Only a Lady Will Do by Tamara Gill
Chapter 5
The duke returned Iris to his mother after the dance, introducing her to several gentlemen who came over to write their names on her dance card. The scene reminded her of what her first Season had been like, full of possibilities and days and nights of balls and amusements that she had looked forward to attending.
Her life was different now. She was older, wiser, but also not so perfect as she had been. That gentlemen were standing before her, making pretty remarks went a long way in making her feel welcome once again. It was nice having flirty, light conversations. As much as she loved them, her parents were constantly asking her if she was well, did she need a tisane for the pain, more wood on the fire to warm the room, a pillow to help her comfort. Such conversations were tedious, and she was quite frankly sick of having them.
She had been injured in a carriage accident. It was time that she moved forward with her life. London, and the help of the duke and dowager duchess, would enable that.
A tall, light-haired gentleman joined their group. He picked up her gloved hand, bowing over it. He, too, was an attractive man, as tall as the duke, but where Penworth was dark and broody, this gentleman seemed light and amusing.
Opposites in all ways.
"Lord Templedon, may I introduce you to Miss Iris Cooper?"
"A pleasure," Lord Templedon murmured, his voice teasing. "Would you care to dance the next set with me, Miss Cooper? If you're not already engaged, of course." He slid a contemplative look to the duke.
"I am not engaged, my lord. I would like to dance," she replied, taking his arm.
His lordship led her out onto the floor, and she caught sight of the duke watching them. A shiver of awareness stole through her at the glower the duke's visage held. Did he not like Templedon? Iris looked up at the man placing them among the throng of dancers, wondering if something was wrong with him. Was he a rogue, a rake? Did he gamble?
"You're frowning at me, Miss Cooper. Do you find my company deplorable?"
She shook herself, laughing to cover her etiquette slip. "I apologize. I was woolgathering," she lied. "I'm very happy to dance with you."
He smiled, and she decided he could not be so very bad. Not when he had lovely, kind eyes such as he did.
"I'm glad to hear it. I understand you're from Cornwall. Is this your first Season?"
The question took her aback. The duchess had not schooled her on what to say should someone not know of her from her first Season.
"This is my second Season, my lord. I had my first several years ago, but it was cut short after a carriage accident."
"By ho, are you the miss who was thrown from the carriage in Hyde Park in ’05? Killed old Redgrove, did it not?"
Iris felt her mouth gape. Killed old Redgrove! Had manners changed so much in the seven years she had not been in London that this was how one spoke? "Ah, yes, my lord. I was that unfortunate woman with Baron Redgrove when he lost his life."
The dance took her from his lordship for a moment, and she was glad of it. What sort of person spoke of such a tragic event as if it were some fodder for gossip? Did he have no empathy at all?
"I remember that year. Redgrove was a friend, you understand, not a close one, but we circulated in the same social sphere at times. I do not remember you, however, and I always remember a beautiful woman." His gaze traveled over her face, landing on her scar, and she fought the urge to explain it to him. To make an excuse as to why it was there.
Annoyance ate at her instead, and a little part of her wanted to make him uncomfortable by his ogling. His curt, unfeeling words. "I received this scar the same day Old Redgrove was killed. It is my trophy from that day."
Two pink marks formed on his cheeks, and for several turns of the dance, he could not look at her.
Iris was happy about the fact. She did not think they had much to say to each other, and certainly, she could never consider a man who spoke so dismissively of an accident that could happen to anyone as if it were nothing. Horses were flighty beasts at the best of times. In fact, Iris was surprised such accidents did not happen more often.
"Apologies, Miss Cooper. I did not mean to offend you."
She sniffed but refused to meet his eye. The dance came to an end, and even though there were two more dances within the set, she curtsied, wanting distance from him. "If you'll excuse me, my lord. I do believe I need to sit out the remainder of the set."
"Of course." He bowed, led her back to the duchess, and took his leave.
The duchess beamed with pleasure. "Templedon would be a good match, Iris. It is fortunate he has taken an interest. With his interest along with Penworth’s help, you will have no trouble finding a husband."
Already the Season felt tedious, especially if gentlemen like Templedon made their interest known. She could never marry someone with no empathy and with little care for anyone else, except to gain enough fodder for gossip.
"I am not certain of Templedon. He seems a little unkind."
"Oh, my dear. Did he say something to offend you?" the duchess asked, reaching for her hand.
"A little, yes. I feel he does not have a compassionate heart. Too involved in himself to love another."
"Well, at least you know that now, dear. And the Season is young, and there are more gentlemen interested. Why look at them all, hovering close by, waiting for their turns to dance with you."
Iris studied them, all reasonably handsome, titled, and spoiled by their mothers and nannies. She could only hope there were some among them all who cared for others and did not speak so dismissively of people's tragedies.
Penworth certainly seemed to be such a gentleman, but then, he had shown no interest in her other than being affable and helpful. She was the daughter of a vicar. Even she was not fooled enough to reach so high as a duchess’s coronet.
A pity, really, for Penworth was certainly handsome, eligible, and kind. He would make a good match for someone one day.
Josh led Iris and his mother into supper, deciding to sit with them and enjoy the varied and delicious feast the Cliffords had on offer. He was pleased with Iris's evening so far. The gentlemen had continued to present themselves, allowing him to introduce them, and she had danced with several of them. All but Templedon were a suitable match. They were all titled and wealthy, not looking to line their pockets with a dowry Miss Cooper did not have.
But there was something wrong with it all. Something that did not sit quite right with him. As much as he tried to support and care for his sisters, all of them were older than he was. And they had more than handled their journeys to their blissful married state. But Miss Cooper was different.
She needed protection, guidance, and support after all that had happened to her. He did not pity her, but it was certainly something that he could not name, a presence he felt whenever around her.
She sat across from him, laughing at his mother's recount of the night she had first met the duke, her future husband. Josh listened, smiling at the story, having heard it numerous times, how the duke had been set on marrying his mama's cousin, who did not want to marry him at all since she was already in love with someone else.
His mother had told the duke of her cousin's plight, and her strength and honesty had caught the duke's attention instead, and the rest, as they say, is history.
They were married not four weeks later.
Miss Cooper's eyes took on a dreamy state. Clearly, she adored the story as much as he always had, and it pleased him she did. He would ensure she found the same happy balance in her life. She was genuine, without guile or airs, and he liked that about her.
He liked it more than he ought.
