Page 25 of The Scoundrel and the Lady

He’d worked too hard and too long to allow some innocent miss to derail him by persuading him she wasn’t like the rest of the aristocracy. She had even said herself that he hadn’t kissed many genteel ladies. She knew they weren’t the same, she and him. If he allowed himself to believe she wasn’t as conniving and scheming as the rest of them, he’d make other concessions, and soon he’d find himself fully entrenched in Society, considering those arrogant bastards to be friends of his.

No, Iris was far too dangerous for him. He’d simply have to find another lady willing to tutor Lucy. Certainly he could find a gentle-born lady in need of funds that he could pay handsomely to do the task. Perhaps Iris would provide him with a recommendation.

The rig stopped, and he glared at the sky when he stepped outside. Everything was dry, though the moon peeked in and out of the heavy clouds overhead. Rain would be here soon, but he couldn’t stand out here and wait. His neighbors already eyed him as if he’d offed the previous earl himself to snatch the title. He couldn’t feed their suspicions while punishing himself for taking liberties with a lady.

He’d have to be satisfied with going to bed frustrated and still heavy with desire. He’d no sooner resigned himself to that fact than he was bombarded by his sister, bounding into the corridor.

“Merritt, you are finally home,” Lucy said.

“Indeed.” He’d hoped she would already be asleep so he could think on what to tell her, how to break it to her that he’d cancelled the arrangement with Lady Iris and it would take a while longer for her instruction to begin. But here she was, looking as hopeful and excited as ever. He wondered where she got such a zest for life, such an optimistic view of the world; it certainly hadn’t been from either of their parents. His father had been jaded. He’d worked hard to amass a nice fortune for his family and been angered that people still looked down upon them because of their status.

His mother had not been enchanted by Society the way Lucy seemed to be; instead, she had feared the upper classes. Every visit they’d made to his uncle, the former Earl of Ashby, his mother had trembled and fumbled with her manners, trying desperately to get things correct and not embarrass herself. His father had never attended with them, stating that he was far too busy to kiss the earl’s arrogant arse.

“Did you go anywhere exciting this evening?” Lucy asked.

“Not particularly.” He rid himself of his coat, handing it to their butler. “Thank you, Jackson.”

Lucy twirled as if dancing with an imaginary suitor. “I am so looking forward to tomorrow. What do you suppose she’ll teach me first? I do hope it’s dancing.” She clapped her hands together in anticipation. “I am so excited to be working with a true lady.”

“Yes, about tomorrow…”

She frowned at the tone of his voice, then she brought her hands to her mouth. “What happened? She believes me a lost cause?”

He exhaled slowly. He couldn’t bear to disappoint her. “No, of course not. She said to be there at promptly two o’clock.” He’d have to send a notice to Lady Iris informing her that their agreement was still in place. And in the meantime, he’d have to figure out a way to stop wanting her. Or, at the least, to keep his hands off her.

Lucy kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Merritt. You are the very best.”

…

Iris pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut.

Was the sun normally this bright in the morning? She was on her second cup of tea, but so far it didn’t seem to be helping. She’d have preferred to stay abed for a while longer, at least until this dreadful feeling ceased. But she’d received a note from Agnes and Harriet confirming that they’d be there for luncheon so they could discuss Lucinda’s instruction.

She would do her best to be amiable to her friends, but it was challenging today. She’d already sent one maid scurrying when she’d yelled after the girl had tried to open the curtains. The sunlight had felt like sharp knives going straight into her eyes. She would have closed them and lain back on the settee if her friends hadn’t chosen that precise moment to burst through the doors.

“It is a glorious day,” Harriet said loudly.

Iris winced.

“Oh dear,” Agnes said. “Are you ill?”

Harriet stopped mid-stride and considered Iris. “You look positively dreadful.”

“Thank you. You are the dearest of friends,” Iris said. Then she shook her head. “No, I am not ill. It would seem I imbibed too much last night.”

Harriet nearly ran to her and sat adjacent to the settee in a gold-hued upholstered chair. “Do tell.”

Iris closed her eyes, shook her head, but stopped immediately when the movement made her feel as if her eyeballs might rupture. “Instructions on how to be a gentleman. Evidently I cannot hold my liquor.”

“Well, you are tall for a lady but certainly not as large as most men,” Agnes said. “Perhaps next time merely sip slower.”

Iris glared at her friend. Why must she always be so bloody practical?

“Excellent advice,” Harriet said. “The note you sent yesterday seemed most eager.”

“I sent the notes prematurely it would seem.” Iris shook her head. “I believe I must have offended Lord Ashby last night. He left in quite the rush and seemed rather annoyed. As he was leaving, he said that our arrangement could not continue.” She massaged her temples and closed her eyes.

“You do not require our assistance today?” Agnes asked.

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