Page 12 of The Scoundrel and the Lady

“I never said that. Contrary to popular belief, the Daily Scandal does not print every morsel of information we receive. Some situations are not that interesting to all parties.”

“I beg your pardon,” Forrester sputtered. “The loss of my family’s estate in a game of cards certainly warrants interest.”

Merritt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You cannot simultaneously be offended that I won’t print gossip about you and concerned that my doing so would start a scandal. Pick one stance or the other, Forrester,” Merritt said. “That right there is your fundamental problem. You want the best of every situation, which is impossible.”

Forrester cleared his throat and tugged on his waistcoat. “My wife would be most displeased if you printed anything about my recent financial woes.”

“Very well.” Merritt inclined his head slightly. “Please tell the Lady Forrester that her secret is safe with me.”

Forrester nodded tightly.

“You might want to find a new game,” Merritt said. “Losing your best stallion last autumn and now your family’s estate… It does seem that you have neither skill at cards nor the temperament necessary to walk away with your shirt. Good evening, Forrester.” And with that, Merritt strolled away. He didn’t immediately approach Iris’s group, though, as they were currently conversing with two other young ladies.

One of them, a tall and graceful beauty with fair hair, stood nearly at Iris’s height. The girl eyed Iris and her friends disdainfully. Merritt knew who she was but didn’t bother recalling her name. She was the very embodiment of why he didn’t want Lucy fully entrenched in Society. Girls like her would destroy his sister’s bright light, and he didn’t want that to happen.

The girl turned her attention to Iris’s friend, Harriet, whom Merritt knew to be the daughter of the late Duke of Lockwood. Harriet was a cheerful sort, round and pink and smiling the way most children were.

He inched closer to better hear the discussion.

“Well, I do hope that your poor mother is not losing too many funds buying the extra fabric required to make your gowns.” She looked down at Harriet.

“Her mother has plenty of funds,” Iris said, seemingly growing taller as she stepped ever so slightly closer to the offending woman.

“Perhaps.” The girl closed her eyes and tilted her head. “But you know, Harriet, if you happen to land yourself a husband, he might not be so generous. You could help your future husband out and skip luncheon a few times a week. That ought to help.”

Harriet’s smile melted from her face, but she steeled herself with a breath and a tilt of the head. But Iris was not done. “Any man in this room would be honored to marry Harriet. She is intelligent and kind and beautiful and generous, which is more than anyone could say about you, Belinda.”

The girl flinched then released a forced chuckle. “I don’t believe I see any of these would-be suitors clamoring for her attention.”

If there had ever been a moment for Merritt to step forward, now was that time. He hoped Iris would understand, though he suspected she wouldn’t.

He approached the ladies. “Lady Harriet, I do believe this is our waltz.”

Harriet stared up at him, bewildered, and Iris positively shuddered with gratitude. “Yes, Harriet, that’s right. Lord Ashby claimed this waltz.”

Harriet nodded absently but allowed Merritt to lead her out onto the crowded dance floor.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Harriet said beneath a blush.

“Dance with a beautiful woman? I believe that is precisely why I attend these ridiculous functions,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He turned her around the dance floor. “So, how is it that you know Lady Iris?”

She smiled genuinely. “We are in a social organization together. The Ladies of Virtue.”

He had heard that about Iris. “Ah yes, the do-gooders who donate funds and time to London charities for children, if I’m not mistaken.”

She looked surprised. “Precisely. I was not aware our reputation had reached so far.” She was quiet a moment, then added, “Iris is a dear friend. The best.”

Yes, she had been a good friend. She’d stood up to that wretched woman and defended Harriet, yet she still had an impeccable reputation as best he’d been able to determine.

Lady Iris. It was possible their meeting had been beneficial after all, and not merely a distraction. She was precisely the type of lady who could show Lucy how to survive amidst the gossip and cruelness that women like Belinda made an art form.

Convincing her might not be simple, though, so he needed a way to get her attention and convince her she needed to help him. He thought on her complaints about the articles. They could strike a bargain—if he passed her brother off as a gentleman, she might agree to teach Lucy. It was worth an effort, but discussing such matters was not for ballrooms. He’d have to pay a call.

“I don’t suppose I could persuade you to give me Lady Iris’s address? I should like to call upon her.”

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