Page 39 of The Scoundrel and the Lady

“Does this have any effect on whether I host a proper ball for you?” he asked.

“I have not decided on that yet,” Lucy said, her voice filled with caution. “You were right, though. They can be cruel. But many of them are delightful.”

Iris was unmarried because she hadn’t had a ball. Certainly that couldn’t be the only reason. She was a beautiful, intelligent woman who stood out in any crowd. Perhaps she’d had a string of suitors, even proposals, and she’d declined for whatever reason. And at what point had she left her aunt and uncle and gone to live in her family’s townhouse in London with her brother? He’d been a young heir, and she’d been his surrogate mother. No wonder she was so protective of him.

Again, guilt pressed into him, this time more sharply, as if he’d stepped on a shard of glass. He shoved it away. He hadn’t gotten where he was today without making enemies. Not that he saw Iris as an enemy. True, he’d questioned his decision to run the story about Iris and her unique skills, especially after what she’d done for Lucy tonight. He had already contacted his usual sources to look for anyone who might know about such training for proper ladies. So far, he’d received no additional details, but he knew that these things take time. It was best that Iris didn’t read his paper because she would likely see the upcoming story as an act of betrayal.

At this point, though, Merritt had lost sight of why he had made this bargain with her in the first place. Yes, he wanted her help with Lucy, and she’d more than accommodated him. He should reward her by pulling those foolish articles from his paper. Perhaps what he truly needed to do, though, was pull her brother aside and have a conversation with him.

The Earl of Nickerson shouldn’t be too difficult to find. Merritt could invite him to the newspaper’s offices. Since he was such a fan, perhaps he’d see that as a compliment and be more receptive to Merritt’s comments. Surely, the boy didn’t torment his sister on purpose, after all that she’d endured losing her parents the way she had. And now she lived primarily to assist others, taking care with her brother’s reputation and taking care of crime on the streets of London.

Remarkable indeed.

Merritt sat at a back table at Walsh’s gentleman’s club. Though he had seen the man he sought as soon as he’d stepped into the room, Merritt had chosen to wait and observe a while before approaching him. Jasper Bennington, Earl of Nickerson, Iris’s younger brother. Merritt could see the similarities in their appearance—they shared the same lean height and similar coloring, but where Iris’s hair was a vibrant red, Jasper’s was a pale strawberry blond.

At the moment, the boy sat at a table playing a game of chance. He looked well into his cups, and it was not even nine in the evening. This was not what Merritt’s articles were about. Obviously, the boy was simply using them as an excuse to misbehave.

“Lord Ashby,” a voice said from his right.

Merritt looked to find Christopher Watkins standing there, and he nodded in response.

“May I join you for a moment?”

“Of course.”

“I wanted to speak to you about your series of articles, the ones on being a gentleman,” Watkins said.

Splendid. Had Iris persuaded her friend’s brother to convince him to put a stop to the articles? He certainly didn’t need another lecture about them.

Christopher sat and scooted his chair closer to the table. “The piece about being discreet whilst seducing your staff was particularly enjoyable.”

Merritt raised a brow. Perhaps Iris was correct and he was, in fact, being a bad influence on the weaker members of the aristocracy.

“I’ve found all of the pieces entertaining, but this one was quite amusing. But I must know, was that referring to Lord Sanderson’s scandal with all of the ladies’ maids in his household?”

Merritt smiled. On the other hand, perhaps here was a gentleman who actually recognized the articles for what they were intended to be.

“I’m afraid I cannot reveal my sources or inspiration,” Merritt said. But he was impressed that the man had figured out the truth. Merritt always worked hard to make his anonymous stories as discreet as possible. It created a puzzle, which only fed the gossipmongers.

Christopher smiled knowingly.

They talked for several more minutes about the nature of the articles. By the time Christopher excused himself, Merritt was forced to question the one opinion he’d held most tightly. Perhaps, there might be an intelligent man with a title after all.

Except once Chris had left him to his own devices, Merritt was once again faced with the unpleasant task of watching Nickerson piss away more of Iris’s carefully managed money.

There may be one intelligent man with a title, but it most assuredly wasn’t Lord Nickerson.

It was time for them to have a talk, man to man. Merritt scrawled a note on a calling card and sent it with a footman over to Jasper’s table. The boy looked at the card, and the messenger indicated where Merritt sat. Jasper nodded, then finished his hand and stood, making a bit of a to-do about having to meet with another peer.

Jasper walked over to Merritt’s table, and Merritt had to give him credit. He walked a perfectly straight line and didn’t amble or sway in the least.

“You requested a meeting with me,” Jasper said as he dropped himself into a chair. He frowned at Merritt. “Do we know each other?”

“No, though I am an acquaintance of your sister’s,” Merritt said.

Jasper’s expression didn’t shift. “Is that why you wanted to speak with me?”

Merritt leaned forward, clasped his hands together. “Partially. Do you know who I am, Nickerson?”

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