The Scoundrel and the Lady (Lords of Vice)

by DeHart, Robyn

  She waved a hand and made some sort of noise with her mouth. “You…” She poked one finger into his chest. “Are trying to scare me off. You”—again she jabbed him in the chest—“are not taking this bargain of ours seriously.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Indeed. The other afternoon, pretending to measure me.”

  “I did measure you. In fact, your trousers should be delivered tomorrow,” he said.

  “But the way you touched me,” she said. “And then you kissed me.” She took another gulp of her drink.

  “Yes, I did,” he said. He leaned back against the settee and stared openly at her.

  “Why did you kiss me?”

  He shrugged. “Because I wanted to.”

  She leaned forward. “You were trying to frighten me away. Well, let me assure you that it isn’t going to work. Your kisses don’t frighten me in the least.”

  “They don’t?” His voice was warm and decadent.

  “No.” She had nearly crawled into his lap, she’d gotten so close to his face. “I rather enjoyed kissing you. What do you have to say to that?” From this vantage, she could see the precise shade of his eyes…that shimmering blue that could only be found in the tail feathers of peacocks.

  “I enjoyed kissing you, as well.”

  She hadn’t expected that response. “Oh.”

  He pulled her fully onto his lap. “This is not gentlemanly behavior,” he said.

  She giggled. “Yours or mine?”

  “Either.” And then he lowered his mouth to hers.

  His body felt warm and hard against her, the strength of his muscular frame was undeniable. The desire that seemed to course between them was a real and vibrant thing, as if it had taken a life all its own.

  Iris knew better than to allow him such liberties, and she certainly knew better than to want him. She couldn’t afford to want him. Desire would only lead her down the road to affection and love and eventual heartache. He might be new to Society, but he was quite obviously skilled in romancing a woman, whereas she was a complete novice.

  “I know I am nothing more than a diversion for you. A novelty. Perhaps you’ve not kissed many genteel ladies, or at least, not virginal ones.” She laughed and then hiccupped. Then she walked her fingers up his chest. “This is a risky game.”

  Considering all of that, she shouldn’t allow him to kiss her and to run his hands so deliciously up her spine. She knew all those things. But when Merritt’s lips touched hers, all logic and good sense seemed to dissolve. Her body took over, and her body wanted him.

  His kiss was firm and gentle, persuasive yet unrelenting. His tongue stroked hers, sending fissures of pleasure deep into her stomach. She relaxed against him, relishing the strength of his body, the hardened muscles, the very height and breadth of him.

  Desire coiled through her, hot and needy, like a living, pulsing thing. Like a separate entity over which she had no control. And then, as abruptly as he’d pulled her to him, he set her aside.

  “No,” he said swiftly and came to his feet. “This arrangement between us is not going to work.” He swiped a hand across his mouth then gave a brief nod. “Good evening, Lady Iris.”

  Then he was gone. One moment he was kissing and touching her in a way she’d never imagined, making her feel things she couldn’t have fathomed, and then he was gone, leaving her cold and confused. It was almost sobering.

  …

  What the hell was he doing?

  He wished he’d brought his horse instead of a carriage so he could have doused himself with the cold evening rain. But he was resigned to riding in the confined rig and thinking about everything that had just transpired. How she’d been so warm and willing in his arms. He was not particularly accustomed to virginal ladies, but he’d assumed they would be coy, more guarded with their virtue.

  Lady Iris’s behavior had bordered on brazen, and the combination of her naïveté and boldness was intoxicating. Granted, she had been the one intoxicated, but she’d asked him about why he’d kissed her and then boldly proclaimed she’d enjoyed it. And like a cat offered milk, he’d leaped at the chance to have it again. He’d foolishly pulled her into his arms, pretending that it was to frighten her but knowing full well it was because he wanted the little minx in a way he’d never wanted another woman.

  Having a relationship with Iris Bennington aside from this ridiculous bargain was out of the question. He had promised himself long ago that even though he had claimed the title, he would never slide fully into the role of an aristocrat. That meant never getting married…certainly not to a woman of Society.

  Before now, he had never been tempted. Oh, but Iris was damn near irresistible. She seemed so different from other ladies of her rank. She had more substance, more spine, than any woman he’d ever met, gently bred or not.

  Yet that made her more dangerous.

  He’d worked too hard and too long to allow some innocent miss to derail him by persuading him she wasn’t like the rest of the aristocracy. She had even said herself that he hadn’t kissed many genteel ladies. She knew they weren’t the same, she and him. If he allowed himself to believe she wasn’t as conniving and scheming as the rest of them, he’d make other concessions, and soon he’d find himself fully entrenched in Society, considering those arrogant bastards to be friends of his.

  No, Iris was far too dangerous for him. He’d simply have to find another lady willing to tutor Lucy. Certainly he could find a gentle-born lady in need of funds that he could pay handsomely to do the task. Perhaps Iris would provide him with a recommendation.

  The rig stopped, and he glared at the sky when he stepped outside. Everything was dry, though the moon peeked in and out of the heavy clouds overhead. Rain would be here soon, but he couldn’t stand out here and wait. His neighbors already eyed him as if he’d offed the previous earl himself to snatch the title. He couldn’t feed their suspicions while punishing himself for taking liberties with a lady.

  He’d have to be satisfied with going to bed frustrated and still heavy with desire. He’d no sooner resigned himself to that fact than he was bombarded by his sister, bounding into the corridor.

  “Merritt, you are finally home,” Lucy said.

  “Indeed.” He’d hoped she would already be asleep so he could think on what to tell her, how to break it to her that he’d cancelled the arrangement with Lady Iris and it would take a while longer for her instruction to begin. But here she was, looking as hopeful and excited as ever. He wondered where she got such a zest for life, such an optimistic view of the world; it certainly hadn’t been from either of their parents. His father had been jaded. He’d worked hard to amass a nice fortune for his family and been angered that people still looked down upon them because of their status.

  His mother had not been enchanted by Society the way Lucy seemed to be; instead, she had feared the upper classes. Every visit they’d made to his uncle, the former Earl of Ashby, his mother had trembled and fumbled with her manners, trying desperately to get things correct and not embarrass herself. His father had never attended with them, stating that he was far too busy to kiss the earl’s arrogant arse.

  “Did you go anywhere exciting this evening?” Lucy asked.

  “Not particularly.” He rid himself of his coat, handing it to their butler. “Thank you, Jackson.”

  Lucy twirled as if dancing with an imaginary suitor. “I am so looking forward to tomorrow. What do you suppose she’ll teach me first? I do hope it’s dancing.” She clapped her hands together in anticipation. “I am so excited to be working with a true lady.”

  “Yes, about tomorrow…”

  She frowned at the tone of his voice, then she brought her hands to her mouth. “What happened? She believes me a lost cause?”

  He exhaled slowly. He couldn’t bear to disappoint her. “No, of course not. She said to be there at promptly two o’clock.” He’d have to send a notice to Lady Iris informing her that their agreement was still in place. And in the meantim
e, he’d have to figure out a way to stop wanting her. Or, at the least, to keep his hands off her.

  Lucy kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Merritt. You are the very best.”

  …

  Iris pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Was the sun normally this bright in the morning? She was on her second cup of tea, but so far it didn’t seem to be helping. She’d have preferred to stay abed for a while longer, at least until this dreadful feeling ceased. But she’d received a note from Agnes and Harriet confirming that they’d be there for luncheon so they could discuss Lucinda’s instruction.

  She would do her best to be amiable to her friends, but it was challenging today. She’d already sent one maid scurrying when she’d yelled after the girl had tried to open the curtains. The sunlight had felt like sharp knives going straight into her eyes. She would have closed them and lain back on the settee if her friends hadn’t chosen that precise moment to burst through the doors.

  “It is a glorious day,” Harriet said loudly.

  Iris winced.

  “Oh dear,” Agnes said. “Are you ill?”

  Harriet stopped mid-stride and considered Iris. “You look positively dreadful.”

  “Thank you. You are the dearest of friends,” Iris said. Then she shook her head. “No, I am not ill. It would seem I imbibed too much last night.”

  Harriet nearly ran to her and sat adjacent to the settee in a gold-hued upholstered chair. “Do tell.”

  Iris closed her eyes, shook her head, but stopped immediately when the movement made her feel as if her eyeballs might rupture. “Instructions on how to be a gentleman. Evidently I cannot hold my liquor.”

  “Well, you are tall for a lady but certainly not as large as most men,” Agnes said. “Perhaps next time merely sip slower.”

  Iris glared at her friend. Why must she always be so bloody practical?

  “Excellent advice,” Harriet said. “The note you sent yesterday seemed most eager.”

  “I sent the notes prematurely it would seem.” Iris shook her head. “I believe I must have offended Lord Ashby last night. He left in quite the rush and seemed rather annoyed. As he was leaving, he said that our arrangement could not continue.” She massaged her temples and closed her eyes.

  “You do not require our assistance today?” Agnes asked.

  Iris sighed. “It would seem not.”

  Harriet clicked her tongue. “Nonsense. She obviously needs our aid. If not with your previous dilemma, then with the matter at hand.” She came and sat by Iris, putting a soothing hand on her back.

  Iris opened one eye.

  “What could you possibly have done to offend Lord Ashby?” Harriet asked.

  Iris dropped her head into her hands. “It was awful,” she said, her voice muffled by her palms. “I flirted with him. Aggressively.”

  “Iris,” Agnes said.

  Iris sat upright, willing to face her friend’s chastisement. “I was brazen and out of control. And today I feel horrible and humiliated.”

  Agnes’s frown deepened, whereas Harriet did a poor job of covering her wide grin with her gloved hand.

  Just then, a maid brought in a tray. “Mrs. Reynolds suggested this would help.” She set the small plate down and curtsied as she left the room.

  “Dry bread?” Harriet asked.

  Iris grabbed a piece and tore off tiny bites. She’d emptied her stomach several times over the course of the evening and knew that she wouldn’t feel herself again until she’d eaten.

  “My brother always swears by sleeping for several hours,” Harriet said.

  “Your brother is a cad,” Agnes said.

  “Indeed,” Harriet said. “Now then, back to Iris’s evening. So, you flirted with him. You have flirted with gentlemen before.”

  “Not quite like this. I told him I enjoyed his kisses.”

  Harriet sucked in a breath.

  “When have you had the experience of enjoying his kisses?” Agnes asked.

  Iris waved her hand. “That is a bit of a story as well. He kissed me again, but only because I practically begged him to do so. And now I have ruined this bargain we had, which means I’ve failed in my task, not only with the Ladies of Virtue, but also with Jasper. Now Lord Ashby has no reason to do me any favors. Furthermore, I destroyed any claim I had to proper behavior. How can I continue to be incensed by those ridiculous articles if I acted the wanton in his arms?”

  “We have other issues to manage,” Agnes said. “That of your virtue. Does he need to be made to see reason, do right by you?”

  “Oh, good heavens. He compromised you?” Harriet asked.

  “No. No.” Iris shook her head in denial. “It was a kiss, that is all.” Well, it wasn’t merely a kiss. It was passionate and seductive, and had he tried to pursue things further, she wasn’t certain she would have stopped him. She felt compromised, but her virtue remained intact. Granted, there were plenty in London that would not see it that way, but that wasn’t her concern now.

  A footman came in with a tray. He brought it over to Iris. “A message came for you.”

  “Thank you,” Iris said. Once the footman had left, she looked up from the note. “It’s from him. Lord Ashby.”

  “Read it!” Harriet said, clapping her gloved hands together.

  My dearest Lady Iris,

  I do hope you will accept my apology for my abrupt departure. I meant not what I said, and of course, our agreement still stands. Lucy will arrive at your address promptly at two o’clock. If this does not meet your approval, please send notice.

  Rub a bit of vinegar on your temples to ease that headache.

  Affectionately yours,

  Merritt Steele, Earl of Ashby

  “Oh goodness. That gave me the shivers. He sounds positively divine,” Harriet said.

  “You say that about everyone,” Agnes said.

  “Do you disagree?” Harriet asked.

  “Not entirely. His apology is quite appropriate, though, he did not mention taking liberties with you,” Agnes said.

  “Perhaps because I took liberties with him,” Iris said. She rang for a maid and promptly requested vinegar. She was willing to try nearly anything to rid herself of this pesky headache. Oddly enough, though, it was distracting her from the warmth that had bloomed in her belly at the sight of his words. He’d known she’d not feel well this morning. And he’d apologized. Did that mean he didn’t regret kissing her?

  She shook her head. “I must rid my mind of kisses. His, or anyone else’s,” she said. “I must focus on Jasper. I refuse to allow him to end up as I have.”

  “Honestly, Iris, we are all unmarried,” Agnes said.

  “You are only unmarried because your brother threatens any man who comes near you,” Harriet said.

  Agnes exhaled. “Perhaps, but it matters not to me. I’m in no rush to marry. Waiting means I’ll land a gentleman who can appreciate more than my coffers.”

  “Or your beauty?” Harriet asked.

  Agnes screwed up her face and shook her head.

  It was amusing how their friend did not see her own beauty. Agnes was, in a word, stunning, with her large, blue eyes and porcelain skin and perfect, rosebud lips.

  “We are all handsome women,” Agnes said.

  “Indeed,” Iris said. The maid brought in a small vial of vinegar, and Iris dutifully dabbed some at her temples. The stench burned her eyes, so she leaned back onto the settee and closed them.

  “Lucy is coming in a little over an hour,” Harriet said. “What precisely are we to discuss with her?”

  “I have a more pressing question,” Iris said, not bothering to lift her head or open her eyes. “Have either of you identified the gentleman you will reform? I will not do this on my own.”

  “I have,” Harriet said enthusiastically. “The Marquess of Davenport. He is the very embodiment of greed. It is repulsive.”

  “Excellent choice,” Iris said. But she did not say that she suspected that Ha
rriet had always fancied the marquess.

  “I have not completely decided, but I am leaning toward the Earl of Wakefield. He is a wastrel,” Agnes said.

  “And your brother’s closest friend,” Harriet said.

  “Christopher need not know of everything I do,” Agnes said. “Even though he seems to believe he has every right to. Besides, he still does not know the truth of the Ladies of Virtue. I can keep this new project hidden, as well.”

  “It seems that the Winthrop Ball would be the perfect opportunity to approach them,” Iris said.

  “That is only two days away,” Agnes said.

  “Then you’d best decide what you’re going to say,” Harriet said.

  Chapter Six

  Merritt had been true to his word, and Lucy arrived at promptly two o’clock. She wore a charming visiting dress in pale blue, and her dark hair had been coiffed. She was a pretty girl. Though her eyes lacked the startling blue of her brother’s, they shared many features.

  “Miss Steele, may I introduce you to my dearest friends. This is Lady Agnes and Lady Harriet,” Iris said.

  Lucy curtsied but on her way back up somehow managed to stumble on her hem. She quickly righted herself then smiled awkwardly. “Pleasure to meet you both. I’m afraid I’m awfully clumsy.”

  “Nothing we haven’t all done before,” Harriet said with a broad grin. She embraced the girl, and Iris saw Lucy instantly relax.

  Inviting Harriet and Agnes to help had been the right thing. Together, the three of them should be able to ready Lucy for her introduction at the Winthrop Ball. After discussing matters with the others, Iris had recognized that taking Lucy first to the theater would do nothing more than whet the girl’s appetite for a true Society event. And since the upcoming ball was generally a smaller one, it seemed the perfect choice.

  “Being introduced can be quite exciting,” Harriet said. “I remember clearly my first ball. I was a basket of nerves, and it showed. I am certain I must have spoken to every soul in the ballroom, servants included.” She giggled. “I danced with plenty of gentlemen, several of whom stepped on my toes.” She shook her head. “It is amazing how many men are rather clumsy when it comes to the dance floor.”