Page 58 of The Scoundrel and the Lady

“And I am meeting a friend here later,” Jasper said with a shrug. “I don’t want to quit playing cards. I enjoy it. But I’m not very skilled. He has agreed to tutor me in some strategy.”

Merritt suppressed a grin. “That seems like an excellent idea.”

“You want to marry my sister?” Jasper asked.

“I do.”

“Why?”

“She is delightful. Unlike other women in so many ways.”

“I know all about Iris’s virtues. I’ve heard about them my entire life. Everyone I encounter likes to regale me with all of Iris’s wonderful qualities. She’s the perfect sister,” Jasper said.

It was then that Merritt realized with clarity that Jasper felt inferior to his sister. His reckless behavior likely had much to do with that. Since he didn’t feel as if he could compete with Iris’s accomplishments, he excelled at other activities, namely ones she couldn’t participate in. Or at least shouldn’t. Merritt felt a stab of guilt at the paces he’d put her through with the drinking and trousers.

“I love her,” he said.

“How could you not? Iris is…Iris,” Jasper said with a genuine grin. “She’s hard not to love.”

“Indeed. I do hope I can count on your secrecy with this. I have much to do before I can propose to her again.”

“Again?” Jasper asked.

“She’s already turned me down. Twice.”

Jasper released a hearty laugh. “You are certain she will have you?”

“Yes, I believe I’ve finally figured it all out. Women are complicated.”

“I would clink your glass on that, but alas, I have none.”

“What do you normally drink?” Merritt asked.

“Ale.”

“You should try scotch. It goes down much slower. Harder to overindulge.”

Jasper nodded. “I suppose I should welcome you to the family.”

“Not yet, but soon. Hopefully very soon.”

They talked for another quarter of an hour, and for the first time since Merritt had met Lord Nickerson, he felt certain that, should the young man put forth effort, he’d be able to live a more subdued life. One that would not terrify his sister. One that could make her proud.

Now Merritt was on to his next errand—to pay a visit to one of Iris’s closest friends, Harriet Wheatley. He knew precisely what he wanted to do to convince Iris that he loved her. But he needed her friends’ assistance to succeed.

…

It had only been two days since Iris’s advertisement had run in the Times, but already she’d had several applicants for the position of companion. One in particular had just arrived for a sit-down interview. Iris looked over the woman’s references while the lady sat patiently. She was older than Iris, at least ten years her senior, and had been a traveling companion before, but not outside of Britain.

“It would seem that all your references are in order,” Iris said.

“Yes, my lady. I feel certain that Lady Hornsbeck would have kept me on had she not broken her leg and been unable to travel long distances.”

Iris nodded. Everything seemed right about this woman if Iris were looking for a chaperone, but a companion ought to be a friend. Someone with whom she could laugh and share adventures. This woman with her graying, frizzy hair and pinched expression did not appear to know how to laugh. Though she was qualified. Iris would keep her in the running, but she would most assuredly keep looking.

Just then Agnes and Harriet burst into her parlor, interrupting the interview.

“Oh, we didn’t realize you had company,” Harriet said.

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