by Gill, Tamara
She could not remember the accident, but the gates were familiar and brought back a memory she had long thought lost.
Did that mean she could remember more?
Did she even want to? The vision would not be kind.
"I should think so. The Season is well underway now, but do not worry. I shall keep you safe, and should you require to return home in the carriage, the dowager duchess will oblige, of course."
"Of course." Not that she would be returning in the carriage. She was determined to spend the hour or so at the park beside the duke. Her unattainable dream to be his may never come true, but she would enjoy his company while she could.
They rode into the park, following the dowager's carriage. The duke dipped his head to several passers-by, and Iris greeted them when they included her in their salutations.
"I see Mr. Reeves is here and riding our way. I think I shall have to share your company for our excursion."
Iris looked out onto the park grounds and did indeed spot Mr. Reeves trotting over in their direction. She inwardly sighed, not wanting to share her time with the duke with anyone else.
But she could not think that way. The duke would never marry her, whereas she could have a secure and happy life with the wealthy landowner from Kent. He seemed a happy, sweet man, willing to do whatever she asked. There was no reason why he would change his ways after they were married.
"Mr. Reeves," she said when he arrived, his smile wide, his eyes bright with pleasure. If only she felt the same way for the gentleman. Looking at him, she did not feel anything for him, no matter how much easier her life would be if she did. "How lovely to see you at the park today."
"It is I who is satisfied, Miss Cooper." He moved his horse about hers and came to ride alongside. The duke moved ahead, giving them privacy.
"I did not think you could ride a horse. I had heard that after your carriage accident, riding a horse was impossible."
For a moment, Iris could not reply. She wracked her mind to consider who could state such a thing about her. Certainly, she had not expressed such a fact. "I can ride sidesaddle without ailing, Mr. Reeves, if that is what you wanted to know." She adjusted her seat, looking ahead. "I would be appreciative to know who said such a falsehood."
Her words were curter than they ought to be, but what gentleman stated such a thing and to a woman too, without finding out first if it were true? Surely such manners had not changed since she had been in society last.
"I'm pleased to see that I have been misinformed. As for who told me, I could not say. I may have even heard it in passing during a ball."
Iris took a calming breath, taking a moment or two to ignore the fact people were talking about her injury and making her out to be a cripple.
The duchess stopped ahead of them to speak to Lady Leslie, who was passing in another equipage. The duke halted, and Iris did the same. Mr. Reeves, however, did not seem to be taking notice that the carriage ahead had stopped. He continued to ride along, his nose high in the air as if he were still accompanying the duke and herself.
"I think Mr. Reeves may not be as intelligent as I first thought him. I do not believe he will be suitable for a woman such as yourself, Miss Cooper."
She raised her brow, believing that herself. "Really? Why do you say, Your Grace?" she asked him, curious to know his reasons.
His eyes captured hers, and she was powerless to look away. Did not want to if she were honest with herself. "Because I could never give you away to a fool."
There was something in his voice, his eyes that promised he would not give her away to just anyone. But it was not only that. His eyes burned with heat, a longing she was starting to relate to. Did the duke want to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him? Did he want to touch her as much as she wanted to touch him?
How she wished she were brave enough to ask. But she was not. The daughter of a vicar did not ask men to kiss her. They married and had babies, did their duty for their family and what society expected of them.
Something told Iris that such a life would never satisfy her. Not after being around the duke. Only the duke would scratch the itch she'd started to have whenever around him.
"I would never marry a fool." Dudley had acted foolish, yes, but he had never been a fool. Some may state that there was little difference, but there was. Mr. Reeves, it seemed, was starting to appear a fool more and more. The silly man still rode ahead, unaware that they had stopped. "I know what I want." The words were out of her mouth before she could rip them back.
The duke's hungry gaze dipped to her lips. "I fear I'm more confused than ever as to what I would like."
Did he mean for a wife? For she was certainly talking about a husband. "I think if we're talking about husbands and wives, Your Grace, one ought to marry the person one desires the company most of." Just as she desired his company, his touch, his kisses, at her age, it was any wonder she was starting to feel desperate for touch, for company.
For a husband.
Days and nights filled with the act of lovemaking. Her body the last year yearned for more. Ached with a need she did not understand, but now she was starting to. For when she was around the duke, the same need and ache settled at her core, deep in her belly, and would not dissipate.
"I think you may be right," he replied, just as Mr. Reeves trotted back to them, his cheeks a rosy hue.
"Oh, do forgive me for my lack of concentration, Miss Cooper. It shall not happen again."
She pinned a half-hearted smile to her lips, and they continued on when the dowager finished speaking to Lady Leslie.
"I will dine with you tonight, Miss Cooper," the duke said, not pushing his horse forward this time to give her privacy with Mr. Reeves but staying with them. "We can play cards later, if you wish, or have some music if you like."
Expectation thrummed through her at the thought of having a night, even with the dowager present, with the duke. "That would be most welcome," she said. "I know that I am not expected anywhere this evening."
Other than with you.
* * *
Josh steeled himself later that evening as he sat at the head of the table, Iris and his mother at both his sides. His mother prattled on about a rumor regarding the dowager Morrison. Her ladyship had lost her husband the year before, and her misdemeanors since were starting to be significant.
Even so, he heard very little of his parent's words. His mind otherwise engaged with the lady who sat to his left.
This evening Iris wore a dress so sheer that he'd thought at first the material had been transparent. He knew he had gaped at her like a stunned deer, but he could not stop himself from admiring every morsel of her. It was time he put a name to what he was feeling for Miss Iris Cooper. Affection. Desire. Need.
He cared for her more than he had ever thought to care for anyone. This Season, he was determined to find a duchess, yet his attention kept moving back to Iris.
A daughter to a vicar, low on the social sphere. A woman who would not elevate his family with great connections or wealth. He had always assumed his wife would be a duke's or marquess’s daughter, but a man of the cloth, that he had not imagined.
Her dress of gold tulle shimmered in the candlelight, her skin alabaster and flawless. Her eyes sparkled with delight and amusement as the conversation carried on between her and his mother.
Damn it all to hell. He was in trouble.
"I have been invited out this evening by Lady Leslie. The woman whom I addressed in the park earlier today. I'm afraid I will have to leave you to your own amusements this evening, Iris," his mother stated, glancing at him.
The pit of Josh's stomach curled and twisted with need. Iris would be alone. In his house without company. Without a chaperone. He pushed the knowledge aside. So what if she were? It did not mean that he could stay.
"Can you not put it off?" he asked his mother. Not liking the idea of being sent away and unable to spend any more time with Miss Cooper this evening. He'd wanted to play cards
, or the pianoforte, or merely talk. They did that so well.
What else would they do well together?
Everything.
He picked up his wine, gulping it down. The image of her bright-blue eyes looking up at him, her lips begging for a kiss, filled his mind. He shifted on the seat, stilling his body's wayward reactions. What on earth had come over him? He was her protector, her advisor this Season. Not her seducer.
His attention slipped to her fingers as they played with the stem of her champagne glass. Long, pretty fingers, her nail scoring the glass with slow strokes.
He waved a footman over for more wine. He pulled at his cravat. Why was it ever so hot in here all of a sudden?
"I cannot. I'm sorry. I know we were going to enjoy an evening together. My maid will chaperone you, Iris."
"Of course," Miss Cooper said, her voice unable to hide the layer of disappointment in her words. "We have all Season, do we not, to play cards, or have music. I hope you enjoy your time with your friend."
"I have work to do in the office, Mother. Do you mind if I stay to finish it?"
His mother studied him a moment before she shook her head. "I do not think you should. Not until I am in residence. Tomorrow will do soon enough."
Josh cleared his throat, knowing there was no point in arguing with his parent. His hopes of staying were not appropriate. Should the ton find out he'd been here, at night, without his mother's presence, Miss Cooper would be married to him before he could say a word against it.
Would it be so bad if she was?
"I will collect the paperwork and leave directly," he said.
His mother stood, and he did also, bowing as she bid her goodnights to them both.
Miss Cooper threw him a cautious smile. "I shall leave you to your work, Your Grace. Thank you for today and dinner. It was very pleasant."
Josh panicked as she started to stand. He did not want their night to end. Did not want her to leave. He picked up her hand, bringing it to his lips. He kissed her gloved fingers, not missing the tremor that ran through her at his touch.
"The pleasure was all mine, Miss Cooper."
"Iris, please."
"Iris," he said aloud. The name on his lips making him all the more addled. "Goodnight," he uttered, striding from the room and starting toward the library where his office was located.
He would collect his missives and Dunsleigh's books and head back to his lodgings. He was safe there away from Miss Cooper and the temptation she wrought inside him.
Iris.
Or more to the point. Miss Cooper was safe from him.
Chapter 13
Iris wandered up to her room and prepared herself for bed. With the duchess out for the evening and the duke on his way back to his lodgings at Albany, there was little point to staying up.
The duchess’s maid helped her into her nightdress, but not the least tired, she sat before the fire for a time, writing a letter to her mama. The house became eerily quiet and she shivered, pulling the shawl about her shoulders.
She did not particularly like being here alone. Her home in Cornwall was substantially smaller than the ducal London townhouse and was less foreboding at night, even on the rare occasions she was alone.
Iris placed her letter down, deciding to sit in the duchess’s upstairs parlor, which always had a fire burning for the dowager whenever she went out for the evening, along with multiple candelabras. The room had several bookshelves, which would keep her occupied until the dowager returned home.
It did not take her long to reach the parlor, but she did not find it empty. The duke stood at the dowager's small ladies' writing desk, frowning over a letter he held in his hand.
She must have made a sound, for he glanced up quickly. "Miss Cooper. I hope I did not wake you," he said, slipping the missive into a pocket inside his evening jacket.
"Not at all." She came into the room, going to the fire and warming herself. "I was going to wait for your mama until she returned."
He strolled over to her, coming to stand before her. He was so very tall and imposing. She could not help but admire his every feature that looked carved from a master of arts. To look upon His Grace made her ache in places no lady ought.
"Do you realize you're in your nightclothes, Iris?"
The sound of her name on his lips, a deep whisper that slid over her like a caress, made her burn. And then her mind caught up to what His Grace had said, and she yelped, clutching the shawl tightly across her body.
"I must go." She turned to leave, but he clasped her arm, his fingers wrapping about her elbow, sending another shiver to pass over her. He pulled her back, closer than they were before. His eyes burned down at her, fire and determination raging in his blue orbs.
Her body shivered, heat pooled at her core. She felt her lips part. Would he kiss her?
How she wished he would. Just once. That was all she would ask for, and then he could go off and marry whomever he wanted.
"You are too beautiful for words." He reached up, running a finger across her jaw, tipping her head back. He shook his head as if he were warring within himself over something she did not know.
The one thing Iris did know was that she wanted him to kiss her. She had wanted him to kiss her if she were honest from the first time she had met the duke. So far above her. Out of her reach.
She was a vicar's daughter.
You are an earl’s granddaughter.
Iris pulled together all her strength, her determination to have something she wanted above all else before entering any union that did not have the duke part of it. "You could always show me how beautiful you think me, Your Grace."
There, she had offered herself. But would he take on her proposal?
* * *
Like forbidden fruit, she lured him to taste her sweetness. He should not. She was living here, under his family's roof, ensuring a good match. A suitable husband who would love her, marry her, and give her all that she deserved—happiness at last.
He had stolen that from her years before. He could not steal her innocence, her reputation from her now.
Her lips parted on an inhale of breath, and he could not deny himself one taste. Josh leaned forward, savored the slow dance toward her mouth, wanting to revel in the thought of her a little while longer.
One kiss would not ruin their friendship—her future.
Their lips touched, the lightest brush, but it wasn't enough. He covered her lips, deepening the embrace, taking her mouth as he had dreamed these past weeks.
She tasted of tea and strawberries and everything sinful.
Iris made a little gasp of pleasure but did not pull away. He ran his tongue across her bottom lip, needing to have all of her. She understood his command and opened for him like a flower in bloom.
He wrenched her against him, and he was lost. So soft, decadent curves that called to a part of him, wild and untamed. He hardened, his breath hitched, his head spun.
What was she doing to him?
Her fingers scraped along the nape of his neck, into his hair, holding him against her. She kissed him back, her tongue mimicking his, her breaths soft, sweet pants that echoed through his soul.
Her shawl fell to the ground unheeded. He could not get enough of her. He wanted to feel her, all of her. His hands slipped over her ass, tight and firm. She moaned into his mouth, her core now hard up against his straining manhood. Josh groaned when she stirred against him, seeking a release he doubted she was even aware she could gain.
"Josh Worthingham, what do you think you're doing?" his mother's curt voice demanded from the doorway. "Unhand Miss Cooper this instant and explain yourself."
He wrenched Iris out of his hold, and without thought, he watched, horrified, as Iris tripped and fell backward onto the Aubusson rug, her bottom landing hard on the floor.
Fuckkkkk.
He reached for her, helping her stand. His heart raced to a crescendo, horrified that she may be injured.
"Tell me you are not
hurt," he begged her, keeping her near him.
She shook her head, her eyes still cloudy with desire. Good sweet heaven, she was beautiful, and he wanted her still.
Josh knew what he must do. He raised his chin, facing down his parent, who looked at him with murder in her orbs. His mother closed the door, arms crossed, a fierce frown between her brows.
"Well, Your Grace? I am waiting."
Josh ground his teeth, forcing words through his lips that he'd never thought to utter. Not for Miss Cooper in any case. "Are you not going to congratulate me, Mother? I have asked Iris to be my wife, and she has accepted me. We are to be married."
He smiled, and both women looked at him as if he were mad. Iris looked on the verge of tears, and he reached out, taking her hand, holding it firmly in his. He would never let her go. "Do not cry, my dear. Not even happy tears," he said, knowing they were not happy, but humiliated tears that ran down her cheeks.
"I have asked Miss Cooper to be my duchess, and she has agreed. Congratulate us," he stated, squeezing Iris's hand to quell her fears when she stilled beside him.
"Married. You are engaged?" the dowager duchess asked again, looking at him and Miss Cooper several times. "You were not even courting."
Josh pulled Iris closer to him, trying to stem her panic. He could feel she was on the verge of fight or flight. "I care for Iris, as she does me," he heard himself say. "The banns will be called over the next four weeks, and we shall be wed. Congratulate us, Mother, or I shall think you do not approve."
The duchess remained silent before she seemed to shake herself free of her shock. She came over to them both, hugging them in turn, and Josh knew he had fooled her. He met the shocked visage of Iris as she was pulled into a tight, congratulatory embrace from his mother.
As for Miss Cooper, she may take a little more convincing that he was not fooling her. Oh no, not at all. She would be the next Duchess of Penworth, and what a transcendent duchess she would make.
Chapter 14