Only a Lady Will Do by Tamara Gill
Chapter 18
Iris and the dowager duchess arrived at the Morrison's masquerade ball dressed specifically as their hostess the dowager countess had specified on the invitations.
The theme was the royal court of Versailles, an opulent and extravagant mask for anyone to attend. Yet, the duchess had procured Iris a gown that was beyond her expectations, delivered and sized a day before the event. A marvel that she still could not grasp had occurred. It was told other attendees started to plan their gowns months before they traveled to London for the Season.
The gold, embroidered silk frock had roses stitched into the fabric. Although not entirely correct for the royal court of France, the empire cut was nonetheless a beautiful, opulent gown.
Her black cloak had a gold silk ribbon stitched about the hems and complemented the dress. Her mask, however, was a piece of art. The brightest blue silk she'd ever seen and covered in multicolored paste jewels, it sat across her eyes and nose, her hair hidden under a highly perched wig that ladies would have worn a century before.
Iris caught sight of herself as they entered the ballroom and could not recognize the woman she saw. Would Josh pick her out from the many people here? The noise, laughter, and dancing somewhat rowdier than other balls she had attended caught her by surprise. How anyone could continue a conversation in this uproar was a miracle maker.
"Does Lady Morrison allow everyone who wishes to attend to come to her masks? Was that not the way of some of the French masquerade balls?" she asked the duchess as they made their way over to where several chaise lounges sat against the wall.
"I believe so, so do keep your guard. Anyone this evening may be present, and not everyone a person of good standing."
The duchess sat, but Iris remained standing, her leg today protesting whenever she sat still for too long. Iris flicked open her fan, waving it slowly before her face as she watched the ton at play.
This would be her life now. After she married the duke, they would attend the Season, host balls and parties each year. Several acquaintances joined them, laughing when they realized who Iris and the duchess were, since their costumes made it so very hard to decipher their identity.
Iris kept a vigil on who arrived. No names were announced since the ball was based on mystery. The revelers kept Iris entertained. She did not miss admiring the beautiful jewels, the rich, colorful dominos, or the guests who snuck away into darkened corners and not returning for several minutes.
But where was her betrothed? Surely he would be here soon. She did not look so different that he would not know how to find her.
A gentleman bowed before her, and Iris recognized him to be Lord Templedon. His mask was one held by his hand and he pulled it away from his face.
He smiled, but something about his glee seemed false to Iris. Why, she could not say, merely what she felt. "Miss Cooper. You are utterly breathtaking. Please say you will dance with me?"
She held out her hand, letting him lead her onto the floor. "I did not think you would recognize me, my lord. It seems my costume is not as good as I thought it."
"I would recognize you anywhere," he stated, his tone serious.
Iris ignored his words, letting him pull her into the Strawberries and Cream lineup. What on earth had come over him to say something like that, especially as all of London now knew she was engaged to Penworth?
"This is my first mask, and what I've seen of it so far is enthralling. Have you attended one before?" she asked Templedon, wanting to keep the conversation light and appropriate.
"Many, but until tonight, they have not had the allure as this ball does." He pulled her into a spin before the dance separated them a moment. The dance kept them apart for several steps before moving up the line together. "Masks are for inhibitions to be ignored, hidden under cover of cloaks and mystery," he whispered against her ear, his lips skimming her flesh.
Iris pulled away, putting space between them. "I fear you shall be disappointed in me, my lord. I shall enjoy the ball, but that is where my excessive nature ends."
They had stopped dancing, and several other couples tried to hurry them along as the dance required their presence. It was of little use. She could not continue to dance with a man who thought she was open to a rendezvous with him.
A hand slipped about her waist, and her trepidation over the conversation evaporated at the touch of her betrothed.
She glanced at the duke but found him staring down Templedon, anger thrumming off him in waves.
"Templedon, if you will excuse us," he said, his tone hard and brooking no argument.
Templedon, Iris noticed, did not look the least perturbed by the duke's words. Iris readily went with him, but he did not return her to his mother's side. Instead, he walked them to the terrace doors that were pushed open to allow the cooling night air to enter.
He did not say a word as they made their way out onto the flagstone terrace, guests of the ball outside here too drinking, laughing, and dancing as much as those indoors.
"I see that I will have to ensure you are never alone with rogues such as Templedon trying to woo you into his bed. I hope you were not tempted, Miss Cooper."
They stopped near the end of the terrace, still within view of the other guests but far enough away to speak privately. "Oh, I was tempted, Your Grace. How could I not be?" she teased him, wanting him to feel a fool at having even asked her such a question. She was marrying him, not Templedon. Had she wanted to marry the earl, she would have.
The duke frowned, a muscle at his temple flexing. "Are you in earnest?" he asked her, his tone both shocked and what she hoped was a small amount of fear.
Iris checked that no one was watching them and stepped closer to His Grace. Close enough that both their cloaks hid her hand. She caught hold of the waistband of his silk breeches, dragging him against her. "No, I am not, but you should know that I am not. Only one man tempts me, and it is not Templedon."
Heat blazed in Josh's eyes, his chest rose and fell, and she felt every ounce of the control he wielded starting to crack. She knew he wanted to kiss her. She could all but taste his need, for she too felt the same.
When they were married, she promised herself, she would kiss him wherever and whenever she liked.
"Tell me who tempts you, Iris. I must hear it from your lips."
She grinned, slipping her finger behind the waist of his breeches, teasing him. "You do," she admitted but a breath from his lips. They were so close, all but a sway from brushing their lips together.
If only she could kiss him here and now. Throw caution aside, propriety and etiquette, and do what she wanted. But she could not. Not yet, at least.
Iris stepped back, leaning against the terrace railing. "Now, you must explain to me why you would ask such a question. Is it not obvious who I want? I thought after several interludes, you knew my desires."
All true, and Josh felt foolish for having reacted in the way he had. He had never wanted to injure someone as severely as he'd wanted to pummel Lord Templedon after viewing him on the ballroom floor, a scant breath from Iris's neck. Had the bastard kissed her there? He could not ask her that now, but he would not allow anyone to touch her again if he could ensure it.
He rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to relax. Her words had gone someway in soothing his ruffled feathers, but he could not overcome the feeling he had acted a jealous cur.
Who was he fooling? He had been a jealous bastard ready to draw blood at the sight of Iris so close to the rake Templedon. It had taken all his good breeding and determination not to demand retribution on a field at dawn. The sight of Iris in his arms had been a physical blow to his gut, and he hated the memory of it.
He glanced down at the flagstones at his feet, fighting to find the words to explain himself. It was not Iris's fault that Templedon wanted her. Hell, Josh wanted her more but could not have her.
Yet.
But soon. Soon she would be his in name, promised before God to love and cherish their union forever.
"I apologize if I overreacted to seeing you with Templedon. I did not like his familiarity with you."
Her lips twitched. "Are you admitting to feeling jealous, Your Grace?" she boldly asked him, pinning him with a knowing look.
He swallowed, having never admitted such a thing to anyone ever in his life before. "There may have been a tidbit of jealousy, but," he erred, "it was more closely related to anger toward Templedon that he dared have you so close to him."
She tipped her head to the side, studying him. "I do not believe so. You were jealous, which, I will admit, pleases me. I know I would not like seeing you dance with another woman, letting her whisper inappropriate things in your ear."
Anger spiked through him again, and he came up to her, clasping her hips. "Did the rogue do such a thing?" he asked, looking back toward the ballroom. "I will call him out."
She chuckled, her hands finding his and clasping them tightly. "What does it matter what he did? I do not want Templedon." She tugged him closer. "I want you."
He schooled himself to behave. To not drag her into the gardens and show her too just how much he wanted her. Josh looked out onto the darkened grounds, full of hidden, shadowy places, rethinking his plan. It was the perfect location for a tryst.
"I want to be alone with you." Never before had he wanted to slip away from a ball, leave without notice and have his way with a woman not used to such assignations. Iris tugged at a part of him that he had not known existed before meeting her.
He wondered for a moment what he would have done had she married Redgrove and they were introduced, circulated in the same social set. Would he have had the same reaction to her presence as he did now? As if his soul was calm and crazed all at the same time by simply being near her? Would he have tried to persuade her to enjoy an amorous affair?
Something told him he would have and not cared a hoot whom he injured so long as she was his for any amount of time.
"There are too many people about, and no matter the masks we wear or cloaks, everybody knows who we are. We will be seen."
"What does it matter?" he argued. "We're to be married. A little pre-wedding scandal is not so bad."
She chuckled, again looking to see who was around them. A wicked light entered her eyes, and he knew she would do as he asked. Give him what he wanted.
Her in his arms.
"What shall I tell the duchess? If we're to have time alone, it cannot be here. I will not embarrass the duchess with scandal. No matter," she said, tapping his nose quickly, "how much you tempt me."
Josh pursed his lips. "Tell Mama you have a megrim and would like to leave. I will escort you home. Mother will not suspect. We will steal a moment or two alone then."
She nodded once. "I will go tell her now. Come, you must help me."
He followed her, not wanting to let her out of his sight. Not with all the hungry rogues who seemed to think now that she was his that she was some kind of sport—a woman to conquer and steal away from under him.
Well, they would not succeed. Miss Iris Cooper was his, and they all better learn that lesson before he had to teach them a harder one.
With his fists.
