“I’m talking about a wife being treated with respect,” Iris said, stiffening. She held his gaze. “Which I know is something that was demonstrated to you as a child. Our arrangement might be… unusual, but I expect nothing less than that in our marriage.”
The Duke’s expression turned thunderous, and Iris held her breath. She was sure he was about to start berating her. But then his face softened, and he bowed his head in acknowledgment.
“You’re right, Duchess,” he relented. “I should have enquired about your health before jumping into particulars. Especiallyconsidering how difficult it must have been for you to enter your father’s house again.”
“Thank you,” Iris said primly. She tried not to look too pleased with herself, but she had to admit that it felt good to make the fearsome Duke of Eavestone apologize to her. Gesturing toward the sofa across from her, she said, “Won’t you sit?”
The Duke sat on the sofa, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. In the soft afternoon light, he looked particularly handsome. His hair was disheveled from riding, and Iris couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to run her fingers through those chestnut locks.
“About my father,” she forced herself to say, “I think he was suspicious at first, but I managed to talk him into opening up. It’s about his mines. He thinks you have plans to sabotage them… or buy them back, I suppose.”
There was a flicker of triumph in her husband’s eyes. He leaned back on the sofa, folding his hands behind his head. “Yes, I thought as much.”
“If you thought as much, why didn’t you tell me?” Iris snapped, irritated. “It could have saved me going to ask him, which may have alerted him that I’m working with you now.”
The Duke gave her a cool once-over before answering, “I didn’t want to influence you, and I didn’t want you to give away our plans with your reaction when you spoke to your father. But I had to be sure.”
Iris crossed her arms. She wasn’t at all pleased with this answer. “If we are going to be on the same side in this, then you need to trust me. And that means telling me the whole truth. Not keeping things from me because you think I can’t keep a secret.”
“We already covered this,” the Duke said dismissively. “I don’t trust you. That’s just something you’re going to have to earn.”
“Well then, I don’t trust you either,” Iris retorted, her temper flaring. It was bad enough to hear that he didn’t trust her, but to hear it while he looked so handsome that it made her toes curl—that was infuriating. “Nor do I understand why you need to go about trying to ruin my father and his associates. I understand the situation with the mines is sensitive, but I think you could come to an agreement with him that leaves you both satisfied. After all, your father did agree to sell him the land…”
“What?” The Duke stared at her. His face, which was usually so expressionless, had become twisted with anger. “Is that what he told you?”
“Well…” Iris bit her lip. It hadn’t occurred to her that her father might have been lying. After all, there would surely be legal documents to back up all his claims. “Yes, that’s what he told me.”
“And you believed him?” The Duke looked incredulous. “After everything he’s done to harm you and your sisters, you believed him?”
“What else am I supposed to believe?” Iris cried, throwing up her arms. “You tell me nothing!”
“Well then, let me tell you what your father won’t.” Her husband stood up, strode to the door, and wrenched it open before storming out.
Iris watched him go, feeling a mix of anger, fear, and doubt. As much as she was on his side in taking down her father, it was hard not to feel a small thread of doubt after listening to her father’s story. As terrible as her father was, the Duke’s reputation was almost as bad, and she couldn’t trust that he was as much of a victim as he said he was.
Within a few minutes, he returned holding several sheets of paper. He handed her the papers, and she began to read them.
The first was a letter from the former Duke of Eavestone to the Viscount. The tone was angry but calm, explaining again that he would not part with the land, that he didn’t know how Lord Carfield had heard about his plans to start a mine, but that he would not sell the land for anything. There were other documents as well. More correspondence between the late Duke and his solicitor outlining that he did not want to sell the land to Lord Carfield, and making it unequivocal that the idea of the mine had, in fact, been his.
Iris was aghast, although it was nothing compared to the feeling that rose within her when she got to the last document. It was a bill of sale of the land from her husband to her father, signed bythem both. Even more shockingly, it was witnessed and signed by her mother.
She looked up, her mouth open. “You knew my mother?” she whispered.
“Of course not.” The Duke snorted.
“But… she witnessed you signing this.”
“She lied,” he growled. “I never signed that document. Your father forged it, including my signature, and your mother signed it. I was a lad of fifteen, grief-stricken and without anyone to protect me. It was easy to take advantage of me. I swore that I hadn’t signed this, but with your mother as a witness, it was two against one. Your father argued that it was my grief talking, that I regretted betraying my father’s wishes and selling, and that’s why I denied it. He was powerful and convincing, and I was just a boy, sick with the loss of my parents, and I couldn’t do anything to prove my innocence.”
“Even though your solicitors had these letters proving my father had been trying to buy the mine? Couldn’t they see that he’d go to any lengths, even forgery, to get them?”
“They couldn’t prove it,” the Duke said bitterly. He shook his head, then seemed to suddenly become tired, because he sat back down on the sofa across from her. He ran a hand through his hair. “And… your mother was very persuasive. Everyone knew her honor was unimpeachable. My solicitor believed her, and I think he thought I was rather unstable. Bertram saw meright after my parents’ death, you see, when the management of the estate passed to me, and he knew how hard I’d taken their deaths. To him, your parents’ story seemed plausible.”
He looked away. The pain on his face made Iris’s heart ache, and a new determination to help him surged through her.
“Bertram?” she repeated slowly. “As in August Bertram, Esquire?”
The Duke looked back at her, startled. “You know him?”
