by Heather Boyd
Iris couldn’t attend no matter how much she wished to. She couldn’t sit among these young women while they suspected others of her own misdeeds. Besides, mistresses were not good ton. No matter how kindly invited, she would do them all a disservice by socializing with them. But how to get out of it gracefully?
“Oh my, he’s here,” Miss Beasley stammered and hid herself behind Miss Quartermane.
Iris turned in time to see Lord Louth striding toward her party. Instant warmth flooded her face as he smiled and took her hand to squeeze it. “Forgive me for being late. Is this our dance?”
Her card was so bare she’d put it away long ago. A low murmur began at her back and she hated the sound of speculation. “Indeed, my lord.”
“Do excuse us, ladies.” Louth placed her hand on his arm and led her to the edge of the dance floor. “You look beautiful tonight. Good enough to eat, actually.”
She glanced up at him as her body trembled. “Am I expected to say thank you to that or should I suggest we skip the dancing for a more private location?”
“Privacy can come later. I want to dance with you first.”
His arms slipped around her as the strains of a slow waltz began. Iris bit her lip as she reacted strongly to his presence. He had been intimately acquainted with her body, his mouth and hands teasing her to ecstasy, and she craved his attention even worse than she’d ever imagined. However, she was being watched. Miss Beasley stared at her and Lord Louth, mouth agape. In the other direction, Mr. Talbot was regarding them with barely concealed hostility.
She forced her feet to follow Lord Louth’s lead, but stumbled as her mind drifted to what would happen when her part in the robberies was discovered. Humiliation was too mild a word for what Lord Louth would say. She was very glad when the dance ended and they rejoined her friends and the safety of conversation.
~ * ~
From his slightly higher vantage point in the Windermere ballroom, Martin reached the conclusion that Iris was not at ease with him anymore. It was several days since he’d last seen her and he’d hoped she might have missed him while they’d been apart. However, her right foot beat a constant cadence beneath her gown and she’d barely made eye contact with him since their dance. It was as if she couldn’t wait for him to leave her side.
Lady Heathcote, too, stared across the room with a constant frown and that worried him. The countess had initially been very happy to arrange to meet at tonight’s ball but her attention was clearly elsewhere. His intentions were honorable. As soon as he ran Alexander Hedley to ground, asked permission to marry his daughter, he was planning the largest celebration London had seen in many years.
He glanced at Iris, only to find her gaze darting away again.
Had he shocked her so greatly the other day when he’d pleasured her on the dining table of her chaperone’s home, and again on his lap? Had she changed her mind about him? Martin had no idea what had possessed him to get so carried away by lust that he’d almost taken her on top of Lady Heathcote’s dining table, but he hadn’t regretted it until now. It was clear she found no joy in his attention or presence.
Whitney joined him, having finished a set with young Mr. Easton. For the first time ever, she’d raised little fuss about attending Lord Windermere’s ball. She waved a fan before her face. “Such a lively party, cousin.”
Martin signaled a footman carrying a tray of punch and procured enough for her and everyone else. “I’m glad to see you’re having fun at last,” he told her.
“I enjoyed seeing you with a pretty woman on your arm and causing her to blush.” Whitney sighed. “I do approve.”
“Of what?”
“The imminent addition to the family.” She tapped his arm sagely. “I know what you’re up to.”
He caught Whitney’s gaze. The only addition might be the child he couldn’t bear to name. But that was not to what Whitney referred. She expected him to marry Iris and set up his nursery. “Don’t set the cart before the horse.”
“Of course not.” She winked. “I like her too much to ruin your chances.”
“Well that’s a relief.” And it was. Whitney frequently detested women so easily for a lack of intelligence and self-possession.
But he might have ruined his own chances. Acting on his baser instincts without proper thought to the likely awkwardness later had never occurred to him, but then again, he’d only ever dabbled with experienced women before. He should have waited until he had her father’s permission and the banns had been read at least, before continuing with lessons. It had seemed in her best interests to prove his intent that day.
He glanced away from his cousin. Iris met his gaze at last as she sipped her punch, but her expression was troubled. He craved the sweet sound of her passion and her easy smiles. It was also very hard to forget that look in her eyes as her desire peaked, and his hope to see her come apart again and again in his arms. He excused himself from Whitney and moved around the group to her side. “Are you not enjoying the evening?”
“A slight headache. Nothing to worry about.”
“Would you care to sit? We could find somewhere quiet to rest awhile.”
She looked up at him. “I would like that very much, but then tongues would really wag if we linger too long in each other’s company.”
“True, unfortunately.” He’d like nothing better than to get her alone, but having her draped across his knee at a ball wasn’t likely to preserve her reputation.
Iris sighed. “They will talk anyway about you singling me out, given my situation. You should ask Miss Quartermane or Miss Beasley to dance so the gossips have nothing to consider.”
Martin shook his head as irritation gripped him. Propriety be damned. After making a few discreet inquiries, he’d learned a little more of Iris’s life. Her so-called closest friends had dropped her acquaintance as fast as they possibly could after her father’s indebtedness had been revealed. Once her engagement to Lord Grindlewood had ended too, she had been rudely snubbed. It was no wonder she’d believed herself a poor candidate for marriage. He wasn’t leaving her side tonight to dance with someone who didn’t interest him in the slightest. “I need only dance with you.”
Desire to kiss her into a happier frame of mind grew and he eased closer to her side until her arm touched his. It was a comfort to stand beside a woman and know that tomorrow, or the next day, or the next, she might always be there.
Across the room, an older woman with silver hair waved her fingers in his direction. Martin didn’t recognize her and looked to Iris for information.
“Lady Catherine Berry,” Iris supplied. “She’s great fun and not at all high in the instep.”
“Ah,” Martin said, nodding to Lady Berry. “She has a daughter, if I recall.”
“Angela. She was a good friend of mine once.”
“Was?”
“Not everything can remain as we would hope it will. Only her mother acknowledges me now.” Iris fluttered her fan before her face. “Those pesky consequences I spoke of to Whitney have a way of ending friendships.”
Martin glanced across the room again, frowning. When he married Iris, he would ensure a great many wrongs done to her would be corrected.
As they stood together, Iris kept up her stream of information. She seemed to know everyone he did not and that pleased him. Their marriage would gain them much if only he could hide the existence of his daughter. He was worried about how she might take the news and he still had no idea what should be done with the child. He’d always believed total honesty had its places but perhaps not before they wed. He acquired two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter for Iris and himself.
Iris refused hers. “It is not wise for you to single me out like this, my lord.”
“Possibly so but I hate to deny you the pleasure. Do take it.”
She accepted but it was grudgingly done. “Are you going to be a bossy protector too?”
“What?” He stared at her in shock. Surely she realized he’
d offered her marriage rather than the disrespect of a scandalous liaison?
“There you are at last,” a woman exclaimed from his left, and Martin turned quickly to see who had interrupted.
“Mrs. Ward?” It was a relief to see Helena Ward and not someone else. He took her offered hand in his and squeezed her fingers. “What an astonishing surprise to see you returned to London.”
“It’s been far too long since I’ve laid eyes on you too.” She drew close and licked her lips in a way that had once tortured him when they’d been lovers. Now, however, only a pleasant memory stirred. “I arrived in Town only last week. The house has been at sixes and sevens. But I would always open my doors for you.”
Her eyes flickered past his shoulder. “Do we know each other, madam?”
Martin turned to find Iris watching his conversation with Helena through narrowed eyes. “No. I am a friend of Lady Heathcote’s.”
“And mine,” Whitney piped up, slipping her arm through Iris’s affectionately. “Do excuse us. I see some friends I wish to introduce Iris to.”
Martin was grateful, even if Whitney scowled at him severely.
Embarrassment filled Martin. If he had found Alexander Hedley already she would have described herself as his betrothed. He couldn’t fathom how no one had news of him. “Miss Hedley is a very good friend of mine.”
“Well, you do have many friends. So that is your cousin, I take it,” Helena remarked, overlooking Iris’s importance to him. “I recognize her by the red hair and hostile gaze you described so well when we were together, but she is much prettier than you led me to believe,” Helena said with an amused shake of her head.
“That’s the one.” Martin grimaced. “What brings you back to London?”
“You.” She laughed a touch nervously before linking arms with his and forcing him to walk with her. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Oh?” He couldn’t fathom what she could suggest. It had been a long time since they’d had anything to do with each other. Helena had married well, moved to the seaside and gotten on with her life. He hadn’t pined for her company.
She smiled up at him warmly. “I find myself in need of a protector.”
Martin stepped back from her in surprise. “I am flattered, madam, but I cannot oblige you.”
She looked crestfallen. “Wardie left me next to nothing to live on. As soon as I came back to London there were strange men calling on me, demanding payment. I cannot afford these debts.”
Alarmed, he caught her arm and began walking the room with her again. “Mr. Ward must have died three years ago. What sort of fellows are coming around?”
“Shopkeepers for the most part. They just don’t have any patience to listen to reason.”
Martin sighed. “The debts have nothing to do with expenses incurred while Mr. Ward lived, do they?”
She had the wisdom to appear shamefaced. “If he’d provided better for me, I would not have this concern.
“Living beyond your means is no excuse.” However, he couldn’t abandon a friend. “I’ll send my man of business to you to assess the problem and intercede with these men on your behalf.”
She clutched his hand tight. “Oh, I knew you would still love me after all this time.”
Martin quickly retrieved his hand. Helena was an exuberant creature but he certainly did not love her. He would not like her to misunderstand his intent. “Mr. Barker will be the one to help you sort through this mess this time but you must promise to curb your impulsive habits.”
“I will. I promise.”
Somewhat relieved, Martin looked for Iris and found her and Whitney surrounded by laughing gentlemen, including Mr. Charles Talbot. Martin liked him no more tonight that he had in the park. The fellow stood too close to his Iris for Martin’s liking. His appreciative smile made Martin’s fists clench. He glanced at Mrs. Ward one last time. “Do excuse me.”
He hurried toward Iris.
Talbot leaned closer still. “Miss Hedley? Might I claim a dance if you have one free?”
“I believe Miss Hedley agreed to take a turn about the room with me,” Martin interrupted rudely. He caught Iris’s hand and tugged her against his side. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, my dear. Come along.”
Color filled her face and she dug her heels in a short distance away. “My head aches.”
Martin scowled at her blatant lie. “The pain could not be too great or you would not have been laughing so heartily with that scoundrel.”
“But it is now.” She freed herself from his grip. “I should like to find Esme and go home.”
The refusal irritated Martin. “I had intended to dance with you again tonight.”
Iris gasped and then ducked behind him, using him as a shield.
Martin quickly scanned the crowd to see what had startled her, and his gaze snagged on a familiar figure across the room. Lord Grindlewood had arrived, smiling and waving to friends. The very man Iris had been betrothed to years ago. And he was in the company of Lady Heathcote. He bent his head to the countess as she whispered in his ear. His head shot up and Grindlewood scanned the crowd. Martin earned a scowl but then the man’s attention moved on restlessly. Was he looking for Iris?
Martin discreetly glanced behind him only to discover that Iris had vanished, abandoning him upon seeing her handsome and slightly built former betrothed.
That was not a good start to their life together.
Ten
Society gossip sheets had once described Iris an incomparable. A diamond. The best the season could have offered were she not already engaged to marry a viscount. The rest of society had called her undeserving behind her back, and there had been quiet joy in many households when she’d broken her engagement to Lord Grindlewood on account of her lost dowry. At the time she’d made her debut, she’d not understood her father’s money had been all the appeal she’d possessed. She had laughed and smiled and believed her future to be set. Once her father’s fortune was gone, her dowry used for another purpose, she had fallen far from society’s good graces. She’d assumed that to be the worst sort of pain imaginable. A fall she’d never anticipated and that she could do nothing about.
Tonight she’d rediscovered a new kind of pain.
Insane jealousy.
It was very clear to her that the woman who’d captured Lord Louth’s attention in the ballroom had a romantic history with him. By the way her eyes had devoured the earl, she was positive they’d been intimate. Much more intimate than she’d been allowed so far, and it wasn’t fair. She had given the earl every opportunity.
Iris leaned against the stone wall of Lord Windermere’s townhouse, shielding her feelings from view in the dark, and lightly thumped her head against the building behind her. She had always pitied the woman possessed of irrational hatred for women their men admired. If she had any kind of dignity, she would not have run away from Lord Louth at the first sign of competition. She was weak, spineless, and she despised those qualities in herself.
She pressed her fingers to her temple to alleviate the pain in her head as it intensified. She had made herself sick worrying if Louth would regret his decision to become her protector. Even more so than the fear someone would guess she was the robber’s spy in society. Iris had been an invited guest to every single victim’s home, and she was poor. Even she would suspect herself. Miss Quartermane was far too astute for her comfort and she feared where the girl’s speculation would lead her next. If Miss Quartermane and her friends watched Iris closely, she would undoubtedly be exposed as an accomplice.
Seeing Lord Grindlewood again was the final straw. Her stomach had twisted into painful knots at the sight of Ethan’s smiling face. He knew far too much about her real situation with her father for comfort. Her breath wouldn’t come easily, so rather than risk fainting in the ballroom and drawing attention, she’d fled for fresher air on the terrace.
Those disturbing fears had passed the moment she was no longer standing in the same room with G
rindlewood, Louth, or that overdressed harpy pawing at her lover. She slapped her hand over her mouth, shocked by her mean thoughts for a woman she didn’t know the least about.
“Are you hiding from me?”
Ethan Hoganmire, Viscount Grindlewood, emerged slowly from the gloom, an angry expression growing on his face. Marrying this man had once been her heart’s desire but now she felt uncomfortable around him. They’d talked of having children together, of visiting his southern estate during the long summers, but that life would never be.
She stared into his handsome face as calmly as she could manage. “No, Ethan. I would never do that to you.”
“I know you well enough to see you are upset.” He paused within reach and searched her face. “Don’t deny it. Has someone been cruel to you again?”
Iris winced at how far off the mark he’d landed. He had known her once, but he didn’t understand she played a part in the robberies plaguing society. She was the cruel party in this affair, pretending to be a friend while secretly hurting the hosts by setting them up to be robbed later that night. “Everyone has been perfectly pleasant tonight. There’s nothing to worry yourself over.”
“But you ran away at the very moment I arrived. Did you fear I will spoil your chances by making a scene, and reminding society we were once a pair?” He glanced away briefly. “If you did, I will make this quick and leave you alone before I’m noticed. Are you otherwise well, Iris? How is your father faring?”
“We are much the same.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Lady Heathcote tells me Lord Louth has become quite attentive and hinted there was a secret understanding between you.”
“It is not like that.” Despair filled her because it truly was like that. She’d promised Louth to keep their relationship a secret, but it wouldn’t stay that way forever. She just hadn’t imagined having to explain her eventual fall to the man she’d almost married. Louth, for all his physical appeal, was a means to an end. A way to get free of Talbot’s demands. “He has always been a friend of mine and of my father’s.”