An Improper Proposal (The Distinguished Rogues Book 6) (10 page)

“If you were to marry, you would not need to be a mistress who earned a living. Your husband would provide for you.”

“I still cannot say what I would do until I am in the situation.” She peered at him. “However, as you are not interested in being my protector, and certainly you’ve never shown an interest in offering marriage, then I think this conversation must end. I will decide what to do if the time comes.”

“But—”

“Enough now.” She squeezed her eyes shut then opened them. “You are drawing attention. I should like to go home to Lady Heathcote.”

She hurried after Whitney and whispered in her ear. Whitney scowled at him, said her goodbyes and, ignoring him, marched Iris back toward his carriage.

The carriage ride to Lady Heathcote’s abode was the most uncomfortable journey he’d ever experienced because Iris never glanced his way even once. He’d grown used to her smiles and easy welcome. He’d never been made to feel invisible before and he had to say he didn’t enjoy the sensation one bit.

Seven

Iris loved everything about Esme’s home. From the soft cushions on every chair, fresh flowers filling every room, to the raucous laughter drifting from the private parlor where Esme entertained her closest friends. It was a far cry from the shabby decor of the Marshalsea she’d just returned from, and this was exactly the home she would create once she became a mistress. A place where she could be herself and damn anyone who disagreed.

She tossed a plump cushion back onto her bed with a heavy sigh and began to strip off the practical dull-brown gown she wore to the Marshalsea so as not to draw attention. Despite how well her mistress education had progressed so far, she was angry, and that was rare for her. The earl’s habit of pointing out her ignorance of certain aspects of a mistress’s life had embarrassed her. She hadn’t even enjoyed her visit with her father very much today, being too aware any decision she made would end her respectability in his eyes. She had one choice left to be rid of Talbot’s demands.

It annoyed her too that the earl was correct in one particular respect. She hadn’t the faintest notion of what she might do if she became pregnant with her protector’s child. Her father might very well never look at her again if that circumstance happened, but then again, he wouldn’t speak to her if she was revealed as a thief’s accomplice either and sent to New South Wales for the crime. She certainly hadn’t expected her feelings to matter so much to Lord Louth but he was hell bent on making her change her mind by pointing out all the flaws in her decisions.

“Horrible man to see my greatest wish and use it against me,” she grumbled. She did indeed love little children with all her heart and had always wished for a family of her own. Louth had certainly witnessed her interest in them in Hyde Park yesterday and homed in on her greatest regret. When she’d been a debutant, she’d hoped to have a pair of children by her current age. She had even gone so far as to choose her favorite names from among the flowers. Violet would be her eldest daughter’s name if she had any say in naming them, but that wish would remain unfulfilled forever at this rate.

She laid the plain gown she’d worn to the Marshalsea over the back of a damask chair and glanced about her fine room. Another beautiful room in someone else’s home, and more often than not extremely soothing, except today it felt like a prison. Talbot had no idea of the riches surrounding her daily and she planned to keep it that way to protect Esme for as long as possible. She rubbed her face, tired to her core of pretending everything was all right. She revealed nothing but the body she stood up in, clad in borrowed gowns and shattered dreams.

Iris changed into the elegant dove-gray muslin Esme had ordered laid out in readiness for an afternoon of callers. Esme was a popular widow and entertained lavishly in her home at all hours, and she’d insisted early on that Iris look the part despite her poverty. She’d also placed a string of amber beads beside the gown. Iris could not wear them. As she returned the string of amber gems to a drawer and out of sight, she caught her reflection in the looking glass. Was she really pretty enough to be a mistress men wanted? Was it possible to kiss a man and feel absolutely nothing for the rest of her life?

She laughed softly, knowing the answer immediately. It took one good kiss and she was putty in a man’s hands. When Louth had kissed her, she had become swept away by the experience and longed for his touch even now. However, he was determined not to be her protector or anything else less scandalous, so she had to stop thinking of him in those terms and imagine someone else in his place.

It wasn’t easy when he was the only comforting male presence in her life.

Once properly attired, she made her way to Esme’s private parlor and tapped on the sturdy oak door, determined to forget Louth and move forward. At Esme’s entreaty, she slipped into the room and surveyed the occupants with a warm smile. There were two other ladies in the room and two men, all of them whispering furiously.

“She’s the devil in human form,” Lady Matilda James promised with a delighted smile that belied her harsh words. She glanced around at her companions and nodded sagely, setting her feathered headpiece to bobbing. The woman also glittered with fortune in rare gems and Iris averted her eyes from them. “That’s one young lady headed for ruin, mark my words.”

Despite her discomfort, Iris smiled. One of the more frivolous pastimes of Esme’s friends was predicting which new face on the marriage mart would soon risk making a fool of themselves over some handsome scoundrel. No doubt they’d speculated on her character once too but she knew from experience their hearts would always be on the ladies side in any situation. “Lady Ames, Lady James. How lovely to see you both again.”

“Darling,” Lady James gushed, and patted the space nearby. “We were just beginning to fret when you might return.”

Only Esme and Lady Ames knew where she’d gone and the time it took to visit Southwark and return. Lady Ames had made no bones about her disapproval that Iris continued to visit her father in the Marshalsea and risk her reputation. Although engaged in a tumultuous affair herself with Lord Avery Hill that was a frequent topic of horrible speculation, Iris feared that when the woman learned Iris intended to become a mistress, Lady Ames might fall entirely to pieces.

She turned to Esme. “Madam du Clair will have everything you ordered ready and delivered by Friday morning.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Esme smiled warmly and poured a cup of tea, added milk and passed it to her. “You are almost too late.”

“For what?” Iris glanced at the gentlemen gathered on the chaise lounge. One of them was very familiar and she was certain she’d seen him recently. If memory served, this was the tall naval gentleman who’d looked right through her as if she wasn’t there at the Hazelton ball. Today he was dressed for riding, a fine-looking gentleman with pale-blue eyes and a scar just visible above his brow. “If someone would care to introduce me.”

Esme smiled. “Yes, of course. I forget you might not know Lord Somerset, who has recently returned to Town, and this of course is Captain Hastings. Gentlemen, might I present my very great friend Miss Iris Hedley?”

She curtsied to them. “A pleasure gentlemen.”

Somerset was a widow with a somewhat scandalous past but Captain Hastings had distinguished himself in battle, though was very much an unknown face in London society.

Hasting’s nodded but his eyes strayed back to Esme immediately. “I am afraid I must be going. I’m expected at the admiralty this evening.”

Esme smiled widely. “Do give our love to Lord Admiral Ford. He is such a sweet and dear rogue.”

“Sweet and dear are the last two descriptions I’d give to my superior,” Hasting’s said somewhat bitterly. “If the opportunity presents itself I shall certainly pass along the message.”

He excused himself, leaving Lord Somerset the only man in the room.

“Well, how fortunate this is. Four lovely ladies all to myself.” He rubbed his hands together. “What shall we drink to?”

Iris glanced about. No one was actually drinking the sort of thing one toasted with so she assumed his question was rhetorical.

“Let’s drink to passion,” Lady Ames declared.

“And all the delights to be found in renewed acquaintances,” Lady James insisted with a flutter of her lashes at Lord Somerset.

“To happiness,” Lady Heathcote countered. “Passion is all well and good but a contented life makes the every day worth living through.”

“Happiness is an excellent idea. Might I see what your delightful butler can scare up for a repast, Lady Heathcote?” At Esme’s nod, he stood and rushed for the door. “I will be back momentarily.”

Iris glanced at Esme quickly and saw her hide a smile. Since Esme usually did not allow even her lovers to give her servants orders, she quickly concluded Lord Somerset’s spur-of-the-moment toast was prearranged.

Lady James smiled warmly after Somerset’s retreating figure and when he was truly gone, she sighed and flopped back against the pillows. “I know you will think me foolish but I don’t think I could bear to be parted from him again.”

“I’m sure he feels the same way,” Esme assured her. “He followed you here after all, although he was not specifically invited to my home today. He proved very insistent on seeing you, I’m told.”

“My dear, you are the most ridiculous romantic in society,” Lady Ames scolded Esme. “You’ve grown so in love with love that I barely recognize you as the carefree woman of years past.”

Lady Heathcote glanced toward Iris. “Pay no attention to my dearest friend. She’s in an irritable mood today and refuses to be jollied out of it.”

Lady Ames jumped to her feet. “As you would be too.”

“But the difference is I do not expect Avery Hill to change his ways,” Esme sighed. “Please smile today.”

Lady Ames’s expression soured even more as she strode to a window. Lady James joined her there and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. Clearly something was amiss but Iris didn’t dare ask for particulars. If she needed to know they would include her in their confidences.

“Did you place an order for that new gown I suggested?” Esme asked of Iris, drawing her attention away from Lady Ames.

“I did not.”

 
Lady James returned to the chaise and regarded her seriously. “You will be noticed for all the wrong reasons if you wear last season’s rags over and over.”

“Some of my gowns are favorites,” she murmured. Some of them were not, too, but she did not want to spend any more of Esme’s funds on her wardrobe if she could help it. “What I have must be enough. They must either like me as I am or pay to improve me themselves.”

Iris relaxed as Lord Somerset returned, the butler hard on his heels carrying a heavy tray of refreshments and sweetmeats. Judging by the quantity, this would become one of Esme’s more rowdy gatherings.

Somerset glanced about. “Did I hear a suggestion that someone is in need of improvement?”

All eyes turned her way. Iris had a moment of indecision then met Lord Somerset’s gaze. “They suggest I do.”

Somerset handed round full glasses of champagne to the others. “Nonsense. You’ll make some young buck a perfect wife.” He admired his champagne a moment then drew near Lady James. He sat at her side. “As
this
lady shall surely do if I have my heart’s desire.”

He set his champagne aside and caught up Lady James’s bejeweled hand in his. “My dearest love, I can contain myself no longer. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Iris gasped but noticed neither Esme nor Lady Ames appeared surprised by his request.

Lady James froze and then threw herself into Somerset’s waiting arms with an incoherent shriek. Esme quickly rescued Lady James’s champagne glass while the couple kissed passionately. Somerset even pulled the woman into his lap so he could properly embrace her. They broke apart. “So that was a yes to marrying me?”

Lady James wrapped her arms around Somerset’s shoulders and buried her face in his neckcloth. “I feared your mourning for Abigail would never end,” she whispered.

Abigail had been Lord Somerset’s first wife, and well-liked by everyone. “She was a good woman and we had many contented years together,” Somerset told her. “The children were inconsolable.”

“She was their mother.”

Lady James’s understanding was misplaced in Iris’s opinion. The children Somerset spoke of were married women with families of their own. Grown women who should not have forced a two-year mourning onto their father.

The couple kissed again and after a while it was clear that the pair had forgotten they were not alone. Iris glanced longingly for the door and a reason to slip away.

Esme and Lady Ames cleared their throats loudly.

Somerset drew back and glanced around with an apologetic smirk. “Forgive us. But for myself I find it impossible to contain my happiness that this remarkable woman had the patience to wait for me.”

“Quite understandable,” Esme said warmly. “We are so happy for you both.”

Iris grinned and lifted her glass. “A toast. To love and passion and happiness. Might you have all three with each other forevermore.”

“Well said, Miss Hedley. Well said.” Somerset wiped a tear from his future bride’s cheek. “Lady James has indeed made me the happiest man in London.”