Page 18 of Stolen By the Cruel Duke
She sighed, then put the finishing touches on the letter. She sanded the ink, then waved the paper back and forth in the air to dry the ink.
“Although I’m also reminding him that the girls’ happiness is paramount to me, so hopefully he’ll remember I’m only spying on you out of love for them, and I might not continue if he denies me access to them.”
It was clever, Phineas thought, as he watched her reread the letter. She was very clever. And striking. Her features were sharp in a way most women’s weren’t, and he found them startlingly beautiful. When she read, the lines of her face seemed to sharpen even more, and he admired how formidable she appeared. It reminded him of someone he’d once been close to…
He frowned, trying to remember. Too clever…
Then Phinease felt his stomach drop. He’d realized exactly who she reminded him of—her father. He’d just realized that she looked exactly like her father when she was thinking hard. Although she had none of Lord Carfield’s coloring, the way her mind worked when she was scheming and the look in her eyes when she was focused was uncannily similar to the Viscount’s.
It disturbed Phineas greatly to see his old enemy whenever he looked at his wife’s face. Immediately, warning bells went off in his head. It was as if he had woken him up from a spell.
Taking a step back, he stared at Iris’s profile. He’d almost forgotten that the smart, stubborn, sweet woman in front of him wasn’t just his wife, but Lord Carfield’s daughter.
She’s still your enemy.
No matter how much she might tease him, or force him to open up about his past, he still couldn’t trust her. And he’d be smart to remember that if he wanted to get his revenge.
Chapter Seven
“If I didn’t know your husband was a ruthless tyrant, I’d almost envy you,” Rosalie said as she gazed around in rapture at the opulent entrance hall of Eavestone House. “Your house is beautiful! And the Duke’s palace is supposed to be even more magnificent.”
“Rose, don’t be insensitive,” Violet chided, following her sister through the front door. “Iris sacrificed a great deal to become the Duchess of Eavestone—and she did it for us.”
“It’s all right,” Iris reassured them, lowering her voice as she leaned in toward Violet. “In truth, I do love the house… and it does help ease the blow of my less-than-ideal marriage.”
Violet giggled and linked her arm with her sister’s. “I’ve missed you, Iris,” she admitted. “It hasn’t been the same without you at home.”
“I’ve missed you as well. It makes me ill at ease to think of you there without me.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Violet reassured her. “We can take care of ourselves.”
Iris looked at Rosalie, who was currently sweeping around the hall to look at the lavish decor, which included a cloisonné vase from the Far East, a tapestry from India, and a collection of Ottoman swords encased behind glass.
“It’s good to see Rosalie so happy,” Iris murmured. “She has too much energy and enthusiasm to be locked up in the house all the time. I think it will be good for her to come outnext year.”
Violet bit her lip. “Do you really think it wise for her to come outalready? She’s still so young…”
“She’s only a year younger than you,” Iris pointed out.
“Yes, but she’s still so wild and impulsive…”
“She needs freedom,” Iris insisted.
She knew her youngest sister very well. In some ways, she envied her. Their mother’s departure had left Iris in charge of her sisters, and the early burden of responsibility had made her serious and cautious. Rosalie, on the other hand, had a wild spirit. She often had to repress it around their father, but when it was free to come out, it was infectious.
“Once she gets away from Father, she’ll settle into herself, find some calmness,” Iris continued. “Right now, she’s bursting with untapped energy because Father keeps her cooped up all the time.”
“He’s afraid she’s going to catch someone’s eye,” Violet scoffed. “His worst fear would be for us to marry someone not of his choosing—for him to lose all control over us.”
“Well, he’s lost control over me,” Iris said, glaring at no one in particular. “He can’t hurt me anymore, now that I’m under my husband’s protection.”
Violet didn’t respond to this right away, but her expression was thoughtful as Iris led her into the parlor and rang for tea. Rosalie was still full of energy, and she went to the pianoforte, which was much nicer than the one at their home, and began to play a jig.
The tea came in, and Iris had just poured cups for herself and Violet when her sister spoke.
“So you really think you can trust him?” Violet asked, her voice low enough that Rosalie couldn’t hear. “When we spoke before the wedding, you weren’t certain…”
Iris stirred sugar into her tea and considered this. “I don’t know for certain yet,” she admitted. “But I am starting to feel that Society has misjudged him.”
