Only a Lady Will Do by Tamara Gill
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.
