Her lips parted, and he knew that his compliments were well aimed. If he only had had more time, he could have wooed her the way a bride ought to be wooed.

He took both of her hands in his and gave them a gentle squeeze. “You are so precious to me.”

She appeared not to know what to say.

He touched her cheek, stalling for time as he tried to figure out how to salvage this. He needed to marry her, and he could not afford a delay.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of movement. The door to the drawing room was still open. He was at an odd angle to it; he could see only a sliver of the interior. But he had a feeling that Lady Pleinsworth would exit at any moment, and—

“I must kiss you!” he cried out, and he pulled Iris roughly into his arms. He heard her gasp with shock, and it tore painfully through him, but he had no choice. He had to go back to his original plan. He kissed her mouth, her jaw, her lovely exposed neck, and then—

“Iris Smythe-Smith!”

He jumped back. Strangely, he did not have to feign surprise.

Lady Pleinsworth rushed over. “What in the name of God is happening here?”

“Aunt Charlotte!” Iris stumbled back, trembling like a frightened deer. Richard saw her eyes go from her aunt to someone behind her, and with an increasing sense of dread he realized that the Ladies Harriet, Elizabeth, and Frances had also come into the hall and were staring at them with openmouthed shock.

Dear God, now he was responsible for the corrupting of children.

“Get your hands off my niece!” Lady Pleinsworth thundered.

Richard thought it best not to point out that he had already done so.

“Harriet,” Lady Pleinsworth said, never taking her eyes off Richard. “Go fetch your aunt Maria.”

Harriet gave a jerky nod and did her bidding.

“Elizabeth, summon a footman. Frances, go to your room.”

“I can help,” Frances protested.

“Your room, Frances. Now!”

Poor Frances, who was still wearing her horn, had to hold it with both hands as she ran off.

When Lady Pleinsworth spoke again, her voice was deadly. “Both of you, in the drawing room. This instant.”

Richard stepped aside to allow Iris to pass. He had not thought she could possibly look more pale than normal, but her skin was positively bloodless.

Her hands were shaking. He hated that her hands were shaking.

A footman arrived just as they entered the drawing room, and Lady Pleinsworth pulled him aside and spoke to him in a low voice. Richard presumed she was sending him with a message for Iris’s father.

“Sit,” Lady Pleinsworth ordered.

Iris sank slowly into a chair.

Lady Pleinsworth turned her imperious stare on Richard. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I cannot be seated while you remain standing, your ladyship.”