Page 60 of The Scoundrel and the Lady

“Sit still,” Agnes said. “I’ve got to do your hair.”

“Harriet, don’t bother, I shall find something as soon as Agnes is done here.”

“Iris,” Harriet said quietly. “Why do you have all these mourning gowns?”

Iris closed her eyes, but she knew from the sound that Harriet was pulling them out, one by one.

“They cannot be the ones from your previous mourning periods, because they are current in fashion. There must be at least fifteen here.”

Iris bit down on her lip as tears sprang to her eyes. But she swallowed hard against them and met Agnes’s gaze in the mirror.

“Oh dear,” Agnes said. “You order them because—”

“I never know when I’m going to need them,” Iris finished.

“You’re not going to lose anyone else,” Harriet said.

But she had. Already. She’d lost Jasper. She hadn’t told her friends about her brother’s blackmail, hadn’t been able to bear them knowing that her only relative had betrayed her in such a way. And she’d lost Merritt. Well, she’d never precisely had him, but she’d certainly lost her heart to him.

Iris swiped at her tears. “Enough of this foolishness. Find me a gown and let us get this evening over with.”

Agnes and Harriet eyed one another, then they both nodded, and Agnes went back to working on Iris’s hair.

“Oh, this is the one,” Harriet said as she pulled out one of Iris’s favorite gowns. It was a spectacular shade of gold and did not clash with her hair in the least.

Half an hour later, she was dressed and ready to go. Nerves battled inside her, making her palms damp and her breathing shallow. She could do this. She’d seen Merritt a couple of days before and not given in to the desire to say yes to his proposal, despite there not actually being a scandal to save her from. Despite him not loving her. She wanted to say yes. Desperately. She wanted to be his wife. To wake up beside him every day.

But she knew if she settled for a loveless marriage with Merritt, she would be miserable. She steeled herself with one last glance in the mirror, as if to remind herself that she was strong enough to walk away. She’d been on her own for years. She could continue that way. She certainly didn’t need a man to make her happy.

Chapter Thirteen

A footman escorted them from the entrance of Merritt’s townhome to the staircase that led to the second-floor ballroom.

“There weren’t many carriages out front. Do you suppose the short notice means that not many will attend?” Iris asked. She hated for Lucy to be disappointed.

“No, I think it was meant to be a small, intimate gathering,” Agnes said.

Her friends stepped in front of her and were introduced. Suddenly the music swelled for a few measures, then it stopped and the footman announced her.

“Introducing Lady Iris,” he said loudly.

As she stepped into the ballroom, she saw Merritt first, standing in the center of the room, hand extended toward her.

This wasn’t a ball for Lucy. This was an official coming out ball for her.

…

She was here. And she was stunning. The shimmering golden gown fit her every curve. He held his hand out to her, and she stepped forward.

“I was hoping you’d give me the honor of the first dance,” he said.

“You did this? For me?” she asked, her voice filled with emotion.

“I did. Not too many people were invited. Only the ones I know are most important to you,” he said.

She glanced around the room, her eyes widening as she recognized people. Lucy waved at her. Her brother offered her a bow.

Her lovely green eyes met Merritt’s. “Why did you do this?”

---