The Rake and the Wallflower by Allison Lane Page B

steadied. “Lady Jersey can be delightful if you show her proper respect, but she does not tolerate criticism, particularly of the subscription balls at Almack’s.”
    “Rockhurst warned us about that. Even Laura dares say nothing about stale cakes and uneven floors.” She shifted in her chair. “So you prevented Miss Irwin from taking the lady to task?”
    “Exactly. It was a minor incident, but it drew her attention. Over the following month, I danced with her three times and exchanged greetings on two other occasions. Each meeting took place in a large gathering at which I spent time with a score of other females, so I was astonished to open the News one morning and see our betrothal announcement.”
    “Good heavens! What on earth was her father thinking? You cannot have approached him.”
    “Of course not. I was barely four-and-twenty and had no interest in settling down. I had never called on her or sought her out in any way.” Fury still burned whenever he thought of Irwin’s treachery. However, Mary’s face held so much compassion that an unfamiliar ache settled into his chest.
    She shook her head. “It must have been a terrible shock. What did you do?”
    He ran his hands through his hair. “I immediately called on Irwin to demand an explanation. He had the nerve to call me a liar. That’s when I realized the greedy bast— He and his daughter were conspiring to attach my fortune. They had hoped to compromise me, but I had refused to leave a ballroom with her. So they concocted a bolder scheme.”
    “Everyone understands his greed,” she reported calmly. “He was recently caught cheating at cards. But the current theory is that you paid him to deny a betrothal.”
    It was a twist he’d not heard before, not that it helped much. “I did, in a way,” he admitted, “though not a farthing changed hands. When I demanded details of our supposed courtship, he tried to bluff, reeling off a list of secret rendezvous. I made him write them down — places, dates, exact times — then informed him that I could prove his list false. He could either retract the announcement or stand trial for extortion. I could produce plenty of witnesses.”
    “So you paid him by not filing charges?”
    He nodded.
    “He cannot be very bright,” she noted.
    “Definitely not. To hide his own complicity, he blamed everything on his daughter and vowed to send her home. But she attended one more ball, where she enacted her own retribution by accusing me of seduction.”
    “She sounds less bright than her father.”
    He actually laughed. “True. Irwin was furious, creating a scene that became the talk of the Season — he probably feared I would have him arrested for breaking our agreement. The incident ruined her beyond repair, of course. Both father and daughter disappeared the next morning. I heard she married a farmer not long afterward.”
    “So why do people blame you?”
    “That began the following year.” He sighed. “Miss Irwin convinced me that protecting people from their own stupidity was dangerous — and impossible anyway. Until then I had tried to set the nervous and unprepared at ease.”
    “Like Lady Westlake?”
    He nodded. “Her brothers held all but the dullest gentlemen at bay. The few they approved despised bluestockings, but she wanted a husband who accepted her studies.”
    “Surely her brothers wanted her happy.” Her hands gripped the bird book.
    “But on their terms. They distrusted intelligent females — even their own sister — and believed she needed a firm, controlling hand to correct her odd habits.”
    “So you introduced her to Westlake. She remains grateful. But why did you do it? Matchmaking is not usually a gentleman’s activity. Nor is saving the gauche from embarrassment.”
    “It bothers me when people are ill at ease,” he admitted, shrugging. It wasn’t something he’d ever analyzed. Nor did he wish to start now. Thinking about it recalled confrontations he wanted to