Only a Lady Will Do by Tamara Gill
Chapter 24
"They are still engaged, so my letter to the duke has not worked," Sophie seethed to Lord Templedon, who stood beside her at the Battenlodge ball. Penworth waltzed past her with his betrothed, the cripple whom he gazed upon as if the sun itself shone from her very core, warming and lighting up those around her.
Miss Iris Cooper. The attraction the duke had with his betrothed was beyond Sophie's comprehension. It simply did not make sense. He ought to be with a woman such as herself. Not some penniless cripple from Cornwall.
Whoever heard of such an absurd notion.
"I should think they are still on amicable terms because he has not told her the truth of that day that he was there. Had placed the bet in Whites that Redgrove took upon himself to better."
"Then I will have to tell her myself," she stated, more than willing to do as she threatened. Of course, if it meant that she married Josh Worthington herself, she would do anything.
Templedon threw her a disbelieving look. "If you do that, and he becomes aware of your interference, he will never marry you. He will punish you and anyone who came between him and his betrothed. Not that I think anyone will. The duke is smitten. Look at him." Templedon gestured just as the happy couple waltzed past a second time.
Sophie felt her eye twitch. "Should we injure Miss Cooper? Make the duke see her for the weakling she is? If she is injured and needs a cane to walk, he would surely not want to pollute his bloodline with so feeble a person."
Templedon gaped, and she sighed, supposing being so cruel was taking the matter a little too far.
"You would never do such a thing. Miss Cooper may not be as fine a catch as you would be, but she is who he chooses, and she's a sweet woman. I can see the attraction."
Sophie slapped at his arm, disliking his words. "Do not jest. This is beyond a time for joking about."
Templedon sighed. "I have hinted that there is more to that day than what Miss Cooper knows, but so far, she has not asked outright. I fear if I say any more, she will think me morbid, having always brought up the death of Redgrove."
Sophie pursed her lips, her mind a whirl of thoughts. "I suppose you are right. We shall have to come at her from a different angle. Or perhaps, we tell her the truth in an anonymous letter and let fate decide my future. If they quarrel or are out of sorts at an event after I have sent the missive, I shall make my move then. I will make the duke see me instead of that imbecile Miss Cooper."
"How do you intend to make him see you when he hasn't looked at you all Season? Even before Miss Cooper came to town."
She rolled her eyes. Really, men were at times the stupidest sex. "I'm a woman, and I have my wiles. If I can get him to myself at a ball, I'm certain he will seek my comfort, which I will be more than willing to give him to mend his broken heart."
"Do not ruin yourself in the process, Sophie. Society will not forgive you."
She shrugged, knowing she would not. Instead, she would gain her duke, and by foul means or none. He would bend to her will, and he would turn away from Miss Cooper, whom he should never have considered in the first place.
The last few weeks before their wedding passed in a blur. They dined out at friends’ and family estates, afternoons at the opera, and nights of pleasure. Then, just yesterday, they received word that Lady Victoria, now Marchioness Melvin, would be traveling back from Paris to attend the wedding. Lady Alice Worthingham, Viscountess Arndel too would be there, which had the dowager duchess excited beyond measure to have all her children in one place, even if it was only for a day.
Iris, too, had her parents’ arrival to look forward to. They were expected first among the guests and would be in London by the end of the week.
She stood in the modiste on Saville Road, holding herself as still as she could as they pinned the hem of her blue silk wedding gown to an appropriate height.
The gown was such a light shade of blue it almost looked white, the bodice silk brocade while the skirt was of fine chiffon, layered extensively to ensure her modesty was retained. The gown reminded Iris of a Roman lady's silk tunic, ethereal and flattering to her figure. She hoped Josh admired her dress.
"How beautiful you will be, Iris darling. If I have not told you already, your marriage to my son warms my heart."
The dowager's words were welcome and heartfelt. Iris leaned down, pulling her into a quick embrace. "It is I who is fortunate." She turned back to look in the mirror, not quite believing the country-born-and-raised woman from Cornwall, a woman who could not be more different to those in the social circle she now socialized in, was marrying a duke. And not just any titled gentleman whom on paper filled all her requirements, but a marriage of affection.
Of perhaps even love.
Iris no longer questioned her feelings for the duke. They were solid and unmovable. She loved him. Every ounce of his being. But did he love her? That she did not know. "How is it that the wedding is next week? This month has been a marvelous whir of entertainment and gaiety."
"There are more to be had," the duchess stated, seating herself on a nearby settee. "His Grace has declared you will remain in town, so I shall have a little while longer with you both before we return to Dunsleigh."
"Your alterations are complete, Miss Cooper," the modiste said, packing away her pins. "Shall I help you to change?"
"Thank you, yes," she said, going over to a little private section of the store that ensured privacy and switched back into her morning gown. Iris stood while the modiste unbuttoned her dress before stepping out of it. Her toe caught on the fine material, and before she could catch herself, Iris fell, landing hard on her injured hip.
Pain shot through her thigh, and she was unable to stop the yelp that escaped. The duchess was there in a moment, helping her to sit, checking her for injuries.
"I am well. I merely tripped on my dress."
"Oh, Miss Cooper. I'm so sorry. It is my fault, entirely. Please forgive me," the modiste lamented, her eyes fearful.
Iris patted the modiste's hand. "It is my fault. I can be a little inefficient at times."
"Here, my dear. Let me help you up."
Iris took the duchess’s hand. On two feet again, her head spun as a sharp pain shot through her leg. She had been so careful not to aggravate her injury. There was little doubt in her mind that it would pain her for several days. Not that she cared, she was used to her leg being counterproductive, but she did not want to limp down the aisle toward Josh.
"Thank you," she said, rubbing her leg as the modiste fetched her morning dress before slipping it over her head. "Would you mind, Your Grace, if we returned home? I would like to rest for a time. We have the Lowes ball this evening, and I do not want to miss it."
"Of course, dear. You need not ever ask."
They returned home to Hanover Square, and Iris excused herself after ordering a bath. A long, hot soak was what her leg required. It would soothe the muscles and help ease her pain. That the duchess had ordered a tisane too would be welcome. She would attend the ball this evening with her betrothed, as promised.
Josh arrived just before lunch, wanting to take Iris out for a carriage ride. He entered the front downstairs parlor and found his mama having her lunch alone, no sign of his betrothed.
"Good day, Mother," he said, bending to kiss her in welcome. "I came to invite Iris out for a ride, but I see she is already out."
His mother placed down her small sandwich, shaking her head. "Oh no, dearest. Iris is home. She is, however, unfortunately unavailable. She is upstairs bathing. There was a mishap a short time ago at the modiste, and she injured herself."
Josh frowned, and his mother waved at him to sit. "I do not wish to alarm you. Iris is well. She tripped on her gown and landed heavily on her leg. A bath will soon put her to rights, make her comfortable. She's determined to accompany you to the Lowes ball this evening. I do not know why she is so firm on attending. Do you know, my dear?" his mother asked, picking up her cup of tea and watching him over the rim as she took a sip.
He thought on the question a moment before the answer came to him. "There are to be fireworks. Their estate abuts the Thames, and Lord and Lady Lowes will host them there. Iris, I have found, enjoys fireworks. I do not believe she has seen many in her life."
"Oh, well, that explains her eagerness," the duchess stated. "Would you care to join me? I can have more sandwiches brought in. They really are delicious. Cook has placed ham and cheese in the middle of the bread. Quite marvelous in fact."
Josh chuckled, standing and starting for the door. "I cannot today, Mother. I shall return this evening to collect you both for the ball," he said, waving to his parent and starting for the front door, except, coming out into the foyer, he noted no one about. Doing a quick turn, he took the stairs two at a time, striding in the direction of Iris's room before anyone saw him.
Thankfully Iris's room was in the same wing of the house as his, so he could always lie and say he was collecting paperwork from his quarters.
Her door was closed, and he stood at the threshold, hearing the splashing of water within.
Was she bathing still?
He entered, glad to find her bedroom empty of her lady’s maid. He locked the door, starting for the closet and where the small private bathroom was located. He leaned against the doorframe, watching as she lathed her arms with soap, the scent of lavender rising with the steam coming off the water.
She looked utterly delightful and comfortable. He was glad of it. The last thing he wanted was for her to be in pain. "Are you well, my darling? I heard you had a fall."
She jumped, turning to look at him over her shoulder. Her welcoming smile made his heart jump in his chest. Josh went to her, kneeling beside the tub and taking her hand. "What happened? Is there anything that I can do to make you more comfortable?"
"I tripped, that is all. The bath and tisane your mama had sent up has helped. I shall keep myself warm for the remainder of the day."
"If you are unable to attend the ball, we can spend the night here. I would prefer to have you to myself in any case."
She reached out, clasping his cheek. He took the opportunity to kiss her. She was so beautiful it made his body ache. "I believe these are the last fireworks this Season, and I so wish to see them. Please say that we can go. Not," she continued, smiling mischievously, "that I do not love having you all to myself. For I do, and after next week, we will no longer have to be separated if we do not want to be."
"Mmm, I shall enjoy that perk of our marriage, among other things," he teased her. "Shall I fetch you your drying cloth? Do you wish to dress?"
She threw him a disbelieving look. "Really, Your Grace? Anyone would think that you wanted to see your fianceé naked. As it is, you should not be in here."
"It is my house. I can go anywhere I please," he teased, knowing that was far from the truth.
She chuckled. "You and I both know that is not valid. She stood without help, and before he could offer a hand. Josh stared up at her, an Amazonian goddess, and he, her servant. He reached out, circling her injured thigh with his hand. "I wish I could take away your pain."
Goosebumps rose on her skin, and he remembered himself, going to get her towel quickly. "You make me forget myself." He helped her out of the bath. She wrapped herself in the towel, watching him. "You make me forget myself too."
A shiver stole down his spine. The emotions whirling in his body, through his heart, were not normal. He felt so much more when around her. He'd never felt for anyone what he felt for the woman standing before him, his future duchess.
"As much as I would like to stay, it is better that I do not. I will return this evening to accompany you to the ball. Wear a cloak over your gown. It will be cooler in the gardens and by the water."
She nodded, her eyes bright with expectation. Josh took the opportunity to kiss her. The kiss was hard, demanding, and short. He left her, his breathing as ragged as her own, and started down the passage. The night already too many hours away.
