been occurring more and more.
What possessed him to say such things to her? He was not courting her, even if she looked so very fetching right now, all flushed and abashed.
"May I request the waltz, Miss Cooper?" he asked, ignorance over what he had said the best course of action. He should not be taking up a valuable dance that she could be enjoying with a gentleman who did wish for her to be his wife.
He was not that man. Nor could he stop himself.
She peered at him, mulling over his words, and for a dreadful moment, he thought she might refuse until her lips lifted into a sensual smile that left his wits scattering.
Who knew Miss Cooper could be so alluring?
He did a mental calculation of how much spirits and wine he'd downed this evening, to be sure he wasn't in his cups.
"You may," she answered him finally.
Josh could not look away from her, even as his mother watched on with something akin to shock. Up until the waltz, he would make a point of dancing with others. He did not need the ton wagging their gossiping tongues over who he was courting or considering for his duchess.
That would end such rumors and leave him free to court whom he did wish to be his wife.
Which right at this moment, he had no fucking clue whom to choose.
Chapter 11
The few sets that Iris had danced earlier in the night were soon forgotten at the delicious expectation of dancing with His Grace. A waltz, no less.
Penworth.
London's most eligible bachelor this Season and in search of a wife. Iris would dance and enjoy being in the man's arms for as long as she could before he belonged to someone else's heart.
He led her out onto the floor. His superfine coat was soft against her palm, and she hoped he could not sense her racing heart. Her body did not feel her own when she was about him. A feeling she could not remember when with Dudley. At no point had the duke made his attentions toward her anything but benign friendship, and so she was at a loss as to why she felt this way. Her reactions were not warranted nor helpful, not if she was going to marry someone else.
When she found the right gentleman for her, that was.
The duke swooped her into the waltz, his hand high on her back. A shiver stole through her at his nearness, his warmth and scent, everything she'd come to appreciate more than was proper.
Iris looked up, wanting to admire his handsome visage, and found him staring at her. His eyes blazed with an emotion she could not interpret. Her breath caught, her heart raced, and there was no place she would rather be than in his arms.
"Have you found anyone who has sparked the interest of your heart?" he asked her, his voice light but serious.
Iris wished she had her wits about her like he still did. Her attention snapped to his lips as they moved. He had lovely lips, full and wide, perfect for kissing. Oh, to dream of being in his arms and the lucky lady he kissed. Something told Iris he would be passionate, caring, and satisfying beyond measure.
Iris schooled her features, forcing herself to stop thinking about the duke in such a way. "There are two gentlemen whom I enjoyed the company of. A Mr. Reeves and Lord Bradley. What are your thoughts on their eligibility?" she asked him. After all, acting as a type of guardian for her, the duke was looking into anyone who made their suit known and letting her know the particulars of their desirability.
Talking of her prospective suiters was a safe conversational subject. For her, at least, she felt nothing but benign friendship toward all of the men she had met so far.
Penworth she had to exclude from the innocuous list.
A muscle flexed in his jaw, and his hand tightened about her waist, pulling her the sparsest closer to him. The breath in her lungs hitched. He was too close for clear thought. His mere presence made her mind befuddled and dizzy, as if she'd imbibed too much wine.
"Bradley is a rake. Not for you." His answer curt and blunt. "Mr. Reeves I will consider further and let you know the outcome of my investigations."
"Thank you," she said, happy to wait for as long as the duke wished. The longer he took in picking out a suitable husband, the longer she would have with him and his mama. If only he would look at her for his prospective bride. Iris was certain she could make him happy and give him children. Her injuries, the doctor had stated, would not stop her from such a future.
"You do not like Bradley. I fear he will be quite disappointed," she said with a touch of pity. "I do believe his suit is in earnest," she teased, hoping her insight into the duke's reaction to the man's name was not wrong.
"I'm sure it is," His Grace spat, shaking his head. "He's after a biddable wife, not a love match. He will not do for you."
She grinned, pleased the duke wanted love for her and not just a suitable match who pleased both families. "He's very handsome. I do find myself quite enraptured by his cheekbones. Marriage to him would not be so very bad."
The duke gaped, and Iris wondered if she'd been a little too forward, even with a man who had no romantic interest in her whatsoever. "I apologize," she added quickly, not wanting him to think her fast. "I do speak plainly with people I consider my friends. I hope you are not disappointed in me, Your Grace."
He spun her near the turn of the room, her chest brushing his silk waistcoat. Heat pooled between her legs. She could not keep reacting to Penworth in this way. It would only lead to heartache, hers in particular.
His dark, troubled gaze met hers. Iris swallowed, the sense that she was getting in over her head with the duke floating through her mind.
"We are friends, and I will guide you as best I can, but the choice of who you will marry w
ill be yours and no one else's. If you want to marry Bradley, while I would warn you against such choice, I would not stop you from making it."
"You do not mind me speaking my mind, Your Grace? My father is forever telling me to stop being so opinionated, at least in the presence of others."
"I'm used to independence and forward-speaking women. I have four sisters, remember?"
She chuckled, looking forward to meeting them all one day. If that day ever happened. Her mama and the duchess were friends, and now that Iris knew the dowager duchess so well, surely they would connect more in the future.
She hoped that was the case.
You would have to see the duke and his new wife if that were to occur.
Iris threw the thought aside. Seeing the duke married would be no issue. Had she started a love affair with him, had he been courting her and then chose another, she may find such a situation hard, but he was not. He was her friend. She would be happy for him and nothing more.
"I want to tell you that Redgrove's mother wishes to have tea with me next week. An invitation arrived this morning."
He watched her as they continued to weave about the floor. "You are nervous about seeing her again? Is that why you are telling me?" he asked her.
She sighed, biting her lip. She was nervous about it. They had not held out the hand of friendship since Dudley's death, and it seemed odd that she would do so now. "I did not think they liked me. I'm confused why Lady Redgrove would request an audience."
Penworth cleared his throat, staring off over her shoulder. "Redgrove was a cheerful fellow, always willing to please." He threw her a quick smile. "I'm sure her ladyship is no different and merely wishes to repair your friendship with her family."
That was certainly true. Dudley was cheerful and forever up for a lark. The race around Hyde Park, unfortunately, his last. "You are right, of course. Lady Redgrove would never chastise me now over an accident that was not my fault." Iris sighed, thinking back to her time in London before the disaster. "I wish I could remember the day, but no matter how much I try, I cannot. Lord Templedon even mentioned that he knew Redgrove and remembered me, but I could not remember him."
The duke frowned and appeared more displeased than she'd ever seen him before. "Templedon should not have brought up a subject that is still so obviously painful for you. It was inconsiderate of him."
"It is no longer painful. Merely sad that Dudley lost his life over something so foolish. I'm sure were he still alive today, he would even state the same."
* * *
"I'm sure he would," Josh answered, his mind whirling at what Miss Cooper had said. Templedon used to be part of his set, and he was well aware of what had occurred leading up to Redgrove's death. The bet, that they had all congregated at Hyde Park to see if the baron could beat a previous time set by Josh.
Was he planning on using what he knew about that awful day to make Miss Cooper marry him? He caught sight of the gentleman in question. His smirk smacked into him like a physical blow. Would he demand Josh allow Miss Cooper to marry him to keep his mouth shut over Josh's involvement with the carriage accident? She was not an heiress or titled. What did Templedon want with her?
Same as you do. A wife of poise and grace who would be an asset to any family she married into.
"Be on your guard with Templedon. I'm uncertain whether he is trustworthy, and to be as honest with you as I can, his lordship is rumored to be ruined financially. I do not want to see you saddled with a husband who will leave you destitute. Templedon only came into the title two years past. The late earl was wealthy, and yet, it looks as if the coffers are now empty."
Miss Cooper's tongue darted out to dampen her lip. Josh felt the action right down to his core. He breathed deep, wanting to close the space between them and kiss those ample lips. Thrust his tongue against hers, make her moan his name against his ear at the peak of her release.
His cock stirred, and he separated them a bit, not wanting to see her run off, terrified of his reactions to her presence.
"I will do whatever you suggest, Your Grace. I do not want a union that leaves me disillusioned and alone, penniless as well."
"I would not allow that to happen to you. I'm here to protect and guide you. I shall not let you down." Not again, at least. He had let the woman down in his arms once before, with terrible repercussions for his actions. His attention took in the scar she bore on her face, a small red line that ran from her temple to her forehead—hardly anything, but in turn, everything. The line was a reminder of all he'd done wrong, of what she had endured at his urging and foolishness.
She tipped her head to the side, studying him. "I do think you take too much responsibility on, Your Grace. When it comes to me, at least. I do not deserve such kindness, not from you. It was the dowager duchess who sponsored me, agreed to guide and care for me while I'm in London. I do not want to take up too much of your time, not when you have a Season to attend to as well. I feel as though I am monopolizing your time."
She turned her head and stared to the side of the room. Josh followed her line of sight and caught notice of Lady Sophie watching them, her mouth pulled tight into a displeased line.
"I would prefer you take up my time than any others who look to further their standing by an advantageous match. If my mother is sponsoring you, then you are a woman of morals and good judgment. I do not fear your company."
Her eyes took on a dreamy hue. "How lovely you are."
He let out a bark of laugher, unsure if she meant to be so honest. The rosy hue kissing her cheeks told him she had not meant to be. "Why, thank you, Miss Cooper. So are you." He spun her quickly, wanting to make her at ease. "You have done remarkably well tonight. I hope your leg will not pain you on the morrow."
"Oh, it will." She shrugged as if it were a matter of fact. "But I no longer care. This evening, the opera, the ball, this waltz has been too enjoyable to regret."
Her words warmed his heart and made his blood quicken. He enjoyed her in his arms too. Much more than he thought he would. She was a vicar's daughter. A woman beneath his notice, until now.
Now, he'd seen her. Witnessed how sweet-natured and pure she was, how kind and generous and utterly one of the most handsome women he had ever met in his life.
A woman who sparked to life a fire inside him that he was unsure he could keep within controlled lines. Something told him eventually the fire she stoked would run out of control, and, scariest truth of all, he wouldn't do anything to try to stop it.
Chapter 12
The following afternoon they rode down to Hyde Park, his mother ensconced in the open carriage and moving ahead of them in the traffic. Iris had not been on a horse in several months, but the mare, Daisy, whom the duke had picked out for her, was placid and not at all perturbed by busy London traffic.
The duke kept a close vigil of her horse, always within reach of the reins, always protective and caring. Iris surreptitiously studied him. What had made him so shielding of others? He said himself he may have overstepped the bounds of keeping his sisters safe during their Seasons. Away from gentlemen admirers even, but likewise with her, he seemed to be going out of his way to accommodate Iris.
A small part of her could not help but hope it was because he enjoyed her company. May even be considering her as a potential bride. More likely, he was caring for her as if she were like a sister of his.
The idea left a sour taste in her mouth. She did not want the duke to see her in a familial kind of way. She certainly did not look upon him with innocuous eyes.
Whenever she was around him, like at this very moment, all she could think about was his sweet nature. How handsome and dashing he was. How women glanced his way from the park's walkways, their eyes sparkling with interest and pleasure. Men tipped their hats toward one of the highest members of the ton, hoping for an introduction.
The duke rode a little ahead of her, his shoulders broad and strong, his hands capable on the reins. He kept vigil, kept her safe, and sh
e could not remember the last time she had felt so well cared for.
Not that her parents did not care for and love her, for they did, but the duke and the dowager duchess, too, were not family. They did not have to go out of their way to be there for her, yet they were.
She would forever adore them both for their kindness.
He glanced over his shoulder, his dark-blue gaze hit her like a physical blow. The breath in her lungs stilled, her nipples prickling under her riding gown, and she was thankful for the thick riding jacket she wore.
"We are almost there, Miss Cooper," he said, his lips twisting into a knowing grin.
How she wanted to kiss those lips. Last evening, after the sweetest waltz she was certain ever to entertain, she had dreamed of him. Of them, more to the point. Alone and dancing in his London lodgings off Piccadilly.
The dance had started innocently enough until the duke had closed the space between them, no longer satisfied with merely dancing.
Iris bit her lip, remembering the dream. His large hands, slipping down her body, slowly working her dress up and over her person.
He'd kissed her then. His lips as soft as she imagined them, his mouth hungry and demanding her surrender.
She had, of course. In fact, she had not woken from the dream until the duke had laid her upon a settee and pushed against her wet, aching core.
Iris had woken in a pool of sweat, her breaths short and quick. For hours she had lain there, remembering every moment of her dream, reliving it, wanting it to be true.
And that was the crux of her problem being here in London and staying with the duke's mama.
She wanted him. Not only as a friend but a lover. A husband.
"Do you think there will be many at the park today?" she asked, a little trepidation running through her as the gates to the park rose up before them.
A memory twitched at the back of her mind, of riding through those very gates in a highly sprung carriage. Of laughter and chatter before it all went so wrong.