Only a Lady Will Do by Tamara Gill
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 she 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.
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.
