An Improper Proposal (The Distinguished Rogues Book 6)

by Heather Boyd

  “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.”

  Iris held the babe a little closer against her chest and swept her fingers across the soft dark hair. No wonder Louth believed they wouldn’t suit. Why he didn’t want her to become pregnant with his child. He feared she’d not survive a birth. He blamed himself. “I never suspected he had a proper reason for his hesitation.”

  Mrs. Hughes wrung her hands. “He has been very concerned for how this situation would impact his cousin’s chances of making a match.”

  “Yes, of course.” But that wasn’t what she had meant. He’d said he didn’t want to lose her.

  “Not to mention protecting his own reputation, I should think.” Esme held her hand out for the child. “Well, I think that settles that.”

  Mrs. Hughes appeared embarrassed. “It wasn’t his fault. My mistress concealed the pregnancy from him. He would have married her I think.”

  That explained a great deal of his behavior, especially his dislike of her intentions to become a mistress. He knew first hand the problems she might have faced. She was holding the one complication he’d harped on about the most. “You are wrong Esme.”

  Her friend met her gaze, her expression startled. “You know what society will say of the girl’s existence better than anyone. If you thought your father’s bad decisions made your life difficult, imagine hers if you can when she is old enough to understand.”

  “Yes,” Iris sighed and rocked the child, noting she was falling asleep in her arms. “She’ll be a pariah, sneered at behind her back.”

  Mr
s. Hughes clucked her tongue and stretched out her arms for the babe. “Her father will take care of her needs. I should return her to bed. She prefers a routine.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hughes.” She grazed the girl’s cheek with her fingertip before reluctantly handing her over to the housekeeper. “I mean her no harm, but I think it would be best if you did not mention my visit to Lord Louth for the time being.”

  The housekeeper glanced at her suspiciously. “Why is that? Why shouldn’t he know?”

  “It should have remained his secret to tell me when he was ready.”

  When she met Esme’s gaze, her friend shrugged. “I wanted to protect you.”

  She smiled sadly. Esme didn’t want her to be fooled but it was too late to spare her now. “I love you for it but this isn’t the way.”

  Mrs. Hughes glanced between them and nodded slowly. “I will conceal your visit for the time being.”

  “I appreciate that.” Iris watched the child go with a heavy heart. She’d never suspected Louth of having a child. She had actually begun to wonder if he disliked them. Either way the child would suffer. Children always did.

  She turned for the door blindly as tears filled her eyes. “I’d like to leave if you don’t mind. I have to think.”

  Eighteen

  After only five minutes waiting inside the Marshalsea Prison, Martin’s skin crawled. This was no place for any man, woman or child to be for any length of time. He was appalled that Iris had come here every day to see her father. He was also furious that Alexander Hedley had allowed it.

  Despite the likelihood of social ruin, he hadn’t been able to walk away from the woman he loved. They hadn’t spoken since the dinner at Ettington’s and the robbery had apparently gone off without a hitch. When he’d paid a call on her the next afternoon in the hope of discussing her part in the illegal activities, he’d been informed she was indisposed for callers and requested to return in a few days’ time. The time apart had made him impatient and equally worried about how she fared.

  A whispery trail of fog and wood smoke clung to the eaves of the brick barracks before him where the indebted of London waited out their penance for making the mistake of having no funds to pay their way. A mean place, not one measure of elegance or beauty within the cobblestone yard he paced. He was sure that he’d made the correct decision to come here. It frustrated him to think he’d not heard of this travesty sooner.

  He ignored the glances of the curious inmates while he waited for the turnkey to fetch Alexander Hedley from the room he shared high up the barracks block. It had taken him considerably more time than he’d first anticipated to settle Mr. Hedley’s debts in full to everyone’s satisfaction. Each debtor had to be found, negotiated with and appeased, and then forced to sign letters that extinguished Mr. Hedley’s debt to them.

  The last one had proved almost unwilling to meet with him to discuss the matter of settlement, and for no good reason Martin could see. Only explaining his intention to marry Iris had secured Mr. Talbot’s untidy scrawl. The man had seemed very pleased to hear she would become a countess.

  At his side, a groom fidgeted, clearly uneasy with his presence in the Marshalsea. “Shall I have the carriage take another turn, my lord?”

  “No.” He wanted to make sure that when Hedley finally came to him, he could whisk the poor fellow out of here as soon as possible.

  Voices grew louder as rushed footsteps echoed off the building around him and he sharpened his gaze on the far staircase. Martin had not attempted to meet with Mr. Hedley himself until this very moment. He hadn’t wanted to make the man anxious about his release in case the resolution of the debts proved protracted.

  Mr. Fitzhugh, the turnkey of the prison, was followed by a small man Martin barely recognized as Alexander. Grayed, overlong hair, sideburns untrimmed, ill-fitting clothes that marked the man had lost weight since coming to live here. Martin had imagined incarceration would have changed Hedley, but not make him appear so much older. Despite his concern, he smiled broadly, stepped forward and extended his hand. “Mr. Hedley. So good to see you again.”

  The little man looked up as he shook it. “It is you? I thought the turnkey was having a lark.”

  “Not at all.” He glanced about for luggage. The turnkey’s assistant carried a single wooden trunk. Not even a hat on Hedley’s head and no gloves to be seen about him. Was that all Hedley possessed? Fearing it was so, he gestured the groom forward to collect the trunk and the man easily balanced it on his shoulder as if it weighed nothing. The groom marched smartly for the gate and the waiting carriage.

  “We can be on our way now.”

  Hedley looked to the turnkey for permission leave. “You’ll give my best to the committee when you see them next?”

  The turnkey, a man who had seemed genuinely puzzled to be rid of Hedley when Martin had first arrived, nodded. “Farewell, Mr. Hedley. Conversation will grow dull in your absence but that’s for the best now I’m sure. Say goodbye to your pretty daughter for me. Tell her to take care of herself.”

  The assistant rushed for the gate and let the groom out.

  When the door swung wide, Martin strode for freedom too. He had the overwhelming urge to return home to bathe. His skin prickled with an itch he didn’t like.

  Hedley seemed slower to follow and by the time Martin was at the closed carriage doorway, the man was only just sticking his head out the portal. His eyes were a little wild as he glanced around the busy roadway. Perhaps the surprise hadn’t been such a grand idea after all.

  Martin smiled again. “Come, Hedley. Your daughter is waiting.”

  At the mention of Iris, the little man hurried forward. “Yes, my daughter. Is she well? I have not seen her for so long.”

  “I believe so, but she will be happier once she knows you are far from here.” Hedley climbed in and Martin followed. “I never mentioned my errand. I thought surprise was best all around.”

  Hedley licked his lips and glanced around the carriage interior. He carefully caressed the blue-velvet cushioned bench he sat on. “Why have you done this? What do you want?”

  “Because it was the wise thing to do.” Martin tapped on the roof and had the driver move off. He placed his hat on his knee. “I had no idea you were incarcerated until the Duke of Exeter explained your situation.”

  The old man rubbed his thigh. “I told my daughter not to mention me.”

  “I wish she had. I thought something was wrong when she would not speak of you. I would have ensured your release much sooner had I known the truth.”

  Hedley sucked in a sharp breath and glanced down. He seemed to shrink in size even further, and it wasn’t until his shoulders shook that Martin realized his emotions were overset. The man was crying and trying to hide it. Martin glanced out the window and did his best not to notice while Hedley collected himself. A few sniffs later, Martin dug into his pocket, retrieved a handkerchief and passed it to the other man as it appeared he had none about him. Next to Hedley’s yellowed linen shirt and dark hands, the handkerchief seemed shockingly clean and bright.

  Martin glanced away. Hedley needed the help of a valet, and soon. A faint musty odor permeated the carriage. The scent of stale sweat and fear. “We should discuss your situation.”

  “Yes, of course. I shall repay you, my lord. I promise. As soon as possible.”

  “Think nothing of that for now.” Martin shrugged. “What I need most is your daughter, sir.”

  The older man peeked at him through red-rimmed eyes. “Iris is a good girl.”

  “And it is my intention to marry her.” He took in Hedley’s gaunt face and watery eyes. He would offer the man refuge for the foreseeable future. Hedley was too weak to be alone and unprotected until the robbery business was concluded. Iris would fret if her father lived anywhere else but close to her, and with good reason. He needed a month of tender care and more than a few solid meals under his belt before he would look healthy again. “I should like you to be my guest for what remain
s of your life, sir.”

  Hedley’s mouth fell open. “A guest?”

  Martin nodded. “There is plenty of room at Holly House that it shall be no trouble for anyone. Undoubtedly your daughter will want to see you every day, now that you have your freedom returned. Her happiness means the world to me. Staying as my guest will barely cause a ripple, I assure you.”

  Hedley smoothed his hand down a muddy-brown waistcoat that had seen better days and did not immediately jump to accept. “I should discuss the matter with my daughter first. It will be strange to us for me to be your guest while she lives at home.”

  He frowned. “Iris will make her home with me when we marry.”

  “Yes, of course. You were going to marry her. That’s right.” Hedley nodded slowly but he looked confused. “She is young of course but that is beside the point.

  “You’ll have to stay in my home tonight without her, of course. It’s far too late to disturb Mr. Manning to perform the marriage ceremony but I do have a license. I thought we could discuss her settlement in the morning after you’ve rested.” He peered through the window to check their location. “Not too long now. I sent a servant ahead to Holly House to have a bedchamber prepared for your arrival. Your daughter will be completely surprised at seeing you tomorrow.”

  Hedley swallowed. “You go to too much trouble.”

  “Nonsense. I am merely repaying my debt to you. Where would I be, if not for your wisdom?”

  At that, the older man winced and glanced down. “Not so wise if I ended up where I did and my daughter forced to live without me.”

  “Lady Heathcote was a suitable chaperone, I assure you.” Holly House loomed. Martin saw no point in addressing the issue of the robberies with Hedley. He would not broach the subject until Iris was his wife, and then only if she agreed and was present to defend herself. “As for your daughter, she has handled her reduced circumstances with a grace many ladies do not manage under less trying conditions.”

  Hedley smiled but it seemed a touch wary to Martin. As the carriage stopped, he was grateful to step outside and escape to fresher air.