Page 45 of The Scoundrel and the Lady

Chapter Ten

Merritt awoke, and his first thoughts were of the lovely, flame-haired Iris Bennington. They had succeeded last night. She had been perfect, in the theater and in the carriage afterward. He’d had to put a stop to the kissing because he’d wanted more. Craved more. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted a woman more.

His second thoughts were that today Lady X’s story would run in his paper. He was thankful that Iris did not read his newspaper. That alone should concern him, that he’d even care if she saw it or not. That was his business, his duty to report on stories that would capture the attention of London’s elite.

He made his way down to the smaller dining room they used for breakfast. The room already smelled of eggs and butter and warm bread. His stomach rumbled in response. He idly made himself a plate and poured a cup of tea, then sat at the table.

Iris was out of his class, if you measured merely by birth. But he was an earl now, which meant that in the eyes of Society, they could be a match. Marriage? Was that what he was truly thinking about? Lucy had mentioned it, but he doubted very much that Iris would say yes to a proposal from him. But there were worst things he could think of than waking up to find Iris pressed against him every morning.

Lucy walked in and smiled brightly at him. “Good morning, brother.”

“Lucy,” he said with a nod.

She fixed her plate, and Merritt couldn’t help but notice her transformation. She was more poised, more confident, yet she was still his bright and happy sister. Iris had certainly followed through on her end of the bargain.

Granted, now that the wager had been completed, where did that leave them? She might well choose to end their alliance now that she’d gotten from him what she wanted. The thought of not seeing Iris, not spending time with her, left him feeling incomplete, as if he’d forgotten to put on all his clothes.

“How was the theater?” Lucy asked as she took her seat.

“It was as good as could be expected.” He took a sip of tea. “You went out as well, did you not?”

“Yes, I attended the Barker’s soiree with Ladies Harriet and Agnes. We had a delightful time. I danced with Lord Hendricks again.” A blush stained her cheeks at the mention of his name.

Hopefully, this Lord Hendricks would pay Merritt a visit soon, else he’d have to stop dancing with Lucy.

Merritt had barely finished his first cup of tea when a footman came in with a message. Merritt lifted the envelope off the tray and dismissed the servant. The penmanship was unfamiliar, as was the nondescript wax seal.

He lifted the blue wax and popped the envelope open, unfolding the note inside.

Lord Ashby,

It would seem you have a secret. I saw you last night at the theater with your special guest. A young man new to the city, perhaps? Some might have believed that, but I know the truth. That “young man” was none other than the proper Lady Iris Bennington in disguise. Her reputation is teetering on the edge of ruin. In order to protect your secret, you must pay me fifty pounds by midnight two nights hence. I look forward to hearing back from you. Please send all correspondence to the address below.

Yours,

Secret Keeper

Merritt swore. Someone had recognized her. But how?

“Whatever is the matter?” Lucy asked.

Merritt offered Lucy a smile. “’Tis newspaper business, my dear. Nothing you need worry about.”

Something had to be done. He couldn’t stand by and allow Iris’s reputation to be destroyed, especially with all the assistance she’d provided his sister. He needed to find out the identity of this secret keeper and put a stop to this. But that might not guarantee Iris’s reputation would remain intact. She had no father or uncles to offer her protection, and he knew her brother couldn’t accomplish anything. He could, though, protect her with his name.

He’d have to marry her. Though he’d sworn he’d never marry a woman from Society, he’d have to make an exception for Iris because he’d ruined her. Somehow, though, he knew she wouldn’t agree to marriage for such a reason.

He’d have to give her no choice in the matter. He would seduce her. Then she’d have to agree to marry him. If all went well, she might never have to know about this blackmail ordeal.

…

This entire ordeal had been pointless.

That she’d successfully proven she could pose as a gentleman only supported Merritt’s argument, not her own. Even with him putting a stop to the articles, it seemed the damage had been done, since her brother was still staying out too late and drinking too much. Merritt had told her that it had little to do with the words from the articles and everything to do with Jasper’s character, but she refused to believe that. She knew Jasper, the little boy who’d clung so tightly to her when their mother had died.

In the carriage ride home, she’d made an absolute fool of herself with Merritt. Her brazen attempt to persuade him to kiss her had been transparent and humiliating. He’d told her during the play that affection had nothing to do with physical pleasures. He’d been unwilling to give her either, as he’d quickly pushed her aside once the carriage stopped.

Had all his flirtation and kindness been nothing but an act to win the wager? He’d needed her assistance with his sister, and so he’d played a ruse to get her to help Lucy. She’d done that, and she’d been played the fool.

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