Page 4 of The Scoundrel and the Lady

“A petty thief, merely a pickpocket. I’m glad that I discovered him before he had an opportunity to take any other pieces. It can get challenging to try to return items to people if you aren’t certain to whom they belong.”

“That is amazing,” Millie said. “You are amazing!”

Iris felt herself grow warm with a blush. “I have been doing this a while.” But she was good at this task. She’d personally taken down more thieves than any of the other members of the Ladies of Virtue. She was accomplished, and she could not deny it was extremely gratifying.

“I’m not certain I can ever do this,” Millie said.

“Ah, you can. It takes time and training. I was once where you are now.”

The rest of Iris’s day had gone as well as her afternoon on Bond Street. She’d had a lovely dinner at her friend Harriet’s house. The Duke of Lockwood had the best chef in London, so the food there was always a treat. Then Iris had gone home eager to see her brother, Jasper. He had been back from Eton for less than three months, and she still reveled in his presence.

It had been just the two of them for the better part of a decade now, and she’d missed him desperately while he was away at school. But now he was in London with her for good.

Except he wasn’t home. At least, not yet. She concentrated on documenting the incident with the thief she’d interrupted on Bond Street, describing his appearance and the pieces he’d taken. This particular step had never been required by Lady Somersby. Still, Iris preferred to have a record.

She glanced at the clock on the mantle again and noted yet another hour had passed with no sign of her brother. Reading hadn’t helped, as she couldn’t keep her mind on the words on the page. Instead, she’d contemplated every wretched thing that could happen to Jasper out on the streets of London. Yes, he was considered a man now, but at only ten and eight, he still seemed a boy to her. Her baby brother.

Though it was customary to send boys to school starting at age ten, Iris had felt that Jasper was likely still grieving their father’s death. And then their mother had died, and Iris had kept Jasper at home for another three years. She’d provided him with the very best private tutors, but he’d hated being at home when the other boys his age were already away at school. Their situation had been unique, though. Not everyone understood that, but she knew her brother best. He had needed the support of being at home. Needed the structure that only she had been able to provide. It was what had gotten them both through their grief.

She stood and left the parlor and made her way to his study. He did not use it overly much, since she still managed all the household books, but it was his study, so she’d always made do with the front parlor. His desk, the same their father had used until his death. She smoothed her fingers along the carved wood on the facing of the desk, wondering how much Jasper remembered of their parents. He never spoke of them, and she never asked.

Several pieces of mail, mostly invitations, littered the top of the desk. In the center sat the most recent edition of the Daily Scandal.

She came around the desk and sat, cracking the paper open. Had her brother been reading this rag? Perhaps no one had informed Jasper that believing such gossip would not assist him in fitting into Society. It would only hinder his relationships if he chose to believe such slander.

Of course, she had always been curious about this newspaper. She had heard others speak of it and the delicious stories found within its pages. But she’d been leery of it, considering gossip caused undue scandals and heartache. She saw it every year during the Season.

She set down the newspaper then picked it back up.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she glanced down at the printed words. No one could force her to believe or spread anything she read within the pages. There was no harm in reading a little. She had, of course, seen a few issues at Harriet’s house because her friend’s mother was a devout reader. Iris, however, clung to the advice her mother had given her shortly before what was to have been her debut; gossip is hurtful and a waste of words. That debut had been canceled when her father had died abruptly, but the advice still survived. But reading a paper hardly constituted gossiping, as long as she didn’t repeat anything she read.

She turned the page. The top of the right-hand column read in bold letters:

HOW TO BE A GENTLEMAN: our continued series

Jasper had evidently read the article with interest as he’d made some notes in the margin and underlined a few passages. One passage in particular caught her attention.

A true gentleman knows that he is worth more than bank balance. It is far more important that other people see him as bold and daring. In this regard, gambling is the perfect pastime for a gentleman. What is a family fortune lost, if a man can gain a reputation as a debonair risk-taker?

She read eagerly, then her heart sank. This couldn’t possibly be legitimate advice.

Continued series…

That meant there were more articles like this. She shopped the top drawer and found nothing but blank parchment and inkbottles. The drawer to her right proved most helpful, though, as she opened it to discover a collection of the Daily Scandal. And just as she’d found in the first, Jasper had read all the previous installments, making notes on every one of them. They dated back five months, from before he’d returned from Eton. He’d obviously been reading this ridiculous advice since then, which likely explained his behavior—the way he’d been staying out too late, drinking too much, and doing whatever other wretched things he thought would make him a man.

A true gentleman is impeccably dressed. Having a line of credit at London’s finest shops can definitely make the man. Build your reputation first, and worry about your fortune tomorrow, for it is better to look the part and garner the best invitations than to sit home alone counting one’s coins.

She read through her brother’s handwritten notes, and her stomach soured. How could he find worth in advice such as how to gamble without losing the family estate, how to drink, the proper way to seduce a woman… It was inconceivable that someone would publish such reckless counsel, which could quite obviously lead an impressionable young man into a life of debauchery. As was the case with her brother, no doubt. Well, she’d have to put a stop to this immediately.

A loud thud stuttered through the house as someone slammed the heavy front door.

Jasper.

She debated whether she should search him out and confront him for coming home so late in the evening or wait until morning to do so. What if he was late because he’d been injured? In a fight? Or rescuing someone in need? Oh good heavens, she need only go and find out why he was so late.

Iris rushed out of the room and nearly ran smack into her brother.

“Jasper, you are safe.”

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