“Listen to me,” he said, taking one of her hands tightly in his. “You don’t have to do it. We’ll find some other way. I’ll convince Fleur to marry someone else, or I’ll scrape together the funds, and we’ll find a way for her to pass herself off as a widow. I won’t be able to see her as often as I’d like, but—”

“Stop,” Iris cut in, placing a finger against his lips. She was smiling. Her lips were quivering, but she was most definitely smiling. “I mean it. Stop.”

He shook his head, not understanding.

“Fleur lied,” she said.

He froze. “What?”

“Not about the baby, but about the father. It wasn’t William Parnell.”

Richard blinked, trying to make sense of this. “Then who?”

Iris caught her lower lip between her teeth, her eyes shifting to the side with hesitation.

“For the love of God, Iris, if you do not tell me—”

“John Burnham,” she blurted out.

“What?”

“John Burnham, your tenant.”

“I know who he is,” he said, far more sharply than he’d meant. “I just—” His brow furrowed, and his mouth went slack, and he was sure he looked like some bloody idiot about to be fitted with a dunce cap, but—“John Burnham? Really?”

“Marie-Claire told me.”

“Marie-Claire knew?”

Iris nodded.

“I’m going to throttle her.”

Iris gave a hesitant frown. “To be fair, she wasn’t sure . . .”

He looked at her in disbelief.

“Fleur didn’t tell her,” she explained. “Marie-Claire figured it out on her own.”

“She figured it out,” he said, feeling more like that dunce-capped idiot than ever, “and I didn’t?”

“You’re not her sister,” Iris said, as if that ought to explain everything.

He rubbed his eyes. “Dear God. John Burnham.” He looked at her, trying to blink the disbelief from his face. “John. Burnham.”

“You will let her marry him, won’t you?”

“I don’t see how I have any choice. The baby needs a father . . . The baby has a father.” He looked up sharply. “He did not force himself on her?”

“No,” Iris said. “He did not.”

“Of course he didn’t.” He shook his head. “He would not do that. I know him that well at least.”

“Then you like him?”

“I do. I’ve said as much. It’s just . . . he has . . .” He sighed. “I suppose this is why she did not say anything. She thought I would not approve.”

“That, and she feared for Marie-Claire.”

“Oh, God,” Richard groaned. He had not even thought of Marie-Claire. It would be impossible for her to make a good match after this.

“No, no, don’t worry,” Iris said, her entire face perking with excitement. “I’ve taken care of that. I figured it all out. We’ll send her to London. My mother will sponsor her.”