“I give you leave,” she bit off.

He took a seat. It went against everything in his nature, to sit meekly and silent, but he knew this was what had to happen. He just wished Iris didn’t look so hollow, so troubled and ashamed.

“Charlotte?”

He heard Iris’s mother’s voice coming from the hall. She stepped into the room, followed by Harriet, still holding her shepherdess’s crook.

“Charlotte, what is going on? Harriet said . . .” Mrs. Smythe-Smith’s words trailed off as she took in the tableau. “What has happened?” she asked, her voice low.

“I have sent for Edward,” Lady Pleinsworth said.

“Father?” Iris said tremulously.

Lady Pleinsworth whirled to face her. “You did not think you could act as you did without repercussion?”

Richard shot to his feet. “She is blameless in this.”

“What. Happened?” Mrs. Smythe-Smith said again, each word sharply pronounced.

“He has compromised her,” Lady Pleinsworth said.

Mrs. Smythe-Smith gasped. “Iris, how could you?”

“This is not her fault,” Richard cut in.

“I am not speaking to you,” Mrs. Smythe-Smith snapped. “At least not yet.” She turned to her sister-in-law. “Who knows?”

“All three of my youngest.”

Mrs. Smythe-Smith closed her eyes.

“They won’t say anything!” Iris suddenly exclaimed. “They are my cousins.”

“They are children!” Lady Pleinsworth roared.

Richard had had enough. “I must ask you not to speak to her in that tone of voice.”

“I don’t think you are in any position to be making demands.”

“Nevertheless,” he said softly, “you will speak to her with respect.”

Lady Pleinsworth’s brows rose at his impertinence, but she said nothing more.

“I cannot believe you would behave so foolishly,” Iris’s mother said to her.

Iris didn’t speak.

Her mother turned to Richard, her mouth cut into a firm, furious line. “You will have to marry her.”

“There is nothing that would please me more.”

“I doubt your sincerity, sir.”

“That’s not fair!” Iris cried out, jumping to her feet.

“You defend him?” Mrs. Smythe-Smith demanded.

“His intentions were honorable,” Iris said.

Honorable, Richard thought. He was no longer sure what that meant.

“Oh, really,” Mrs. Smythe-Smith nearly spat. “If his intentions were so hon—”

“He was in the middle of asking me to marry him!”

Mrs. Smythe-Smith looked from her daughter to Richard and back, clearly not sure what to make of this development. “I will say nothing more on the subject until your father arrives,” she finally said to Iris. “It should not be long. The night is clear, and if your aunt”—she tipped her head toward Lady Pleinsworth—“has made clear the import of the summons, he will likely come on foot.”

Richard agreed with her assessment. The Smythe-Smith home was a very short distance away. It would be much faster to walk than to wait for a carriage to be readied.