An Improper Proposal (The Distinguished Rogues Book 6) (11 page)

“Where will you make your home?” Esme asked, and conversation soon turned to the practicalities of combining the substantial contents of two avid collectors under one roof. It seemed a certainty that the decisions would not be made swiftly, although Somerset was anxious to protect Lady James from the society thief as soon as possible.

Through it all, Lady Ames was silent. She met Iris’s stare with a raised eyebrow.

Iris gained her feet and approached the lady. “Is everything all right?”

Lady Ames smiled wryly. “As you get older, hope can seem like a thing of the past.”

She glanced at the happy couple, holding hands with eyes only for each other. “It is clear he loves her.”

“Love is all well and good.” She sipped her champagne and grimaced. “It is the rest of the relationship that matters so very much more.”

“I don’t understand.”

Lady Ames cupped her cheek. “And I hope you never shall. Women like me, and Esme to some extent, go on with our lives never daring to believe that such happiness belongs to all. The lucky few like Lady James gain their heart’s desire to marry for love and we are happy for them. But I don’t believe I shall ever be as lucky to fall in love a second time.”

Lord Ames had died long before they had met but Iris did not believe Lady Ames referred to her late husband. By all accounts, the marriage had not been a happy one. “Has your heart been lost again?”

A fleeting smile crossed the countess’s lips. “Long ago, to the first man I ever made love to, actually. Take my advice and never fall into love, Miss Hedley, if you can help it.”

The pleasant mask Lady Ames wore slipped away, revealing a woman ravaged by grief. The expression was fleeting, but so clear Iris caught her breath. “It is a painful and messy business with no end but heartbreak in sight,” Lady Ames continued before she moved away, back to congratulate the soon-to-be-married couple and lend her opinion on the necessity of haste in the matter of moving.

Iris was left reeling. She had always admired Lady Ames and had never suspected some bounder had broken the woman’s heart. If a woman such as Lady Ames had failed to find love a second time, what hope did Iris have of achieving such a feat when the odds were stacked against her?

Eight

Martin eased the door open a crack and shook his head firmly. Inside the small parlor, Mrs. Hughes heaved a sigh and smiled at the woman sitting with her back to the door. The other woman, Mrs. Battle, continued to babble about her past experience without pause and never even noticed the tide had turned against her. He would not hire that woman to look after his daughter. No one should ever talk so much in one sitting.

Eventually, Mrs. Hughes got rid of Mrs. Battle and poured herself a cup of tea. “If you refuse every woman the employment agency sends, you’ll be looking after the girl yourself soon,” she complained.

Martin emerged from the adjoining room. “I do not want to have my ears assaulted endlessly like that on my every visit. They are still ringing.”

“Just remember you are not marrying the next housekeeper. She doesn’t have to be exactly what you prefer in a woman.” Mrs. Hughes smiled wryly. “But as for that woman in particular, I really can’t blame you for saying no this time. If you had not refused her yourself, I certainly would not have pushed you to employ her.”

From the next room, the babe began to cry and he rushed toward the sound eagerly. The little girl was about ready to explode, by the look on her face, so he quickly scooped her up and rested her head against his shoulder. He rocked her back and forward and patted her bum as Mrs. Hughes had shown him and received a quiet belch as his reward. He smiled down at the girl’s face. “Is that better?”

“It doesn’t hurt her to cry, my lord. You will spoil her and ruin her temperament if you do not make her wait even a little bit for your attention,” Mrs. Hughes chided him as she entered the room and took his daughter from him. She attended to the girl’s needs and dressed her in fresh garments then handed her back into his waiting arms. “You should name her.”

“I know.” But he was still racked by indecision. He had three names in mind but couldn’t choose between them. Regina, Penelope, Audrey. “I will.”

Mrs. Hughes gathered the soiled clothing and smiled up at him. “The wet nurse should be arriving very soon to appease her hunger.”

Mrs. Hughes left to go about her duties while Martin carried his daughter back to the drawing room wedged in his arms, as had become his habit over the past week. He’d managed to spend a few hours here each day, mostly watching the child sleep or talking nonsense to her about what her future might entail. Even that he couldn’t decide on.

He’d grown accustomed to seeing her every day and the thought of living even farther apart did not sit well with him. He settled in his favorite chair and rested the girl on his knee. She was healthy and inquisitive, alert to new sounds and voices more so than he ever imagined a child could be. He’d grown profoundly protective of her too and carefully watched how the servants treated her when they didn’t think he was looking or listening in. The wet nurse was a kind woman; breasts always full of milk for the child. But she had a coarse manner about her speech at times that he did not particularly care for. Once the feeding was done, he was quick to send her on her way, home to her own family and concerns with enough coin in her fist to ensure her return.

Mrs. Hughes treated the child best and that pained him. He had met her future husband earlier that morning and it was clear the man loved Mrs. Hughes dearly. They would be married soon and then the girl would have no one to love her but him. He feared he wasn’t enough for the babe.

He would give anything for Vivian Rose to have lived to mother the girl instead.

He touched the girl’s cheek softly, and then regretted it as she sought a breast to suckle. “Soon, my little one. Not long now I expect.”

She grizzled a little and he rocked his legs too and fro. “When you’ve grown a bit, how about your papa buys you a fine pony to ride? A small white mare with a long tail and mane to swish about. How would that be?”

The child could ride all over Holly Park quite easily, but especially through the west field, which had been kept as a beginner’s riding track since before his grandfather’s time. He could tether the mare and follow them about, ensuring she was never afraid and could never stray too far to become lost in the nearby woods. It was a nice dream to imagine taking her home with him.

“I wouldn’t mind a pony myself to carry me around,” Mrs. Blake remarked. “But I’ll settle for some ease.”

He stole a look at her face and noted today’s expression was as sour as yesterday’s. “Is anything the matter?”

“No, my lord.” She held out her hands. “Might I take her?”

Concerned that she didn’t answer his question, he passed over the babe. When she crossed the hall and entered another room he followed her at a distance. He’d learned little about the woman’s life before she’d come into his employ and he was intensely curious about her mood.

Mrs. Hughes joined him. “There will be no further interviews for the housekeeper’s position today, my lord.”

“Oh,” he frowned. “I thought your note mentioned three candidates were coming?”

“Yes, but one found another position this morning so there is no one else expected in her place. Mrs. Godwin was very apologetic and promised to send another candidate tomorrow.”

Martin stood, uncertain what to do. He desperately needed someone to look after the child and he was running out of time and options. “Damn this waiting.”

Mrs. Hughes smiled apologetically. “It is usually not such a chore to find good help.”

Soft singing reached them. Mrs. Blake was humming softly to his daughter as she often did but the tone was sad. “Is there anything I need to know, Mrs. Hughes?”

She nodded and drew Martin away. “It’s her husband. He’s sent their children away to his sister’s without warning her of their going. She’s fair upset with him over it.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” Mrs. Hughes grimaced. “Reading between the lines, I assume he’s got a bit of fancy on the side and he’s showering her with trinkets paid for by his wife. I’d be furious but she’s resigned to it.”

“For God’s sake, why would any woman put up with that nonsense?”

“She’s got nowhere else to go.” Mrs. Hughes slipped into the room with his daughter and wet nurse, where the woman had begun to sing in earnest about lost love and broken hearts. Martin was torn over staying but he’d never dared watch the woman at work. Her situation sat ill with him but it wasn’t his place to interfere. He had enough problems of his own to deal with—namely, preventing Iris Hedley’s ruin.

After yesterday’s disagreement on the subject of her future, he was even more certain she was making a colossal mistake. Every instinct he possessed told him she needed his protection, not as a lover but as a friend and confidant. If she would agree to see him again.

He was at her door in no time and requesting an audience with her.

Laughter drifted down from a room above his head—male laugher. His anxiety soared that she might be entertaining other men in the pursuit of her plan to become a mistress already.

A door opened and closed and the tap of footsteps drew near. Iris appeared at the landing and she slowly descended to the front hall with a scowl on her face.

Despite the cold welcome, his heart skipped a beat at how fresh and lovely she was to behold. He bowed to her. “Miss Hedley.”

The woman kept her distance. “Lord Louth, what an unexpected surprise.”

She shouldn’t be surprised. She’d neatly wrapped him up in her concerns until he couldn’t bear to imagine her in someone else’s arms. “Might we speak somewhere other than the hall?”

Her expression grew wary. “I cannot imagine you have anything left to say to me. I believe you’ve been most thorough in expressing your opinions.”

Another burst of male laugher sounded from upstairs and she glanced up, a smile forming over her lips.

Were those her guests, too? Men come to make her their mistress? He would not let her throw her life away on some pretty face with deep pockets. He gritted his teeth and glanced into a nearby doorway, noticing a dining room beyond. “There is a great deal more to say to each other. Please.”

She lifted a brow at his demanding tone but she slipped into the room ahead of him. “Just for a moment. Have you come to apologize?”

“No.” He closed and locked the doors behind him and leaned against them. He kept the key hidden in his palm. “I’ve come to deliver your next lesson.”

“That is not necessary, my lord.” She shook her head. “I think I’ve learned everything I need from you.”

“Is that so?” He moved from the door, passing Iris with a smile and testing the table for strength. Undoubtedly sufficient for today’s lesson. He slipped the key into his waistcoat pocket. “You asked me once how often a protector might want to share your bed, and I should admit I gave you a halfway correct answer.”

She folded her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up. “A small detail.”

He let his gaze linger there on her breasts long enough to see her fidget. “When a man considers taking a mistress, he is most times only interested in his own pleasure. And he will take it as often as he can, several times a day even, until he grows bored.”

She appeared startled by the increase in number, as he’d hoped, but quickly squared her shoulders. “I shall ensure I have a sturdy bed.”

He moved toward her, looked down into her stubborn face and smiled. “There’s no need to wait for a bed when any situation will do.”

Before she could react, he caught her under the arms and deposited her on top of the mahogany dining table. He crowded her so she was made uncomfortable by his proximity. “Are you prepared to be set upon and taken at a moment’s notice because the blighter paid handsomely for your body?”

Her eyes widened, her breath came fast.

He stroked his fingers down her cheek, along her throat and down to her breast. He cupped it firmly and thumbed the nipple. “Because I tell you that being alone with you for as long as possible is most definitely at the foremost of my mind at this moment.”

Her mouth opened. “But it is only eleven o’clock!”

She truly had no idea of what she was headed for, but he did. “Any time of day is the perfect time for a dalliance.”

The idea of her laid out on the table was too much temptation to resist. But unlike the blighters he’d been trying to warn her away from, Martin was determined to show her what would be missing in those cold couplings. He kissed her hungrily and rejoiced when her arms twined about his neck. However, today’s lesson wasn’t about kisses. He’d planned something entirely more shocking. He broke the kiss and was pleased at her whimper of complaint.

He snagged a chair, sat upon it and widened her legs so he was seated between them. “It is never certain that a protector would consider your needs first before taking his own, but it’s all I can think about.”

A strange smile flickered over her lips. “So you
do
desire me?”

Did the woman not understand passion at all? Desire such as this could not be pretended. “Unbearably.”

Her smile was radiant as she leaned down to kiss him again. She cupped his face and traced the seam of his lips with her tongue before drawing back. “Show me.”