An Improper Proposal (The Distinguished Rogues Book 6) by Heather Boyd Page A

distress of being interrogated by Mr. Meriwether about her movements at the Hazelton ball the previous night. She had been beyond relieved that Louth had not mentioned their pleasant interlude alone in the alcove. The alcove that the thieves had used for egress to the Hazelton library and which might have led the inquisitive Mr. Meriwether to consider her a prime suspect in his investigation had he but known.
    She drew back to peer into her father’s face, desperate for the comfort of his love. The lines around his eyes appeared deeper and darker today, his once-bright green eyes were dull and tired.
    He pushed her away. “Mind your pretty clothes.”
    “I don’t care about my clothes,” she assured him, but settled for holding his hand. “Are you well?”
    He nodded and drew her toward the only chair in the room, situated near the window. Overnight another bed had been crammed into the chamber but they were alone at the moment, the other men having excused themselves upon her arrival. “We had a to-do here during the evening just past, a few fellows fighting over nonsense, but everyone calmed down eventually with no harm done.”
    Iris gasped and glanced out at the yard. A handful of men lingered outside, resting against the walls and talking in small groups. She’d not noticed anything amiss in their mood upon her arrival but tempers always flared quickly in this place. The last fight that had erupted within the Marshalsea had ended up with bloodshed. One of her father’s chums had been stabbed. Luckily not fatally but it was a side of life in the prison that terrified her. Her father was not accustomed to the rough and tumble of the grim world.
    Her father patted her hand. “I am glad you were not here for it. At least with you gone, I don’t have to worry for your safety.”
    She agreed with him but her father had been in danger too and her heart ached anew. “I am safe with Esme.”
    Her father nodded. “She’s been a good friend. Very particular of observing the proprieties.”
    Well, not all the time. Esme had left her alone with Louth in the hopes she’d be seduced and Iris had failed to experience more than a kiss. Not a very auspicious beginning. She glanced at her father and sadness consumed her. “She speaks fondly of you still.”
    “If only she might find you a husband then I would not worry so.”
    “Father, please.” She stretched for his hand again. “Do not concern yourself over that?”
    “Well, it is the done thing for a woman to make a match. I’m just telling you what everyone knows.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “You must consider how it looks to others. Lady Forsythe is particularly cutting of women who drag their feet on the way to the altar. We might never be invited to dinner again, and you know how your stepmother feels about making the right impression.”
    Iris squeezed his hand to halt the flow of his words. Her heart ached that he’d forgotten that what Lady Forsythe and her stepmother felt mattered little anymore. Her father’s second wife had fled to Bath as soon as the money was gone, and good riddance; and Lady Forsythe had refused to acknowledge her existence for some time. “I am sorry I haven’t married yet too, Papa,” she promised him sincerely. A nice husband with a large fortune might have saved them both but the chances of that were far behind her. A protector, and a residence outside of London, was all she could hope for now. “Lord Louth asked after you yesterday.”
    Her father appeared startled. “Do I know him?”
    “Yes, Papa. He attended my come out and you thought he possessed a keen intellect at the time.”
    He frowned at her hand then nodded. “Oh, yes. I did think him very smart. Why did you not think to set your cap for him when you had your come out?”
    She had been engaged at that time but she would not mention Grindlewood today. If she did, it would undoubtedly set off a series of conversations that would leave him