Lucy beamed and nodded as she accepted Iris’s instructions.
“I believe we’re ready to begin,” Iris said. “Harriet, if you would?”
Harriet’s skillful fingers began a familiar Mozart waltz.
“Merritt, come and dance with your sister.” Iris motioned him forward.
He methodically set down the newspaper then uncrossed his legs to stand. She’d never before thought of a man as graceful, but Merritt’s every move embodied power and elegance.
“That’s it. Now, Lucy, you place your right hand in his and your left on his shoulder.”
Merritt moved his sister backward across the parlor floor. She stumbled a few times but eventually caught on to his rhythm and was better able to follow his lead.
The door opened, and Merritt’s assistant, Rand, stepped inside then stopped midstride. His eyes immediately fell on Lucy and warmed.
“Rand,” Merritt said. “Is there a problem?”
“Not exactly.” The man glanced at Lucy and his eyes widened slightly. He visibly swallowed. “I, uh—”
“Mr. Rand, do you know how to waltz?” Iris asked.
He frowned then turned to face her. “What? Oh, the dance. Yes, my mother taught me.”
“Splendid. It is important that you learn to dance with more than one suitor, Lucy,” Iris said. “All men dance a little differently.”
“Yes, of course,” Lucy said.
“Mr. Rand, come and dance with Lucy.”
Rand shook his head.
“Yes,” Lucy said. “And then you can dance with Iris, Merritt.”
Lucy grabbed Rand and pulled him farther into the room, then placed her hands precisely where they should be.
Merritt swept Iris into the waltz. “Couldn’t wait for me to touch you again?”
Blush heated up Iris’s neck and cheeks. “No, of course not.” Yet the strength and warmth of his arms around her did not escape her attention. “But it is quite evident that your assistant has tender feelings toward your sister.”
“He has for quite a while now.”
“You’ve noticed, then?”
“As I’ve mentioned before, I am quite observant. And he is not very subtle.”
They danced in silence for a moment, and she couldn’t help wondering if he’d used his keen observation skills on her. It was on her tongue to ask him, but she thought better of it. Perhaps she did not want to know his opinions of her.
“By the by, his christian name is Rand, his surname is Lockwood.”
“Well, he did not seem to mind me referring to him incorrectly. Then again, he was rather struck dumb looking at Lucy.” Iris eyed the couple in question. “What do you suppose they’re talking about?”
“Are you matchmaking, Iris?”
“Perhaps a little. Would it be such a terrible match?” she asked.
“No. On the contrary, I would approve. I trust Rand above anyone else. He is worth two of any member of the peerage are.” Merritt watched Rand and Lucy.
“Yet, you are allowing her to debut into Society to find a more suitable match?”
“I don’t believe Lucy sees him as a suitor. She’s known him her entire life.” He shrugged. “Admittedly, I’m hoping that she’ll realize his worth once she sees the reality of aristocratic men.”
Iris secretly motioned to Harriet to continue playing. She told herself it was because she wanted Lucy to practice, but the thought gnawed at her…this was more about her wanting to stay in Merritt’s embrace.
“You have a dreadful opinion of your peers.”
“They are not my peers, not really. I am the son of a merchant.” He eyed her for a moment, and she desperately wanted to know what he was thinking when he looked at her in such a manner. “You must not think too highly of them, either, if you have not agreed to wed any of them.”
She released a chortle, but she suspected he knew that it wasn’t authentic. Unless he specifically asked, she would not volunteer that no one had ever even sought to court her.
“I am rather excited about this evening and our little excursion,” she said softly, hoping to change the subject. That was likely where her excitement came from. It wasn’t about the warmth of his hand at the small of her back, or the way their ungloved fingers fit so well together. It was about her donning her trousers and posing as a man. “Where are we going?”
“Benedict’s,” he said. “It’s a gaming club.”
“I’m familiar.”
His brow rose. “Indeed?”
“Only by reputation, not by experience, obviously.”
“Are you able to ready yourself, or do I need to assist?”
It was a legitimate question, but the heat in his eyes seemed to hit her right at her core. Warmth spread through her legs. She swallowed. “I can manage. I should think Harriet will be able to help me.”
“I’ll pick you up at a quarter to nine. If we go much later than that, it will be too populated with men that likely know you.” His blue eyes met hers. “We don’t want to ruin you.”
All of her life, Iris had played by the rules. Done the expected thing. The right thing.
She had never questioned what was expected of her: take care of her mother, raise her brother, manage the estate…until Merritt.
Now, for the first time in her life, she was breaking the rules. For the first time, she was wondering if being ruined would be such a bad thing.
Stepping into Benedict’s was like entering one of Dante’s lower circles of hell. There was sinful behavior everywhere she looked. Excitement surged through Iris, and she did her best to stop smiling, but it was a challenge. Men did not smile this much. If she was going to pass herself as a man, she needed to aim for the jaded disinterest that Jasper so often radiated. She couldn’t afford to reveal herself on this excursion.
When they entered the gaming hell, Merritt walked slightly in front of her, and it seemed a hush fell over the entire club. Fear rocketed through her. Was she so recognizable? Precisely what would she do if she were ruined? Perhaps she’d travel and write her book under a pseudonym and try her best to ignore her brother’s dastardly behavior.
“Good evening, Lord Ashby,” one man said, bowing slightly to Merritt.
Merritt nodded to the man but kept walking.
One after another, the men greeted him, some by name, some merely a nod of the head. Slowly, it dawned on her that it was not she that the people were staring at; it was Merritt. The hush that had fallen over the club was not one of suspicion and outrage, but of respect and awe. Warmth spread through her, and something very akin to pride blossomed in her chest. Though, she had no reason to feel proud—he certainly wasn’t her man. Yet, it pleased her that his mere presence warranted such esteem from the men around him. He might not think much of them, but the men here obviously thought quite highly of him.
Recognizing that no one had given her a second look, she relaxed somewhat. The walls were covered in heavy wood paneling, giving the vast space an immediate feeling of opulence. This was only accented by the numerous crystal chandeliers shimmering over each of the gaming tables. A second story ringed the first, where small tables offered seats for drinking and smoking and provided views of all the games. She had always wondered what a gaming hell would look like. She had imagined a poorly-lit, grimy hovel, not this elegant exclusivity.
She knew it meant Merritt would win this wager between them, but somewhere during this endeavor, masquerading as a gentleman had become a challenge for her. Even if she lost the wager, she could not bring herself to regret this adventure. Perhaps it was merely an excuse to misbehave, to take a short break from her very orderly life. So, she supposed that meant she would win, too, in a way.
None of that helped Jasper. She feared she’d lost sight of him in the midst of this foolish wager, but she would think of a way to fix that on the morrow. Tonight, she was to play the part of John Benford, new to London and a new employee at Lord Ashby’s paper, the Daily Scandal.
“If you
continue in such a manner, everyone in the room will know you’re a lady,” Merritt’s voice sliced through her distraction.
“What am I doing?” she asked.
“Practically bouncing with excitement.”
She closed her eyes and took a cleansing breath. She could do this. It was no different than being on a Ladies of Virtue assignment where she must appear to be doing one thing while in truth doing something entirely different.
“Better,” he said. “Do you remember what I said about the rules in faro?”
“Yes. I am not daft.”
His lips twitched, but he did not smile. “No, I don’t suppose you are.”
A young gentleman, probably Jasper’s age, approached Merritt. “Lord Ashby, I hoped to have a word with you about an investment.”
Merritt nodded. “I’m afraid this evening is reserved for pleasure.” He withdrew a card from his coat pocket and handed it to the man. “If you come by my offices on the morrow, I shall entertain your offer.”
The boy’s lips spread wide in a grin, and he pumped Merritt’s hand in appreciation then stepped away.
Merritt scanned the room. “Excuse me for one moment. I’ll be right back.”
She nodded then watched Merritt approach a tall, impeccably dressed man. She didn’t recognize him. The man’s glance caught hers from across the room, then he nodded.
Then something else caught her attention: a short and wiry man making his way through the crowded room. She recognized a thief when she saw one. There was something about the manner in which he moved. The furtive way his gaze scanned the room. The awareness with which he watched people in the center of the crowd.
Her heart sped up.
That man was up to no good, and he fully intended to walk away richer tonight. She didn’t know what his plan was yet, and she hadn’t seen him make any definite moves, but it wouldn’t be long. His eyes hungered for the money all around him. This was the worst sort of temptation for someone who stole for a living. Thankfully she didn’t have to, because he was still occupied with the tall gentleman.
Keeping her gaze on the thief, she shifted her stance, noticed again how foreign and strange the trousers felt. The entire wardrobe tonight was foreign. But she need not worry about keeping her knees locked tightly together or anything of the like. Tonight, she was a gentleman, and she’d enjoy all the freedoms that provided. It was no wonder Jasper had been drinking and gambling every night. This sort of establishment was intoxicating on its own, without the assistance of spirits.
The man she’d been watching came closer. He circled a table where a group of gentlemen stood playing some sort of dice game. Then, he made his move. He slyly slid his hand into one gentleman’s overcoat and withdrew a small bag of coin, all the while the man continued with the game. She wondered yet again how it was that people could be so oblivious to things around them.
The thief was good, she’d give him that. And she couldn’t approach him, not at the moment, and risk alerting Merritt to the secret of the Ladies of Virtue. But she also couldn’t sit idly and allow the man to rob people. She turned to look for Merritt.
He had not returned to her side, but the dice table wasn’t so far from where he’d left her that he’d miss her. She walked forward, planning her next moves, not allowing her eyes to move from the thief. He was not significantly larger than she, but even a smaller man would be stronger. However, she had surprise on her side, and skill, as well. It was not for nothing that she had been trained by Lady Somersby.
While Iris walked, she worked a pin from her hair, careful not to allow any of it to escape from its hiding place beneath her cap. She needed some sort of weapon to approach the thief. She suspected she was even less formidable dressed as a man than she was as a lady.
The thief made another move, and she was on him instantly. She grabbed the man’s arm and pulled it behind him, held it painfully in place as she whispered in his ear. “You shall not take another cent from any of these people, do you hear?” She jabbed the hairpin into the tender flesh at his wrist.
He nodded wildly.
“Hand over the bags,” she said.
By now others had noticed the confrontation. But she supposed that attacking someone while dressed as a man was preferable to doing so on the streets in her gowns.
Merritt appeared at her side. “What is going on? Are you all right?”
“This man has been stealing from the gentlemen playing this game,” she said in her best male voice.
Two large men approached and took the thief from her. “We’ll take care of it now, thank you,” one of them said.
She tossed the bag of coin back to the first gentleman.
He eyed her appreciatively. “Thank you, young man.”
…
Merritt watched a copper curl fall from beneath Iris’s cap as if the world slowed and the only movement was that tendril freeing itself. He had to get her out of here. He swiftly grabbed her arm and pulled her so that she was walking in front of him but it did not look as if he were escorting a woman from the gaming hell.
“We’re leaving. Now,” he said.
Had he not witnessed her use a hairpin to effectively take down that thief, Merritt wouldn’t have believed it. When he’d seen her standing that close to that man he’d nearly panicked, worried about her safety. Then he’d watched everything unfold. Her movements had been sure and studied. She had been calm and collected, as though she had done something just as daring and dangerous before. She’d been trained, and he was bloody well certain he’d discover by whom before the night was over. This could be the story he’d been searching for.
Iris was all smiles when they finally climbed into the carriage. “You are quite proud of yourself,” he said.
“Yes, it appears tonight was successful.”
“That remains to be seen, considering your hair is escaping its confines.”
She reached up and found the dangling curl, and her eyes widened.
“Need I remind you that your success in this charade means that I win the wager?”
Even that didn’t dampen her grin. “No, I remember.”
She was unlike any woman he’d ever known, genteel or common-born. He was attracted to her in nearly every way: her intelligence, her bravery, and her tenacity when it came to caring for her brother, even if it was misguided. Oh yes, Merritt wanted her, there was no denying that.
But, damnation, he could not have her. Iris was a lady. Seducing her would lead to marriage. Marriage to a lady would seal his fate as an earl. He’d no longer be a merchant’s son who’d stepped into his inheritance to make his newspaper a better seller. No, if he married Iris, they would simply be Lord and Lady Ashby, and everyone would forget who he’d once been. Most of all, he’d likely forget, and he’d be damned if he’d become a lazy, deceitful aristocrat simply because he wanted beneath a certain lady’s skirt.
“You did well.”
“Thank you.”
“Too well,” he said, leaning forward.
Her smile faded. “I beg your pardon?”
“That thief. Where did you learn how to do that?”
Her eyes flitted to the rig’s window. “Do what?” she asked with a frown.
“You know to what I’m referring.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “It was nothing. Truly. I saw an injustice, and I righted it ’tis all.”
“That’s all?”
“Absolutely.”
He reached forward and put his hand beneath her chin, turned it toward him. “Iris, what sort of fool do you take me for?”
Her eyes rounded, but she said nothing.
“What you did back there required a certain level of skill, one that ladies of good breeding do not generally possess.”
She chewed at that delectable bottom lip. “I cannot tell you.”
“Very well.”
It was quiet between them for several moments as the carriage continued to rumble through the London streets.
&n
bsp; “You are not going to press me?” she asked.
“While I would prefer to hear the truth from you, I have other means of discovering what I want.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“From where do you think all the information in my paper comes? Do you think I invent the scandals?” he asked.
She set her jaw in a stubborn line and crossed her arms over her chest. “I never really thought about it. As I’ve told you before, I don’t read those types of papers. I do try to not encourage gossip and the like.”
“Well, as admirable as that might be, you are among a scattered few who don’t. In any case, it’s called investigation, Iris, and I’m quite good at it.” He closed the small distance between them in the confines of the carriage. “So you see, whatever it is you’re hiding, I can find out. I’d rather hear it from you, but I’ll find the answer with or without your help.”
Her lips parted, and for a moment he thought she was going to lean forward to kiss him. His heart ticked faster. Whatever else he knew about Iris, she made him feel as though he were a schoolboy in the first blush of lust.
“You will never discover anything,” she said.
“Don’t be so certain.”
She opened her mouth to speak, and he put one finger to her lips.
“Lest you intend to enter into another wager with me, I suggest you wait and see,” he said.
“You’re feeling rather confident in your abilities, are you not?”
“I passed you off as a gentleman tonight, even though you look positively delectable in those trousers. Men do not have backsides like yours.”
She swallowed visibly, and he noted the way her eyes widened. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.
He wanted to kiss her. But he knew that would only lead to him wanting other things. Desire was one thing and action another. But he hadn’t gotten where he was without a modicum of control over his own urges. He could kiss her just this once. He reached up and took off her woolen cap and began the arduous process of removing her hairpins. He took one within his fingers and showed it to her.
“I had not realized that something this innocuous could be brandished as a weapon.”
The Scoundrel and the Lady (Lords of Vice) Page 9
