Only a Lady Will Do by Tamara Gill

Chapter 6

The following morning, Iris sat in the library, writing a letter to her mama, updating her on all her adventures so far. The shopping, the outings to the numerous balls and parties. That tonight they were to attend the opera at the Theater Royal, Drury Lane.

She had never attended the theater when she'd been in town during her first Season. Her mama having determined the outing too risqué for a debutante, so while her friends had attended, she had not.

But her mama was not here this time, and the duchess was, if anything, looking forward to the evening out more than Iris was herself.

"My dear, I have news," the duchess said, walking into the room and waving a missive in her hand along with a small printed card. "I have just received word that Lady Jersey, a patroness of Almacks, has bestowed on you a voucher for Wednesday next."

Iris placed down her quill, unable to quite believe what she was hearing. To gain entrance into Almacks was difficult, even if you were housed with a duchess, so exclusive were the assembly rooms. "That is good news. I was never admitted my first Season."'

The duchess frowned, coming into the room and ringing for tea. "They can be quite prohibitive of who they give admittance to, but as a granddaughter of an earl, you should have been invited."

Iris had not cared that she had not been invited. The patronesses of Almacks had always scared her a little. The women ruled London and could make or ruin a debutante’s Season.

"I did not think I would be invited. Given the fact that I'm not overtly young and with my small limp, I would not have thought the patronesses would've liked that I was not perfect. When a title or wealth cannot gain one's entrance into Almacks, I stood little chance."

The duchess sat, her mouth pursed. "That is true. They can be narrow-minded, but we needn't worry about that now. You have an invitation, and we shall attend. Only respectable, reputable gentlemen will be in attendance. All of this shall help you in gaining the attention of a gentleman fit for your hand."

She nodded, but the idea of marrying gave her pause. Not that she did not want a husband, for she did, but a husband who loved her was above everything else that she required in a spouse. With no dowry, at least she would not have to worry about fortune hunters. Nor did she wish to marry a man who felt pity for her. Thought to give assistance and care every second of every day. That would never do.

She wanted a union that was equal in respect and love. She pursed her lips. Where did one find such a man and at her age?

The image of the Penworth floated through her mind, teasing her. So devastatingly handsome, kind, and willing to help when she required it. How lucky the lady would be, whoever caught his heart.

He would never look to her, and she wasn't fooled enough to allow herself to dream. A daughter to a vicar, no dowry and as far from perfection as one could be, did not make her equal to him.

"That is good news," Iris replied.

"Your silver embroidered gown will be delivered by next Wednesday, and you shall wear that. It is both stylish, elegant, and suitable for your age but not overpowering to the other debutantes who will be there."

Iris hoped she would not look like an old maid against the younger women vying for spouses. "My mama has given me leave to use her diamonds. Do you think they will suit the dress?"

The duchess clapped her hands, her smile bright. "They would do marvelously, my dear. You shall look beautiful."

A footman entered, carrying the tea tray, and Iris stood, joining the duchess on the settee. She poured the tea, handing a cup to Her Grace. "We have been to several balls already, but there have been no callers. Do you think my limp is keeping them away? I have tried to conceal it as much as I can when in public, but sometimes my leg becomes sore, and I cannot help how I walk." It was a concern that had been plaguing her for days. While others who lived on Hanover Square had multiple carriages roll to a stop before their doors, Duke Penworth's London home did not have any.

"We do not want any gentleman to call if they are not worthy or serious about their courtship of you. When we have a visitor, I'm sure he will be worth waiting for."

"Good morning, ladies," the duke said at that very moment, entering the room.

The duchess stared at her son with something akin to amusement. Iris did not mention the irony of His Grace turning up just after the duchess’s declaration. She drank in the sight of him, wondering when she had become such an enthusiast of His Grace's presence.

He wore tan-colored skin breeches and Hessian boots splattered with mud. Had he come from the park, had he been out about town and was now only returning home? Not that this was where he was staying, he had his own lodgings, but the townhouse was where his office was located that dealt with all estate matters.

Or so he had stated.

He came and sank onto a high-back chair, leaning forward and pouring himself a cup of tea. She noted his cravat was loose, barely tied as it should be. In fact, taking in his appearance, she noted he looked somewhat ruffled. Whatever had he been up to?

From what she remembered of His Grace and the gentlemen he once ran about London with, it was probably not the sort of information she should be privy to.

Even so, her mind would not stop its train of thought. Was he out at his club? Or some hell in the East End? Did he have a mistress?

Iris sipped her tea, welcoming the calming brew that helped ease her mind with that worrying thought.

She was, she reminded herself, not worrying for her own interests but those of other young ladies whom he could court and eventually marry.

"Wonderful news, Josh darling. Lady Jersey has sent us a voucher for Iris to attend Almacks."

The duke raised his brow. "Well, that is good news. I shall try to attend with you both."

The duchess waved his offer away. "There will be no need for you to accompany us to Almacks, my dear. The patronesses, as you well know, only allow the highest echelons of society to attend. I'm sure my chaperonage will be enough for Iris."

The duke met her eye, and the pit of Iris's stomach fluttered. She sipped her tea, unsure why she was reacting to him in such a way. She supposed it was after their waltz that her mind had run away with her over how perfectly suitable he was for a husband.

She already knew he was kind, and he was wealthy enough not to mind her lack of funds.

What a pity you are so damaged.

Iris frowned into her tea, determined to ignore her cruel mind's taunt.

"Would you like me to escort you, Miss Cooper? I do not mind attending if it would help you in your quest to find a husband."

She shook her head, disappointment swirling through her at his words. Of course, he would not be looking at her as a potential prospect as a wife, and she was a silly fool to hope otherwise. To him, she was his responsibility, a lady to have married off, so his duty was complete.

How irritating.

"Thank you, but it is not necessary. I think Her Grace and I will be more than capable of maneuvering about Almacks for one night."

He smiled, and she hoped it was not relief she saw flicker in his blue orbs. "I understand you're to attend the theater this evening. I shall see you there also. The family box will be at your disposal."

Iris lost her breath at the idea of sitting in the ducal box. How wonderful. It made the prospect of this evening even more exciting.

"Very good. I was hoping you would notify the theater. I do hope they have stocked the box with my favorite flowers. The smells that sometimes waft up from the pit below are beyond endurable," the duchess said.

Iris had not thought about the body odor at the theater, but then, not everyone was as privileged as the Penworth family, and she supposed it was only probable that others would not bathe as often.

"I have, Mama," the duke murmured, his voice bored. "Just as I always do. No need to remind me."

The duchess's lips thinned into a displeased line. "One must check to ensure a pleasant evening. Now, we must leave you, my dear, and start preparing for this evening."

The duke caught Iris's eye, a small smile on his lips. "I shall see you this evening, Miss Cooper."

Iris followed the duchess from the room. What was the meaning behind the odd little looks that the duke kept giving her? Or was it only in her imagination that she was seeing them at all?

She hoped that was not the case. To have the duke interested in her would be a coup, but she could not let herself think such fanciful things. To do so would only lead to disappointment, and she had enough of that emotion in her life.

Tonight she would enjoy the opera, breathe the sweet-smelling flowers abundant in the ducal box, and ignore the fact that one of London's most eligible dukes sat beside her.

She sighed, following the duchess up the stairs. Easier said than done.