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

confused about why her dowry had been used to pay off his last landlord. As for Louth, he was not interested in her or matrimony. “Lord Louth is a friend, sir, and he only pays me attention out of respect for you.”
    Her father settled on the end of his bed with a groan. “Nonsense. He’d make a fine husband.”
    Iris pressed her lips together. He might make a fine lover too except for his unwillingness. “He has no interest in matrimony.”
    “Sounds like a young woman I raised.” Her father regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Charm him and you’ll win his hand in the end.”
    “Father.” She laughed and cupped his face. When he got an idea in his head he was impossibly determined. “That is not what I will do. I will not throw myself at the only man who dares to ask me to dance.”
    Her father dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “Does his appearance offend you in some way?”
    Her eyes widened in astonishment. “No, of course not. He is a very agreeable and gentle man.” And attractive. Thinking of their kiss had lost her several hours of precious sleep last night. She’d tossed about so much, she’d needed to straighten her own bed this morning before the maids could come in.
    He smoothed his waistcoat, one that had seen better days, with one hand. “Oh well. Forget I mentioned the man.”
    Now that was impossible to do, and especially so after thoroughly kissing him yesterday. She could still feel his large hands pressing her body close to his, his taste in her mouth. The slight rasp of stubble had been a wicked surprise that she’d enjoyed too. She’d almost forget the trouble in her life just to have a chance to kiss him again.
    “What about Lord Ettington? I knew his uncle once.”
    And had offended the marquess’s uncle, the Duke of Exeter, rather thoroughly, too. “Ettington is married, Papa. Don’t you remember me telling you of his public displays of affection for his wife?” She patted his hand again. “Anyway, never mind your matchmaking attempts. Is there anything I can do for you?”
    Her father reached into his trunk and removed a crumpled shirt from the low pile of clothing inside. “I lost a button.”
    Iris shook out the shirt and spread it over her lap. “This will take only a minute. Why don’t you tell me your news while I work?”
    She dug into her reticule for scissors, needle and thread, and a spare button she’d brought with her just in case of such a need, while her father related the details of recent events in the Marshalsea. His recounting, as always, included news from weeks ago too. Things she already knew. He spoke of them as if they had just happened and she didn’t care to upset him by reminding him of the passage of time between then and now. She just wanted to hear his voice and she was done with the shirt before he finished. She folded the garment neatly away in his trunk. “Perfect again.”
    Her father cleared his throat. “Iris, there is something I want to talk to you about.”
    “Of course, Papa.”
    He took her hands and stared into her face. “When you leave here today, I don’t want you to come back. It is too dangerous here for one so innocent as you.”
    Iris shook her head violently. “You cannot mean that.”
    “But I do.” He gripped her hands even tighter. “My daughter, I love you more than anything in the world and I never wished to drag you so low. You have a good situation with Lady Heathcote. You live in comfort, and have the respect of those you meet. You should do everything you can to protect your reputation.”
    She nodded numbly, having heard it all before and knowing he made sense in a way. However, she wasn’t innocent, and was buried so deep in muck she had no way out but to be ruined. “I will not leave you, and nothing you say will ever make me decide otherwise.”
    He turned away as if she’d not spoken. “While you can, you must use this opportunity to find a husband of means and save yourself.”
    “Father,