Page 56 of The Scoundrel and the Lady

A copy of his paper stared up at him.

Damnation. She’d seen it. She’d read the article. He hadn’t expected that until it was reprinted in the Times tomorrow.

His heart sped, but he ignored it. This was business. It wasn’t personal. He’d never allowed other people’s emotions to determine how he ran his paper. But this was Iris.

“I didn’t think you read my paper,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “That is your defense? That you didn’t think I’d see it?”

“It is not a defense, merely a statement.”

“I told you I’d been trained to protect myself,” she said. “Where did you get the rest of the information?”

“I explained to you that I am good at my job. I found the details on my own.” He leaned back in his seat, crossed his arms over his chest. “My source called herself Lady X.”

“What did she look like?”

“She wore a disguise, so describing her wouldn’t do any good. But perhaps if you told me who in your group is best at that sort of thing, we could figure out her identity,” he said.

“We’re all trained in that skill. In all our skills.”

He frowned. “You know how to disguise yourself?”

“I do.”

“Iris. Why the devil did you need me to dress you as a man, then?”

“Though I know how to create different disguises, I’ve never had need for one and certainly not that of a man.”

“So, her skill in that area doesn’t give us any significant clue except that she’s likely a member of your group.”

“How did you find this woman?”

“I didn’t. She found me. I put the word out that I was looking for information on women with certain skills, and she sent me a notice to meet her.” He explained the carriage, and that he’d tracked it to the carriage house, where he’d been told that the crest was not one of theirs, and that the person who had rented the rig had been a man.

She shook her head. “I cannot believe you did this. You do not know what you’ve done.”

“I didn’t put anyone’s name in the article. You are all still anonymous.”

“Oh well, in that case,” she said, her voice reaching a fevered pitch.

“Iris, calm down. There is no harm done.”

“No harm? Other than completely betraying me?” She came to her feet.

“I brought to your attention that there is a traitor in your midst. Certainly that counts for something,” he said.

“How could you not say you were writing an article on me? You merely hoped I wouldn’t see it.” She shook her head. “There is nothing you can say to fix this, Merritt. I trusted you.”

“No one knows the story is about you. No one ever figures out the identities behind my anonymous stories.”

“Still so prideful and arrogant.” She shook her head with disgust. With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of his office.

He couldn’t help but think she’d also walked directly out of his life.

Merritt left his offices not long after Iris. He couldn’t concentrate on work at the moment. Not when he’d likely destroyed the only person in the aristocracy he’d ever grown to care about. But no sooner had he stepped out onto the street to get into his rig than Christopher Watkins came up to him.

“I’d like a word, Ashby,” he said, his tone much less congenial than it had been the last time he’d approached Merritt.

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