An Improper Proposal (The Distinguished Rogues Book 6)

by Heather Boyd

  Her mouth fell open.

  He grinned at her shock. “I will be the one to answer your questions about intimacy on the condition you tell no one that you wish to be a mistress, for the time being. I must have your promise that this will be our secret. I won’t be a party to your ruin.”

  “And you’ll teach me what I need to know, too?”

  He paused. An innocent bride was expected to know very little on her wedding night. He would be careful of what he taught her. “Yes.”

  “I do promise.” She drew closer. “Show me.”

  “You want me to kiss you now? Here?” He glanced around wildly, hoping Lady Heathcote might be on the verge of rejoining them. However he heard not one sound beyond Iris’s rushed breath. When he’d imagined her education, he’d not envisaged undertaking it in Lady Heathcote’s drawing room where anyone might walk in.

  Iris, however, stared up at him seriously. “Well, where else might be as private as this? If we were to sneak away at a ball, someone might see us. If we were to meet at a private residence you own, that too would be fraught with the risk of detection. Esme would not have left us alone had she not wanted me to continue my inquiries with you under her roof.”

  “I see your point.” Now was indeed the perfect moment. He could kiss Iris and no one would know, and then tomorrow night she’d hopefully forget all about these ridiculous lessons and return to a search for a suitable husband.

  Decision made, he gripped her shoulders and pressed his lips to hers in a smacking kiss that ended before it truly began.

  When he released her and stood back, she stared at him in disapproval. “I thought you’d be better at kissing than that.”

  So much for his good intentions. He ground his teeth. “Why do women always want something more from me than I offer?”

  “I don’t know.” Her head tilted a little to the side as she studied him. “I’ve never asked you to show me more than what a proper kiss entails, but if it’s too much of an inconvenience…”

  Despite the situation, he was impressed by her pluck. The challenge she presented intrigued him. Tiny Iris Hedley was remarkably stubborn and he’d never noticed that trait before. How much could he teach her without going too far, though? He’d have to tread carefully.

  Since the disparity in their heights was too great to kiss comfortably standing, he caught her hand and towed Iris toward the window seat at the rear of the room. He sat and left her standing before him. “How about you kiss me, since you clearly have some idea of what constitutes a proper kiss?”

  Her brow creased in consternation. “Do mistresses do that? Kiss their protectors first, and can they also do that without his encouragement?”

  His certainly had before. Nothing aroused him more than an impatient woman. He nodded slowly. “A man likes a woman who knows what she wants when it comes to passion.”

  “I see. Then I was correct that I must learn everything I can.” She set her hands to his shoulders and lowered her face to his. He stared into her pale-green eyes, waiting for her to change her mind until the very last minute when she brushed her lips softly against his.

  It was a gentle kiss but Martin’s heart began to clamor hard against his ribs immediately. Her hands drifted slowly up his neck and when she touched his jaw, her little fingers were warm and distracting. She lifted her face a moment then kissed him again as if she had all the time in the world to experiment on him. She learned fast. She was courageous and brave even if her eyes were shut tightly, and she grew enthusiastic about her chance to kiss him into senselessness.

  It might be a mistake to encourage her but Martin caught her head and pulled her down onto his lap, her tiny weight balanced on one thigh, her skirts tangled between his legs. He wrapped his arm across her hip and with the other stroked her shoulder firmly. He closed his eyes too and discovered that an innocent’s kiss was ten times more arousing than the most experienced courtesan he’d ever draped over his knee.

  Her lips parted without prompting and her tongue danced across his lower lip. Martin tucked her firmly against his body and thrust into her mouth hungrily with his own tongue, lost in the moment of exploration he’d never once expected. When she stroked his tentatively in return, he pressed her hip harder against his growing erection and plundered the sweet taste of her mouth.

  Iris whimpered softly and the sound checked his urgency. He eased back, glancing up into a face grown flushed and dazed from arousal. He groaned under his breath. Perhaps educating the innocent hadn’t been the best way to convince her to marry, but he could not say he regretted that kiss or the feel of her tiny body in his arms.

  He deposited her onto an adjacent cushion and waited while she straightened her gown. That was probably more than he should have “taught” her but she had asked for it boldly and he’d answered in kind. Hopefully, his actions would prove to her that passion belonged with a husband and not with some stranger who would use her then walk away each morning, leaving money or jewels beside the bed and no certainty of when she’d see them again. The very idea offended him. “Do you see?”

  “I believe I understand,” she said at last after clearing her throat a few times. “So it is possible to receive such a kiss when the man doesn’t even want the lady.”

  He shook his head. How wrong she was. He did want her, and for proof she had only to look at the bulge of his trousers, but being an innocent she had no idea of the condition her kisses had left him in. However, since Martin was all wrong for Iris Hedley, he said nothing to convince her that his interest was genuine. He sat a moment, waiting for his arousal to subside. “Promise me you will limit voicing your inquiries to this place and to me.”

  Her face turned to his and he could see her struggle for composure after such a heady kiss. The way she stared at him, glassy eyed and breathless, meant the first lesson was likely an unabashed success in her eyes. Her fingers rose to cover her flushed lips and eventually she nodded. “I would be most happy to receive further lessons from you, my lord. Anytime.”

  The doors burst open and Lady Heathcote rushed inside, holding a note aloft. “You’ll never believe it but Lord Hazelton was robbed last night during the ball and struck down by the villains.”

  Iris shot to her feet, pale and trembling. “Is he dead?”

  “He survives but everyone is a suspect, it seems,” Lady Heathcote reassured her. “Meriwether is on his way.”

  Iris nodded. “I’m sure he will be a comfort to you.”

  “Yes, it will be nice to see him, however, he is coming to interview us about last night. At last he’s been promoted to lead the investigations into the spate of thefts prevalent among the ton these past months.”

  When Iris burst into tears, Martin waited a heartbeat then gathered her close, despite Lady Heathcote’s understandably shocked expression. Clearly, her nerves were overset by the kiss and her brazen request. Iris didn’t understand that such an interview was merely a formality. Meriwether would ask his questions and go because no one in their right mind would ever imagine a proper lady would stoop to theft.

  Five

  “I love you, Papa!” Iris clung to her father and buried her face in his collar. She needed the comfort of his arms after the distress of being interrogated by Mr. Meriwether about her movements at the Hazelton ball the previous night. She had been beyond relieved that Louth had not mentioned their pleasant interlude alone in the alcove. The alcove that the thieves had used for egress to the Hazelton library and which might have led the inquisitive Mr. Meriwether to consider her a prime suspect in his investigation had he but known.

  She drew back to peer into her father’s face, desperate for the comfort of his love. The lines around his eyes appeared deeper and darker today, his once-bright green eyes were dull and tired.

  He pushed her away. “Mind your pretty clothes.”

  “I don’t care about my clothes,” she assured him, but settled for holding his hand. “Are you well?”

  He nodded and drew her toward
the only chair in the room, situated near the window. Overnight another bed had been crammed into the chamber but they were alone at the moment, the other men having excused themselves upon her arrival. “We had a to-do here during the evening just past, a few fellows fighting over nonsense, but everyone calmed down eventually with no harm done.”

  Iris gasped and glanced out at the yard. A handful of men lingered outside, resting against the walls and talking in small groups. She’d not noticed anything amiss in their mood upon her arrival but tempers always flared quickly in this place. The last fight that had erupted within the Marshalsea had ended up with bloodshed. One of her father’s chums had been stabbed. Luckily not fatally but it was a side of life in the prison that terrified her. Her father was not accustomed to the rough and tumble of the grim world.

  Her father patted her hand. “I am glad you were not here for it. At least with you gone, I don’t have to worry for your safety.”

  She agreed with him but her father had been in danger too and her heart ached anew. “I am safe with Esme.”

  Her father nodded. “She’s been a good friend. Very particular of observing the proprieties.”

  Well, not all the time. Esme had left her alone with Louth in the hopes she’d be seduced and Iris had failed to experience more than a kiss. Not a very auspicious beginning. She glanced at her father and sadness consumed her. “She speaks fondly of you still.”

  “If only she might find you a husband then I would not worry so.”

  “Father, please.” She stretched for his hand again. “Do not concern yourself over that?”

  “Well, it is the done thing for a woman to make a match. I’m just telling you what everyone knows.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “You must consider how it looks to others. Lady Forsythe is particularly cutting of women who drag their feet on the way to the altar. We might never be invited to dinner again, and you know how your stepmother feels about making the right impression.”

  Iris squeezed his hand to halt the flow of his words. Her heart ached that he’d forgotten that what Lady Forsythe and her stepmother felt mattered little anymore. Her father’s second wife had fled to Bath as soon as the money was gone, and good riddance; and Lady Forsythe had refused to acknowledge her existence for some time. “I am sorry I haven’t married yet too, Papa,” she promised him sincerely. A nice husband with a large fortune might have saved them both but the chances of that were far behind her. A protector, and a residence outside of London, was all she could hope for now. “Lord Louth asked after you yesterday.”

  Her father appeared startled. “Do I know him?”

  “Yes, Papa. He attended my come out and you thought he possessed a keen intellect at the time.”

  He frowned at her hand then nodded. “Oh, yes. I did think him very smart. Why did you not think to set your cap for him when you had your come out?”

  She had been engaged at that time but she would not mention Grindlewood today. If she did, it would undoubtedly set off a series of conversations that would leave him confused about why her dowry had been used to pay off his last landlord. As for Louth, he was not interested in her or matrimony. “Lord Louth is a friend, sir, and he only pays me attention out of respect for you.”

  Her father settled on the end of his bed with a groan. “Nonsense. He’d make a fine husband.”

  Iris pressed her lips together. He might make a fine lover too except for his unwillingness. “He has no interest in matrimony.”

  “Sounds like a young woman I raised.” Her father regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Charm him and you’ll win his hand in the end.”

  “Father.” She laughed and cupped his face. When he got an idea in his head he was impossibly determined. “That is not what I will do. I will not throw myself at the only man who dares to ask me to dance.”

  Her father dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “Does his appearance offend you in some way?”

  Her eyes widened in astonishment. “No, of course not. He is a very agreeable and gentle man.” And attractive. Thinking of their kiss had lost her several hours of precious sleep last night. She’d tossed about so much, she’d needed to straighten her own bed this morning before the maids could come in.

  He smoothed his waistcoat, one that had seen better days, with one hand. “Oh well. Forget I mentioned the man.”

  Now that was impossible to do, and especially so after thoroughly kissing him yesterday. She could still feel his large hands pressing her body close to his, his taste in her mouth. The slight rasp of stubble had been a wicked surprise that she’d enjoyed too. She’d almost forget the trouble in her life just to have a chance to kiss him again.

  “What about Lord Ettington? I knew his uncle once.”

  And had offended the marquess’s uncle, the Duke of Exeter, rather thoroughly, too. “Ettington is married, Papa. Don’t you remember me telling you of his public displays of affection for his wife?” She patted his hand again. “Anyway, never mind your matchmaking attempts. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Her father reached into his trunk and removed a crumpled shirt from the low pile of clothing inside. “I lost a button.”

  Iris shook out the shirt and spread it over her lap. “This will take only a minute. Why don’t you tell me your news while I work?”

  She dug into her reticule for scissors, needle and thread, and a spare button she’d brought with her just in case of such a need, while her father related the details of recent events in the Marshalsea. His recounting, as always, included news from weeks ago too. Things she already knew. He spoke of them as if they had just happened and she didn’t care to upset him by reminding him of the passage of time between then and now. She just wanted to hear his voice and she was done with the shirt before he finished. She folded the garment neatly away in his trunk. “Perfect again.”

  Her father cleared his throat. “Iris, there is something I want to talk to you about.”

  “Of course, Papa.”

  He took her hands and stared into her face. “When you leave here today, I don’t want you to come back. It is too dangerous here for one so innocent as you.”

  Iris shook her head violently. “You cannot mean that.”

  “But I do.” He gripped her hands even tighter. “My daughter, I love you more than anything in the world and I never wished to drag you so low. You have a good situation with Lady Heathcote. You live in comfort, and have the respect of those you meet. You should do everything you can to protect your reputation.”

  She nodded numbly, having heard it all before and knowing he made sense in a way. However, she wasn’t innocent, and was buried so deep in muck she had no way out but to be ruined. “I will not leave you, and nothing you say will ever make me decide otherwise.”

  He turned away as if she’d not spoken. “While you can, you must use this opportunity to find a husband of means and save yourself.”

  “Father, I’m not going to abandon you. We discussed this. We can recover and find a little place to rent in the countryside. Won’t that be a nice change from London?” She dug into her reticule and removed the coins that Esme had pressed on her this morning. She placed them into his hand and folded his fingers over them. “I will have more, and soon.”

  Her father did not refuse the money but his expression told her he was not happy to take from her again. “My dear child, your heart is so large, but you must realize that you will never have enough to cover the debts unless you marry exceedingly well.”

  “Not this again. Please, Papa. I would not argue with you today about this. We have so little time left before I must return to Esme.”

  He touched the sleeve of her gown and rubbed the fine material between his fingers. “Consider it well, my dear. Seeing you like this, in gowns so fine and grand, makes sense. You belong among the ton.”

  She met his gaze. “We belong where we choose. Isn’t that what you’ve always told me?”

  “Then work toward making a good match for yourself. Yo
u deserve to be happy.”

  “I will be happy when you are free,” she assured him. Iris kissed his cheek as tears filled her eyes. Yes, a good marriage would solve many problems but no man would want to marry a thief’s accomplice. Being a mistress was entirely different. At least the situation would be honest and only ever about a little passion. She was sure no harm would come to her future protector if she were charged with a crime committed before their arrangement had begun.

  She kissed her father’s cheek again, fussed about him until it was time to depart for the three-mile trip back to Esme’s home, and when she took her leave, promising to return the next day, she thought her father might cry. He expected her to obey him and never return. She always would.

  Partway down the rickety stairs, she came face-to-face with the turnkey. “How dare you attack a lord?”

  “Toff should have stepped out of the way,” Fitzhugh grumbled but he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

  Iris punched her hands to her hips and glared. “I refuse to be a party to murder.”

  “Complaining won’t do you any good. He’ll never let you go. You do your part and I’ll do mine.”

  He glanced up at the barracks doorway where her father’s sad face looked down upon them and waved. “We’ll all pay in the end.”

  “You have to save my father,” she whispered. “You have to get him out of here. Please.”

  “Can’t even save myself. There ain’t no salvation for the fallen. There ain’t money enough to silence wagging tongues and hide him, not the way he carries on some days.” He trudged up the stairs, eased past her father and disappeared into the room.

  If Fitzhugh did ever escape Talbot’s influence, what then would become of her father if he were left here alone?

  He might not last a day.