Only a Lady Will Do: To Marry a Rogue, Book 5

by Gill, Tamara

  "She will love you, for she loves me. Our friendship is strong, and she does not have an unkind bone in her body. All her daughters are married now, and she welcomes having company in her townhouse this Season. Now, come, my dear. You shall need to bathe before dinner, and we cannot keep you up too late. You have a long journey before you."

  Iris decided not to debate the subject any further to stay here in Cornwall, which wasn't something she should pursue. Her mama was determined, and as an earl’s daughter to her very core, she usually gained her way.

  But something told Iris that when it came to her taking London by storm, of being the success they believed she would be, that her parents were seeing her through rose-colored glasses. She was no gem. She was scarred inside and out; no doubt one who would be mocked over the next several months by those without empathy. Her time for a future had passed. She had buried all her hopes seven years ago with Dudley.

  Chapter 2

  Iris took the footman's hand, needing the assistance to climb down from the carriage after the last several hours on the road. The trip from Cornwall had taken several days. She'd had to stay an extra night at an inn due to her leg cramping up over the many hours sedate in a carriage.

  Even now, it ached, and she rubbed the upper bone in her leg where it had fractured several years ago. She supposed she ought to be relieved that it had not broken entirely, or so the doctor had stated.

  She stood on the flagstones before the Duke of Penworth's London residence. Her home for the next three months of the Season. The house was one of the largest in London, having a private driveway and fencing along the street front.

  Flowers and hedges lined the front walls of the home. The house could not look more opposing to how Iris was in life. It was orderly and well-kept. She was none of those things, and a little niggle of dread settled in her belly that she would not be good enough to escort the duchess. To be part of their family for the next few months.

  Would the duchess still wish to sponsor her this Season when she saw her charge was not as perfect as so many other ladies present in London?

  Rumor had it the beautiful Lady Sophie from Hampshire was the belle of every ball. It was said that the Duke of Penworth himself had taken an interest in her prior to the Season.

  The front door opened, and a liveried footman came down the stairs, giving her his arm. "The duchess is in the front drawing room, Miss Cooper. She charged me in bringing you to her."

  Iris smiled at the young man, thankful for the support up the many steps. Normally she would not struggle, but the sedentary hours had left her sore and stiff. After a nice cup of tea and a comfortable chair that did not rock or drop into every pothole the wheel could find, she would be better.

  "Thank you. That is very kind."

  They walked up the stairs, and she gaped at the sight of the interior of the home. Marble and polished wood floors, magnificent paintings, some as large as several walls at the vicarage, hung all over the home. Opulent flower arrangements sat on several sideboards, and the foyer itself smelled like a sweet hothouse.

  They made their way across the room, the sweeping staircase leading up to the first floor, a piece of art in itself.

  She knew her mama had come from a similar home as the duchess, being an earl's daughter and she couldn’t help but wonder if they were alike.

  They entered a room of soft yellow with wood paneling on the lower quarter of the walls. Three cream settees hugged the fire burning in the grate, and a woman she'd never met before stood, a welcoming smile on her aged but attractive face.

  "Iris, how lovely for you to be here. I have been so looking forward to your visit."

  The duchess's warm smile quelled some of her misgivings. Her Grace stood, arms outstretched, before pulling Iris into a warm embrace.

  The footman bowed and left, leaving them alone.

  "Forgive me. I'm Sarah Worthingham, the Duchess of Penworth, but just as your dear mama always has, you may call me Sarah." The duchess reached up, taking Iris’s face in her hands and studying her. "You look like your mama when she was your age. How lovely to meet you.

  Iris remembered to dip into a curtsy. "Thank you for having me, Your Grace. I'm honored to be here. I cannot tell you how thankful I am that you’ve sponsored me."

  The duchess waved her concerns aside and walked her over to a settee. Iris sank onto the seat, biting back a sigh of delight at the comfortable chair that would help with her aching bones.

  "Dearest Jane, I could never refuse her, and as I'm certain she has already informed you, all my daughters are now married. My youngest just this past year."

  Iris did know all of this. She glanced about the room, this space, too, very homey and welcoming. Not cold at all, which she had heard some affluent families tended to prefer when it came to their furnishings. "I wish them very happy." Iris all but purred when a footman brought in a steaming pot of tea and almond biscuits. How long since she'd had a lovely cup of tea in a comfortable chair and not awful hours of travel still ahead of her?

  The duchess thanked the footman but dismissed him, preferring to pour the tea herself. "Do you have milk or sugar, my dear?"

  "Both please," she answered, taking the cup and saucer when it was ready. "Thank you." Iris relaxed at the duchess’s ease and welcoming disposition. She hoped that it would remain so. "Mama sends her regards, and I have a letter in my trunk for you that she charged me with delivering when I arrived."

  "Wonderful," the duchess said, smiling brightly. "Jane's letters are always entertaining."

  Iris found herself smiling in return, hope blossoming in her chest that perhaps the Season in town would not be so very bad. Not with the Duchess of Penworth at her side. Her time in town several years ago had been a disaster, and she did not want anything of the same to occur again.

  The duchess sipped her tea, taking in her carriage dress. Iris believed it had too much frogging on it to be fashionable. A little gaudy for her style. "You will need new gowns, and we shall start shopping for them tomorrow. I'm certain we shall be able to have several delivered before your first ball this Friday, but until then, you may wear whatever your maid has packed for you. I’m certain they will do very well for the time being."

  Iris's eyes went wide. Several gowns? "How many gowns do you suppose I shall require, Your Grace?"

  "Please, call me Sarah. I insist. And you shall have at least ten ballgowns to start. We shall have more made as the Season continues. You will have your morning gowns, evening wear, and ballgowns. And then let us not forget you will need all new shifts, stays, petticoats, stockings, and shoes. A hat for the different occasions and events we're to attend. A parasol and gloves. And if you're fortunate to gain an offer of marriage, which after seeing you, my dear, I do believe will be forthcoming in the weeks ahead, you will need new night rails, a dressing gown, and wrappers."

  The idea of so many clothes, the many balls and parties she would have to attend muddled her senses. She could only hope her leg would not cause too much strife at having to dance so much and stand for several hours at a time.

  As if sensing her unease, the duchess set her cup down, settling her hands in her lap in a businesslike manner. "I knew of your carriage accident several years ago. Your mama informed me of it when it happened. I did visit you when you were taken ill, but you probably do not remember."

  Iris did not remember that day at all. Well, that wasn't exactly true. She remembered figments of it, but only leading up to being picked up by Dudley before their turn in Hyde Park. After that, the day was eliminated from her memory. She could recall waking up several days later, no longer betrothed and a cripple.

  "I will not push you to dance if you do not feel up to it, and we shall always have a comfortable chair to sit in when the need arises. I want this Season to be pleasant for you, dear. Successful too. You deserve as much happiness as my children have found with their respective life partners, and I'm determined to find you yours."

  Relief poured th
rough her at knowing the duchess would be considerate of her lameness. "Thank you, Your…" she cleared her throat, testing out the familiarity the duchess wanted for the first time, "Sarah, for your kindness. I do wish to enjoy myself. It has been so very long since I have been in town, and although several of my friends are married now, it will be nice to see them again if they are here."

  "Wonderful. There is a writing desk in your room, and if you give your letters to our butler, he shall have them posted posthaste."

  Iris finished her tea, picking up a biscuit and taking a bite. She bit back a moan of delight at the sweetness that spread across her tongue. It would seem the cook the duchess employed was also marvelous.

  "I understand that your son the duke is still unwed. Is he in town this Season?"

  The duchess’s eyes brightened with affection at the mention of her child. "He is indeed, and he will be here with us for your first ball. He's had to travel down to our estate in Surrey but will return before Friday. I hope you do not mind, but I have secured his assistance, and he is here to ensure your Season is an enjoyable one and successful. A dance with a duke always makes a lady more popular, and so I'm determined that you shall be the most sought-after young woman in the ton. You will have your choice of gentleman to take your hand in marriage, but with copious amounts to choose from, I'm hoping you shall find the man who stops your heart at the very sight of him. A love match will only do."

  Iris inwardly sighed at how delightful that sounded while a pang of sadness also followed the emotion. Poor Dudley, the silly fool did not deserve such an ending. He too should be happily married, and to her. She wondered for a moment if they would have had children by now. Would they have been happy? All an unknown and forever to be that way since he was gone and she was back in London, searching for a new fiancé.

  "You do not think my injury will put me at a disadvantage? Walking can become difficult sometimes. I have a small limp when the weather is chilly, and the scar does not help," she said, pointing to the cut across her temple and brow.

  "None of that will matter, my dear. Not to a man who is genuine of character and in love with you. While I do not doubt your troubles are vexing, your difficulties do not impede your happiness. The scar is nothing at all, and we shall not overtax you so that you are pained to walk or dance. All will be well, my dear. I will ensure it is so."

  "Thank you, Sarah. I do not know how I shall ever repay you such kindness."

  The duchess waved her thanks aside, picking up an almond biscuit also. "Jane is my friend, and this is no trouble at all. I enjoy the Season and will enjoy having you, the daughter of my closest friend, under my roof for several months. I am in my element, my dear. No thanks necessary."

  Chapter 3

  Josh strolled into his mother's private upstairs parlor, having just returned from Dunsleigh. The day was a beautiful spring morning. After returning late the evening before, he'd walked the short distance from his Albany bachelor rooms on Piccadilly to here on Hanover Square. The large Georgian manor house, taking up a good portion of the square, filled him with pride.

  A home as precious to him as his country estate.

  When his mother’s sponsor was married and settled into her new life and out from under his mother's roof, he shall return home and bring his new wife with him—once he found her, of course.

  Over the past several days, the short break from London had been welcome, especially when the matrons of the ton seemed to see him as the one bachelor who was perfect for their many daughters. A duke, ready to settle down, was a most-sought-after commodity.

  His mother, he was certain, fanned the flames of such news, made the ton salivate at his eligibility. But he would choose whom he wanted beside him for the remainder of his days and no one else, of that he was most certain. His wife would be a lady of the finest quality, poise, and connections to rival his own. As Penworth, only the best would do for him.

  Entering the home, he handed a waiting footman his greatcoat and hat and took the stairs two at a time, knowing he was late for tea his mama was holding to introduce him to the young woman she was sponsoring.

  He had never met the young lady before, and he hoped she did not take up too much of his time in introducing her to society as he had his own plans to attend to this year. His own bride to find.

  He checked his cravat and apparel, slicing a hand through his hair as he came up to the parlor door. Feminine voices and laughter met his ears. It reminded him of how his sisters laughed when they were among family. It pleased him that the young woman was settling in well, comfortable in the dowager duchess’s presence, which some people were not.

  Josh strolled into the room, spying his mama first. He smiled, bowing, and glanced to where he could see the other occupant. His heart stopped at the sight of her. Long, dark locks he'd pushed out of her face all those years ago to check if she were breathing. Even now, the acrid smell of blood teased his senses. There had been so much of it. He had never thought to see her again. How was it she was here? This could not be the woman his mother was sponsoring.

  Good God, no. Please do not be her.

  He pinned a smile to his lips, but nothing would halt the blood he felt draining from his face.

  Miss Iris Cooper. It could not be.

  The once-betrothed to Baronet Redgrove. A gentleman who ran about with him and others around London several years ago. Wild and reckless they had been. Stupid was more an accurate description. The woman, smiling in welcome, had paid the price for their madness. Well, at least his follies.

  His eyes latched on to the scar on her face, the day she was gifted such a wound crashing down on him like a bookcase.

  That she was injured at all could be lain at his door. Did she know who he was? Did she know it was his fault she was injured? He studied her features. Her sparkling, welcoming eyes said she did not. But women could be devious. Pretend all was well when it was not.

  She clasped the side of the settee, struggling to stand before dipping into a curtsy, the tightness about her lips telling him the movement pained her.

  “Your Grace, this is Miss Iris Cooper,” his mama said, making the introductions.

  He bowed, rallying himself to calm his beating heart. "Miss Cooper, welcome to our home. I hope your stay has been pleasant so far?"

  His mother gestured for her to sit, and she seemed to welcome the ability to do so, a little sigh of relief passing her lips as she sat. "It has been wonderful so far. Your mama has been such a treasure sponsoring me so. My only concern is that you have been misplaced during my stay."

  He shook his head, pouring himself a cup of tea and wishing it were something stronger. "My lodgings are more than comfortable and not too far. It is only a short walk to attend to the estate books every day. So you see, it is no trouble at all," he said, sipping his tea.

  His mother watched him, and he could see she had noted his unease. He could only hope Miss Cooper did not recognize him. How she could not, however, he could not fathom.

  "We're to attend Earl Clifford's ball this evening, my dear. Do not forget to pick us up in the family carriage at nine." His mother threw him a pointed stare as if that would make him remember any better.

  Not that he would forget. Not now, at least.

  "You are the daughter of mama's favorite friend, I understand. Have you never been to town before?" he queried, needing to know how it was that she did not know who he was. Or how he had missed that Miss Iris Cooper was the woman his mother was sponsoring this season. Had he not been listening every time his mother prattled on about the young woman?

  "Not for several years, Your Grace. I did have my first Season at eighteen and made a suitable match, but…" Miss Cooper's words wavered, and she cast a look at his mama, who nodded for her to continue. "There was a carriage accident in Hyde Park. I was thrown clear of the carriage, but my betrothed was not. He was killed, and I was severely injured. I returned home once I was healed."

  "How terrible for you,” he said, h
is voice brittle even to his own ears. “I’m very sorry that happened to you.”

  "Iris’s mama is Lady Jane Buttersworth. She is known as Lady Jane still as she is the only daughter of the late Earl Buttersworth, and Countess Buttersworth."

  Josh swallowed hard. Of course, Lady Jane. He had not connected her ladyship and Miss Cooper together or had simply forgotten the relationship. How arrogant of him to never have looked into Miss Cooper's health after returning home to Cornwall. He ought to be horsewhipped for being such an ass.

  You are no longer so. You have changed your ways.

  Still, he had been, and he could not forgive himself for his rash actions that put others at risk. Damn himself and his wild nature.

  Not that Baron Redgrove was much better. The man was determined to take up every bet, every dare that came his way—always wanting to prove a point that he was better than everyone else. Josh ran a hand over his jaw, setting down his cup with more force than he meant to. It clattered, making his mama jump.

  "Were you badly injured?" He knew she had been, but so caught up in his youthful folly, his inability to see past his greatness, he had not followed up on her progress. Never had he suspected she was the daughter of his mother's favorite friend.

  "I fractured my thigh bone and scarred my face severely. I have no memory of the day at all, only the morning, which is vague at best. I do not remember much else but the pain and waking up several days later to the news that Dudley had passed, and I would return to Cornwall when I was healed. I have not been back to London since then, not until your mama invited me to stay, to have a second Season and one that will hopefully end on a happier note than my first."

  Good God, he was going to hell. She had suffered memory loss and was also lame? Was that why to stand looked so painful to her? Her leg gave her grief even to this day?

  Determination thrummed through him at the knowledge, and he would do all that he could to see her happily settled before the end of the Season to a good, kind man who would spoil and love her to the end of days.