Only a Lady Will Do by Tamara Gill
Chapter 7
Josh sat at Whites in his private room. The Times open on his lap, the first few lines of the story before him read numerous times as he thought of Miss Iris Cooper ensconced at his townhouse, making his mother more than adequately happy and busy with the Season.
He, too, ought to be increasing his search for a wife, but each time he attended a ball, picnic, or musical night all the women he had crossed paths with had done little to spark his interest.
He mulled over that quandary for a moment. Was he too severe in his expectations? His requiring only the most educated, titled, and wealthy woman to be his wife may make her difficult to discover.
A knock sounded on his door, and he bid them enter. He stood when he found the familiar and welcome visage of his brother-in-law. "Moore," he said, standing. "Come in, my good fellow. It is good to see you again."
"And you," the duke said, sitting across from him. A footman entered with another glass of brandy, taking Moore's order and leaving again. "Isolde is busy with your mama and her new charge. I did not know the duchess was sponsoring anyone this year."
"Neither did I, until she shared the information." His mother was, if anything, a woman who knew her own mind and usually got what she wanted. "Miss Iris Cooper, but I'm sure Mama introduced you."
The duke settled himself in his chair, nodding. "We were, yes. She's very beautiful and sweet-natured. Isolde seemed to adore her instantly."
Josh raised his brows, surprised. "Isolde can sometimes be difficult to win over. I'm happy that Miss Cooper has prevailed. I assumed your being at Whites means you're here for the Season?"
"Isolde wished to attend, and I'm looking to purchase a new town carriage. I'm here to order one before we return to Wiltshire."
Moore's words reminded him that his curricle required replacing. He would do that before the end of the Season. "If you do not mind, I think I shall go with you when you order the new vehicle. My curricle has seen too many years and needs renewing."
"Of course." The footman returned, placing a beer before Moore before bowing and leaving them again. "Talking of carriages, and correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't Miss Cooper injured in an accident several years ago? We attended the McCalter ball last evening, and her ladyship mentioned it."
"It is, unfortunately, true, and could be laid directly at my door."
Moore glanced up at his words, confusion clouding his gaze. "Whatever do you mean? How could such an accident be your fault?" he asked him.
Josh rubbed a hand over his jaw, glad to speak of his concerns to a gentleman he could trust with his life. The knowledge and constant reminder of Miss Cooper's disability, her injury caused by his youthful foolery, plagued him daily, and he needed to speak of it. Release it into the world and seek penance, if only from a friend.
"The young Baron Redgrove wished to be part of our set. Desperately so. While we never denied or asked gentlemen new to town to associate with us, Redgrove was desperate to be one of our set. Somehow, it went around London that one must perform a risky maneuver for one to enter into our friendship group. Redgrove was determined to succeed, even though we never stopped him from joining us." Josh laid his head against the leather chair, wishing he could take back time, stop what had happened to Redgrove and Iris.
Damn his teasing, his testing of the young buck, all for a lark that went horribly wrong.
"I placed a bet in the book downstairs, stating that anyone who could circle Hyde Park the fastest in a phaeton would be a lifelong member. Redgrove took the bet, and one afternoon while Miss Cooper, his betrothed, was accompanying him, he thought to test his newly purchased phaeton's speed. It rolled, of course, killing him, and Miss Cooper was injured. When well enough, she left London several weeks later and has not returned until now."
Moore stared at him for several moments, and he hoped he did not see judgment, disappointment in his friend's visage, but even he knew it was there. In the shadows, whispered but never said aloud. Not to his face, at least. Perhaps it ought to be. He deserved no less.
"I killed Redgrove and maimed Miss Cooper for life. Mother does not know, and I would like to keep it that way."
"And Miss Cooper, does she not know what part you played in the bet? Even though I do think you take too much upon yourself. A silly bet in the book downstairs is not taken seriously. Everyone knows that. Redgrove was a fool to have tried such a caper. With Miss Cooper at his side at the same time, he was fortunate that she did not die along with him."
Josh stood, walking to the window and looking down on St. James street. The London populace out and about on this sun-shining day, shopping and socializing. He watched three children fleece a gentleman of his wallet, the man unaware of the street urchins’ quick fingers. They darted back into a nearby alley, disappearing like shadows.
"She was severely injured and cannot remember much of that day at all. At this time, she does not know my involvement, and nor will she if I can keep that from her."
"And your plan for the Season now that she's under your family's care?" Moore asked him, sipping his beer.
"I will ensure she has a much happier ending to her Season than her last. This time she will marry a man who loves her as much as she loves him. It is my mission to make my wrong right by helping her, vetting all her gentlemen admirers to be sure she makes the right choice for her."
"Have there been many interested parties?"
Josh frowned, knowing there had not been. As to why though, he could not fathom. She was an earl’s granddaughter. His mother, a duchess, was sponsoring her. There was no dowry, but she was not the only lady in town this year not to have one. Surely her injury was not so off-putting that the gentlemen kept away?
"No one has called, but the Season is young, and there are more events to attend. Tonight, in fact, I'm escorting Mother and Miss Cooper to the opera. I am hopeful that several callers will attend Mother’s home tomorrow afternoon."
"We are attending the opera tonight. We shall join you in the Penworth box, show our support for Miss Cooper also. With us both at her side, she is sure to attract the correct sort of gentleman."
"I do hope so. Her injury is not so bad that they should keep away." He had certainly not thought so. While it pained him to see her uncomfortable at times, she danced and enjoyed her time as much as any young lady. Her injury, if it was so very severe still, she had learned to hide well.
"She has an injury?" Moore queried. "Where?"
"You did not notice her slight limp? Her leg was fractured during the carriage accident. It pains her still."
Damn himself for playing with a gentleman who was not capable of thinking clearly. Who took bets without thought or care. If only he could turn back time, he would change so much.
"Hell, that is terrible for her, but surely that is not enough to keep men away. She is affable and handsome, which is what gentlemen of quality seek first in a woman. I know they are two traits most attractive to me."
That was true. His many friends had succumbed to a pretty face, not necessarily an heiress.
"I agree, of course, but I will evaluate interest and make adjustments where I can. I will not allow her to be a wallflower. She must have suitors, admirers, and a proposal that makes her heart sing. I am determined to have it so."
"You are not to blame for her injury, Penworth. If the situation was explained to Miss Cooper, I'm certain she would say the same thing to you."
The idea of telling her the truth sent a cold shiver down his spine. He could not voice his wrongdoing, but he could change her fate, make amends to her life, and give her what she wanted.
A husband.
Iris stood in the foyer of the Duke of Penworth's London home and felt like the life she was leading was not her own. Her gown of mint-green silk with tulle that sat atop of it, so fine that it was almost transparent, did not feel real. The life she now led resembled more of a dream than reality.
She turned and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror atop the hallstand, and she did not recognize the woman staring back at her. Where had the woman from Cornwall gone? The cripple who struggled whenever the weather turned chill. The young woman who pinned up her hair with little care whether it remained in place or not.
This evening the night was warm, and her leg hardly troubled her at all. She would make the most of her improvement, enjoy the opera and the ball that proceeded it. Dance until dawn.
Iris smiled at her musings, knowing that was probably not possible, but she would dance as much as she could, enjoy the flatteries the gentlemen made and see if any of them made an impression on her.
The duchess stood beside her, waiting patiently for her son to arrive to escort them for the evening. Although Iris knew His Grace would accompany them to the opera, she was not certain if he was attending the midnight ball.
How well and delicious that sounded. A midnight ball, where anything was possible, even for a woman such as herself. A little broken, but still perfectly fine for someone.
A footman moved and opened the door as if he sensed the duke's arrival. And how could one not sense the arrival of such a man? Her mouth dried at the sight of him. He was perfection itself, tall and handsome and utterly unattainable. Mayhap that was what made him so alluring. His Grace walked into the foyer, pulling his hat from his head, the easy lift to his lips in place making her inwardly sigh. He reached up to adjust his hair, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. How she wished it was her hand running through his dark locks. Would he like her touching him so? Iris certainly knew she would enjoy petting him if she were able.
She still could not believe that she was here, living in this house with the Dowager Duchess Penworth escorting her about town. She would use the connection to her advantage, marry well and soon, so she was not a bother to them any more than she already was.
Not that the duchess would say such a thing. She was more than sweet and welcoming, but she was here for one Season only, and she needed to make the most of her time in London. Her injury plagued her, yes, but she needed to push through that pain, snap up a gentleman she could see herself married to for the rest of her life, and leave the duchess and duke to continue their lives without her.
He bowed before them, the scent of spice and apple renting the air. Iris breathed deep the alluring redolence. Was there nothing sweeter than a man who dressed well and smelled good enough to eat?
She dipped into a curtsy, grateful to bow her head so he would not see the heat on her cheeks at her wayward thoughts.
"Mother, Miss Cooper, how beautiful you both look this evening," the duke said, his gaze lingering on Iris a moment longer than appropriate before his attention moved over her like a caress right down to her silk-slippered shoes.
She adjusted her gloves, anything but to react to his appraisal.
"Shall we go, my dear? I do not wish to miss the beginning of the opera," the dowager said, moving toward the door.
The duke slapped his hat back on his head and held out his arm as if remembering himself. "Miss Cooper, may I do you the honor?"
She took his arm, his coat as soft as velvet, more than happy to have the duke's arm. "Thank you, Your Grace," she said, looking toward the carriage outside, determined not to be distracted by the man beside her but the others who awaited, yet to be discovered.
