Page 33 of The Scoundrel and the Lady

She released a chortle, but she suspected he knew that it wasn’t authentic. Unless he specifically asked, she would not volunteer that no one had ever even sought to court her.

“I am rather excited about this evening and our little excursion,” she said softly, hoping to change the subject. That was likely where her excitement came from. It wasn’t about the warmth of his hand at the small of her back, or the way their ungloved fingers fit so well together. It was about her donning her trousers and posing as a man. “Where are we going?”

“Benedict’s,” he said. “It’s a gaming club.”

“I’m familiar.”

His brow rose. “Indeed?”

“Only by reputation, not by experience, obviously.”

“Are you able to ready yourself, or do I need to assist?”

It was a legitimate question, but the heat in his eyes seemed to hit her right at her core. Warmth spread through her legs. She swallowed. “I can manage. I should think Harriet will be able to help me.”

“I’ll pick you up at a quarter to nine. If we go much later than that, it will be too populated with men that likely know you.” His blue eyes met hers. “We don’t want to ruin you.”

All of her life, Iris had played by the rules. Done the expected thing. The right thing.

She had never questioned what was expected of her: take care of her mother, raise her brother, manage the estate…until Merritt.

Now, for the first time in her life, she was breaking the rules. For the first time, she was wondering if being ruined would be such a bad thing.

Stepping into Benedict’s was like entering one of Dante’s lower circles of hell. There was sinful behavior everywhere she looked. Excitement surged through Iris, and she did her best to stop smiling, but it was a challenge. Men did not smile this much. If she was going to pass herself as a man, she needed to aim for the jaded disinterest that Jasper so often radiated.She couldn’t afford to reveal herself on this excursion.

When they entered the gaming hell,Merritt walked slightly in front of her, and it seemed a hush fell over the entire club. Fear rocketed through her. Was she so recognizable? Precisely what would she do if she were ruined? Perhaps she’d travel and write her book under a pseudonym and try her best to ignore her brother’s dastardly behavior.

“Good evening, Lord Ashby,” one man said, bowing slightly to Merritt.

Merritt nodded to the man but kept walking.

One after another, the men greeted him, some by name, some merely a nod of the head. Slowly, it dawned on her that it was not she that the people were staring at; it was Merritt. The hush that had fallen over the club was not one of suspicion and outrage, but of respect and awe.Warmth spread through her, and something very akin to pride blossomed in her chest. Though, she had no reason to feel proud—he certainly wasn’t her man. Yet, it pleased her that his mere presence warranted such esteem from the men around him. He might not think much of them, but the men here obviously thought quite highly of him.

Recognizing that no one had given her a second look, she relaxed somewhat. The walls were covered in heavy wood paneling, giving the vast space an immediate feeling of opulence. This was only accented by the numerous crystal chandeliers shimmering over each of the gaming tables. A second story ringed the first, where small tables offered seats for drinking and smoking and provided views of all the games. She had always wondered what a gaming hell would look like. She had imagined a poorly-lit, grimy hovel, not this elegant exclusivity.

She knew it meant Merritt would win this wager between them, but somewhere during this endeavor, masquerading as a gentleman had become a challenge for her. Even if she lost the wager, she could not bring herself to regret this adventure. Perhaps it was merely an excuse to misbehave, to take a short break from her very orderly life. So, she supposed that meant she would win, too, in a way.

None of that helped Jasper. She feared she’d lost sight of him in the midst of this foolish wager, but she would think of a way to fix that on the morrow. Tonight, she was to play the part of John Benford, new to London and a new employee at Lord Ashby’s paper, the Daily Scandal.

“If you continue in such a manner, everyone in the room will know you’re a lady,” Merritt’s voice sliced through her distraction.

“What am I doing?” she asked.

“Practically bouncing with excitement.”

She closed her eyes and took a cleansing breath. She could do this. It was no different than being on a Ladies of Virtue assignment where she must appear to be doing one thing while in truth doing something entirely different.

“Better,” he said. “Do you remember what I said about the rules in faro?”

“Yes. I am not daft.”

His lips twitched, but he did not smile. “No, I don’t suppose you are.”

A young gentleman, probably Jasper’s age, approached Merritt. “Lord Ashby, I hoped to have a word with you about an investment.”

Merritt nodded. “I’m afraid this evening is reserved for pleasure.” He withdrew a card from his coat pocket and handed it to the man. “If you come by my offices on the morrow, I shall entertain your offer.”

The boy’s lips spread wide in a grin, and he pumped Merritt’s hand in appreciation then stepped away.

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