“My health,” Iris said with a choked laugh. Good heavens, what a thing.

“It shall surely be the least dangerous pregnancy in history,” she remarked.

His eyes met hers with a flash of surprise, and then his lips curved into a half smile. “No childbirth fever for you,” he agreed.

She took a gulp of her whiskey. “I shall regain my figure with supernatural speed.”

“The other ladies will be envious,” he said solemnly.

Iris laughed, her eyes closing briefly with mirth before returning to Richard’s face. He was watching her, studying her almost, and his expression . . . it wasn’t amorous or lustful, it was just . . .

Grateful.

She looked down, wondering why gratitude seemed so disappointing. He should be grateful for all she was doing, and yet . . .

It didn’t feel right.

It didn’t feel like enough.

She swirled her whiskey. There wasn’t much left.

Richard’s voice, when she heard it, was soft and sad in the darkness. “What shall we do, Iris?”

“Do?”

“We have a lifetime of marriage ahead of us.”

Iris stared at her drink. Was he asking her to forgive him? She wasn’t sure she was ready to do that. And yet, somehow she knew she would. Was that what it meant to fall in love? That she would forgive the unforgivable? If such a thing had happened to one of her sisters or cousins, Iris would have never forgiven the husband, never.

But this was Richard. And she loved him. In the end, that was all that would matter.

In the end.

But maybe not yet.

She let out a little snort. How like her that was. To know that she would forgive him but to refuse to do it just yet. It wasn’t about making him suffer, though. It wasn’t even about holding a grudge. She just wasn’t ready. He’d said she deserved her anger, and he was right.

She looked up. He was watching her patiently.

“It will be all right,” she said. That was all she could give him. She hoped he would understand.

He nodded, then rose to his feet and held out his hand. “May I walk you to your room?”

Part of her longed for the warmth of his body near hers, even just the touch of her hand on his arm. But she didn’t want to fall more in love with him. At least, not tonight. She gave him a regretful smile as she stood. “I’m not sure that would be such a good idea.”

“Then may I walk you to the door?”

Iris’s lips parted as she stared up at his face. The door was barely three yards away. It was as unnecessary a gesture as she could imagine, and yet she could not resist. She placed her hand in his.