Page 9 of Stolen By the Cruel Duke
“You drive a hard bargain, Miss Crampton,” he acknowledged, setting his glass down on the sideboard. “I find I cannot disagree with you. But don’t go filling your head with foolish notions of my chivalry. I am agreeing to this not out of the goodness of my heart, but because you are offering me something I need—insider information on my enemy. Nor does it hurt that you are accomplished, smart, and beautiful. All desirable qualities in a wife.”
Despite herself, Iris felt her heart flutter.
He thinks I’m beautiful?
“So, yes,” he continued, “I will accept a smaller lump sum from your father, and yes, I will marry you. In exchange, you will work with me to bring your father to justice for the ways he has harmed me. I will also offer protection to your sisters as part of this arrangement. Do we have a deal?”
The Duke held out his hand, and after a brief hesitation, Iris grasped it. They shook hands, and then he nodded at her whiskey glass. “Seems like I am to have a wife who’s unable to even finish a glass of whiskey.”
I am to have a wife.
The words sank into Iris as she lifted the glass and drained it in two large gulps, refusing to back down from a challenge.
The Duke smiled. It looked, to her, like a wolf leering at a lamb.
After a lifetime of fearing marriage, and four years of being on the shelf, during which she had determinedly established herself as a spinster, Iris Crampton was going to become a wife—with everything that entailed. She would have a husband, a man she barely knew but whose reputation for ruthlessness was legendary, and who would have legal control over every aspect of her life.
The prospect was terrifying, and as she took her leave of the Duke moments later, she had the awful feeling that she had made a terrible mistake.
Iris, what have you gotten yourself into?
Chapter Four
“Iris, are you still awake?”
The whisper came from the door and was accompanied by a small knock. Iris looked up from her bed, where just moments before she had been staring up into the canopy, her mind whirring.
“Rose, is that you?” she called softly. “Come in!”
The door creaked open, and Rosalie slipped into the room, followed closely by Violet.
Iris sat up and reached for the flint box by her bed. By the time her sisters had tiptoed across the room, she had lit the candle on her nightstand, illuminating their anxious faces.
“Did we wake you?” Violet asked.
“No, I can’t sleep.”
“Us either,” Rosalie said, hopping up on the bed. “I can’t believe you’re going to get married tomorrow! You’re going to be a duchess! And married to the most handsome duke in England…”
Iris wrinkled her nose. “I’ve hardly noticed what he looks like,” she mumbled, although this wasn’t entirely true. One could hardly fail to notice how handsome the Duke of Eavestone was. But that wasn’t the point. “I don’t even know what he’s like as a person. Other than his reputation, of course…”
Violet seemed to sense her unease because she sat on the edge of the bed and laid a hand over Iris’s. “Are you nervous?” she asked.
Iris swallowed. She didn’t like to admit weakness in front of her sisters—she had to be the strong one for them—but in the cover of night, she found it a little easier to open up.
“A little,” she admitted. “I know the Duke and I are on the same side now, but there is still so much I don’t know about him. What if he is as cruel as people say?”
“Rumors aren’t always correct,” Rosalie said at once.
Violet rolled her eyes, and Iris had to stifle a smile. Considering that Rosalie had been so quick to believe the rumor about Iris, it was good to see she was becoming more discerning.
“But what if these ones are?” Iris asked. “For all we know, I could be entering into a marriage with someone as dreadful as Father. What if… what if I end up like Mama? So afraid of my own husband that I leave him and abandon my children like she abandoned us?”
Neither sister had anything to say to this. Even Rosalie looked subdued, and she put her own hand over Violet’s so that the three of them were clasping hands.
“It won’t be like that,” Violet said at last.
“How do you know?” Iris whispered, her voice choked.
