Page 11 of Duke of Iron
“You may be a duke and a rake, but I refuse to be frightened into silence by you! What are youdoinghere?”
“I just explained?—”
“Explained?” she echoed. “You climbed into a lady’s bedchamber uninvited, devoured her breakfast, and helped yourself to her novels.”
“They were scones. Not breakfast. A distinction worth noting.” He gestured toward her chaise. “You’ll sit?”
“No, I shall not. I am going to fetch a chaperone to witness this madness.”
She turned, skirts swishing, and made for the door.
He moved like lightning. One moment, the handle was within reach. The next, she was stumbling into an immovable object—his chest.
Her hands pressed to him instinctively. And remained there for a beat too long before she jerked them away.
Burned.I touched him.
He stepped forward, closing the space between them. Their eyes locked.
May’s bravado faltered. Her heartbeat was riotous. The scent of scones and pine clung to him.
“I suggest,” he said, “you sit.”
She did.
He stayed standing, one hand braced on the mantelpiece, his posture deceptively casual.
“If this were any other day,” he said, “I would see this scandal buried by noon. A whisper here, a favor there. But today, I cannot.”
Her stomach twisted. “Why not?”
His expression darkened. “A child. Left on my doorstep last night.”
“A… child?”
“A baby boy. Swaddled and howling. My servants believed him mine. He is not.”
“And you think thetonwill believe that?”
“They never do.”
“So you want me to help distract them?” she said slowly. “Shall I pretend to be the child’s mother?”
He gave a soft laugh. “Not quite.”
Footsteps paused outside.
“May?” April’s voice filtered through. “Do not keep me out. I wish to know how you are.”
Irondale moved quickly, locking the door. Then he nodded toward her.
May swallowed. “I’m fine, April. Just… a moment alone.”
A pause.
“All right. Call if you need me.”
They waited until her footsteps faded.
