An Improper Proposal (The Distinguished Rogues Book 6) (19 page)

She smiled. “Well, I haven’t been properly asked to marry you yet, so how could I.”

His head shot up and he blinked at her. “Tell me if you have some idea of where I can find your father so I can.”

She touched his face gently and steadied herself for the lie. “I don’t know where he is right now.”

Louth climbed to his feet slowly, redressed and, after a quick glance at her to make sure she was relatively decent, unlocked the drawing room door. “No man should be this hard to find.”

Iris stood, adjusting her skirts and then moving to check her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. Not a hair out of place but a slight flush to her cheeks. She hardly looked like a wanton girl, but then again, she didn’t look like a thieves’ accomplice either.

“Would you care for a sherry?”

“No, thank you.” The moment Louth turned his back to set the decanter down, she eased to the side, peeking through the nearest uncovered window. All seemed quiet outside, but she had no doubt Talbot’s men were still watching the house. She couldn’t allow an innocent man to be harmed. The window was already locked, and the head of a new nail revealed both window frames had been joined together. She breathed a sigh of relief that Louth had taken extra precautions to protect his home. Short of breaking the glass panes, the window couldn’t be opened easily. She resumed her inspection of the exotic fire screen. “This is so beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He drew close and pressed against her back, his head close to hers. His voice dropped to a seductive tease. “Would you like a tour of the rest of the house before we seek out my cousin and Lady Heathcote?”

 
“I should like that very much.” She curled her arm about his and strolled through the lower rooms, memorizing the layout for her future dreams. No matter what Meriwether promised, there was always the lingering worry that she’d go to prison along with Talbot. No matter what happened, she would always remember this house, and the man who’d tried to protect her.

Fifteen

Whitney was still at breakfast when Martin found her the next morning, her head bowed over the paper and the tip of her fork pressed to her lips. For a change there was no oil paint under her nails. She seemed so fascinated by what she was reading that she didn’t notice his presence at first. “Any news?”

“Nothing so far about further robberies,” she said as she turned the page. She pointed to his place setting and a pair of letters. “There are, however, several personal letters for your attention.”

He picked up the first and recognized the hand immediately. Helena. Since they’d spoken just yesterday, he’d no idea why she’d be writing to him. He’d thought the matter of Barker had been addressed. The other was also from her.

“Cousin, is there a reason you’re getting love letters from a woman other than the one you’re obviously pursuing?” She scowled at him. “Because I am almost certain you and Miss Hedley made love last night in the drawing room.”

“They’re not love letters,” he scowled. It annoyed him that Whitney was so observant and outspoken about her uncomfortably correct instincts. “I’m merely helping Mrs. Ward with a problem.”

He ripped one open to prove it and rose petals dropped onto his plate. The note contained an eloquently worded invitation to a late supper that night. He shoved the note and the remaining unopened one into his coat pocket and swept the rose petals into his hand. He deposited them in a nearby vase. Martin was astonished she had not believed he was involved with another woman and would still pursue him for an affair. He would decline her invitation and any other like it.

“You’re just like every man.” Whitney sighed. “How tragic. I thought you were different from the others.”

He glanced up from his plate, scowling. “Whom are you comparing me to?”

“Why, the men who dabble with decent women and then run off to meet, shall we say, a woman of lesser delicacy. I’m sure Miss Hedley by now believes you to have honorable intentions toward her. As did I and her chaperone, Lady Heathcote, last night, when we left you two alone so you might progress your suit.”

“I have.” He gritted his teeth at Whitney’s concerns. He was for Iris and no one else. In fact, after receiving and declining Helena’s seduction yesterday, he’d felt rather relieved the days of casual flirtation were far behind him. He knew what he was getting in Iris. A woman who was not afraid to ask for what she wanted most.

“Mr. Lynton Manning is in Town.” Whitney sipped her tea, watching him over the rim. “I passed him in Bond Street just yesterday and he was so obliging and sweet, as always. Much too handsome for the church. You should ask him to perform your marriage ceremony when you do wed.”

“I had always intended to.” Martin met his cousin’s gaze and gave up trying to hide his decision from her. “Stop fishing. You’ve won.”

Her brow rose.

“Yes, I have asked Miss Hedley to marry me, and yes, she has agreed. As soon as I gain her father’s approval we will be wed, most likely by Manning if he’s agreeable.”

Whitney’s smile was radiant. “My dear cousin, I couldn’t be more pleased with you than if you’d flouted convention and run off to Scotland.”

“You’d like a touch of scandal, wouldn’t you?”

She pressed her hand to her chest, fingers spread wide in mock horror. “I’m crushed by your accusation.”

He sat at the table and considered his cousin. She was utterly incorrigible. No doubt she would run off to Scotland to wed for the fun of it. “I’m glad you like Iris.”

“She likes you, and that is all I’d hoped to see from your wife. Once you’re married, I should like very much to paint your portraits. It’s high time the one covering your safe was replaced. Our grandmother’s expression gets on my nerves every time I look at her.”

He laughed. “Only because she looks as if she knows you’re thinking of wearing her gems. I would like a smaller portrait of Iris for my pocket watch one day, if you will oblige me.”

And a portrait of his daughter, too. But he couldn’t ask Whitney to paint that. The pair would never meet if he could help it.

 
Whitney frowned. “If you’d rather engage a gentleman for the task, with a fine hand for detail, I can recommend several.”

“After all the coin I’ve spent on paints and canvas?” He snorted and snatched the newssheet from her hands. “I should gain something in return for putting up with you, hoyden.”

Whitney set her hands to the chair beneath her legs. “About Miss Hedley. Would you like me to return to Holly Park when you marry or remain behind in London so you might have time alone? I can understand if you’d rather me out of the way.”

He glanced around the paper, astonished by her kind offer. “There’s no need to part company when we marry, although… Miranda mentioned last week that she was thinking of inviting you to stay with her in the country.”

Whitney stilled. “Go to Twilit Hill?”

He nodded. “You could paint to your heart’s content. It’s very lovely there and I’m happy to send you along with all the supplies you’d ever need for a comfortable stay.”

“So you do wish to be rid of me?” She sighed. “As much as I would like to oblige her, Acton lives nearby so that is one strike against the idea of a prolonged visit.”

“But not his sister, and for that you should be grateful.” He put the paper aside without having read any of it. “Tell me, what exactly is it about Acton that bothers you?”

Whitney rolled her eyes. “Would you like a list drawn up?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I find myself uncertain if this has anything to do with his past disagreements with Miranda or something else. Has he been rude to you?”

Whitney drew in a long breath.

“He seems to ignore your snippy remarks easily.” He leaned toward her. “And yet you still continue to sting him whenever you meet.”

Whitney swallowed. “You’ve a fanciful imagination. Are you going to see Miss Hedley today?”

“Don’t change the subject.” He caught his cousin’s hand in his. Since they rarely touched without the benefit of gloves, he was surprised to find her hand ice cold. He lowered his voice. “Has he done something worse?”

She shuddered and slipped from his grip. “Why ever would you think I’d encourage that man?”

“I don’t know but if he’s ever bothered you, I promise I will deal with him.”

“Don’t you dare.” She shook her head. “Besides, there is nothing to deal with. He’s a disagreeable man with an overly inflated notion of his appeal.”

He didn’t like her answer but he couldn’t very well force her to be honest with him. “Very well, perhaps the visit to Miranda’s isn’t feasible but do think about it. With the anniversary of her wedding approaching, she’s eager for company. And as for your earlier question, I’ll see Miss Hedley at dinner tonight. Remember to be on time so we are not late for the Ettingtons.”

“Yes, about that. Given the robberies going on, shouldn’t one of us stay at home just to make certain we are not a target? I’m happy to volunteer to stay behind and keep the lamps lit.”

“What would you do? Paint their faces until they confessed?” He laughed. “We couldn’t be a target since I’ve not hosted more than an intimate dinner in the past three weeks. I will not cower at home. I won’t give the thieving bastard the satisfaction of keeping us from going out.”

~ * ~

Iris inched closer to Lord Louth as they entered the Ettington dining room side by side, more than a little afraid of her surroundings. After the elegance of the drawing room, she was rather astounded by the view. “Is there a reason behind Lord Ettington’s collection?”

She glanced up at the walls of the Grosvenor Square mansion and did her best to hide her dismay. Broadswords and stuffed animal heads lined the walls of the dining room that should have been elegant, considering the marquess’s distinction, but were certainly not.

Louth laughed softly as he held out a chair for her to sit in. The tips of his fingers slid across her back as she settled in the chair. “A distraction left over from his days as a bachelor. He never wanted female guests to become too comfortable in his home. His wife doesn’t care for them either but hasn’t pressed for their removal. Not yet at any rate.”

They were positively grisly. She lowered her voice further. “I’m sure his plan worked amazingly well.”

It was still working. She wasn’t sure how she would manage to eat a bite with the blank accusing stares of those creatures on her as she ate their brethren. However, she did not know which was worse—the stuffed heads or the marquess’s cold regard. His welcome upon her arrival had been decidedly chilling. He knew what she was here to do. Meriwether had relayed Ettington’s agreement that she could leave an east drawing room window unlocked tonight.

So far, she’d been too terrified to move in that direction and had already missed one obvious opportunity to slip the latch open. She didn’t want to do this to Ettington. She’d never wanted anyone to be stolen from or hurt. But for her father’s safety, in order to catch Talbot in the act so he might be stopped, she had no choice but to go along with Meriwether’s plan. Esme gave an encouraging smile from her spot across the table but it didn’t comfort her in the least.

Meriwether hadn’t confided in Lord Louth in the end. Her intended still had no idea what she was about to do to his friend or that it was agreed upon. Meriwether insisted that the least number of people aware of her business, the better the chances of success. So she was still lying to Louth and hating herself.

Her hosts had seated her between Louth and Lord Acton around a large mahogany table covered in gleaming flatware and crystal. A thief’s palace. Although she had dined many times amid such elegance when her father had been at the height of his popularity, she was rather overwhelmed by this extravagant display. The silverware alone could likely pay off her father’s debts.

She peeked at the man seated on her left.

There was something about Lord Acton’s attitude tonight that set her teeth on edge. He watched her but said little, a constant frown appearing and disappearing on his face. Iris would be a little more comfortable around him if he said what was on his mind rather than holding back. She was tense enough as it was.

Louth leaned close. “What the devil was Pixie thinking to place my cousin so near the duke? Exeter appears out of sorts already and we’ve only just sat down to dinner.”

Iris risked a peek in that direction, as did Acton, and swiftly back at her plate. The duke had not spoken directly to her. And he’d looked surprised to see her. The moment of recognition had quickly shifted into disapproval. She was very glad to be seated far away from him. “I’m sure the marchioness knows what’s best.”

“I’m sure, in this instant, she’s playing with fire,” Louth grumbled.

Iris chose to think the best of Lady Ettington. Whitney sat at the other end of the table, close to the Duke of Exeter but not directly beside him. Their hostess seemed a bubbly sort of woman and not at all the marchioness society had once expected for Ettington. She lacked the reserve often favored by the noble born and had even winked at her husband when dinner was announced. During the season, she’d noticed the marquess at balls, too. The man could barely stop smiling when the subject of his wife came up.

She let her gaze drift along the table as she heard earnest laughter. These people were so lucky. So happy. And she was about to ruin everything.