Chapter Two
Merritt raked his fingers through his hair and sighed as he entered his townhome. He’d stayed out far later than he’d intended, but after the encounter with the bossy Lady Iris, he’d needed to divert his attention. Therefore, he’d played a few rounds of billiards.
He could still smell her on him, though, particularly annoying considering their interaction hadn’t lasted much longer than a single song. Yet she had made an impression. Not an easy feat given how he felt about most of Society.
He’d barely stepped into the foyer when his younger sister, Lucy, bounded into the corridor to greet him.
“Merritt! You’re finally home,” she said.
He did not have the energy for this. “Why are you still awake?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I could only think about all the fun you were having. You must tell me everything.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, leading him all the way into yellow parlor. Once they were seated on the golden settee, she said, “Now tell me all the details. What was everyone wearing? Did you dance? Did you have champagne? Oh, did you dance? Did I already ask you that?”
“Slow down, Lucy. First, you know I do not pay much mind to what anyone is wearing.”
“You noticed none of the pretty dresses?” She glanced at him, disbelief shimmered in her eyes.
Perhaps one. Though, had it been the dress or the lady?
“You did! Did you dance with her?”
More than likely, the green confection had only caught his attention because of the contrast to Lady Iris’s vibrant hair. Or because she’d approached him, had sought him out. But he knew his sister would not cease pestering him unless he gave her some information.
“Please, Merritt, tell me something.” She held her hands together as if in prayer.
He had never been able to say no to that face. “Very well, it was a mossy green dress, brocaded, I believe they call it, with lace trim. It had a rounded neckline with an ornamental rose in the center.” Which had perfectly accented Lady Iris’s décolletage.
“That sounds positively gorgeous. Who wore it?”
“Lady Iris Bennington.”
Lucy’s eyes brightened. The girl still held out hope that Merritt would fall in love with some pretty woman and bring her home as his bride. He’d long since given up. He had never been one for romantic fantasies. Even if he had been, inheriting the title would have disillusioned him. Before he had been elevated to the peerage, his marriage prospects had been minimal. He had the money but not the connections to attract attention from women. The instantaneous change that had made him an earl would have been funny if it hadn’t been so disheartening. He had gone from barely worth noticing to one of London’s most desirable bachelors overnight.
It was hard to believe in true love after witnessing that spontaneous change of heart. He felt no obligation to provide an heir for this title. The previous earl certainly hadn’t done as much, else Merritt wouldn’t be stuck here.
“And yes, I danced with her,” he said suddenly. Then he wondered why he’d divulged that detail, so he added, “We had business to discuss.”
Lucy clapped her hands together. “Which dance?”
“The waltz.”
“How romantic.”
Yes, romance. He suspected that was the true reason Lucy wanted to make a debut. She wanted to fall in love. She wanted him to fall in love, too. She’d told him as much on more than one occasion. He’d never told her he didn’t believe in love; he couldn’t bear to break her heart that way. There had been a time he had fancied himself in love with a girl, but then he’d realized it had all been a delusion. It was a lesson Lucy would have to learn on her own.
“I wish I could have attended,” she said.
“And you shall. In time. I need to find you a tutor first,” he said. “Or we could forget all of this Society debut nonsense, and you can buy all the pretty dresses you desire.”
“Merritt, we have discussed this. I know you are worried about me, but I shall survive. I merely want to experience what it is like—the balls, the dancing, the clothes. Only a few parties, and then I shall marry anyone of your choosing.”
“You know I am not hoping you have a bad experience,” he said.
“Yes. But you believe it is inevitable because of the nature of those people. But we are ‘those people’ now, whether they like it or not.” She smiled broadly.
His sister had courage and such a bright light about her. He hated to see that dimmed by the hateful comments that would no doubt be made about an outsider, even if she was the sister of an earl. “Very well, if you are so intent on entering Society, I shall make the arrangements. You must be patient.”
“Yes, I know,” she said. “It is hard to wait, though.”
He needed a lady to take his sister under her wing and teach her how to survive and hopefully thrive among London’s elite. They had not been raised in Society. It was easier for him—always was for men. Any misbehavior was chalked up to rakish ways. But any wrong move could tarnish a lady forever. Lucy was naive and eager, not necessarily a good combination for the aristocracy. As she was now, they’d eat her alive.
No, he needed someone to teach her how to…finagle an introduction to a gentleman and persuade him to dance with her. He’d already had one tutor scheduled who had accepted a better offer and backed out of their agreement. The problem was he knew too much about most of the people in this town, at least the ones who could provide Lucy with the sort of welcome she required.
He supposed he could persuade someone to do his bidding simply by letting them know precisely how much he knew about them. But blackmail had never been his forte.
There had to be some legitimate lady who could tutor his sister in all things Society while offering her a modicum of protection from the cruelty he knew lurked in every corner. He needed only find her, whoever she was.
His sister awkwardly hid a yawn behind a hand then tried to shake it off.
“Lucy, we can discuss more tomorrow. Right now, we both need sleep.”
…
The following afternoon, Iris glanced at her cards then eyed her opponents. It was a tradition that she and her two closest friends, Harriet and Agnes, play a few hands directly following their weekly meetings of the Ladies of Virtue. Normally a couple of the other girls would join them, but today, it was only the three of them sitting in Agnes’s parlor.
In truth, though, Iris’s mind was not on the game, nor had it truly been on the meeting, despite garnering accolades from Lady Somersby for her handling of the thief two days before. Instead, her thoughts were consumed with Jasper.
“What has you so distracted today, Iris?” Agnes asked.
“My conversation with Lord Ashby last night.” She shook her head. “I simply don’t see how he can be so irresponsible.” Iris exhaled slowly. “Jasper’s behavior has become increasingly disappointing since his return to London. I realize that gentlemen sometimes favor a more reckless lifestyle, but this is not the life I want for Jasper. I want him to be a respectable gentleman, to find a wife and have children and be a loving, caring man, as our father was. That is how I raised him.”
Her friends nodded in unison.
“Of course you do,” Harriet said.
“But he is not listening to me. He is listening to Lord Ashby.”
“Iris, you have dedicated your life to Jasper. He is a man now,” Agnes said. “Don’t you think it’s time you concentrate on yourself for a while?” She paused a moment. “What of that book you said you wanted to write?”
Iris waved a hand. “I have plenty of time to write my book. I make notes on it periodically, when I have a thought.”
“You could let it be known you’re open to suitors,” Harriet suggested. “Someone would snatch you up immediately if you were open to marriage.”
“With all the new debutantes available, I highly doubt I would garner any interest,” Iris said. But more than that, she didn’t want any interest. She didn’t want to get married. Marriage led to love, which, in the end, only led to heartache.
“Besides, right now, I must keep my focus on my brother. He is only eight and ten, and he needs me. Even if he doesn’t realize that.”
Harriet and Agnes exchanged glances.
“What? You do not approve of my dedication?” Iris asked.
“Yes, we do,” Harriet said.
“It is merely that you have given so much already,” Agnes said. “You cannot make him become a different person. Jasper is…well, Jasper, and he’s always been a bit headstrong. You’ve earned this time, Iris. He is finished with his education—you saw to that. He is only enjoying his newfound freedom in London, and he shall settle down in time.”
“Would that you were right, Agnes.” Iris tried to focus on the cards in her hand, but it seemed the game had likely ended. “Have you read any of the articles? ‘How to be a Gentleman.’” She shook her head. “The advice is terrible. The precise opposite of what a gentleman is and should be. But my brother has taken it all to heart and is doing his best to live out every suggestion. It is a nightmare.” She dropped her head into her hands. “I simply don’t know what else to do.”
“If only you could meet Lord Ashby in a situation similar to those where you so artfully handle the street thieves. Perhaps he needs to be on the dangerous end of your umbrella,” Agnes said.
“Or hatpin,” Harriet added.
Iris chuckled. “I thought the same thing after meeting him last night.” They went back to playing their game.
“I’ve been thinking about what we discussed at last week’s meeting,” Harriet said. “About how we work so hard ridding the streets of violence and sin, and yet it is festering among the very elite of Society. It seems to me that we are in a unique position to do something about that. And it just might solve your problem with Lord Ashby, too, Iris.”
Iris frowned at her friend and dropped her card on the table. Harriet was known for coming up with ideas, one after another, it seemed at times. But perhaps what she needed right now to help rid her brother of his sinful behavior was one of Harriet’s ludicrous notions. “What did you have in mind?”
Harriet eyed the cards in her hand then tossed one onto the table. “There are how many deadly sins?” she asked without glancing at Iris or Agnes.
“Seven,” Agnes said immediately. “Pride, greed, sloth, gluttony, envy, lust, and wrath.” She ticked each one off on her gloved fingers.
“Yes, that’s right, seven. Now then, there are more than seven of us in the Ladies of Virtue,” Harriet said in a whisper. “We could each pick a sin, select a gentleman who clearly personifies each undesirable quality, and assist him into a better way of living.”
Agnes choked on a sip of tea.
Iris rolled her eyes. Harriet had many strange ideas over the years, but this one might be the very oddest of all. “Are you suggesting we confront the cads and rakes in London and show them the error of their ways in hopes of converting them?”
“I am,” Harriet said.
“How am I supposed to do that if I can’t even control my own brother’s behavior?”
Agnes coughed.
“Consider how it is not much different than what you did last month with Mr. Miller,” Harriet said. “You discovered he had been stealing from his employer, and you showed him how what he was doing was wrong.”
In addition to threatening his manhood with the very sharp end of her umbrella, she had also gone the legitimate route. “Yes, and I reminded him that it would be easy enough to turn him in to the magistrate. But we certainly can’t do that to a gentleman because he cheats at cards or imbibes too much liquor.”
“Would that we could,” Harriet said.
“Yes, I’d send the magistrate directly to the offices of the Daily Scandal and have Lord Ashby arrested on the spot.” She giggled at the thought. “Unfortunately, being a poor excuse for a gentleman isn’t precisely illegal.”
“You both make excellent points,” Agnes said, having recovered from her choking fit. “But I think Harriet might be on to something. Of course, we would need to run this by the others, but we could potentially do some good. Often people simply don’t realize how damaging their behavior is. Once we shine the light upon it, we might clean up some of the debauchery.”
Agnes was normally the most levelheaded one of them. Iris stared at her pragmatic friend in disbelief. “Have you taken leave of your senses? When have you ever thought Harriet had a good idea?” She turned and smiled at Harriet. “No offense, dear.”
“None taken,” Harriet said cheerfully.
“As I said, I believe her idea has merit. Not that we can all succeed, but it is worth a conversation, worth an attempt to bring about some good. That is what we are about, is it not?” Agnes asked.
“Well, yes, of course, but—”
“It is settled.” Harriet interrupted Iris. “I shall bring it up to Lady Somersby and see what she thinks.”
“I can’t imagine this is what she had in mind when she created the Ladies of Virtue,” Iris said.
“Perhaps not, but it is accomplishing similar goals,” Agnes said.
“How is this going to solve my problem with Lord Ashby?” Iris asked.
“He did not see reason when you explained to him how dangerous his articles are, but perhaps he’ll feel differently when you start rehabilitating his prideful nature,” Harriet said.
“That’s quite good,” Agnes said.
Harriet squealed in delight. “I cannot believe you actually agree with me.”
“Nor can I,” Agnes said.
Iris wasn’t so stubborn that she didn’t recognize when her friends had trumped her, both in cards and this discussion. And she wanted to be annoyed, but the truth was, Harriet’s plan might just save Iris’s brother.
…
That morning Merritt worked through his daily tasks at the Daily Scandal. He’d hoped the routine would distract him from his foul mood, but it didn’t seem to be working.
His assistant and oldest friend stepped into Merritt’s office. “What has you so incensed this morning?” Rand asked. “I can hear you slamming things around from all the way in the front office.”
Merritt glanced up from his desk. “I don’t have time for this, Rand.”
“I’ve known you far too long,” Rand said, shaking his head. “So it will do you no good to evade my questions. I’ll get the information out of you eventually. I was trained by the best.”
“Arse.”
Rand smiled. “Earl.”
“Now you’re just being cruel.”
Rand fell into the chair across from Merritt’s desk. “So, out with it, then.”
“It’s this chit.” Normally he wouldn’t have shared such a thing, but he’d known Rand his entire life. Anything less than pure honesty and his friend would badger him. “I met her the other evening.”
“Oh dear.” Rand hid a smile behind his hand.
“No, it isn’t like that.” Though, it wasn’t as if he weren’t attracted to her. “She finagled an introduction then all but asked me to dance.”
“Bold. I like it.”
Merritt rolled his eyes. “You would find that appealing.” In truth, he had found it appealing as well, but then she’d opened her mouth and had ruined his initial reaction. “It would seem she has taken issue with the ‘Gentleman’ articles. Wants me to pull them and print a retraction.”
Rand made a noise of pure indignation. “That’s ridiculous. Why is she even reading them?”
“She isn’t, per se. But her brother is, and evidently, I am leading him off the straight and narrow,” Merritt said.
“How positively awful of you.”
Merritt leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands across his abdomen. “Indeed.”
“How is it possible that women in the gentry still have no notion what their men do when they’re out of eye—and earshot?” Rand asked.
“They see what they want to see, nothing more, nothing less.”
“Did you tell her no? That you wouldn’t pull the articles?” Rand asked.
“Of course I did.”
Rand shook his head. “Then what, pray tell, is the problem?”
That was an excellent question. She’d evidently become a thorn in his side, though he wasn’t certain why. He angered people all the time with things he printed in the paper. Why was this slip of a woman with her carrot-colored hair stuck in his mind?
“I think you should print a small piece on her,” Rand said. “Any woman bold enough to manipulate an introduction merely so she could insult you…” He shrugged. “Perhaps this lady needs to know with whom she is dealing.”
It was bothersome that the thought hadn’t crossed Merritt’s mind. Of course, that was what the publisher and editor of the top-selling gossip rag in London would do. But Merritt knew that no matter how irritated he was at her brashness and criticism, he would not go that far. In truth, what she had done hadn’t been that scandalous, and he doubted anyone would find it of interest.
“It is worth considering,” Merritt said.
“But you’re not going to do it because you’re attracted to this woman,” Rand said.
“What? No, it has nothing to do with that,” Merritt said.
“Then you do not deny the attraction?”
“Rand, I’m not blind. Lady Iris is a beautiful woman, anyone can see that. But that does not mean I’m attracted to her. She’s bossy and controlling and a busybody. Those are not attractive qualities.”
“Perhaps not, but neither is profiting off other people’s scandals,” Rand said. “Yet, women still seem to want you.”
“Women are a delightful pastime,” Merritt said.
The Grayton Ball was the second social engagement Merritt had attended in as many days. Unusual for him, as he only ever attended parties this close together if he were after a specific story, still he’d shown up regardless of how it would surprise the guests, and regardless of the fact that he had no story he was currently researching.
He told himself it was only because the Grayton Ball had, in the past, produced some of the most notorious scandals London had seen. But he recognized that there was part of him that had come because he’d felt certain Lady Iris would be in attendance. For some unknown reason, he’d needed to see her again, if only from across the room. It was good though, he reminded himself, because she was likely not nearly as pretty as he remembered her to be. Truth was, she’d surprised him the other night, and that was rare for him. Tonight would end this ridiculous intrigue when he saw her again and recognized that she wasn’t unique in any way.
Merritt didn’t have to wait long before he spotted her riot of titian curls piled atop her head. Pink stained her cheeks as she tossed back her head and laughed freely at something one of her friends had said. Well, he’d been right about one thing. She wasn’t as pretty as he remembered—she was stunning.
In the few days since their first encounter, he’d made some initial inquiries about her and her brother. Discreetly, of course. Were he to make bolder requests, it would most assuredly cause tongues to wag. He was in the business of printing rumors and scandals, not creating them.
From what he’d discovered, she was possibly as wealthy as she was beautiful. Which certainly begged the question of why the lovely and rich Lady Iris remained unmarried. Her brother became the Earl of Nickerson when he’d been but a boy. He’d been educated at Eton, and since arriving in London had been sowing his wild oats, as it were. Though his behavior wasn’t that different from many of the young aristocrats in town, his sister seemed distraught enough to confront a perfect stranger. She was responsible for him. Merritt could appreciate that, since he too had become guardian of his younger sibling. Still, Lady Iris’s request was ridiculous.
He watched her for nearly an hour before he approached her.
“Lady Iris,” he said, offering her a bow. “A pleasure to see you again.”
“Lord Ashby.”
Did he detect a slight blush in her fair complexion? “Ladies,” he said and nodded to her friends.
The two ladies at her side eyed one another then curtseyed. “Lord Ashby,” the ladies said in unison.
He glanced at Iris. “I wondered, Lady Iris, if I might have a dance?”
She took a visible breath then nodded slightly. “Of course.” She handed him her dance card.
“Lord Ashby,” a man said from behind him.
Merritt turned and found Lord Forrester. “Forrester,” Merritt said in acknowledgment.
“Yes, I do hate to interrupt, but I have something of the utmost importance to discuss with you,” Forrester said. He eyed the ladies behind Merritt nervously.
Merritt turned back to Iris. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, ladies, I shall return.” He stepped away from their group, but not so far that he couldn’t keep Iris in his sights. Then he leveled his gaze on Forrester. “I suspect this has to do with your embarrassing loss at cards two nights ago,” he said.
Forrester turned an unflattering shade of reddish purple. “So, you do intend to print something ridiculous about my unfortunate situation.”
“I never said that. Contrary to popular belief, the Daily Scandal does not print every morsel of information we receive. Some situations are not that interesting to all parties.”
“I beg your pardon,” Forrester sputtered. “The loss of my family’s estate in a game of cards certainly warrants interest.”
Merritt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You cannot simultaneously be offended that I won’t print gossip about you and concerned that my doing so would start a scandal. Pick one stance or the other, Forrester,” Merritt said. “That right there is your fundamental problem. You want the best of every situation, which is impossible.”
Forrester cleared his throat and tugged on his waistcoat. “My wife would be most displeased if you printed anything about my recent financial woes.”
“Very well.” Merritt inclined his head slightly. “Please tell the Lady Forrester that her secret is safe with me.”
Forrester nodded tightly.
“You might want to find a new game,” Merritt said. “Losing your best stallion last autumn and now your family’s estate… It does seem that you have neither skill at cards nor the temperament necessary to walk away with your shirt. Good evening, Forrester.” And with that, Merritt strolled away. He didn’t immediately approach Iris’s group, though, as they were currently conversing with two other young ladies.
One of them, a tall and graceful beauty with fair hair, stood nearly at Iris’s height. The girl eyed Iris and her friends disdainfully. Merritt knew who she was but didn’t bother recalling her name. She was the very embodiment of why he didn’t want Lucy fully entrenched in Society. Girls like her would destroy his sister’s bright light, and he didn’t want that to happen.
The girl turned her attention to Iris’s friend, Harriet, whom Merritt knew to be the daughter of the late Duke of Lockwood. Harriet was a cheerful sort, round and pink and smiling the way most children were.
He inched closer to better hear the discussion.
“Well, I do hope that your poor mother is not losing too many funds buying the extra fabric required to make your gowns.” She looked down at Harriet.
“Her mother has plenty of funds,” Iris said, seemingly growing taller as she stepped ever so slightly closer to the offending woman.
“Perhaps.” The girl closed her eyes and tilted her head. “But you know, Harriet, if you happen to land yourself a husband, he might not be so generous. You could help your future husband out and skip luncheon a few times a week. That ought to help.”
Harriet’s smile melted from her face, but she steeled herself with a breath and a tilt of the head. But Iris was not done. “Any man in this room would be honored to marry Harriet. She is intelligent and kind and beautiful and generous, which is more than anyone could say about you, Belinda.”
The girl flinched then released a forced chuckle. “I don’t believe I see any of these would-be suitors clamoring for her attention.”
If there had ever been a moment for Merritt to step forward, now was that time. He hoped Iris would understand, though he suspected she wouldn’t.
He approached the ladies. “Lady Harriet, I do believe this is our waltz.”
Harriet stared up at him, bewildered, and Iris positively shuddered with gratitude. “Yes, Harriet, that’s right. Lord Ashby claimed this waltz.”
Harriet nodded absently but allowed Merritt to lead her out onto the crowded dance floor.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Harriet said beneath a blush.
“Dance with a beautiful woman? I believe that is precisely why I attend these ridiculous functions,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He turned her around the dance floor. “So, how is it that you know Lady Iris?”
She smiled genuinely. “We are in a social organization together. The Ladies of Virtue.”
He had heard that about Iris. “Ah yes, the do-gooders who donate funds and time to London charities for children, if I’m not mistaken.”
She looked surprised. “Precisely. I was not aware our reputation had reached so far.” She was quiet a moment, then added, “Iris is a dear friend. The best.”
Yes, she had been a good friend. She’d stood up to that wretched woman and defended Harriet, yet she still had an impeccable reputation as best he’d been able to determine.
Lady Iris. It was possible their meeting had been beneficial after all, and not merely a distraction. She was precisely the type of lady who could show Lucy how to survive amidst the gossip and cruelness that women like Belinda made an art form.
Convincing her might not be simple, though, so he needed a way to get her attention and convince her she needed to help him. He thought on her complaints about the articles. They could strike a bargain—if he passed her brother off as a gentleman, she might agree to teach Lucy. It was worth an effort, but discussing such matters was not for ballrooms. He’d have to pay a call.
“I don’t suppose I could persuade you to give me Lady Iris’s address? I should like to call upon her.”
Harriet glanced up at him and smiled broadly. “Of course.”