Remarkable indeed.
Merritt sat at a back table at Walsh’s gentleman’s club. Though he had seen the man he sought as soon as he’d stepped into the room, Merritt had chosen to wait and observe a while before approaching him. Jasper Bennington, Earl of Nickerson, Iris’s younger brother. Merritt could see the similarities in their appearance—they shared the same lean height and similar coloring, but where Iris’s hair was a vibrant red, Jasper’s was a pale strawberry blond.
At the moment, the boy sat at a table playing a game of chance. He looked well into his cups, and it was not even nine in the evening. This was not what Merritt’s articles were about. Obviously, the boy was simply using them as an excuse to misbehave.
“Lord Ashby,” a voice said from his right.
Merritt looked to find Christopher Watkins standing there, and he nodded in response.
“May I join you for a moment?”
“Of course.”
“I wanted to speak to you about your series of articles, the ones on being a gentleman,” Watkins said.
Splendid. Had Iris persuaded her friend’s brother to convince him to put a stop to the articles? He certainly didn’t need another lecture about them.
Christopher sat and scooted his chair closer to the table. “The piece about being discreet whilst seducing your staff was particularly enjoyable.”
Merritt raised a brow. Perhaps Iris was correct and he was, in fact, being a bad influence on the weaker members of the aristocracy.
“I’ve found all of the pieces entertaining, but this one was quite amusing. But I must know, was that referring to Lord Sanderson’s scandal with all of the ladies’ maids in his household?”
Merritt smiled. On the other hand, perhaps here was a gentleman who actually recognized the articles for what they were intended to be.
“I’m afraid I cannot reveal my sources or inspiration,” Merritt said. But he was impressed that the man had figured out the truth. Merritt always worked hard to make his anonymous stories as discreet as possible. It created a puzzle, which only fed the gossipmongers.
Christopher smiled knowingly.
They talked for several more minutes about the nature of the articles. By the time Christopher excused himself, Merritt was forced to question the one opinion he’d held most tightly. Perhaps, there might be an intelligent man with a title after all.
Except once Chris had left him to his own devices, Merritt was once again faced with the unpleasant task of watching Nickerson piss away more of Iris’s carefully managed money.
There may be one intelligent man with a title, but it most assuredly wasn’t Lord Nickerson.
It was time for them to have a talk, man to man. Merritt scrawled a note on a calling card and sent it with a footman over to Jasper’s table. The boy looked at the card, and the messenger indicated where Merritt sat. Jasper nodded, then finished his hand and stood, making a bit of a to-do about having to meet with another peer.
Jasper walked over to Merritt’s table, and Merritt had to give him credit. He walked a perfectly straight line and didn’t amble or sway in the least.
“You requested a meeting with me,” Jasper said as he dropped himself into a chair. He frowned at Merritt. “Do we know each other?”
“No, though I am an acquaintance of your sister’s,” Merritt said.
Jasper’s expression didn’t shift. “Is that why you wanted to speak with me?”
Merritt leaned forward, clasped his hands together. “Partially. Do you know who I am, Nickerson?”
The boy glanced down at the calling card in his hand. “The Earl of Ashby.”
Merritt grinned. “Yes, but also, I own the Daily Scandal.”
That seemed to impress him more than any connection Merritt had with Iris. “Excellent paper,” Jasper said.
“Yes, thank you for that assessment.” Merritt considered the best way to broach the subject and decided abruptly and bluntly would be the best way. Jasper didn’t seem to be too keen on making inferences. “I know you have enjoyed the series of articles on how to be a gentleman.”
Jasper nodded. “My sister talks too much.”
Merritt chuckled. “I suppose you could say that about her, but she is concerned for your welfare.”
“Did she ask you to speak with me?” Jasper pressed his hands on the table and made to stand.
“On the contrary, I believe your sister would be rather annoyed with me were she to discover anything about this meeting,” Merritt said.
Jasper leaned back, pacified for the moment. “She has nothing to worry about. I am a grown man.”
“Indeed. I’d dare say a grown man of what, eight and ten?”
“Nine and ten. Only last month.” Jasper tugged at his chin where a hint of whiskers grew. Merritt doubted the boy could fill in a full beard if he so chose.
“Yes, well, as a man, you should know that from time to time we gentlemen can share experiences and give advice.”
Jasper’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Go on.”
“Well, I understand you are taking to heart some of the information from the articles.” Merritt leaned forward so that they could exchange a great secret. “It is not known in many circles, but not only am I the editor of said articles, but I wrote them as well.”
Jasper leaned forward as well. “Indeed? Then you have many pieces of advice to share?”
“Precisely.” Merritt had already assessed that explaining the articles were meant more in jest than practicality would not work with Jasper. “But you should know that those pieces were not meant to be taken quite so literally. Drinking and gambling should be done, after all, in moderation. One does not want to waste away one’s mind and fortune in the darkened rooms of clubs when one could be at home enjoying the warmth of softer creatures.” The image of Iris, nude and snuggled against him, flashed through Merritt’s mind.
“Ah yes, women. I have had my fair share,” Jasper said.
Merritt doubted as much, but wasn’t going to call into question the boy’s words. “What I am telling you is, slow down. You do not need to enjoy all the fleshly treats in these first few years. You have plenty of time to lose the family fortune in a game of chance.”
Jasper frowned and waved his hand. “This is how gentlemen behave. I’ve seen it.” He motioned at the room around them. “It is how all these men behave. You also, no doubt.”
“I have had my share of drunken nights, but I’ve never lost a coin in one single game of chance.”
“How is that possible?” Jasper asked.
“I do not play.”
“Well, that speaks nothing of your skill,” Jasper said.
“Do not misunderstand. I did not say that I don’t know how to play; I simply choose not to. I’ve worked far too hard for the funds in my coffers to fritter them away with a deck of cards.”
“My family has a very fine coffer,” Jasper said.
Iris’s brother had a weak character. That much was evident. No wonder she was concerned and willing to put the blame elsewhere so she didn’t have to admit the truth to herself. “Perhaps, but no fortune is never ending. Take care. Gamble less. Drink less. Worry your sister less.”
Jasper’s eyes narrowed. “That is what this is about, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“Iris.” Jasper paused, eyed Merritt. “Are you in love with my sister, Ashby?”
“You are a fool. This is not about your sister. This is about the integrity of my articles. You, sir, are making a mockery of my advice.” And with that Merritt stood and walked away.
In love with Iris? That was preposterous. He desired Iris; he recognized that. It was hard to ignore.
Merritt did not believe in love, aside from the familial type. He’d thought he’d fallen in love once, but he’d been a fool. The woman, the daughter of a viscount, had been everything he’d sought in a potential mate: smart, funny, beautiful. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been good enough for her. She had never seen past his lack of title, de
spite his fortune. Though she claimed to care about him, she “simply couldn’t marry without a title.”
That had been the moment he’d realized the truth about the gentry. They cared for nothing but bloodlines. All of the things he valued most—hard work, ambition, integrity—mattered naught to them.
Chapter Nine
Iris stepped into the offices of her family’s solicitor, Mr. Fernish. He’d sent her a note earlier that morning requesting a private meeting with her, and she’d come straight away.
“Lady Iris, thank you for coming on such short notice,” Mr. Fernish said.
She shook the man’s hand and sat across the desk from him. “Of course. Is there a problem with our accounts?”
He frowned. “No, nothing such as that. I thought it time, though, that we discuss the inevitable.”
“Jasper,” she said. She released a heavy breath.
“Precisely. Eventually he is going to come to me and demand to be the one in charge of your coffers,” Mr. Fernish said.
“Yes, I know. And you will have to give him that control, even though he will likely lose it all at the card tables.” So far, her plan to have Merritt teach her to be a gentleman so that he could see how ridiculous his advice was had failed spectacularly. Instead, it had given her the opportunity and, frankly, the desire to behave badly herself. Perhaps that meant that Merritt had been right all along, that all men acted this way. It was just that some were better at hiding it than others.
“Yes, I have seen your requests for payments to be sent to a variety of clubs around town.” Mr. Fernish smiled warmly at her. “Lady Iris, I have known you since you were but a girl, and you have done a remarkable job with your family’s finances. You’ve made smart investments, and they have built upon your father’s previous wealth, leaving you quite flush, as they say. Though I could likely lose my certificate for doing so, I have placed a part of that fortune in an account for you. One that Lord Nickerson is not able to touch.” He tilted his head. “Though, if you marry, then the funds would be controlled by your husband.”
“I have no desire to marry, Mr. Fernish. And thank you.” Having that security meant that someday she’d be able to travel and research her book, teach women in other parts of the country and continent how to defend themselves, take care of themselves. But none of that could happen until she was certain that Jasper wouldn’t destroy himself in the midst of his wild living.
“I wanted to let you know this in person, rather than in a letter, in case your brother reads your post,” Mr. Fernish said.
She nodded. “And I know that someday he’ll figure out that I don’t have the authority to control the purse strings, but until he discovers that, I suppose I’ll keep approving his debt payments.”
She left the office feeling bested. Arriving home didn’t offer any consolation.
Upon entering her bedchamber, she found Jasper digging through her belongings.
“Jasper, what are you doing?”
He started at the sound of her voice and spun to face her.
“I asked you a question.”
“I need some funds,” he said.
Her heart wilted. “And you thought to simply take them from me?”
“You weren’t home for me to ask.”
But something told her even if she had been, he would have found a way to skirt her and scrounge for the monies himself.
“I do not keep any funds in here. What do you need them for?” She held up a hand. “And before you think to lie to me, know that I am fully aware of your gaming efforts.”
“Very well. I need them to pay a debt.”
She searched his face looking for regret or remorse, but found only terse irritation. “How much do you require this time?”
“Fifteen pounds.”
“Jasper,” she whispered. Where had she gone so wrong with him? Had she loved him too much, coddled him? Or was this simply what happened when boys went off to school? “Follow me.” She led him down to her parlor and withdrew a handful of bank notes from her writing desk. “This is the last time.”
“What?”
“I shall remove every piece of money from this house today so you do not have to resort to sneaking around to find some.”
“You can’t do that.”
No, she probably couldn’t do it, at least not legally. But thus far he had not called her bluff. Further proof he had no skills for gambling. She handed the bank notes out to him. “The last time, Jasper. Am I understood?”
He snatched the money out of her hand without another word and stormed out of the room.
She fell back on the settee and closed her eyes. It seemed as if everything was falling apart. Tonight was her big charade and she had yet to convince Merritt to cancel the advice articles, though he hadn’t printed another one since their wager. So perhaps that meant she was winning, and he just hadn’t admitted it yet. If only that meant that her brother’s bad behavior was coming to an end.
…
Merritt stepped down from his rig on the appointed street and glanced around for his host or hostess. The notice he’d received hadn’t been quite so clear on the details of where to meet and what time. At the moment, he was searching for a carriage with the crest of a gold eagle holding a bunch of grapes in its beak. He’d already researched that particular crest and found it nowhere, which likely meant it was a fake.
This wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with a cryptic source. The level of secrecy never truly indicated the level of truth, so he always took the time to further investigate each story he was given.
When he’d initially put out that he was looking for information on a group of women schooled in the art of fighting and potentially thwarting criminals. Seeing Iris move so swiftly and expertly, he suspected her instruction had been quite substantial. And he highly doubted that a man had trained her, so it seemed logical that she wasn’t the only woman in London with those skills.
He spotted the carriage as soon as it rounded the corner. It came to a stop directly in front of him, and he opened the door and climbed inside. Seated on the opposite bench was a short, pleasantly plump older woman. She smiled broadly as he sat.
“Lord Ashby?” she asked.
He bowed over her hand. “And you are?”
She grinned. “You may call me Lady X.” The carriage lurched forward as it rumbled down the street.
“Very well. Now then, you contacted me claiming to have information that I seek.”
“Yes, about the Ladies of Virtue and their true purpose.”
“They are a group of do-gooders, raising funds for orphans and the like,” he said.
“They do much, much more.” She eyed him for a moment, then her brows furrowed. “Are you not going to write anything down?”
“There is no need. I prefer to simply have a conversation with people, and I’ll remember any details that are important.” He leaned back in his seat and eyed her. She was quite obviously wearing some manner of disguise, though he was uncertain to what extent, other than the wig that made her hair gray. Her ridiculous hat, fully equipped with a fake bird, sat artfully atop the gray curls in such a way that most people would not notice the charade. “Tell me, Lady X, how is it that you know the secret details of this organization?”
“Perhaps I am one of them.” She shrugged. “Or perhaps I merely have an inside contact.”
“What precisely do you know?”
She gave him a tight smile. “The Ladies of Virtue, despite its outward appearance, is in truth an organization of trained ladies who claim to be ridding the streets of London from nuisance crime and bad behavior.”
“Bad behavior?” he asked.
“Pickpocketing and street thievery. Some have interceded on behalf of women who are being mistreated by the men in their lives.” She scoffed. “As if that is their place. Others have assisted in getting off the street girls that have been earning their livings on the back, as it were. Then they bring those harlots into good households and tr
y to pass them off as scullery maids. That sort of behavior.”
“And who trains these ladies?”
“No names,” Lady X said. “Suffice to say, some of the most respected women in Society are part of their ranks.”
Yes, he knew one of them. And likely her friends that he’d met as well. “Can I not simply ask for a roster of the group, considering they are a well-known altruistic organization?”
“Yes, but it would be incomplete. There are measures of protection in place. I could give you a list of every member.” She paused a moment. “Perhaps I shall do precisely that on another day. But for now, let us stick with the what rather than the who.”
“Very well. It would seem that you take offense, in some regard, at what these women do.”
“It’s ridiculous and dangerous the way they go about, overstepping their bounds, behaving in such unfeminine ways,” she continued. “They quite obviously do not know their place.”
“My other source says differently. That they are focused on doing good in Society.” Iris hadn’t said much of anything, but he knew enough about her to extrapolate.
“Well, I suppose they have done some good. But do you not see how unnatural it is that they do these things instead of trusting the men in their lives to offer protection?”
“Actually, it sounds to me like they’re rather brave.”
“Well, it sounds to me as if you fancy this other source of yours.”
He didn’t even bother responding to that comment. He knew he did not fancy Iris any way but simple, lustful desire. This woman, whoever she truly was, held significant anger toward the Ladies of Virtue. Had they wronged her in some way?
He wanted more information. More about this woman in disguise. More about the secret works of the Ladies of Virtue. But he knew Iris would tell him nothing. Perhaps once the story printed, more people would step forward, and he’d uncover the complete truth behind the Ladies of Virtue.
The Scoundrel and the Lady (Lords of Vice) Page 11