An Improper Proposal (The Distinguished Rogues Book 6) (22 page)

“And what of my own? There is no excuse for what I’ve done. I’ve lied to him from the beginning.”

Esme kissed her brow. “You did nothing that a few honest words might not fix.”

Iris burst into fresh tears and let Esme soothe her like a little girl. “I saw the disappointment in his eyes when he’d found proof of my involvement. Why else would he suggest we leave the party so abruptly?”

“To make sure you were safely away before any trouble started?” Esme’s suggestion sounded so reasonable, but she couldn’t quite believe that was the excuse. She wished he had said something more last night. Left to her imagination, she had conjured up all forms of horrible ends to their relationship.

A knock sounded on the door and Iris was grateful for the interruption because she was forced to think of something beside her own troubles. Higgins said nothing regarding her tear-stained face and quickly went away. The pouring of tea proved enough time for her to lose her depressed spirits and attempt a smile as she accepted her teacup.

Esme bit her lip. “Have you settled on a date to become Lord Louth’s wife?”

Iris’s cup rattled in her hand and she set it aside before she spilled the hot liquid. “No. He wanted my father’s permission first. Of course, I’ve not dared to disclose his location. He will hate that I have kept that a secret from him too.”

“Everyone has secrets.” Esme blew lightly over her tea.

“Not Louth. He is the most open and moral man I’ve ever met.”

“Hmm, I wish that were true.” She set her cup down. “My dear, I have discovered a disagreeable situation that I must warn you of concerning Lord Louth. I—”

Beneath them on the floor below, male voices rose in argument from the entrance hall. Iris frowned at the sound and when the parlor door burst open, Lord Windermere was framed in the doorway. “What the hell did you mean by that remark last night?”

Iris shrank into her chair but Esme rose smoothly and approached the angry man without any apparent fear of his temper. “We should speak in private. Excuse us, Miss Hedley. This might take a little while.”

Esme pulled Lord Windermere from the room by his arm. Although Esme pulled the door shut after her, it didn’t catch and slowly swung open again. A few moments later, Windermere’s voice bellowed through the house as clear as day. “You expect me to believe
you
, of all people?”

What Esme might have replied was too low to be heard but Lord Windermere’s next words were painfully loud. “I don’t give a damn what you heard, you meddling bitch. How dare you interfere in my life?”

A pause.

“You’re wrong,” he bellowed again. “And I’ll prove it.”

The front door slammed and the house grew silent. Iris jumped to her feet and peeked through the curtains in time to see Lord Windermere stride angrily away from the townhouse, riding crop swinging wildly beside his leg. Higgins chased after him, towing a fine horse missing its rider. She let the curtain fall when they were out of sight. Esme had a knack for discovering unpleasant things. It must have been quite the secret to make the earl behave in such a brutish manner.

It was a while before Esme returned and Iris had time enough to pour another tea for herself while she waited.

Her friend smiled weakly but her eyes were red-rimmed. “It’s for the best.”

The words were lightly said but it wasn’t hard to see Esme was unsettled by her encounter with Lord Windermere. Iris caught her hand and squeezed. “I’m so sorry for his unpleasantness.”

“It’s my own fault, but I just couldn’t stand to see him made a fool.”

Curiosity got the better of her. “I couldn’t hear what you said to make him explode like that.”

“I tried to be subtle with him and drop enough hints but he simply wouldn’t listen. Windermere was about to be duped into marrying a woman because she claimed to be with child. Only there was no child. He is understandably angry with me but he will discover I spoke the truth.” She sucked in a sharp breath and glanced around. “Now that
that
unpleasantness is in the past, I have a mind to take an outing with you. As much as it pains me, we must expose another secret today.”

Iris gaped. She didn’t understand what the other secret could be, and when Esme stepped into the adjoining room to fetch her things, she was curious. She hurried to her room to change then followed the woman down the stairs. Esme’s carriage stood at the ready at the front of the townhouse by the time they stepped outside.

There was also an obvious crowd staring at them from the footpath and at nearby windows, or more particularly at Esme. Had Lord Windermere’s outburst carried outside the house? She drew close to Esme to lend her support. The countess ignored the gawkers with a proud lift to her chin and entered her carriage. Iris, not quite so certain what was going on, or how to react, followed a bit more slowly and overheard a whisper that Esme must have turned down an offer of marriage to have so angered Windermere.

Iris closed the carriage door firmly on the whispers and faced Esme to see her reaction. The lady had closed her eyes and Iris reached for her hand and squeezed. That story would be circulating all through society by nightfall, and in such circumstances it was always the lady’s whose reputation was torn apart unfairly.

Once the carriage had moved off, however, Esme burst out laughing and carried on for a good long while. Tears streamed down her cheeks by the end and Iris could only watch in astonishment.

Esme pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and patted her damp face. “Oh, I needed that today. The imaginations of some people never fail to surprise me. As if we would ever want the other in our bed.”

“So Lord Windermere didn’t propose to you?”

“Oh please, not you too. I couldn’t bear it.” She held out her hand for silence. “That man will never be my lover, much less a husband. He’s much too sure of himself and much too certain about me.”

Iris admired confident men, personally, but she supposed another woman might have a different view of them. A widow of Esme’s experience and temper might just have an entirely different set of standards she measured men against. “Esme, where are you taking me?”

Her friend squeezed her hand. “As I’ve just discovered in Lord Windermere’s case, seeing is quite often a necessity to believing. It’s not far.”

“You are being very cryptic again. I do not like that trait in you.”

Esme patted her hand. “As time goes on, I’m sure I will confide in you more often but you must understand I do not like this situation one bit. Ah, here we are.”

The coachman had stopped the carriage on Pollen Street in an area Iris was largely unfamiliar with. A groom hurried forward to drop the step and once on the street, Iris glanced around. As far as she could recall, Esme had no acquaintances nearby. It was actually only a few blocks away from Lord Louth’s townhouse. She could easily walk the distance in a few minutes.

“Iris, this way.” Esme caught her arm in a tight grip and whispered, “Whatever I say, please play along. We must get inside without a fuss or delay for your own good.”

She hurried them up the shallow flight of steps of an unexceptional townhouse and rapped long and hard on the door. After a few minutes, the door opened a crack and an eye peered at them through the gap.

“Please, my friend needs help desperately,” Esme pleaded, wringing her hands ineffectually.

The door swung wide and an older woman with a kind face was framed in the doorway. “I am Mrs. Hughes. How can I be of assistance, madam?”

 
Esme barged in, towing Iris with her into the house before she could protest. When Iris glanced back, she squinted at the woman who’d opened the door. If memory served, she was the nice woman she’d met in the park when she’d been walking with Lord Louth and his cousin. The one with the tiny babe in the fancy wicker perambulator who Iris had stopped to admire. “I’m so sorry for disturbing you.”

Esme finally stopped and glanced around. “Could my friend have a glass of water, perhaps? She’s taken a giddy spell and I’m quite concerned.”

“Certainly.” The woman bustled off to the rear of the property.

Iris wasted no time to lean toward Esme. “What do you think you’re doing, barging into a stranger’s home like this? Are you mad? The house is in mourning.”

She winked. “It’s not her home.”

“Well, no matter whose home it is, you’re being very rude.” Iris crossed her arms over her chest. “You will have to apologize for your behavior. Do you even know the family that lives here?”

“No family lives here. Until recently, this was Vivian Rose’s home. Her protector provided her with lodgings during their arrangement.”

Iris frowned at that. Many men kept mistresses in London. She didn’t need to invade their homes to know it. “And what has that to do with anything or either of us?”

“It may matter a great deal to you.” Esme paced the lower room and then smiled. “Would it surprise you to learn that Lord Louth owns this house?”

She glanced around swiftly in shock. “No!

“Oh yes. He’s the reason we are here. I will not have a friend cruelly disappointed if I can help it. Especially not now, with the stress of your father bringing you so much pain.”

Iris’s palms grew slick. Louth had kept his mistress so close to his home even after they’d ended things? I tight ball of disappointment filled her chest. He’d promised he had no attachments. “We should go.”

“Not until you see what he’s hiding from you. You have put him upon a pedestal and yourself in the gutter when neither of you are exactly the model of propriety. You can make up your own mind about whether you have a future with him.” Esme moved to a wall and slammed her palm against the papered surface three times. Very loudly. Then, calm as can be, she took a chair.

The servant returned in a hurry, a glass of water slopping over the rim to drench her hand, her eyes wild. “What was that noise?”

Her words trailed off as a child began to cry close by.

Esme smiled tightly. “I’ve no idea.”

The wailing continued while the woman dithered. Iris took the glass and set it aside. “Perhaps you should attend to the little girl.”

Esme’s eyes rounded. “You know about her?”

“Yes. We met in the park, when I was with Lord Louth and his cousin. Mrs. Hughes, isn’t it? The child she cares for is very beautiful.”

Esme’s eyes narrowed then she stood and faced the other woman. “I see. Then perhaps you could introduce me as well?”

“I don’t know about that.” Mrs. Hughes wrung her hands.

“Well, I do,” Esme insisted. “I’m no authority on the rearing of the young but I cannot imagine it is good for any child to cry in that fashion for much longer.”

Mrs. Hughes nodded slowly then hurried from the room. Esme followed her and Iris did too, puzzled by Esme’s insistence on seeing a baby. The other woman scooped up the protesting bundle and attempted to calm her.

Dark eyes, dark hair.

And then it hit her, so hard she had to grip the cradle edge for support. This was Lord Louth’s property. He kept a mistress here. And the child?

Must be his.

Iris had misjudged Lord Louth indeed. She glared at Esme. “I would have believed you. There was no need to drag me here.”

That she had to raise her voice a little at the last because the child appeared inconsolable was a testament to the child’s temper.

Mrs. Hughes attempts to chivvy the child into better spirits wasn’t working either, unfortunately. She patted the babe’s bottom ineffectually. “I’m so sorry,” she said loudly in the end. “My mistress’s death has been a difficult time. I never had children myself. I am only the housekeeper.”

All the air rushed from Iris’s lungs. The mistress had died? Dear God. The child wasn’t just illegitimate but an orphan, too. Her chest squeezed painfully at the injustices often served to those too innocent to protect themselves.

She squared her shoulders and held out her hands. She was well enough acquainted with children to feel confident she could be of use. “Give her to me.”

Mrs. Hughes gaped and Esme gasped out loud. “It’s not your problem.”

“She’s a child, and upset because of our arrival.” When Mrs. Hughes hesitated, Iris took the child and brought the squirming bundle close to her chest. It took a while but eventually the girl calmed enough to hiccup. Iris arranged her more comfortably on her shoulder and the child burped loudly in her ear. “Ah, so that was the problem, sweetheart. There now, I’m sure that feels better.”

Now that the house no longer rang with the child’s cries, a silence so complete engulfed her. She glanced at Esme. “What are we really doing here?”

“Visiting Lord Louth’s daughter,” she replied softly.

 
Iris glanced down at the child in her arms. Dark like her intended, rounded face so sweet once she no longer wailed. The resemblance was quite obvious to Iris now and her heart broke. He already had a daughter. But why was he so against her carrying his children?

She paled, remembering his earlier concerns about becoming her lover. He’d claimed his size was a problem and she did not believe he’d only had concerns about intimacy. “Why did the child’s mother die?”

Mrs. Hughes sighed. “The birth was too much for her delicate constitution. The child too large to bear.”