Marriage by Arrangement: Book 3

The

Earl’s

Wallflower

Bride

Ruth Ann Nordin

Wedded Bliss Romances, LLC

The Earl’s Wallflower Bride

Published by Ruth Ann Nordin

Copyright © 2016 by Ruth Ann Nordin

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Photo images Period Images. http://www.periodimages.com/welcome-to-periodimagescom. All rights reserved – used with permission.

Cover Photo images Dreamstime. www.dreamstime.com. All rights reserved – used with permission.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without expressed written consent of the publisher/author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Coming Soon: The Viscount’s Runaway Bride

Other Regencies by Ruth Ann Nordin

Other Books by Ruth Ann Nordin

Where to Find Ruth

Dedication: To Susan Layton who always has a kind word to say. Thanks for making me smile!

Chapter One

August 1817

“I’m going to arrange a marriage for you.”

Lady Iris, the Duke of Hartwell’s daughter, sat in stunned silence. She couldn’t have heard him right. There was no way he said what she thought he’d just said. All she could do was watch as he paced back and forth in the drawing room, hands behind his back, looking determined to press through with this conversation no matter what.

Her mother, who was sitting beside her on the settee, spoke up. “You had a marriage arranged for Iris?”

“No, I said I am going to arrange a marriage for her,” he corrected.

Iris finally came out of her shock in time to sputter, “I-I don’t understand. Haven’t I been doing well this Season?”

Her father stopped pacing. “You’ve behaved admirably the entire Season. I can’t think of anything you could have done better.”

“Then why won’t you let me choose my husband?” Iris asked.

“If it was simply a matter of gentlemen asking for your hand, then I would let you choose.” He paused, his brow furrowed as he struggled to answer her. After a tense moment, he released his breath and gave her a sympathetic look. “Unfortunately, there are no gentlemen requesting your hand. The Season is quickly coming to an end, and I don’t want you to have to go through a second one. Ladies are much more desirable during their first Season.”

Iris bit her lower lip, wondering if her lack of a betrothal meant she wasn’t desirable to gentlemen. Maybe Miss Barlow was right. Maybe there was no hope for her.

“Oh, Iris,” her mother said, “your father doesn’t mean you have nothing to commend yourself. You do. You’re intelligent, witty, compassionate.”

“But I’m not pretty,” Iris replied.

“I didn’t say that,” her mother argued.

“You didn’t have to. I’m not at all that interesting to look at. I know that. I was under no impression that I was. I was just hoping there’d be at least one gentleman who valued what was on the inside more than the outside.” But Iris was quickly learning that appearances were everything, especially with the Ton.

“Iris, you are pretty,” her father said.

“Sure, you are,” her mother agreed.

“You say that because you’re my parents,” she replied. “You don’t see me the way gentlemen do.”

Or other ladies for that matter. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell them some of the ladies had nicknamed her The Wallflower because she was neither good looking nor did she have anything interesting to add to the conversation. Only Bethany Carlisle had taken the time to get to know her well enough to become her friend.

“You have a lot to offer gentlemen,” her father said. “You just need to talk to them long enough for them to figure that out.”

Iris hid the urge to groan. “Father, that’s the problem. I’ve tried to contribute to the conversations they’re having, and most of the time, I’m ignored. They don’t even notice me.”

“Are you talking about that dinner party at Lord Steinbeck’s?” her mother asked.

“That’s when I became aware of it.” Thanks to Regan who cared enough to point it out. Iris shook her head. “It’s not just him. There have been others.” But there was no denying Lord Steinbeck had hurt her the worst. What a fool she’d been to give him a second chance.

“Well,” her father began, his voice taking on an encouraging tone, “that’s a good reason right there why we should have a marriage arranged for you. The gentleman who marries you will have to notice you.”

Iris frowned, not at all thrilled with his line of reasoning. “It’s a sad state of affairs when a lady needs to become a gentleman’s wife in order to be noticed.”

Despite her comment, her father didn’t lose his enthusiasm. In fact, he seemed all the more excited about his plan. “This will be a good thing. I just know it. Now, don’t look so glum. I’m leaving this decision up to London’s best matchmakers.” He tapped her affectionately on the hand. “I hear these particular ladies have secured love matches for their clients. I was unable to find the right gentleman for you, but they will. I guarantee it.”

“Who are these ladies?” her mother asked.

“The Duchess of Ashbourne, Lady Toplyn, and Lady Reddington,” he replied.

Her mother’s eyes widened. “I’ve heard good things about them.” She turned her gaze to Iris. “Maybe this will work.”

“Of course, it’ll work! I’m going to meet with them tomorrow to discuss a suitable match for our daughter.”

“Are you going to take Iris?” her mother asked.

“If she wants to come.” It was then her parents turned their attention back to her, as if they realized she was still in the room with them. Her father smiled, hope in his eyes. “What do you say, Iris? Would you like to join me?”

Iris glanced from one parent to the other, not convinced this was going to be the wonderful thing they imagined. Even so, she realized it might be best if she had some say in who they selected for her.

“All right. I’ll go with you,” Iris said, praying her father knew what he was doing.

***

“You have plenty of time to have an heir. Why rush into getting one?” Anthony asked.

Warren Beaufort, the Earl of Steinbeck, turned from the window in his drawing room to face his friend. Well, at least one of the few remaining friends he had left. As of late, Anthony Barlow, Viscount Worsley, was the only one still willing to come to his townhouse.

Anthony shrugged from where he sat in his chair. “It doesn’t matter to me what you do. I just don’t want you acting in haste simply because the Marquess of Dodsworth set out to irritate you.”

“He’s not the reason I’m doing this,” Warren replied.

Well, at least he wasn’t the main reason. Yes, the marquess had bothered him when he’d said Warren led a miserable life because he had no heir to pass on his title to.

But there was more to it than that. Life was something one couldn’t take for granted. He’d barely known his father because the fool thought engaging in immoral pursuits was more important than being with his family. His reckless lifestyle had been so hard on Warren’s mother that she’d committed suicide when he was only five. His father, not being the least bit sorry over her death, had married his mistress a week later. Warren’s new stepmother, in turn, gave his father a son and a daughter. Warren had left the estate as soon as he was old enough and had little to do with any of them. His father succumbed to an illness and died shortly after, leaving him with the title, and he’d been good about honoring his wishes ever since.

Now it was time to move on to the next part in his life. It was time to have an heir. And, unlike his father, he’d be there for his son.

Warren picked up the decanter and poured himself another glass of brandy. “I’m beginning to think the only thing that is consistent in this life is one’s lineage. If I have a son, nothing can change it. A part of me will continue on in him.”

“But there are no guarantees you’ll get a son,” Anthony reminded him. “Plenty of titled gentlemen have daughters and no sons. Take the Duke of Hartwell, one of the gentlemen you most admire. He only has one daughter. His title will go to his brother or his nephew. It won’t be passed on to her or her children.”

The Duke of Hartwell, he remembered. For some reason, he thought he should know who his daughter was, but her name eluded him at the moment. Oh well, it was no matter. Anthony had brought up a valid point, and it was worth answering.

“I will have children with my wife until she has a son,” Warren said. “It’ll be my top priority.”

Anthony chuckled. “Even if you have a dozen or more children, you might end up with all girls. However,” he lifted his glass and winked, “it should be fun trying.” Then he finished the brandy in his glass.

Warren supposed he should be thinking of it that way, but he was much too concerned about getting a son to worry about frivolous things like enjoying himself. His half-brother enjoyed himself all the time. And all for what? Just so he could live like a pauper?

“I have to at least try to have a son,” Warren said. “I’ve worked hard to build the wealth I have. I want to make sure it goes to the right gentleman.” God help him if it ended up with his half-brother. “It’s a shame we need ladies to have the heir. It’d be so much easier if we could do it on our own.”

Anthony shot him a pointed look. “It might be easier, but it wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable. You’re looking at this the wrong way. If nothing else, a wife is meant for pleasure.”

Warren grimaced. “Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me to read Lord Edon’s horrible book.”

“No, I would never suggest that. The whole matter of conceiving children isn’t complicated. No one needs a book for that. I’m just saying if there is pleasure to be had in something, why not accept it?”

“It’s hard to concern oneself with pleasure when the call of duty is so persistent.”

“Well, I wish you much fortune in your quest. May you find a wife who bears you a son on your first try.”

Warren picked up his glass and said, “From your lips to God’s ears.” Then he took a drink of brandy.

***

Iris tried not to stare at the three ladies sitting in the drawing room of the Duchess of Ashbourne’s townhouse, but each of them were beautiful. The Duchess, who’d introduced herself as Helena, had golden hair that practically shimmered as the sunlight coming in through the window touched it. Iris also had blonde hair, but it lacked the luster of the other lady’s. Also, Iris didn’t have the smooth white skin and perfect lips that formed a heart when pressed together. No, she had freckles and her upper lip was fuller than her lower one.

The other two ladies, Melissa, who was Lady Toplyn, and Chloe, who was Lady Reddington, had dark hair, but they were equally as beautiful. Their complexions were clear and their cheeks rosy. The only way Iris could manage rosy cheeks was if she was embarrassed or if she pinched them. Then there were their figures. All were perfect hourglasses, even after having children. Iris had more on the bottom than the top, making her inadequately proportioned.

What gentleman in his right mind would want her when he could have someone who looked more like them? None. And that was why her father brought her here.

She lowered her gaze to the cup in front of her and took a sip of the tea. She didn’t mean to compare herself to them. Nothing good ever came from it.

“We’re more than happy to help you find the best match for your daughter,” Chloe said. Then she told Iris, “What we usually do is start by asking what kind of gentleman you’d like to marry.”

Iris made eye contact with Chloe, surprised when she saw the lady looking right at her. Iris glanced at her father. What did he want her to say?

As if he could read her mind, her father said, “Only you can answer this, Iris.”

“Yes, if you could have any gentleman at all, what would he be like?” Chloe clarified.

“Um, let me think,” Iris murmured as she traced the edge of the cup. “Well, I suppose it’d be nice to have a husband I could talk to. I’d like to have some things in common with him.”

“Like what?” Melissa asked.

“I enjoy discussions about money and politics. I’ve also hunted foxes. I like playing card games and racing horses.” Iris stopped tracing the cup as a thought occurred to her. Perhaps one of her problems in attracting gentlemen was that she didn’t share interests that a typical lady did. Even her newfound friend, Bethany, had interests similar to the other ladies they knew. “I’m not sure what gentleman wants to be with someone like me. I’m not what they expect in a lady.”

“Nonsense,” her father argued, quick as always to come to her defense. “There are plenty of gentlemen who share those interests. I know I do.”

Helena smiled at them. “Am I right in assuming you two are close?”

Iris nodded. “My mother’s joked I’m more like a son than a daughter. So, you can see my problem. No gentleman wants to marry someone who’s more like a son. They want someone with the grace and charm of a lady.” Not to mention the looks to go with it.

“I really wish you wouldn’t do this to yourself,” her father told her. Turning his gaze to the three ladies, he continued, “Surely, there must be someone in London who can value her. She wouldn’t simply be a wife. She’d be his friend. He’d view her as an equal. She’d have his respect and admiration.”

“What you’re saying is,” Helena began, “that he must not find a strong and intelligent lady intimidating.”

Her father snapped his fingers. “Exactly! Iris, the problem isn’t you at all. It’s never been you. We just need to find the gentleman who will welcome someone who can challenge him. Too many gentlemen want to feel superior to their wives.”

“It’s true some want that,” Helena said. “But I assure you there are gentlemen who want a wife who can be his equal.”

Her father gave Iris an encouraging smile. “You see? I told you this was the answer to our dilemma. You just wait. They’ll find the perfect gentleman for you, and you’ll have exactly what you deserve: a love match.”

Chapter Two

Two weeks later, Warren debated whether he should go to White’s instead of going to the Duchess of Ashbourne’s townhouse. When he’d made the appointment to visit with her and the two ladies who were notorious for their success in arranging marriages in London, it seemed like a simple matter.

But now that the day had finally come, he experienced a wave of apprehension. What if this wasn’t the right way to go about things. Was it really wise to trust his fate to three ladies who didn’t know him? How could they adequately find a suitable wife for him?

Then again, what were his requirements in a wife anyway? All he wanted was someone who could bear him a son. How hard could that be? Yes, he could go to balls and seek one out. The Season, however, was quickly coming to an end, and he really didn’t want to waste time going through the process of finding her and then courting her. All that time would be better spent securing the plans for his investments.

Decision made, he bypassed White’s and headed straight for the duchess’ residence. Yes, this was the more intelligent way to go about it. He wouldn’t go all the way to Africa or India to gather spices, precious stones, and other expensive items. He hired people to do that for him. This would be no different. Except instead of paying someone in hopes of gaining a monetary reward, he was paying someone in hopes of gaining an heir. This was another business transaction, just like everything else he did. And he was good at business transactions.

When he reached the front door, he knocked and patiently waited. As soon as the door opened, he said, “I’m here for my meeting with the Duchess of Ashbourne. I’m Lord Steinbeck.”

“Yes, Her Grace is expecting you.” He gestured for Warren to follow him. “She’s in the drawing room waiting for you.”

Excellent. Her Grace was punctual. Already, this was turning out to be a profitable endeavor. He followed the footman and saw three ladies sitting in the room. Her Grace was on the settee, sipping tea, while Lady Reddington was at the desk, holding a quill over some parchment, and Lady Toplyn was in a chair across from the settee. The group seemed orderly, another promising sign.

Her Grace rose from the settee and motioned for him to sit next to her. “Welcome, Lord Steinbeck.”

He bowed then proceeded to the settee. With a glance at Lady Toplyn, he asked, “How is your brother?”

“Malcolm’s doing well,” she replied. “His wife is expecting a child.”

Malcolm was going to be a father? Why didn’t Malcolm tell him? He would have wanted to celebrate the good news with him. Forcing aside the sting, he sat down and smiled. “Will you send him my congratulations?”

“I’ll do that,” she replied.

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” Her Grace asked, pointing to the scones and the tea.

Figuring it’d be in bad form to not accept at least something she offered despite the fact that he was neither hungry nor thirsty, he said, “Tea will be fine, thank you.”

With a nod, she poured him a cup. “If you wish,” she began, “you may address us by our Christian names. We don’t stand on formality when we’re in this room. I’m Helena. That is Chloe, and I assume you know Melissa’s name since you’re friends with her brother.”

She handed him the cup, and he took it, not comfortable with the idea of addressing them informally, even if it was only in this room. Perhaps he could get away without calling any of them by name. He decided to offer a smile, letting her infer whatever she wanted from it, and took a drink of the tea. Black tea. She had good taste. Yet another promising sign.

Chloe cleared her throat to get his attention. “We usually start by asking what type of lady you’d like to marry. What kind of interests would you like her to have? What do you want her to look like?”

“I’m not a gentleman who believes in mincing words,” he said, putting his cup back on the tray, glad they chose to get down to business instead of engaging in small talk. So much time was wasted with small talk. “Truthfully, it matters little to me what her interests are or what she looks like. My main concern is getting an heir. As long as she can conceive a child, she’ll be right for me.”

He thought keeping things as simple as possible would be a huge relief to them, but he could tell by their expressions that they weren’t at all happy with his answer.

“I’m not sure what else you want from me,” he said. “I’m not particular about the kind of wife I get.”

“My lord,” Helena began, “we prefer to make matches that will be happy ones.”

“I will be happy with whoever you give me.”

“But your happiness isn’t the only one we need to take into consideration. We also need to look at the lady’s needs and concerns. There has to be some benefit in this marriage for her.”

“All right.” He thought over it for a moment and ventured, “She gets to be a countess. I do very well financially. She’ll never want for anything.”

“What of companionship?”

He shrugged. “What of it?”

“Most ladies who come to us want a marriage to be more than a way to secure their livelihood. Ideally, they get a husband who can share life’s joys and sorrows with them.”

Share life’s joys and sorrows? Wasn’t that what friends were for?

“Let’s try a different approach,” Chloe said. “What are your interests?”

Thankfully, this was easier than trying to figure out an answer the ladies wanted to hear. “Since I’m friends with her brother,” he motioned to Melissa, “I’m sure she’s aware we have a mutual interest in the pursuit of making money. Not only do we want to make it, but we also want to be wise with our use of it.”

“Then would it be safe to say you’d be a better match with a lady who doesn’t waste money on senseless things?” Chloe asked.

Funny. He hadn’t thought of it like that. “Now that you mention it, it would be nice if she didn’t squander the wealth I’m building. I’d like to leave a sizable inheritance to my heir.”

“Good!” Helena smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“According to Malcolm,” Melissa inserted, “you two can talk about money all day long and never get bored. What if you got a wife who could have the same kind of conversations you have with Malcolm?”

How Warren missed those conversations with Malcolm. As much as he wanted to ask her why Malcolm seemed to be avoiding him, he didn’t dare. At least not in front of everyone. So, he settled for saying, “I doubt anyone can match your brother in intellect when it comes to money. But if she had a better understanding about it than most ladies, it would be nice.”

“What other interests do you have?” Chloe asked as she dipped the quill in the inkwell.

“I like to keep current on what’s happening in Parliament,” he said. “For instance, were you aware Parliament is trying to suppress more civil disturbances that have been erupting in our country?”

Helena and Melissa didn’t seem to know what he was talking about, but Chloe stopped writing in order to say, “My husband mentioned something about the Coercion Acts.”

“Right. That was passed earlier this year.” Good. He was glad to know at least one lady in the room knew what he was referring to. Maybe it would be nice if his wife knew something about what was going on in England. “I suppose it might be nice to be able to talk to my wife from time to time about things happening in England. Politically, I mean. I don’t care about what people are wearing or what the latest scandal is.”

Chloe offered a nod and turned back to writing her notes. It was a shame he couldn’t see what she was writing. He’d like to know if this was in his favor or not.

“What do you do to relax?” Helena asked.

“Well,” he forced his gaze off the parchment Chloe was writing on, “when I’ve performed all my duties for the day, I enjoy simple things like playing cards. I never gamble, so I don’t play for money. I only play to win or lose the hand. Once in a while, I take pleasure in riding a horse.”

Melissa tapped her lips with her index finger before asking, “Have you ever gone fox hunting?”

“From time to time, I’ll engage in the sport,” he said. “I don’t do it as often as I like. Time slips away from me more often than not. I like to make every day count.” His gaze shifted again to Chloe who was still busily writing on that parchment. “If I were to request the ideal wife, I think she would be someone who can manage an intelligent conversation. If she wants me to be her friend, then she has to have something of interest to offer.”

Helena and Melissa exchanged a look, relaying some private message.

Warren knew it. No such lady existed. He was reaching for the impossible. “But as I said earlier, all I require is a lady who will support my goal in getting an heir. As long as she does that, I’ll be very pleased with the match.”

“We can’t promise you’ll be pleased with the match,” Helena told him. “All we can do is pair you up with a lady who will give you your best chance of a love match.”

Well, either way, he supposed he couldn’t ask for anything more. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

“No, I think we have all we need,” Helena replied. “We’ll let you know when we find your match.”

That went easier than he’d expected, indicating they knew what they were doing. Again, this was another promising sign that all would work out for the best.

“Thank you,” he told them. With a bow, he left, relieved to know that he’d left the matter of finding a wife in very capable hands.

***

“I hear the Duchess of Ashbourne and her friends are highly successful when it comes to matchmaking,” Iris’ friend, Miss Bethany Carlisle, said.

The two sat on the settee in Iris’ drawing room. Iris had been on edge ever since her visit with the duchess and her friends. She was hardly able to eat anything, much less drink the tea she’d poured for them both.

“I don’t know,” Iris replied, trying not to give into despair. “It’s been fifteen days, and I haven’t heard anything. What if there’s no one for me? Maybe I’m supposed to be a spinster.”

Bethany gasped. “Don’t say such a thing! Of course, there’s someone meant for you. You’re a lovely lady. Any gentleman would be fortunate to have you.”

“No. I would be fortunate to have him.”

“Oh, you can’t look at it that way.”

“Why not? You know how hard I’ve tried, and yet, I couldn’t get beyond the first invitation to a dinner party.”

“That’s not true. Lord Steinbeck invited you to a second one.”

Iris shot her friend a pointed look.

Bethany’s face grew pink. “Sorry. That was a bad example.”

It certainly was. But her friend was right. “I should have listened to Regan. She warned me about him, but I was too foolish to take her advice.”

“You were in love with him,” Bethany replied. “You had to make sure she was correct. No one can fault you for that.”

“Well, I won’t make that mistake again. If I never see him again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Robert is just as upset by the whole thing as we are,” Bethany confided. “In fact, he told Lord Steinbeck exactly what he thought of him.”

Iris shook her head. “I doubt it’ll do any good. Lord Steinbeck can’t see past his own nose. He only invited me to those dinner parties because he admires my father.”

“Well, I do have one thing to thank Lord Steinbeck for. If we hadn’t been at his dinner party, we never would have met.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

Bethany finished her tea and glanced at Iris’ cup which was still full. “Aren’t you going to drink anything?”

Iris thought about it, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “No, I’m not in the mood to drink anything. Would you like to go to the park? I think a walk would help ease some of my nerves.”

“A walk sounds like a splendid idea.”

The two stood up just as the footman came into the room. “My lady,” he told Iris as he approached her, “I have a missive for you. It’s from the Duchess of Ashbourne.”

Iris couldn’t take the parchment he extended to her. This was it. Helena and her friends had found someone for her, and she was about to find out who he was. But she froze in place.

Bethany accepted the missive on her behalf. “Thank you.”

With a nod, he left the room.

Bethany turned to her, her face lit up with excitement. “You have a match!”

“I didn’t even hear someone come to the door,” Iris said.

Iris hurried over to the window to see if the person was still there. But of course, the person was already long gone. Not that it mattered who delivered the missive. It wasn’t going to change the name of the gentleman who’d been picked for her.

Her stomach tossed in apprehension. Did she really want to know which gentleman she’d soon be marrying?

“Do you want to open it or shall I?” Bethany asked.

Turning her attention away from the window, Iris glanced at the missive in her friend’s hand. Would it be better if she or Bethany read it first? After a couple seconds of agonizing over her decision, she finally gestured to Bethany.

“You do it,” Iris told her friend. “I can’t read it.” Bethany began opening it, but Iris stopped her. “Wait.” She went back to the settee and sat down. She didn’t trust her knees to keep her steady. Now that the waiting was over, she thought she might faint. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for the answer. “Go on. I think I’m ready.”

“All right.” Bethany sat beside her and opened the missive.

Iris watched her friend read it. At first, there was an expectant look in her eyes. Then her eyes grew wide. Then she gasped. Then she cried out in alarm and dropped the paper as if the thing just bit her.

“What did it say?” Iris asked. “Did the missive say there’s no match for me?”

“Oh, there’s a match,” Bethany replied, “but you don’t want to see it.”

Iris frowned. This didn’t bode well. Iris’ gaze went to the missive on the floor. Did she dare read it? After careful debate, she finally decided she had to. This was her future, and she had to know who was going to be in it.

She made a move to get up when Bethany touched her arm. “Don’t,” Bethany said. “It’s too horrible.”

“Who is he?” Iris asked, glancing from her friend to the missive and back again.

Bethany shook her head. “I can’t. It’s just too horrible.”

All right. Iris had been adequately warned this was going to be a most unpleasant match. Ignoring her friend’s protests, she got up and went over to the missive. She picked it up and turned it so it was right side up.

She had to read it a couple of times before she realized her worst nightmare had come true. No. It couldn’t be. It had to be anyone but him. Anyone but him! But no matter how many times she read through the missive, the same name and title kept popping up.

Warren Beaufort, the Earl of Steinbeck.

Iris stood still for several long moments. The room was so quiet she thought she could hear a pin drop.

“Iris?” Bethany hesitantly asked.

Iris couldn’t take her gaze off the missive. She kept hoping the name would change, but it didn’t. No matter how hard she willed it, it remained the same.

Bethany stepped toward her. “Iris, are you all right?”

Before Iris could process the fact that her friend was talking to her, everything went black and she fainted.

Chapter Three

“I can’t marry him,” Iris told her father later that day. “I just can’t. I don’t care what the Duchess of Ashbourne says.”

Her father studied the missive, his brow wrinkled with concern. “Oh dear. This is most unfortunate.”

That was an understatement. Iris turned to her mother who sat in the chair next to her, too shocked to respond.

“Of all the gentlemen in London, why does it have to be him?” Iris asked them both. “Can’t the duchess find someone else?”

“She makes an excellent point,” her mother told her father. “You must go to the duchess and demand she select someone else.”

Her father hesitated but then nodded. “You’re right. We’re paying the duchess for her services, and the least she can do is give us a choice we can be happy with.”

Iris breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there, she thought her father was going to argue with her mother. Iris knew her father liked Lord Steinbeck. The two had a tendency to talk whenever they came across each other, whether it was at the balls, the symphony, or the theatre.

If Iris didn’t know better, she’d swear Lord Steinbeck made it a habit of following her father so he’d have a reason to talk to him. Not that he’d ever make a similar effort for her. Indeed, he liked to pretend she wasn’t in the room.

“I’ll go see the duchess at once,” her father decided and headed for the doorway.

“I’ll go with you,” Iris said, following him.

He stopped and turned to face her, a concerned expression on his face. “Maybe you should stay here. Things will undoubtedly get unpleasant. All confrontations end up being uncomfortable.”

“This involves me, Father. I have a right to be there.”

After a moment, he let out a resigned sigh. “You’re right. We’ll go together.”

“Right now.”

“Well, perhaps we ought to send her a request to speak with her. She might be busy.”

“I don’t care if she’s busy or not. This is something that must be dealt with at once.”

He lowered his gaze to the missive, a worried frown on his face. She recognized that frown. It meant he was wavering in his decision. He liked Lord Steinbeck. No doubt, he was thinking of all the good conversations he’d have with the stuffy gentleman.

“Father,” she pleaded, her tone begging him to take her side, “Lord Steinbeck ignored me at two dinner parties. He’s already proven he has no interest in me.”

“Iris is right,” her mother said. “This match isn’t a good one.”

“All right,” he replied and folded the missive. He put it in his pocket. “I’ll go at once.”

“We’ll go at once,” Iris reminded him.

He nodded and indicated for her to join him.

Good. She wanted to be there when her father told Helena she wasn’t as good at matchmaking as she thought she was.

By the time they reached Helena’s townhouse, Iris was convinced the matter would be resolved within a few minutes. She joined her father as he got out of the carriage and up the steps. She stood right by him as he knocked on the door, and she followed him and the footman into the drawing room where Helena and her husband were smiling over their daughter, who was only a month and a half old.

Iris stopped just at the threshold of the room, suddenly wondering if she should have let her father request a time to meet with Helena. She didn’t know why it didn’t occur to her the lady had a life that didn’t involve her business. Helena’s husband rose to his feet, and Helena looked up from the baby in her arms.

“May I help you?” Helena’s husband asked.

“The Duke of Hartwell and his daughter wish to speak with Her Grace about an important matter,” the footman said.

“Of course,” Helena replied with a nod. She handed her husband their daughter and turned to Iris and her father as her husband left the room. “What would you like to eat and drink?”

As far as Iris was concerned, there was no need for refreshments, but her father had other ideas. “I wouldn’t mind some green tea and crumpets, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Helena assured him then told the footman to have the butler bring them. After the footman left, she motioned to the chairs. “Please, sit.”

Iris sat first, and her father chose the chair next to her. Good. Now they could get down to the heart of the matter.

Helena settled on the settee and clasped her hands in front of her. “Does this have to do with the gentleman matched for your daughter?”

“Yes, I’m afraid it does,” he replied.

His tone was much too polite for Iris’ liking. But then, how was Helena to know how poorly Lord Steinbeck had treated her? Calming down, she waited for her father to continue.

Her father pulled the missive from his pocket and opened it. “Did you mean to pick Lord Steinbeck to be Iris’ husband?”

“Yes. The decision was mutual between myself, Chloe, and Melissa.”

The butler came in with the tray full of tea and crumpets, so Helena grew silent while he set it on the table. Then he left, closing the doors behind him to ensure their privacy.

Helena poured tea into their cups. “We made it shortly after Lord Steinbeck came by yesterday. The decision was an easy one. The two share so many things in common we believe they will ease into marriage quicker than most couples.”

Iris grimaced. The decision was easy? They believed she and Lord Steinbeck would ease into marriage quicker than most couples? Iris opened her mouth to protest, but it was her father who spoke first.

“As it turns out,” her father began as he accepted the cup Helena handed him, “the two already know each other, and despite having a brief courtship, it became apparent such a union wasn’t ideal.”

“The union will never work,” Iris emphasized.

“Why is that?” Helena asked, holding the cup out to her.

Though Iris was in no mood to drink it, she accepted the tea. “He has no interest in anything I have to say. Whenever I’ve tried to join in the discussion at his dinner parties, he ignored me. Both times.”

“He greatly upset her,” her father told Helena. “I think it’d be best if we could get someone else. Surely, there must be another gentleman you can find.”

Helena thought over their argument for a long moment before she shook her head. “There is no one else who comes even close to a successful match.”

No other gentleman was even close to being suitable for her? Iris didn’t know if she should scream or cry. As much as she didn’t want Miss Barlow to be right, she had to admit the cold, hard truth. She really had no attributes that were worthy of a gentleman’s attention.

“May I ask what method you use to select the people you arrange marriages for?” Iris’ father asked.

Helena lowered her cup from her lips and nodded. “Certainly. We look at what people have in common and what both wish to get in the marriage. Both Lord Steinbeck and Iris reported enjoying outdoor activities such as riding horses and, on occasion, fox hunting. When inside, it seems the choice of activity is playing cards.”

Helena took a sip then continued, “They also enjoy talking about money and politics. Lord Steinbeck wants a lady he can talk to about such things, and more importantly, he wants a lady who can hold her own in these conversations. He wants someone who is his equal. Likewise, Iris wants to be respected, and she wants her opinion to be appreciated.”

“That’s just it,” Iris interrupted. “My opinion isn’t appreciated because he ignores me whenever I give it.”

“Maybe that’s because he hasn’t needed to pay attention to you,” Helena replied. “When he was here, it took some prompting for us to get to the real reason he wants to marry. I wouldn’t be so quick to give up on him. He has trouble opening up to people. Melissa thinks he feels deeply and can be very loyal to those he cares about, but something in his past has hurt him. He won’t open up right away. He needs someone patient and honest to bring him out of his shell. You can give that to him.”

Iris was ready to gag. Since when was it necessary she give something to that selfish gentleman? Didn’t he already take enough as it was? “I don’t see how I’ll benefit from the match,” she said.

“You’re intelligent, strong, and independent. You are no cowering wallflower. In time, he’ll appreciate that about you. More than that, he’ll respect you. And I have a feeling once he respects you, he’ll move heaven and earth to do whatever you want. Apart, you two have commendable qualities. But together, you will make a dynamic match.”

Iris couldn’t believe this. She looked at her father, willing him to argue with her.

But instead, her father asked Helena, “You really think the two can have that kind of marriage?”

“Yes, I do,” Helena said. “It won’t come right away. Lord Steinbeck is much too closed off for that. But that’s why he needs someone who can challenge him. He’ll only be half a gentleman until he has her. And I think for her, it’s important she has someone who can love her with everything he has. One thing I detected about Lord Steinbeck when he was here is that he needs someone who completes him. He just doesn’t know it.”

“Well, he can find someone else to do all this for him,” Iris replied. “I’m not going to go through the hassle of trying to prove I’m worth his time and attention. I’ve already tried it, and it didn’t work.”

“But it was only at two dinner parties,” her father argued, “and other people were there to distract him. If you were alone with him, things might’ve been different.”

“I have no desire to be alone with him,” Iris said, not liking where this was going.

“Not now,” he allowed. “Which is understandable. No one can fault you for feeling the way you do. But the duchess has made some excellent points. Having been married for twenty-three years, I can see the wisdom in her choice.”

Iris’ jaw dropped. Her father couldn’t be serious! “This is nonsense,” she sputtered. “Just because we share mutual interests and he has the potential to be a decent person, it doesn’t mean he should be my husband.”

He turned his tender gaze to her. “You were hurt by the way he treated you. I’m not denying that. What he did was wrong. But, if there will come a day when he’ll treat you the way Helena thinks he will, then this will be the kind of marriage I had hoped for you when the Season started.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” Iris insisted. “She,” Iris gestured to Helena, “can’t guarantee that, either.”

“Granted,” Helena began, “no one can guarantee anything. But from your answers and the answers Lord Steinbeck provided, you have the best potential of having a love match with him. Sure, there might be someone else you can marry and find some level of contentment with, but you’ll never be truly happy. Also, Lord Steinbeck won’t be happy. This is the best match we could make for you.”

What an absurd argument. Anyone could see how ridiculous it was. Iris turned to her father, demanding he make Helena stop this nonsense at once.

But her father did no such thing. Instead, he folded the missive, tucked it into his pocket, and said, “The marriage with Lord Steinbeck will stand.”

“No!” Iris couldn’t allow this. She wouldn’t allow this. “I won’t marry him.”

“I know this doesn’t seem like the right thing to do,” her father said, “but I think Her Grace is correct. I think once Lord Steinbeck gets to know you, things will take a turn for the better.”

“But—” she began.

“The decision’s been made,” her father interrupted, rising to his feet. “Your mother and I want you to be with a gentleman who isn’t given to scandalous behavior, and I want you to be with someone who can appreciate you the same way I do. After hearing Her Grace, I believe Lord Steinbeck is a good match. The marriage will stay arranged.”

Her father couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t be doing this to her!

“Come,” he gently encouraged, taking her by the arm and helping her to her feet. “We don’t want to take up any more of Her Grace’s time.” He took the cup from Iris and put it on the tray. Then he bowed to Helena. “Thank you for taking the time to explain your decision.”

Helena stood up and nodded. Offering Iris a smile meant to comfort her, she said, “I really believe things will work out. Just give it time.”

Iris realized Helena meant well. She truly believed Iris would be happy with Lord Steinbeck. Iris, however, didn’t believe it, and worse, there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it.

Her father led her to the carriage. “The duchess and her friends have experience with this,” he told her. “I’ve heard she’s made many successful matches. Some didn’t even seem all that promising on their wedding day. I heard Mr. Jasper wasn’t happy when he married Lady Cantrell, but Lady Cantrell just announced she’s expecting a child so things must have worked out.”

“Mr. Jasper didn’t ignore her at Lord Steinbeck’s dinner party,” Iris said then climbed into the carriage.

After he got in beside her, he said, “Maybe that’s because they were married, and he had a chance to get to know her without others around.” He smiled at her and patted her hand. “I have a feeling everything will be all right. Things are likely to be difficult in the beginning, but given some time, I think you will be just as happy as Lady Cantrell.”

There was no talking to him. He’d made up his mind. Her future was set. Whether she liked it or not, Lord Steinbeck was to be her husband. Truly, she couldn’t think of a worse fate, but she wasn’t in a position to leave London and seek a new life elsewhere. She was much too logical for that. She’d never make it on her own. She was a lady. Ladies were at the whim of their fathers, and after marrying, they were under their husband’s authority. With a resigned sigh, she turned her attention to the window. Life as she knew it was officially over.

Chapter Four

Warren made his way through White’s, looking for Malcolm. He’d given up on trying to reason with Robert. Robert had moved on and seemed to prefer the company of Lords Roderick and Clement. Both were upstanding gentlemen at White’s, but Warren never knew what to say around them. Plus, they had endorsed that book on pleasuring a lady, something that still surprised him. Lord Edon and Mister Robinson, he could understand. Those two delighted in mischief and scandal.

But Roderick’s and Clement’s reputations were intact. No one could blame them for the way their marriages came to be. Everyone now knew Roderick’s scandal was actually a mistake. As for Clement, the lady was the one who kissed him, not the other way around, though Clement had claimed he’d been the one to initiate the scandal. The truth of the matter was, he was no more capable of initiating a scandal than Roderick.

Even so, when he saw Robert lounging with them, he bypassed them and continued on to another room. He didn’t see Malcolm anywhere. With a sigh, he went to the decanter and poured himself some brandy. Malcolm was avoiding him. There was no doubt about it. But why? What did he do to upset him? He’d made it a point to pay attention to Malcolm’s wife the last time they’d had a dinner party together. After all the bellyaching Robert had done about him ignoring the Duke of Hartwell’s daughter, he made sure to pay attention to every lady in the room.

Turning from the decanter, he stepped over to the nearby window and released his breath. No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to get things right when it came to Robert. But with Malcolm, he thought there was a chance he might satisfy him.

“There’s no doubt Miss Hurst is beautiful,” Lord Asheley said. “Being in bed with her would be no chore.”

“You plan on a place as boring as the bed?” Lord Rossington asked Asheley. “I’d much prefer something like a carriage or a little hideaway spot at a ball.”

Warren glanced over at the two gentlemen who were pouring themselves some brandy.

“And risk getting caught?” Asheley replied. “I have no intention of being in the Tittletattle. I just want to enjoy a harmless tryst.”

“The greater the chance of getting caught, the better the lovemaking,” Rossington argued. “Besides, I haven’t gotten caught with any of the ladies I’ve been with so far.” He took a sip of his brandy then shot his friend a sly smile. “You think Miss Hurst is a virgin?”

“Undoubtedly,” Asheley said. “The lady blushes if I so much as touch her hand while leading her to the dance floor.”

“I do so love virgins. They are, by far, the most enjoyable. Nice and tight.”

“Want to make a wager? The one who takes her virginity will owe the other a night of pleasure with his wife.”

Warren scowled and went over to them. “Both of you are deplorable. I can’t believe you’re not only wagering on the fate of a poor innocent lady, but you’re making your wives a part of the deal.”

Asheley narrowed his eyes at him. “Did we ask for your opinion, Steinbeck?”

“You were talking so loudly I could hear you,” Warren replied. “When you do that, you pretty much invite me to listen.”

“Funny how you manage to work any argument in your favor,” Rossington began. “No matter how pointless it may be.”

“Pointless?” Warren snapped. “You consider the matter of an innocent virgin and your wives pointless?”

“You, Steinbeck,” Rossington said, “would argue with the sun on what time it should rise and set. Anything you have to say is meaningless.”

“Hmm…” Warren put his glass next to the decanter, no longer able to stomach it in light of their nonchalant attitude. “You think this matter of deflowering a virgin who might very well get with child from the activity is meaningless? Granted, your wives may be as vile as you are, but I dare say there’s hope for Miss Hurst.”

Rossington opened his mouth to protest, but Asheley stopped him. “You can’t argue with an imbecile.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Warren said, shooting a pointed look at Asheley.

The corner of Asheley’s mouth twitched in irritation, but he managed a polite, “You are welcome to your opinion, but we suggest you keep it to yourself. We’ve already voted against you with the matter of that book. You keep it up, and we’ll have you voted out of here, even if you do have an impressive ability to acquire money. Now that the Marquess of Dodsworth’s a part of this establishment, you won’t be able to intimidate the weak anymore.”

Well, maybe he didn’t want to be a part of an establishment that would wager on the fate of a virgin. Maybe he’d had enough of this kind of moral debauchery. Maybe he’d take the few decent gentlemen in this place and start his own club. He’d often fantasized about the idea, but it was difficult to gain enough support for such a thing. And no doubt, these gentlemen would see it as a victory.

The two cads walked away, snickering at him, knowing full well the marquess had, indeed, tipped the scales in their favor. But Anthony had also been voted to join White’s, and that meant at least half the gentlemen didn’t want the likes of Asheley and Rossington to have full reign over White’s. That meant there was still a chance to make a difference, to make this a respectable establishment. Feeling more hopeful, he left White’s.

When he arrived at his townhouse, he found a couple of missives waiting for him in the drawing room. He sorted through them. One was from Anthony. It was probably an invitation to a dinner party, one he had every intention of attending.

Another was from his half-brother. He grimaced. This was probably another plea for money. Money he’d only waste. He set it aside.

The last was from the Duchess of Ashbourne. That was quick. He’d only seen her and the other two ladies yesterday. He’d assumed it would take longer for them to match him up with a lady, but then, he only told them he needed a lady to give him an heir. It wasn’t as if his requirements had been difficult.

Curious to know the identity of the lady who was to have his children, he opened the envelope and pulled out the missive. When he saw she was Lady Iris, he looked up from the parchment in his hands. The name was familiar. He was sure he’d met her at some point during the Season. But he couldn’t place a face with the name.

He read through the rest of the missive and saw Her Grace had been thoughtful enough to include the lady’s address. He’d have to pay her a visit so he could remind himself who she was and, of course, introduce himself, in case she didn’t remember him. He was sure they hadn’t had any meaningful conversations. If they had, he would have remembered her. So he could only conclude she didn’t remember him, either.

Well, no worries. They’d remember each other soon enough. He picked up a quill and grabbed a blank sheet of parchment. After he wrote her a greeting and said he was looking forward to visiting her, he asked for a day and a time when it would be convenient to see her.

Once he gave the missive to his butler to send out, he returned to the desk and opened Anthony’s missive, knowing full well he’d enjoy this one much more than the one his half-brother sent. As expected, Anthony had invited him to a dinner party. It was going to be in a week and a half. Maybe that would be enough time to get a chance to get better acquainted with Lady Iris. He’d like to invite her to come with him. What better chance for her to make her first appearance as his betrothed than by attending a dinner party at Anthony’s townhouse?

Decision made, he replied he would be happy to attend and that he hoped to bring the future Countess of Steinbeck with him. Once that was sent off, he turned to the final missive. Did he really want to open it today? He doubted it’d be much different from all the other missives Byron had sent.

Warren sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the desk in front of him. It’d be a waste of time—not to mention it’d incur a great amount of frustration—if he opened it. He ought to just throw it out.

After a good ten minutes, he picked up the missive and threw it into the trash. It was enough he gave his stepmother and her two children an allowance, as was his father’s wish. He’d do no more than that.

He left his townhouse, more to get away from the memories the past brought up whenever he received any correspondence from them than for any other reason. It wasn’t until he was almost at Malcolm’s townhouse that he realized he’d been hoping to see his friend.

His steps slowed as he reached the bottom of the steps leading to the front door. The last thing he wanted to do was make a nuisance of himself. But Malcolm was so hard to find these days. Did he have any other choice? Sure, he could write a missive and ask to see him. And he would do that…if he thought Malcolm would answer it.

He tapped his foot on the sidewalk. Why did social interactions have to be so difficult?

Taking a deep breath, he headed up the steps. He knocked on the door before he could talk himself out of it and waited as the footman opened the door.

“Is Mr. Jasper in?” he asked the footman.

The footman nodded and motioned for him to enter. Good. Maybe he’d made the right decision in coming here. If Malcolm was here, it had to be a good sign. At the very least, it was promising.

Once Warren was seated in one of the chairs in the drawing room, he released his breath. The townhouse had belonged to Malcolm’s wife. He’d only been over a couple of times, but already, he could tell which things Malcolm had added to this room.

There was a globe of the world. Warren recalled how expensive that particular purchase had been, especially since it’d been made by John Fagles, who was the most renowned artist in London. Then there was a display of one of the sheets of music Mozart had used. It’d been such a rare collectible item that Warren had been envious for weeks over Malcolm’s acquisition of it.

Of all the people he knew, Malcolm had the best taste…and the best business sense.

Warren heard footsteps and turned toward the door, ready to greet his friend, but the greeting fell short when he realized it was just the butler.

The butler poured him tea and gestured to the scones. “Help yourself. Mr. Jasper will be down shortly.”

Warren thanked him and took the cup. After the butler left, he took a sip. Peppermint tea. It wasn’t his first choice, and he guessed it wasn’t Malcolm’s, either, but Warren knew from the times his stepmother had been with child that peppermint had a tendency to ease a lady’s stomach. Melissa had told him Regan was with child. He must not forget to congratulate Malcolm on his good fortune.

Malcolm had been hopeful his marriage would yield children who’d one day inherit his money. “And,” Malcolm had added when he’d told Warren and Robert of his engagement, “I will be sure to teach my children how to properly handle their finances. I won’t have any of them wasting it like so many gentlemen we hear about.”

Gentlemen like Byron. Suddenly feeling weary, Warren rubbed the back of his neck. If only his father had taken the same care and attention to instilling the value of money on his stepmother and the children he had with her. Had it not been for Warren, they’d all be destitute, but did they ever thank him for it? No. It was only, “You owe us more,” or “Your father would roll over in his grave if you don’t give us this.”

Again, footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts, but this time, it wasn’t the butler. It was Malcolm. Relieved for the interruption, Warren smiled and put the cup down. “I hear congratulations are in order,” he said, rising to his feet. “You’re to be a father at last.”

“Yes, Regan did a fine job in conceiving quickly,” Malcolm replied.

Though Malcolm smiled, he seemed uneasy, and for the life of him, Warren couldn’t figure out why. Did he dare ask?

“Would you prefer brandy instead of tea?” Malcolm asked, gesturing to the decanter.

“I’d be a fool to pass up an offer to have your brandy,” Warren said. “It’s the best in all of London.”

“That’s probably because it’s not from London.”

“It’s not?”

Malcolm went to the decanter and poured the brandy into two glasses. “No. It’s from Scotland. I do business with a gentleman there whose father-in-law makes it. It’s a family recipe, and according to his father-in-law, it’s his best kept secret. Others have tried to duplicate the recipe without success.”

Warren accepted the glass Malcolm offered him and made a toast. “To best kept secrets.”

Malcolm nodded, and the two drank their brandy. This was nice. It was much like how it used to be before things turned awkward. Warren wished he could pinpoint the moment when things went downhill.

He knew when things turned badly with Robert. It’d been that day at White’s when they were opening up votes for two new members. Robert complained about Warren ignoring the Duke of Hartwell’s daughter. That event was easy to remember, even if he still couldn’t recall what the daughter looked like. He tried, really he did, but his mind kept coming up blank. Maybe if he saw her again, he’d remember.

But it was no matter. He was to marry someone with the name Iris, and his attention would be better spent on her, especially in the matter of convincing her to try for an heir. Again, he lamented the fact that he needed a lady in order to have a child. Everything else he could do without assistance except for this very important matter.

“I am to be married,” Warren finally told Malcolm after a long moment of silence passed between them.

“Are you?” Malcolm asked.

“Yes. I decided to do what you did and seek out the help of the Duchess of Ashbourne and her friends. I figured since it worked well for you, then it might work for me.”

“A word to the wise: make sure you meet the lady they match you with before your wedding day.”

“Oh, I most definitely will. In fact, I sent her a missive asking to visit her.”

“You already know who she’ll be?”

He nodded. “I’m surprised, to be honest. I was only at the duchess’ townhouse yesterday. I thought it might take more time for her to find someone. I’ll tell you one thing about her: she’s efficient. It’s hard to find ladies who are capable in business, but I can see why she gained such an impressive reputation in London.”

Warren caught sight of Regan as she came into the room and put the empty glass on the tray so he could greet her. “It’s a pleasure to see you,” he said with a bow.

She curtsied and went over to Malcolm. “It’s a pleasure to see you, too.” Looking at Malcolm, she asked, “Are you ready to get Leonard?” Glancing at Warren, she explained, “My son spent the day with Frederick’s mother. Malcolm and I promised to bring him home in time for dinner.”

“Oh, then I should be going,” Warren said, catching the hint. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought Malcolm seemed relieved. Maybe they had timed it so that Warren’s visit would be cut short. Pushing aside the uneasy feeling in his gut, Warren forced a smile. “I only came by to offer my congratulations,” he told her. “I heard you’re with child.”

“Yes. We just found out,” she replied.

Since he didn’t know what else to say and neither one seemed as if they wanted to continue the conversation, he settled for offering a good-bye, finishing with, “I hope I’ll see you at White’s,” directed to Malcolm. Then he left, wondering if he’d somehow made things worse without knowing it.

Chapter Five

“You have to see him,” the Duke of Hartwell told his daughter four days later. “He’s given you ample time to prepare for his visit.”

Iris tried not to gag from where she was sitting at her vanity in her bedchamber, but it wasn’t to be helped. The way she saw it, when ladies didn’t want to marry, they either cried, ran away, or got angry. She was much too upset to cry, and she was much too sensible to run away. So all she could do was be angry.

“I’ll slap him,” she said. “I just know he’ll say or do something that’ll make me slap him.”

Her father shot her a pointed look. “Come now, Iris. You can’t know that.”

“This is Lord Steinbeck we’re talking about. He doesn’t have one decent bone in his entire body.”

“I have a feeling he’ll be on his best behavior this evening. He knows he’s marrying you. He has a reason to show you some interest.”

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and motioned to her reflection. “Why? Look at me. I’m not pretty. I’m plain. I don’t stand out in the crowd. I’m forgettable. Do you even think he’ll remember me?”

“I’m sure he will.”

“No, he won’t.” She rose to her feet and marched over to him. “He’ll remember you. As soon as he sees you, he’ll remember I’m your daughter. But he won’t remember me.” She pointed to herself. “Me.” She groaned. “This whole evening will be worse than the dinner parties because this time I’ll know I can’t escape him.”

Her father’s expression softened. “You mustn’t look at it like that. It’s very possible things will go better than you expect.”

“I’m willing to wager you on that. My investment has paid off well. Why don’t I bet you five shillings?”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You can’t bet on something like love.”

“I wouldn’t bet on something like love. I would, however, bet on a rude gentleman’s behavior.”

“I’m not making a ridiculous bet.”

“Why? Are you afraid I’ll win?”

“Iris, you know how much I admire your passion, but please, for this dinner, try to be pleasant.”

Pleasant? Her father expected her to be pleasant to Lord Steinbeck? Wasn’t it enough she was marrying him? Again, she gagged.

“If you keep doing that, you might not be able to keep your food down,” her father warned her.

“Food is the last thing on my mind,” she replied. “It shall take all my willpower not to fling something at him for the way he’s treated me. You better not have me sitting by him. I shall jab him with a fork if you do.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, he nodded. “You shall sit next to your mother.”

At least there was that small reprieve. Right now, she’d take any break she could get.

He went over to the door and opened it. “He’s due here any minute now, and it wouldn’t be good to keep him waiting.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her father Lord Steinbeck could wait all night for all she cared, but then she decided against it. Maybe Lord Steinbeck would show himself for the insensitive self-centered gentleman he really was. Maybe then her father would go back to Helena and demand she arrange for someone else to marry her.

Without glancing at him, she strode out of the room and went down the stairs, making sure she lifted the hem so she wouldn’t trip on it. She didn’t know why she’d let her lady’s maid dress her up in such a nice gown. It was much too good for the likes of Lord Steinbeck. She should have worn a black dress for this evening to make a point. She heard Melissa had done that on her wedding day to protest her marriage. Iris supposed she could do it on her wedding day as well, but she didn’t have the courage.

When she made it to the drawing room, her mother offered a sympathetic smile. “How are you doing, Iris?”

“Awful.” Why pretend she was fine with this when she wasn’t? She plopped in a chair. Before her mother could suggest she sit on the settee instead, she said, “I won’t sit by Lord Steinbeck. I’ll be doing good to sit in the same room with him.” She decided not to add that the very thought of doing so made her sick to her stomach.

“I’m not any happier about this than you are,” her mother said. “But we’re ladies, and our fate is up to the whims of gentlemen.”

It was a shame gentlemen were needed at all. Right now they were causing her a lot of problems. And sadly, up to now, she’d thought the world of her father.

Her father came into the room, and, after a tense moment, he said, “I know this is going to be a difficult evening for both of you, but I ask that you be nice to him.”

“He won’t even notice I’m here,” Iris replied. “There’s no point in being nice.”

Her father let out a long sigh. “Iris—”

A knocking at the front door stopped him from saying the rest of his sentence, which was fine with Iris because she was sure whatever it was he wanted to say, she didn’t want to hear it. Her gaze met her mother’s, and her mother offered her a supportive smile. Iris couldn’t smile back. The moment of doom had arrived. Lord Steinbeck was here.

Her father left the room, and soon, she was listening to her father welcome Lord Steinbeck to his home.

“I didn’t realize Lady Iris was your daughter,” she overheard Lord Steinbeck say.

She shot her mother a pointed look. “I knew he didn’t remember me,” she whispered to her mother.

Her mother winced on her behalf.

“Yes, she’s attended two of your dinner parties,” her father told Lord Steinbeck.

Good. At least her father saw it fit to remind him of his indiscretion.

“She did?” Lord Steinbeck asked, sounding surprised. “I’ve hosted so many dinner parties that I hardly remember who I’ve had over.”

Well, wasn’t that wonderful? She was one of many ladies he’d invited to his dinner parties.

Her mother closed her eyes and shook her head, probably thinking this was as much of a disaster as Iris did.

“Come to the drawing room,” she heard her father say. “I’m sure you’ll remember her when you see her.”

If only she wouldn’t remember him. But Iris knew that was hoping for too much. Of course, she remembered him. Even now, her heartbeat picked up just by knowing he was coming into the room. Curse her weakness! It was horrible to still be physically attracted to someone like him.

When he came into the room, she refused to look over at him, but her father cleared his throat. “Iris, this is Warren.”

Warren. So that was the scoundrel’s name. Well, as far as she was concerned, she’d never refer to him that way. The sooner she let him know there would be adequate distance between them, the better.

With a loud sigh, she got up and turned to face him. My goodness, but he was better looking than she remembered. He had neatly trimmed golden hair, deep brown eyes, and a slender build. Those traits weren’t all that different from other gentlemen she’d seen. But he always had such a serious look about him, and as loathe as she was to admit it, she found it extremely sensual. She could only pray she didn’t give her attraction away. She’d rather die than have him know what affect he had on her.

So it was with an aloof tone, she said, “Lord Steinbeck, you may refer to me as Lady Iris.”

“When we marry, I’ll have to refer to you as Lady Steinbeck,” he replied, giving her the teasing smile that, even now, made her weak in the knees.

But she wasn’t going to give into such feelings. “I think Lady Iris will be sufficient.”

Warren blinked, as if surprised by her cool response. She really must have underestimated the extent of his conceit. Did he honestly expect her to welcome him after he just told her father he didn’t remember her?

Her father let out a forced laugh in an effort to ease the tension in the room. “My daughter has a marvelous sense of humor. You’ll like that about her.”

Warren glanced her way, and she made it a point to frown at him, showing him she wasn’t joking.

The butler came into the drawing room and announced dinner was ready, preventing further conversation. At least for the moment.

Since her father hurried to escort her mother out of the room, Iris had no choice but to let Warren escort her. That didn’t mean, however, she had to make it easy for him. When he reached out to touch her, she stepped away from him. There was no way she was going to allow him that kind of contact with her. It was hard enough for her to stand her ground when he was in the same room with her. She didn’t need him touching her.

When it came time to sit, she chose the seat next to her mother. She peeked at Warren to see if he felt slighted by her maneuver, but if he did, he didn’t show it. Drat. He either didn’t care or he was good at masking his emotions.

“Everything looks delicious,” Warren said as he sat across from her.

“Cook does a wonderful job,” her father replied.

Iris glanced at her mother, who didn’t seem any happier about this than she was. Well, at least she had one ally in this room.

They passed the food around in silence. Under ordinary circumstances, the silence would have bothered her. This time it didn’t bother her in the least. She did hope, however, it bothered Warren. It would serve him right after everything he’d done to her.

Once again, though, he didn’t seem bothered one bit. He took a bite of the food and said, “You’re right. This food is as good as it looks. My compliments to your cook.”

Which meant, so far, the cook had received more of his attention than she had at any of his dinner parties.

Her father shifted in his chair and glanced her way before asking, “What do you think of the new Sovereign?”

At first, Iris didn’t realize her father had asked her the question. Yes, he’d looked over at her, but they’d already discussed the new gold coin. He was probably only doing this to encourage a conversation between her and Warren. Helena had mentioned money being one of the things they had in common, and no doubt, he was trying to get them both to see it.

Iris, however, had another plan in mind. She set her fork down and looked directly at her father. “I think one coin is as good as another as long as you can use it.” When Warren opened his mouth to speak, she quickly added, “However, I will admit Benedetto Pistrucci did an excellent job in the design, and it is nice it’s not nearly as big as the old Sovereign.”

“The old Sovereign wasn’t very popular,” her father replied. “Though I do think it had undeniable beauty in its design as well.” He turned to Warren. “Iris has one of the old Sovereigns.”

“Really?” Warren asked, sounding impressed. “I haven’t seen one and—”

Iris took that as her cue to interrupt, much like he’d done with her in the past. “Granted, it is exquisite,” she told her father, “but I agree with those who say King Henry VII was using it to boast of his reign.”

“Unifying York and Lancaster was no small feat,” her father argued. “I’m sure some at the time thought the War of the Roses was never going to end.”

“It had to end sooner or later,” she said. “Nothing lasts forever. Even Napoleon saw the end to his rule, and some thought he’d never stop giving us grief.”

And thankfully, this dinner was going to end at some point, too. She could only ignore Warren for so long. Already, she was beginning to feel guilty, and that wasn’t going to prove her point to Warren. He deserved this. No one else was holding him accountable for the way he’d treated her, and if she let him get away with it now, then it would set a bad foundation for their marriage.

“It’s interesting you should mention Napoleon,” Warren began. “Just the other day I was talking to—”

“Did you get enough fish, Mother?” Iris asked, not even bothering to look at him.

“Iris,” her father said, an underlying warning in his pleasant tone.

Her mother glanced at everyone sitting at the table then cleared her throat. “Actually, I’d like a little more.”

Iris obliged her then decided she’d launch into a discussion about shopping with her mother earlier that day. She knew it’d bore her father and probably even Warren, but talk of money and finances bored her mother. Of all the people she felt was even remotely on her side, it was her mother, and she decided if there was one person who wouldn’t be put to sleep during this very long and agonizing meal, it was going to be her.

Iris’ father and Warren contributed nothing else through the dinner, and that suited her just fine. Afterwards, her mother suggested Iris’ father and Warren go to the den while she and Iris would go to the drawing room.

Iris was more than willing to take any reprieve she could get. Doing everything possible to ignore Warren was exhausting her. Relieved, she hurried out of the room with her mother, only venturing one look back in time to see her father’s bewildered expression. Warren, on the other hand, was as unreadable as ever.

Chapter Six

Warren followed the Duke of Hartwell into the den.

The duke shut the door and went to the decanter. “I must apologize for my daughter’s behavior. She doesn’t usually dominate the conversation like that.” He poured brandy into their glasses. “By chance, do you remember her now that we had dinner with her?”

“Yes,” Warren admitted, sorry he hadn’t remembered her before this evening.

Had he any idea she was that Lady Iris—the one Robert had accused him of ignoring on two different occasions—he would have apologized when he wrote her the missive asking to meet her. No doubt she’d been proving a point during the dinner, and he really couldn’t blame her. If he was her, he would have done the same thing.

Honestly, he didn’t know why he’d had the hardest time remembering her. Maybe she just didn’t stand out like other people did. Granted, it wasn’t through any fault of her own, but it was what it was. Maybe if she’d told him she had an old Sovereign at his dinner party, he would have remembered her. An old Sovereign was something that would have caught his interest.

Turning his attention back to her father, he accepted the brandy and sat in the chair the gentleman gestured to. He took a sip of the brandy. It wasn’t as good as Malcolm’s. There was no brandy in London that came close to what Malcolm had. But the Duke of Hartwell had brandy worth drinking.

“Your daughter had good reason to act the way she did this evening,” Warren confided. This wasn’t going to be pleasant to admit, but Warren wasn’t one to act like he’d behaved honorably when he hadn’t. “I didn’t realize I ignored her at the two dinner parties I had invited her to, but a friend,” or rather, someone who used to be a friend, “informed me I had, indeed, ignored her. So you see, it’s understandable why she acted the way she did.”

“You didn’t realize you were ignoring her?” her father asked after he sipped his brandy.

“The conversations were such lively ones. The gentlemen were discussing aspects of business that fascinated me, and apparently, she contributed something worth noting that I missed. I assure you, it wasn’t intentional. It’s just that when a topic isn’t something that usually interests a lady, I assume whatever she says has nothing to do with it.”

“Well, Iris enjoys topics that don’t interest the average lady.”

“Really?” He recalled the Duchess of Ashbourne and her friends suggesting such a lady existed, but he honestly hadn’t believed them. He figured he’d be better off expecting a Pegasus to pull up a carriage to his townhouse.

Her father smiled. “Yes, really. Growing up, she used to prefer to be around me instead of her mother, and that being the case, I introduced her to topics girls usually don’t learn about.”

“And she didn’t get bored?”

“On the contrary, she wanted to learn more.” Her father must have noticed his disbelief, for he added, “No one was more surprised than I was. I fully expected her to go running back to her mother on several occasions, but she didn’t. She kept asking me questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

Her father shrugged. “Let me think… I recall a time when she was ten, and she asked me to explain what happens in Parliament. I did my best to sum up the answer quickly so as not to confuse her, but it turned out she grasped everything I told her easily enough. Some gentlemen don’t know half as much as she does on many topics.”

“One of those being money?” Warren guessed. Money was the obvious choice, given the fact that she had an old Sovereign.

“Yes, money is one of her favorite topics. You’d be surprised by how well she manages it. Her dowry will be considerable, of course, but she has enough of her own money to live comfortably for the rest of her life if she were to ever leave you.”

Ever leave him? He wasn’t sure what to make of that statement, nor was he sure he wanted to find out. It sounded like there was a warning hidden somewhere in there.

“Iris is my only child,” her father continued, “and since she’s a lady, I realize her position isn’t as secure as a gentleman’s would be. Despite what she thinks, I have taken the matter of her happiness into account, and I have seen to it the money she’s earned through her own business ventures will remain solely her own.”

Warren’s eyes grew wide in interest. “She has business ventures?”

“Certainly. She’s my daughter. I taught her everything I know about investing in businesses. She figures out which business owners are worth giving money to, and she reaps a portion of the profits, if there are any.”

Well, Warren was getting more and more impressed with her. Who knew such ladies existed?

“Now,” her father added, “I didn’t tell her about the money she has that you can’t touch. I want this marriage to work. I don’t want her running off without giving you a fair chance. I like you. I agreed to let you invite her to your dinner parties in hopes something would come of it.”

“I see.” And, of course, since he’d showed her such little regard at those dinner parties, nothing did come of them. Well, not until the Duchess of Ashbourne intervened. “I promise you that I’ll treat her better than I have in the past.”

“Treat her as you would treat me.”

“I can do that.” He drank some brandy then thought it’d be better to amend what he’d just said. “I will do that.”

“Thank you.” Her father finished his brandy. “Maybe next time you and my daughter are in the same room, things will be more amiable.”

“They will,” Warren promised him.

“Before we visit with the ladies, I did want to ask what you think of the new Sovereign coin.”

Happy to oblige him, Warren began to discuss it.

***

The next day, Iris and Bethany went to Hyde Park. The conversation had started innocently enough. They’d discussed things like how nice the day was and how well things were going between Bethany and Robert.

But it wasn’t until they sat on a bench that Bethany turned to face her and said, “All right, I can’t hold back my curiosity any longer. How did things go with Lord Steinbeck last evening?”

“It went as well as you’d expect,” Iris replied.

Warren would never be her favorite topic of conversation, but she felt she owed it to her friend to talk about him. After all, if the situation had been reversed, she’d want to know. And Bethany was one of the few people who sincerely cared for her. So of all people she could talk to, Bethany was the best choice.

“Did he spend the evening ignoring you again?” Bethany asked.

Iris couldn’t help but be touched by her friend’s concerned expression. “I didn’t give him the chance. I’m sure he would have, had the opportunity presented itself, but I figured a way to turn things around.”

She gasped. “Does that mean you ignored him?”

“Yes.”

Her friend’s face lit up with excitement. “What happened? How did you do it? What did he do? Was he embarrassed?”

Iris laughed, quickly overcoming her reluctance to talk about him. “If you give me a moment, I’ll tell you everything. I just need to recall all the events as they occurred.”

“All right. I’ll be patient.”

Despite her friend’s words, Iris caught the anxious way her friend tapped her foot on the grass. Iris didn’t hide her amusement. It was no wonder why she felt so comfortable with Bethany. Bethany was one of the few people who let everyone know what was on her mind. Iris knew exactly what she was thinking, and that was a huge blessing.

Turning her attention back to the conversation, Iris began, “When Lord Steinbeck arrived, my father went to greet him at the door. Mother and I were in the drawing room, and we could hear them talking. You won’t believe it, Bethany…” She paused. “Well, maybe you will. Lord Steinbeck had the nerve to tell my father he didn’t remember me.”

Her eyes grew wide. “He didn’t come out and admit it!”

“Oh, he did.”

“I’m shocked. Just shocked. I’ve never heard anything so appalling in my whole life. The least he could have done was pretend he knew you.”

“Yes, it would have been decent of him, but when it comes to Lord Steinbeck, there’s nothing decent about him.”

“Sadly, I have to agree. So, tell me, what happened after that?”

“To save himself further embarrassment, he escorted me to dinner, but I didn’t let him touch me.”

Bethany shuddered. “You poor thing. I hadn’t thought about him touching you. How awful! Since you’ll be his wife, you’ll be expected to have his child, and to do that, you’ll…you’ll…” She shook her head. “I can’t even think of it.”

“I haven’t gotten that far in thinking about this marriage, either,” Iris agreed.

And really, Iris hadn’t. If she had a hard time not getting all tingly and weak when he was in the same room with her, how was she going to keep her resolve on the wedding night? Certainly, he was expecting to come to her bed on their wedding night. All titled gentlemen did that to get started on their heirs.

“Maybe if you behave abhorrently when you see him, he’ll say no to the wedding,” Bethany suggested. “Then you’ll be spared sharing a bed with him.”

Iris glanced around, not sure they should be discussing this in public. At the moment, no one was nearby, but there were a couple of ladies who’d soon be passing them. One happened to be Lady Cadwalader, and Lord knew she would make life difficult for them if she overheard them talking about private matters.

“Now that you mention it,” Iris said, choosing to steer the conversation away from the wedding night, “my behavior was so rude he just might not want to have anything to do with me.”

Bethany’s eyebrows rose in interest. “Really?”

“Yes. At the beginning of the meal, my father asked me about the new Sovereign.”

“The new what?”

“It’s a twenty shilling coin.” Surprised, Iris had to ask, “Didn’t you know about it?”

“No. I don’t bother with matters of what coins are coming out. My father handles that, and some day, my husband will, too.” Then, with a sly grin, she added, “My only concern is how I spend them.”

Iris giggled at her friend’s joke but quickly stopped when she saw that Lady Cadwalader and her friends were within earshot. She gestured for Bethany to stop talking so the other ladies wouldn’t overhear them.

“I don’t care what anyone says,” Lady Cadwalader said. “If that miserable Marquess of Dodsworth attends the Duke of Rumsey’s ball, I am not going. I would advise the rest of you to do the same.”

“But the Marquess of Dodsworth is good friends with Lord Edon, and Lord Edon is the duke’s son-in-law. I don’t see how the duke can avoid inviting him,” one of her friends argued.

“The marquess used to be banned from the duke’s balls,” another said.

“That was before Lord Edon married the duke’s daughter,” the first friend replied.

“Rumor has it,” another one added, “that Lord Edon became friends with the marquess because he was banned from the duke’s balls.”

“I remember that evening,” the first friend said. “That was the one where the marquess took off his shirt.”

Lady Cadwalader shushed them and stopped to turn to them, her disapproving expression silencing them. Iris glanced at Bethany. The ladies were just a few steps away from their bench. Iris quickly looked away from the ladies, hoping they weren’t aware she could still hear everything they were saying.

“I will have no more talk of that devilish gentleman,” Lady Cadwalader said. “I will not attend any ball he goes to, even if it’s hosted by someone as admirable as the Duke of Rumsey. I highly caution the rest of you to do the same. Any association with him will damage your reputation. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” one of the friends said, the others soon following suit.

“Good,” Lady Cadwalader replied, sounding satisfied.

Since Iris heard skirts rustling, she ventured a peek at the ladies and saw they were finally walking away from her and Bethany. She released her breath. The last thing she wanted to do was annoy them. The best thing she could do was stay as far from them as possible.

“I don’t know why you let her and her friends intimidate you,” Bethany said. “They’re busybodies with nothing better to do than to pass judgments no one else cares about.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Iris said. “People do care. They’re influential with the Ton.”

Bethany shrugged. “Only with people who care about their opinion. The Marquess of Dodsworth is right about them. They’re all hypocrites. The very acts they condemn, they do in secret. It’s horrible, if you ask me.”

“I know. And I agree. I’d just rather be as invisible to them as possible.”

“Well, they’re gone now,” Bethany said. “What else happened last evening with Lord Steinbeck?”

Iris forced her gaze off the ladies and turned her attention back to what she and her friend had been discussing. “As I was saying, Father started talking about the new Sovereign, and when Lord Steinbeck began to comment on it, I interrupted him right in the middle of his sentence, as if he hadn’t been saying anything.”

Bethany’s eyes twinkled. “You did? Really and truly?”

She nodded. “I treated him the same way he treated me. And I kept it up. I didn’t let him get more than a couple words in before I made it a point to say something.”

“Good for you, Iris. I bet it did him good to reap what he’s sown.”

“I don’t know if it did him any good or not. I made it a point to turn the conversation to topics only my mother would be interested in. Father’s much too polite to interrupt her when she’s talking, so I kept asking her questions.”

“What things did she talk about?”

“Oh, she talked about her favorite fashion this Season, the symphony, and who had the best balls.”

“But don’t those topics bore you?”

“That didn’t matter. What mattered was boring Lord Steinbeck.”

Bethany giggled. “You’re right. So what happened after dinner was over?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Father and Lord Steinbeck went to the den. I told Mother I had a terrible headache and retired for the rest of the evening.”

Bethany gasped. “You didn’t even tell Lord Steinbeck good night?”

“Why would I? He didn’t deserve it. It took all my strength to endure the meal sitting across from him. Father was fortunate I didn’t slap him for not remembering who I was.”

“When you put it like that, I can’t argue with you for refusing to say good night to Lord Steinbeck. He really didn’t deserve it.”

“No, he didn’t.” She paused for a moment then asked, “Do you think he might end the engagement?”

“I would if Robert did that to me.”

“Yes, but Robert would never treat you that way.”

“That’s true. It’s hard to know how Lord Steinbeck will react.”

Indeed, it was. So far, no missive had come declining the marriage. It was a shame, too. Things would be so simple if he’d say he’d have nothing to do with her. Then she’d be free of him.

“If he is going to end the engagement,” Bethany began, “I suspect he’ll do it soon. If it was me, I would send a missive today or tomorrow.”

Her friend was right. She couldn’t expect anything in the morning. Usually, a missive would come around the afternoon or the next day. Hopeful once more, Iris prayed her actions last evening might result in the one thing she wanted most: freedom from Lord Steinbeck.

Chapter Seven

Unfortunately, when she did receive a missive the next day, it wasn’t the polite request to end the engagement like she’d hoped. No. It was something worse. Much, much worse.

I am writing to invite you to Lord Worsley’s dinner party this Friday. It’d be my pleasure to introduce you publicly as my betrothed. Speaking of which, I hope you don’t mind a special license. I’d prefer to marry you sooner rather than later. Your father and I discussed the matter and think a wedding next week would be best. I would have consulted you on the matter, but you had taken ill with a headache, and I hadn’t wished to disturb you.

When the words on the parchment finally made sense, she let out a shriek and dropped the missive.

Her mother came rushing into the drawing room. “What’s wrong?”

“Where’s Father?” Iris demanded.

“I think he went to see the Duchess of Ashbourne. Maybe I can help you.”

“I don’t understand it,” Iris said, stomping on the missive. “I just don’t understand it!”

“What are you doing?” Her mother urged her to stop stepping on the missive and bent down to retrieve it. “What is this?”

“Wasn’t I rude to Warren when he was here?” Iris asked.

“Yes, you were,” her mother replied, smoothing the parchment. “If I hadn’t known the circumstances that led you to such behavior, I would have locked you in your bedchamber for a week for the way you acted.”

“Exactly! So why does Warren still want to marry me?” When her mother gave her a blank look, she gestured to the missive. “Go on. Read it. Then you’ll see why I’m in a panic.”

Her mother turned her attention to the missive and read it, moving her lips as she did so. When she was finished, her eyebrows furrowed. “Oh my.”

“Now you see why I’m in such anguish.”

“This doesn’t give us much time to get your dress done for the wedding.”

“What?” Iris’ life was quickly coming to an end, and her mother was worried about her dress?

“Well, this is an important day. You need to look your best.”

“Who cares about how I look?”

“You should. You are going to be a married lady, and it’s necessary you look like a countess. We have so much to do. We’ll need to trim your hair, get the appropriate jewelry, find someone to use creams and ointments to make you beautiful… Oh, there’s no end to all the things that I must tend to. I’ll be back. I need to get ready to go out. Then we’ll get the process started.”

“But-but...” Iris stammered as her mother rushed out of the room. “Mother!” she called after her.

It did no good. Her mother was already on her way up the stairs. What had just happened? Could her mother really change her mind that fast? Did her mother now fully approve of her marrying that horrible Warren?

***

Iris tried to get out of going to Lord Worsley’s dinner party. She feigned every illness she could think of, but her father wasn’t buying any of them. And her mother… Well, her mother was so caught up in the excitement of making everything perfect for the wedding that she’d forgotten all about Iris’ misery.

“It’s not like we can talk your father out of it,” her mother had told her earlier that morning when Iris confronted her about it. “You’re going to marry Lord Steinbeck whether we like it or not. We might as well make the best of it.”

Make the best of it, indeed! Iris had never heard anything more absurd in her entire life. There was nothing good that was going to come from the marriage. Nothing good at all.

And this evening, she had to go to Lord Worsley’s dinner party. God help her if Lord Worsley’s sister was there. Miss Barlow thought so little of her. It’d make for a disastrous evening if she had to deal with her. She put her face in her hands and groaned. It’d be her luck that Miss Barlow would be there.

A knock came at her bedchamber door. She didn’t have to ask who it was. The upbeat rapping on the door told her it was her father, and he was only too happy about the match. Ever since Warren had eaten dinner with them, her father had insisted everything would be much better next time she saw him.

She glanced at the window. Just how far down would her climb be if she escaped? She didn’t think there was anything she could hang onto. She’d probably have to jump. But would she survive the fall?

“Iris?” her father called from the other side of the door. “I know what you’re thinking, and I must remind you that if you try to escape through the window, you might break a bone.”

She looked at the door. How did he possibly know she’d been thinking of escaping? It was positively spooky when he read her mind.

Reluctant, she stood up and trudged to the door, feeling more like she was going to the gallows rather than a dinner party. She took a deep breath and opened the door. She’d like to say she was surprised by her father’s wide smile, but the truth was, she wasn’t.

“Lord Steinbeck is here,” he said. “And you’ll be happy to know he remembers you.”

So she finally made an impact on the scoundrel. What was she supposed to do? Jump around and sing his praises? Since she was a lady, she managed to keep the thought to herself. Not only would it be unbecoming of her to stoop to that level, but her father was so wrapped up in his adoration of Warren that he’d probably mistake her sarcasm for excitement.

So she chose the safest response she could manage. She rolled her eyes.

“It’s a start,” he told her. “He’s making an effort.”

Remembering her was proof he was making an effort? This time she didn’t hold back her thoughts. “Splendid! I shall swing on the chandelier for joy that Lord Steinbeck finally remembers someone as pathetic as me.”

“Just because he didn’t remember you before, it doesn’t mean you’re pathetic.”

“Sure, it does.”

He opened his mouth to further argue with her, but she breezed past him and hurried down the stairs. She made it to the drawing room in time to see Warren inspecting his reflection in the mirror. Hmm… Selfish, rude, and vain. Was she ever getting the deal of a century in marrying him! That, of course, was another sarcastic thought. But, this time, she managed to restrain her tongue.

Instead, she snuck up behind him and said, “Your cravat is crooked.”

He jerked and whirled around to face her. “I didn’t see you come in.”

No, of course not. He was too busy admiring himself to notice her reflection. “I’ve been forced to come down and go to the dinner party with you,” she said, pretending to yawn. “Usually, dinner parties are fun, but in this case, you’ll be there.” She shrugged. “If the food tastes good, then I suppose I’ll manage to stay awake while you and your friends ramble on about some nonsense until I can slip away and enjoy a more entertaining conversation with the ladies. That is, if there are any ladies. Will there be ladies there tonight?”

He seemed shocked for a moment, but then he gave her that irritatingly sweet smile of his. “I understand what you’re doing, and I deserve it. There is no excusing the way I treated you at my dinner parties. You have every right to be angry with me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. What kind of trickery was this?

Her father cleared his throat, and they turned their attention to him. Her face flushed. Just how much did her father hear? The words she spoke weren’t intended for an audience, even if she felt betrayed by that audience.

With a smile, her father walked over to them. “I told you my daughter is feeling well,” he told Warren. “She has a tendency to be shy around new people, but I’m sure you will do everything you can to make her feel comfortable this evening.”

“Yes, Your Grace, I most certainly will,” Warren assured him, seeming a little too eager to do as her father wished.

Ah, so that was it. Warren was being nice to her because of her father. She didn’t know whether to be mildly annoyed or downright furious. There was nothing in, or of, herself to warrant Warren’s good graces. He was being nice to her because of her father.

“See?” Her father turned to her and smiled. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

She crossed her arms and glared at her father. That was easy for him to say. He wasn’t her.

“There will be other ladies there,” Warren told her. “Lord Worsley’s sister and Miss Bachman will be in attendance.”

Her jaw dropped. Miss Barlow and Miss Bachman would be there? Together?

Warren frowned. “Are you all right?”

“She’s fine,” her father replied for her. “She’s just nervous. As long as she’s included in the conversation, things should get better.” Her father gave her a pat on the back. “Everything will be all right.”

When she didn’t move toward the door, her father gave her a gentle nudge. But her feet remained firmly in place. No. She couldn’t. An entire evening with Miss Barlow and Miss Bachman? Just what had she done to deserve this? Was it because of her behavior when Warren was here at dinner? Was she being punished?

“I won’t leave you out of the conversation,” Warren promised.

Warren then made a move to touch her elbow, but she hurried past him to get to the door. Under no circumstances could she allow him to touch her. Sure, Bethany thought it’d be a fate worse than death to be touched by him. But for Iris, his touch had a way of making her weak. She had no defenses against him. Curse her body. Why couldn’t it cooperate with her mind?

She didn’t bother looking behind her to see if Warren followed as she left the house and ran down the steps to the carriage. She assumed he did. But she wouldn’t look. If she looked, then she’d give away the fact that he had power over her, and that was the last thing she’d ever let him learn.

The footman opened the door of the carriage for her, and she let him help her in. Once she was seated, she took a deep breath in an effort to control her racing heart.

Then another horrible thought came to her. She was about to sit next to Warren in this carriage. What if he assumed she was so excited to be near him that she ran all the way out here?

Drat! She shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to get here. In trying to get away from him, she probably made him believe she was eager to be with him. Oh, why did this whole thing of courting have to be so difficult? Gentlemen, especially those with Warren’s conceit, could be flattered by the slightest thing.

Her father stepped into the carriage.

Surprised, she blinked. “You’re coming?” she asked her father.

“I thought I’d chaperone this time,” her father said as he sat across from her. “Your mother offered to go, but she’s been so caught up in planning the wedding, I thought it’d be best if I came instead. Besides, this will be a good chance for you to talk to some ladies. Who knows? They might become your friends. It worked when you met Miss Carlisle.”

Warren sat next to her, and she scooted as far as she could from him. Given the limited size of the carriage, she ended up hugging herself and leaning into the window. If Warren noticed, he didn’t give any indication of it.

“I know Miss Carlisle,” Warren said. “My friend, Lord Dunnaby, enjoys her company immensely.”

“Lord Dunnaby is courting Miss Carlisle?” Her father gave her an encouraging smile. “That’s wonderful. If they marry, then you and Warren can have them over for dinner parties.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, but yes, it would work well that way.” Warren looked at her. “Would that help ease your nerves about dinner parties if your friend was there?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. What was he trying to do? He hadn’t bothered much with her up to now, and suddenly, he was interested in her opinion? “No, it wouldn’t ease my nerves,” she told him. “You’ll be there.”

Warren blinked in surprise, but her father chuckled. “My daughter has quite the sense of humor. She can match anyone in a game of wits if given the chance.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Warren slowly replied, not convinced by her father’s lie.

Nor should he be convinced. He should take this as an indication of her absolute disgust for him. Maybe then, he’d forget this horrible idea of marrying her.

They were quiet for the rest of the carriage ride, and she was relieved. She didn’t have anything to say to either of them right now. This entire evening was going to be draining enough without trying to think of something to say. With Miss Barlow and Miss Bachman there, this just might be the worst evening of her entire life.

Chapter Eight

Warren had misjudged how much he’d hurt Iris when he’d ignored her at his dinner parties. He hadn’t realized he’d been so insensitive that she had outright animosity toward him. As much as it pained him to admit it, Robert was right to criticize him. How many times had he unknowingly ignored people? Was Iris the only one, or were there others?

The carriage came to a stop in front of Anthony’s townhouse. He got out first and stood right by the door so Iris would have no choice but to let him help her down. She glanced at his extended hand then made a move to scoot around him, but he maneuvered so that she had no choice but to take his hand.

“I won’t bite,” he teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

“You might not, but I will,” she replied.

“Iris,” her father said, “that is enough. Take his hand and step down.”

She scowled at Warren but placed her hand in his. Had he taken her hand in the past? He wished he could recall. The sensation was very pleasant. She might not have the beauty other ladies did, but there was no mistaking the spark that shot through him at her touch. No. He probably hadn’t touched her. At least, he hadn’t touched her hand. He would have remembered that kind of spark. He was sure of it.

All too soon, she removed her hand from his. He had to stop himself from reaching out to touch her again, just to see if the spark happened by chance or if there was something to it.

Her father left the carriage and smiled. “I thought I recognized Lord Worsley’s title when you mentioned him,” he told Warren. “He’s the one who just doubled the money in his investment.”

“Yes, and he did it in only three months,” Warren replied. Recalling her father’s words about Iris’ love for discussing finances, he turned to her and added, “Lord Worsley put money into a gentleman’s business that did much better than I expected it would.”

Warren thought she might ask him what the nature of the business was, thereby opening up a conversation where they might talk, if even for a few moments. But she only shrugged as if she couldn’t care less and headed straight for the door.

Yes, there was no doubt about it. She didn’t like him at all. The only reason she was marrying him was because her father was insisting on it. Otherwise, she would have backed out of it already.

He followed her up the steps, her father not far behind him. When they reached the door, he knocked on it.

“I only recently made Lord Worsley’s acquaintance,” Warren told them. “We happened to meet while in the marketplace. He was negotiating the price of a painting he liked, and I stopped to watch his technique. It was quite impressive. I’ve never seen anyone manage to get half off a new item before, and he did it all within five minutes.”

He thought this might impress Iris, but she turned toward him, her lips forming a tight line. “You mean to tell me Lord Worsley, a gentleman known for having more money than he’ll ever need, robbed a poor painter out of half the money rightfully due to him?”

“I wouldn’t say he robbed the painter. He negotiated with him to obtain a more suitable price.”

“More suitable for who?”

“Well…for himself. He was the one who was buying the painting.”

“I happen to be familiar with the painters in the marketplace, and none of them are living in excess like this.” She gestured to the townhouse. “Lord Worsley can afford to pay the full price. He’s just too selfish to do so.”

Her father cleared his throat. “Iris, this might not be the time to have this kind of conversation.”

She shot her father a sharp look. “You’re right. It’s not. It would have been far better had I been there when Lord Worsley was denying the poor painter the money rightfully due to him. Who knows if the painter had a wife and children to provide for? But I suppose if you’re like Lord Stein-blech or Lord Worse-ly, you don’t care.”

Warren didn’t know which part of the insult he should pay attention to the most. She had intentionally referred to him as Steinblech, indicating the mere thought of him made her gag. But she’d also called him heartless. So that was her estimation of him? She honestly thought these things when she thought of him?

“I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t encouraged you to express your opinions,” her father muttered under his breath.

She seemed as if she was ready to respond when the front door opened.

The three turned to the footman who welcomed them to the dinner party and led them into the drawing room.

The three couples were engaged in a lively conversation, and Warren, Iris, and her father happened to come in while they were all laughing. How Warren wished things were half as pleasant between him and Iris as they were with the other couples. He’d been making it a point to talk to her—to include her—but it wasn’t having the effect he’d been hoping for.

The footman waited until their laughter died down before announcing Warren’s arrival with Iris and her father.

Anthony rose to his feet and went over to them. “Ah, we get to meet the mysterious future Lady Steinbeck at last,” he said and bowed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Then he turned to her father. “It’s a privilege to have you here. You’re a legend, Your Grace.”

“I am?” her father asked.

“Certainly. My friend here,” he gestured to Warren, “praises you at almost every opportunity he gets.”

Her father smiled and glanced at Warren. “Really?”

“Oh, yes,” Anthony replied. “And how fortunate it is that the Duchess of Ashbourne matched him with your daughter. Earlier this Season, he said he most wished to marry your daughter out of all the other ladies because you would make an ideal father-in-law.”

Warren hid his wince. That comment, undoubtedly, would not help his cause with Iris. She’d assume his only interest in her was to get her father for an in-law. It was bad enough he’d forgotten her name and had ignored her at his dinner parties. Now there was this to contend with.

“My dear brother,” Miss Barlow said, rising to her feet. “Aren’t you going to include us in this discussion?”

“Of course.” Anthony turned to the others. “Lady Iris and Your Grace, this is my little sister, Miss Barlow.”

“I’m not so little anymore,” she playfully argued. “I’m in my first Season.”

“Yes, she is right,” he said. “I stand corrected. She is a grown lady. She’s with Lord Durrant this evening. Miss Bachman, over there, is with me.”

They all greeted each other, and Warren breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the evening would go smoothly now that Anthony’s comment had been shoved aside. He silently thanked Miss Barlow for interrupting when she had. Who knew how much worse things could have been?

“Sit and join us,” Lord Durrant encouraged. “I believe the dinner isn’t going to be ready for another ten minutes.”

“He’s right. It’s not,” Anthony said.

Since the settees were taken up, Warren made a move to sit in a chair next to Iris, but at the last minute, she veered away from it and sat on the other side of her father. Warren should have expected this, but he hadn’t. Never once did he think she’d purposely ignore him in front of his friends. It was one thing for her to do that when it was just him and her parents, but this was actually embarrassing.

He didn’t know whether he should be upset or contrite. It certainly didn’t help his image to be spurned by his betrothed in front of these reputable people. And yet, hadn’t he done the same thing to her? Hadn’t he subjected her to the same level of embarrassment she was now subjecting him to? So really, wasn’t he only getting what he deserved?

“Are you going to stand all evening, or do you plan to sit at some point?” Miss Barlow asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

Warren offered a smile and sat down. “I was wondering if anyone noticed I hadn’t taken a seat,” he joked.

Everyone but Iris laughed. Iris just looked at him as if she’d never heard anything so stupid in her entire life.

“It’s nice to have Your Grace here this evening,” Anthony said. “Why, shortly before you arrived, we were debating whether it’s more practical to invest in high-risk business ventures that might yield a high profit or if it’d be best to stick with low-risk ventures that will yield minimal profit.”

“I think it depends on your situation,” Iris’ father replied. “If you already have money and are young, I see nothing wrong with risky ventures as long as that risk doesn’t include any money you can’t afford to lose. The older you get, however, the more conservative you should be.”

“I knew it!” Durrant cheered. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Now I appreciate all the praise Steinbeck’s given you,” Anthony said.

Warren resisted the urge to plead with Anthony to stop. Anthony meant well. He was trying to be pleasant. He didn’t know what was going on with Iris.

Fortunately, the butler came into the room to announce dinner was ready. Warren breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, the evening would go better from here.

***

The dinner went worse than Iris thought possible. Not only did Miss Barlow and Miss Bachman glance at her from time to time and whisper to each other, often giggling afterwards, but Lord Worsley continued to point out how much Warren adored her father.

“I must say,” Worsley said at one point, “you really understand business. I consider myself fortunate that you will be my friend’s father-in-law.”

Iris was used to hearing people say such things, so she’d learned how to tune most of it out. But this evening, with Warren, Worsley, and Durrant all doing it, it made her sick. Indeed, she could barely eat anything on her plate.

She was merely a means to an end. This marriage had nothing to do with her. The marriage was really about uniting these gentlemen into endless dinner parties where they could discuss politics and money. These were topics she’d usually enjoy, but this evening, she couldn’t bring herself to care about any of it.

Her father must have picked up on her mood, for he gave her a look that told her things would get better with Warren, even if she didn’t believe it.

Well, he was right about one thing. She didn’t believe it.

“Have any of you seen an old Sovereign?” Warren spoke up.

“No, I can’t say I have,” Lord Durrant said.

“Lady Iris has one in her possession,” he told him.

She frowned. What was Warren doing?

“It’s true,” her father said. “She purchased it herself with money she earned in an investment.”

She caught the snickers from Miss Barlow and Miss Bachman, though the others missed it. She fidgeted in her chair, not sure what her father expected from her. And more importantly, what could she say that wouldn’t earn her more disdain from Miss Barlow and her friend?

“What investment was that?” Warren asked her.

Iris forced her gaze off of Miss Barlow and saw that Warren was looking at her. Iris was so stunned he’d talked directly to her right in front of everyone that she dropped her fork, which, in turn, fell to the floor.

She quickly bent down to retrieve it just in time for the butler to come over to do it for her. Of course. She should have remembered the butler was there in case anyone needed assistance, and this included dropping utensils. She made a move to sit back up, but the butler moved at the same time and the two bumped heads.

“I’m sorry,” Iris told him.

“Don’t be, Lady Iris,” he assured her while he stood up. “It’s my fault. I’ll bring you another fork.”

It hadn’t been his fault. It’d been an accident, but before she could correct him, he was already out of the room.

“I told you she was awkward,” she overheard Miss Barlow whisper to her friend.

Iris’ face warmed. She glanced around the table, wondering if anyone else had overheard them, but the gentlemen had gone on to talk about other things so maybe they hadn’t. In that case, she’d been spared further embarrassment.

The butler soon returned with a new fork, but Iris gave up the pretense of eating. What was the point? She’d only do something else to make the two ladies laugh at her, like spill food on herself. So she gently placed the fork next to the plate and waited patiently for the meal to end.

When it finally did, she thought she might get a chance to ask her father if he would take her back home, but Miss Barlow and Miss Bachman came over to her before she could go to her father.

“We’ll go to the drawing room while the gentlemen go to the den,” Miss Barlow told her as if Iris hadn’t been to a dinner party before.

“I need to talk to my father,” Iris told her.

Iris turned to go to her father, but Miss Barlow took her by the arm and pulled her down the hallway. “You can talk to him later. You came here with him. I’m sure that means you’ll be leaving with him, too.”

“Well, yes,” Iris admitted.

“Then talk to him then. For now, we need to let the gentlemen talk.”

Iris tried to protest, but Miss Bachman helped Miss Barlow propel her forward. Before Iris knew it, she was in the drawing room and Miss Barlow was shutting the door.

“That’s better,” Miss Barlow said. “I love my brother. He’s a sweet gentleman, but sometimes he bores me so. Honestly, Loretta, I don’t know how you can bear with him.”

Loretta shrugged as she let go of Iris’ arm. “As you pointed out, he’s sweet. A little stuffy at times, but sweet, nonetheless.”

“I suppose his money doesn’t hurt, either,” Miss Barlow teased.

“Celia, that’s not fair.” Loretta giggled and sat in one of the chairs. “Though, I am partially attracted to him because of his money. But don’t all marriages occur in London for the sake of getting something? If I am to marry a titled gentleman with money, your brother is one of the better ones I can get.”

Celia nudged Iris in the back, prompting her to take a seat. “Why do you think I introduced you to him?” she asked Loretta with a wink. She looked back at Iris. “Go on and sit. You might as well make yourself comfortable until your father comes to get you.”

Reluctant, Iris sat across from Loretta, figuring she’d rather be across from these ladies than next to them.

“Why did your father come tonight?” Loretta asked as Celia sat in the chair beside her.

“Yes, I’ve been wondering the same thing all through dinner,” Celia agreed. “We didn’t think we were going to see him this evening.”

“Was he afraid Lord Steinbeck would slip his hand up your dress in the carriage?” Loretta asked. “Perhaps he suspected Lord Steinbeck was going to take advantage of you.”

Celia burst out into laughter. “I’m sure Lord Steinbeck would never behave in such a way. Well, not with her anyway.”

Iris’ face grew warm. “Even if Lord Steinbeck tried it, I wouldn’t let him. I’m not that kind of lady.”

“Of course not,” Celia assured her. “I doubt you’ll be that kind of lady after marriage, too. Which will suit Lord Steinbeck just fine. My brother said he only wanted a wife so he could have an heir. In fact, my brother said he was bemoaning the fact that he couldn’t get an heir without the help of a wife.”

“Are you saying Lord Steinbeck has no interest in the bed?” Loretta asked in surprise.

“The only interest he has in the bed is sleeping in it.” She glanced at Iris. “But at least you’re getting married. I didn’t see how it was going to happen since you’re so plain to look at and never have anything interesting to say. However, now that I think about it, this match makes perfect sense. Lord Steinbeck is equally dull. You two will be well matched.”

Iris knew this evening was going to be difficult to get through, but she’d sorely underestimated just how difficult it’d be. She could say something, she supposed, but knowing them, they’d only use it against her. They were taking delight in treating her this way. If she let them know it bothered her, it’d only make things worse.

Forcing out a laugh, Iris said, “Yes, we are well matched. I am relieved I shall only have to endure being around him long enough to get a son. As for my father, he came along so I wouldn’t risk falling asleep during dinner. I can’t tell you how tedious you all are to me.”

Celia straightened up in her chair and frowned at her. “I don’t recall partaking in the conversation during dinner.”

“Yes,” Loretta added. “The gentlemen were the only ones who were doing the talking.”

“But you two were whispering and giggling like senseless chits all through the meal,” Iris pointed out, making sure she imitated their tone of superiority. “I had wished my father could have spared me from the fate of having to be stuck with you two in this room. But alas, you insisted I come here.”

Celia narrowed her eyes at her. “You think your place was with the gentlemen?”

“At least their discussion was worth listening to,” Iris said.

Loretta raised an eyebrow. “We were talking about you. Don’t you think you’re interesting?”

“She isn’t interesting,” Celia told her friend. “We have to put up with her because my brother enjoys Lord Steinbeck’s company.” She rolled her eyes. “And Lord Steinbeck insisted on bringing her.”

“I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here,” Iris informed them and crossed her arms. “But being a lady, my life isn’t my own, and I must do as my father wants.”

“And what would you be doing this evening if you weren’t here?” Celia asked. “Sit in your bedchamber and stare out the window while life passes you by?”

“It’d be preferable to this,” Iris muttered.

How Iris hated her encounters with these two ladies. Her father had no idea what it was like for her. He thought that just because they were her age and they were ladies, she’d have an enjoyable time. “You need to make friends,” her father often said. “Open yourself up to new people.” If only he could be in her position to see what she had to go through every time he said that.

“No wonder your father sought an arranged marriage for you,” Celia said. “It’s the only way you could get a husband. It’s a shame Lord Steinbeck has no interest in you. I heard he only invited you to his dinner parties because of your father. Maybe if your father had been there, he wouldn’t have ignored you in front of everyone.”

“Yes,” Loretta agreed. “I see he made it a point to talk to you this evening since your father was there.”

“That’s why she insisted her father come along,” Celia told her friend. “It was bad enough when Lord Steinbeck ignored her before their betrothal. Can you imagine how much more embarrassing it’d be now?”

Iris had had enough. She bolted to her feet and stormed to the door.

“Running off because you can’t handle the truth?” Celia called out after her.

“No, I’m running off because if I don’t, I’m likely to whack you on the head,” Iris snapped.

“Of course,” Loretta replied, snickering in a way that let Iris know she found Iris amusing.

No doubt the two would tell everyone their version of events this evening. Iris put her hand on the doorknob then turned back to them, debating whether or not she should do something to wipe the smug looks off their faces.

But what could she do? Nothing she could say would bother them. All they’d do was find some clever retort to upset her even more. And quite honestly, going up to them and smacking them wasn’t her style.

The knocking on the door made her jump.

“Don’t be spooked,” Celia said. “We don’t have ghosts in this place.”

Ignoring the two ladies, who proceeded to giggle, Iris opened the door, not sure if she was relieved or disappointed to see Warren standing in front of her.

“Your father was wondering if you would like to stay longer or if you’re ready to leave,” he said.

Iris didn’t bother looking to see if Celia and Loretta overheard him. He was speaking low enough so only she should be able to hear him, but who knew if his voice carried further into the room than she thought possible.

She breezed past him and headed down the hall where the gentlemen had gone. Somewhere down here was the den. She figured she’d know the room when she heard their voices.

Warren followed after her. “Iris?”

Not paying him any mind, she listened for voices behind one of the closed doors. Nothing. She headed for the next closed door.

Warren darted in front of her, successfully stopping her. “Iris, can we talk?”

“No.” She had nothing—absolutely nothing—to say to him. Not now. Not ever.

She tried to step to the side, but he blocked her from going around him. “It won’t take long,” he said. “I want to apologize for the way I’ve treated you.”

“Apology not accepted.”

Before he could speak, she darted around him again, this time making sure she was faster than he was. And the ploy worked. Within the next few seconds, she made it to the door where she heard the other gentlemen talking and laughing.

Apparently, she was the only one here having a miserable time. Without waiting for Warren, she knocked on the door.

“I don’t mind telling your father you’re ready to leave,” Warren told her, his breath tickling her ear as he went around her so he could open the door.

She cursed her body for tingling with excitement at his nearness. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair her body refused to cooperate with her mind.

Warren entered the room and went over to her father. She edged around the doorway so Lords Worsley and Durrant couldn’t see her. Her father, however, glanced her way as Warren quietly talked to him.

Good. She was almost out of here. She looked back down the hall and caught sight of Celia and Loretta, who were shaking their heads in amusement. Deciding not to give them any more power over her, she turned her back to them and watched as her father rose to his feet.

As loathe as she was to admit it, her father had a natural charm with people. No wonder Warren was so eager to marry her. Marriage meant securing her father’s good graces. She, however, had no such gift. She blended into the background, much like a wallflower. That’s all she’d ever been, and it was all she’d ever be.

Pushing down the thought, she focused on getting out of this awful townhouse. The sooner she returned home, the better.

After her father said good-bye to the gentlemen, who were obviously sorry to see him go, he walked over to her. She turned and left the townhouse with him, not bothering to look at the two chits as she passed them. She waited for them to make some snide remark or snicker as they’d been doing most of the evening, but they only wished her a good evening in a tone that would make the others think they had actually enjoyed having her there.

She hated it when they did this kind of thing. They never showed their true colors when others were around. And it made it that much more difficult to explain to her father why she hated being stuck with them.

By the time she sat in the carriage, she didn’t even care that Warren was sitting next to her. The evening had drained out any fight left in her. All she wanted to do was go home, throw the covers over her head, and go to sleep.

Her father waited until the carriage moved forward before he said, “I take it you didn’t have a good evening.”

“I told you it’d be the same it always is when it comes to Miss Barlow and Miss Bachman,” she blandly commented, staring out the window.

“They seemed pleasant,” her father said.

Was he serious? She turned her gaze to him. “Didn’t you notice the way they were snickering at me during the meal?”

“They were snickering at you?” Warren asked, sounding surprised.

She groaned. “I don’t imagine these things,” she told her father, ignoring Warren. What did he care? Any concern he pretended to have was for her father’s benefit. “I’m intelligent enough to see what’s going on around me. I don’t understand why that’s so hard to believe.”

Her father’s expression softened. “Iris, there’s no doubt you’re intelligent. In fact, you’re more intelligent than most gentlemen I know.”

“Then why don’t you believe me? They spent most of the dinner whispering between each other and snickering at me. Then, when I was stuck in the drawing room with them, they were very unkind.”

“What did they say?” Warren asked.

She finally turned her attention to him. “What do you care?” she snapped. “You’re no different from them.”

“Iris, you don’t mean that,” her father said.

“Don’t tell me what I mean or don’t mean,” she replied, shooting him a pointed look. “I might not have any control over who I marry, but I will always control what I mean.”

To that, both gentlemen grew silent and didn’t say anything else the rest of the way to her townhouse, something she was grateful for.

Chapter Nine

As much as Warren hated to bring up a personal topic at White’s, he was unable to find Anthony at his townhouse the next day, so he went to White’s to see if he was there. And as it turned out, he was talking to Corin St. George, the Earl of Durrant.

Well, he supposed it was fitting the two were here together. That way he could get Corin’s opinion, too.

On his way over to them, Mister Christopher Robinson jumped in front of him. He jerked back. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked Christopher. “I didn’t come here to see you.”

“I just wanted you to know the gentlemen over there are not playing cards for money,” Christopher motioned to the other room where Christopher’s friends were gathered around the table, seeming to be more interested in sharing the latest gossip than in actually playing cards. “So there’s no need for you to go over there and demand we behave properly,” Christopher added.

Warren would have taken the time to laugh since Christopher even cared about it, but he wasn’t in the mood today. “I don’t care what you and your silly friends are doing.”

He made a move to step around him, but Christopher said, “That’s a surprise since all you ever do is go around here telling gentlemen what they should and shouldn’t do.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” he replied.

He was finally able to bypass Christopher. Is that what Christopher and his friends thought? That just because he cared about the reputation of White’s, it meant he was overbearing? London was teeming with a wide assortment of immorality, and it seemed so few even cared. Christopher and his friends thought it was one big joke. But people were hurt by it, and Warren had to stand by and get ridiculed because so few took him seriously.

Just as Iris felt like she wasn’t being taken seriously. He’d had no idea she’d felt left out at dinner parties. He’d apologize again if he thought she’d listen to him.

When he made it to Anthony and Corin, he pulled up a chair and sat with them.

“Warren, we were just talking about you,” Anthony said, turning to him. “You have to be one of the most fortunate gentlemen in all of London to have secured a marriage to the Duke of Hartwell’s daughter.”

“Indeed,” Corin agreed. “I was impressed with him last evening. Tell me, when you were talking to the Duchess of Ashbourne about arranging a marriage for you, did you specify you wanted a lady with a father like His Grace?”

“No,” Warren slowly replied, suddenly uncomfortable with the emphasis they were giving his upcoming marriage.

A week ago, he would have enjoyed the way they envied him for getting into the obvious good graces of the duke, but having learned so much about Iris, he couldn’t bring himself to even smile about it.

“I told her all I wanted was a lady who could have children,” Warren said.

“Ah, the pursuit for an heir,” Anthony replied. “It’s the one thing that prevents us from a love match.”

“Are you saying you don’t care for Miss Bachman?” Corin asked Anthony, his eyebrows raised in interest.

Anthony shrugged. “She’s my sister’s friend. Celia wanted me to invite her to the dinner party, so I did.”

“Will you be inviting her to another dinner party?” Corin asked.

After a long moment, he said, “If I can’t find someone who actually piques my interest, I’ll have to.”

“Speaking of the dinner party,” Warren began, “I was wondering about something.” Under ordinary circumstances, Warren would never have interrupted their conversation, but he was afraid if he didn’t do it now, the conversation would go off course and he’d be unable to get back to it.

“Sure,” Anthony replied, gesturing for him to continue. “What is it?”

Warren took a couple seconds to consider the proper way to phrase the question before he spoke. “I would like for you to be honest with me. Do your sister and Miss Bachman like Iris?”

“I wouldn’t be concerned about Celia and Loretta,” Anthony replied. “They like whoever they want, and there’s nothing I can do to change their minds.”

“So is that a no?” Warren pressed.

He let out a sigh and admitted, “No, they don’t care for Iris.”

“Why didn’t you warn me before I invited her to your dinner party?”

“Because my sister didn’t tell me anything until I’d already told you to bring her. After that, it was awkward to withdraw the invitation.”

Warren supposed he couldn’t blame Anthony for his reasoning. He might have done the same thing in his situation.

“Besides,” Anthony added, “my sister has a tendency to exaggerate. I thought her dislike for Iris couldn’t be that bad.”

Corin glanced from one gentleman to the other. “Things seemed pleasant enough during dinner.”

“Iris,” Warren began, “said it wasn’t pleasant for her. She said Celia and Loretta kept whispering between themselves and snickering at her.”

“I don’t recall seeing that,” Anthony replied.

“I don’t, either,” Corin agreed.

“Neither did I,” Warren granted. “But I think we were too caught up in our conversation with Iris’ father to notice anything the ladies were doing.”

“The Duke of Hartwell did have excellent advice,” Corin commented.

“Yes, he did,” Anthony said. “From what I hear, he almost rivals Malcolm when it comes to business sense.”

The mention of Malcolm brought a momentary flicker of regret for whatever he must have said or done to push Malcolm away from him. At least with Robert, he knew what he’d done wrong.

Pushing aside the thought, Warren straightened in his seat. “Well, Iris is adamant that they were snickering at her during the meal. And when they went to the drawing room, things went from bad to worse. Do you have any idea what happened?”

“Celia didn’t say anything about it,” Anthony said. “She only said she’d found the evening amusing. I thought that was a good thing.”

“Iris was upset. She didn’t find the evening the least bit amusing,” Warren replied.

Anthony shrugged. “I don’t see what we can do about it. If the ladies don’t get along, they don’t get along. I just won’t have Iris over to one of my dinner parties in the future. I can’t get out of inviting my sister.”

Warren was about to argue he didn’t have to invite his sister at all, but then he remembered Anthony and Celia actually had a good relationship, unlike the ones he had with his half-brother and half-sister.

“I understand,” Warren finally said. “I don’t want to get between you and your sister. Unfortunately, in light of the fact that I’m going to marry Iris, I can’t go to any more of your dinner parties.”

“You care for Iris that much?” Corin asked.

“I have a lot to learn about Iris,” Warren corrected. “But she’s going to be my wife, and I need to treat her with the respect due to her.”

“It also wouldn’t be good to upset her father,” Anthony added.

Well, yes, Warren supposed there was that angle, too, but her father would suggest Warren forget his feelings and focus on Iris’.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Anthony told him. “Ladies have their squabbles all the time. Sometimes Celia can’t stand Loretta, and at other times, she’ll spend all day with her. Who can say why? Their moods are so erratic.”

“They are,” Corin agreed. “I’m sure the ladies will resolve their differences soon enough.”

Warren wished that was true, but he suspected that would never happen.

“I have an idea,” Anthony said, straightening in his seat. “Why don’t we visit Lord Haynes? He has friends in Parliament. It might be interesting to get an idea of what laws they’re discussing that might be meaningless.”

Usually, Warren would enjoy poking fun at some of the laws Parliament passed, but today, his heart wasn’t in it. “As much as I’d like to, I have more pressing things to take care of. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, we don’t mind at all,” he assured him. “You have your bride to focus on.”

“Thank you,” Warren said.

And he meant it in every sense possible. After his falling out with Robert and the strained relationship with Malcolm, it was hard to know if he’d say or do something to somehow upset Anthony or Corin. Apparently, dealing with people wasn’t his strong point. If only he could figure out how to rectify that.

***

Iris wiped the tears with her handkerchief in Bethany’s drawing room. She’d run to her friend’s townhouse as soon as she was sure Bethany was ready to receive visitors. And Bethany hadn’t been able to say more than a greeting before Iris broke into tears and explained the whole sordid story about her previous evening with Celia and Loretta.

“And then they said the reason I had my father at the dinner party was because he’d make Warren talk to me,” Iris concluded, trying her hardest to stop this incessant crying. Truly, it wasn’t like her to cry so much.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Bethany whispered, putting a comforting hand on her back. “I had no idea they were that mean.”

“They’re wretched creatures. They take delight in hurting others.” Iris struggled to take a deep, calming breath, hoping this would enable her to stop crying so much. “I’ve been eating sweets all morning. It’s how I cope when bad things happen. If I’m not careful, I’m going to gain too much weight and not be able to fit in my good dresses anymore.”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t help when you’ve been treated so horribly.”

“The worst thing is that my father can’t imagine they were that rude. He thinks I misunderstood what they were saying.”

“He’s probably just hoping it’s not as bad as you said.”

“Probably. But it was. I hate Celia and Loretta. I wish they’d trip on their gowns and…and…that the gowns would rip right off, leaving them naked. Right in front of everyone at a ball. Maybe then they’d stop acting all high and mighty.”

Bethany offered a comforting smile. “It would be a sight, for sure. I’m really sorry this happened to you. I wish I’d been there to stand with you.”

“Maybe if you’d been there, someone would believe me, but as it is, my father and Warren think Celia and Loretta were pleasant through the whole evening.”

“Yes, but Warren is oblivious to anything that doesn’t involve himself. You can’t be surprised there.”

Iris wiped the last of her tears away, glad she’d finally gotten them out of her system. “You’re right. I can’t. He feigned interest, but everything he said was simply for my father’s benefit.” She shook her head and crossed her arms. “One thing Celia and Loretta did get right was the fact that Warren’s only interested in the marriage because of my father. I knew Warren asked me to his dinner parties because of his friendship with my father. I was never under the impression he asked me because he had any interest in me. But I had hoped he might get to know me and find me somewhat interesting.”

What foolish dreams. She couldn’t believe she’d ever entertained such fantasies.

“I wish I knew what to say to make things better,” Bethany said, her voice soft.

Smiling, Iris clasped her friend’s hand. “Being here when I needed someone is enough.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

“I know, but it is. Besides, what else can you possibly do? You can’t get me out of this marriage any more than my mother can.”

Her friend nodded, but Iris noted the sorrow in her eyes. What a rare friendship they had. Of all the people Iris had come across, Bethany was truly a godsend.

The butler came into the room and waited until Bethany encouraged him to speak before saying, “Lord Dunnaby would like to visit you, Miss Carlisle.”

“Oh,” Bethany glanced at Iris, “maybe I should have him come back later.”

“No,” Iris protested. “See him now.” She smiled at her friend. “There’s no need to make him wait to see you. Besides, I’ve said all I can. I think I’ll go home and rest.” Between crying on her friend’s shoulder and having been unable to sleep the night before, she was exhausted. She rose to her feet. “I’m glad one of us can experience love.”

Bethany stood up and hugged her. “I’m so sorry, Iris.”

Iris returned the hug. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” When she pulled away from her, she said, “Promise me you’ll enjoy the rest of your day. Don’t let what happened to me spoil your visit with Robert.”

“I wish things could be different. I wish both of us could have a love match.”

“One of us will, and that’s good enough.” Of all the people who deserved good things in her life, Iris could think of none more deserving than her friend. “I’ll let you know what day my father and Warren will plan for the wedding. I want you there.”

“I’ll be there.”

Bethany turned to the butler. “I’ll see Lord Dunnaby.”

The butler nodded and left the room.

“Let me know when he proposes,” Iris said.

Her friend’s face turned bright red, but Iris caught the expectant spark in her eye. “He hasn’t mentioned marriage.”

“Yet,” Iris replied.

Robert came into the room and bowed. “Miss Carlisle. Lady Iris.”

Iris joined Bethany in offering a curtsey before she said, “I was just leaving.”

“Oh, you don’t have to leave because I’m here,” he replied.

“We were done talking,” Iris assured him. “I have to return home. There are wedding plans to tend to.” Unfortunately. “I hope you two have a good visit,” she added, glancing between her friend and Robert. There was no doubt about it. The two were very much in love.

“For what it’s worth,” Robert began as she turned to leave, “I think you’re a fine lady and deserving of the very best.”

Iris smiled her thanks then left the room. If only Warren felt the same way.

Chapter Ten

Warren tapped the edge of the chair in the Duke of Hartwell’s drawing room. After making small talk with the duke, who insisted he refer to him as Harrison, he was left alone to wait for Iris. Harrison had assured him she would be back within the hour, and that had been a half hour ago.

He would have taken Harrison’s offer up to visit with him while he was waiting for her, but he was afraid if he did, then Iris would assume he’d been there to see her father instead of her. And he wasn’t. Not today. Today his sole intent was to see her. If that took longer than another half hour, then he’d continue to wait. After all he’d done to upset her, it was the least he could do.

His mind unwittingly went back to the time he came to take Iris to his townhouse for one of his dinner parties. Back then, he’d come here in order to talk to her father in hopes of getting into his good graces. The ploy had worked. Even now, despite the way he’d erred with Iris, her father was quite welcoming. In fact, Harrison had told him he was looking forward to having him for a son-in-law.

He could only hope that, in time, Iris would come around to being happy with him. Maybe today would be a start in the right direction. He had come here with what he hoped was going to be good news.

The front door opened, and he rose to his feet.

“Lady Iris, you have a visitor in the drawing room,” he heard the footman say.

Warren hurried to the doorway of the drawing room, making sure she couldn’t see him. No doubt, she wouldn’t be happy about this once she knew the visitor was him. He’d specifically asked the footman not to tell her who her visitor was for that reason.

As he hoped, it worked. She came into the drawing room. The moment their eyes met, she gasped and turned to leave. He, however, had anticipated this, so he darted in front of her and prevented her from leaving.

“I only ask you give me ten minutes of your time,” he said.

“And if I don’t want to talk to you?” she asked.

“You don’t have to say anything. I’d like a chance to talk to you, that’s all.”

He held his breath and waited to see if she would allow him the time he asked for.

After a long, anxious moment, she said, “Five minutes.” Then she went to a chair and sat down, crossing her arms and staring at nothing in particular.

He thought he’d been limited with only ten minutes, but five was a lot harder to condense everything in. Well, beggars couldn’t be choosers. He had five minutes, and he’d make do with it. He quickly thought through his carefully rehearsed speech and threw out the unnecessary parts.

“First, I want to apologize again for the way I’ve treated you in the past,” he said as he sat across from her.

Not that he thought sitting in front of her would compel her to look at him. Indeed, she only shifted so she was looking away from him. But he still thought it’d make it harder for her to disregard what he told her if he was close by.

“I know there’s no excusing the way I ignored you,” he continued. “My behavior was abhorrent, and you have every right to hate me. I should have taken more care to listen to you when you participated in the conversation during the dinners. I don’t expect you to believe me, at least not right away. It’s going to take time to earn your trust. But, I promise you that I fully intend to make things right.”

She still didn’t look at him, but he noticed her gaze going to the clock. Three minutes left.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I believe you about last night. Today I talked to Lord Worsley and Lord Durrant, and I told them we won’t be going to any more dinner parties if Lord Worsley’s sister and her friend are there. I won’t put you in another situation where you feel uncomfortable again.”

To his surprise, she looked at him then, and instead of seeming relieved, she narrowed her eyes at him. “This might impress my father, but it doesn’t impress me.”

He managed to avoid wincing. He’d been afraid she had assumed his interest in her stemmed from the fact that her father was the Duke of Hartwell. And he’d be lying if he told her that never had anything to do with it. It was why he had invited her to his dinner parties.

So instead of denying this, he figured honesty was the best policy. If he didn’t step up and admit things now, he wasn’t going to have any chance of building credibility with her.

“I will admit that in the beginning I showed an interest in you because I liked your father,” he finally said, weighing each word before he spoke. “He’s a likable gentleman, and there’s no denying his intelligence. However, since learning of our engagement and becoming aware of the way I treated you, I am making an effort to get to know you.”

“How pleasant,” she replied, not hiding the sarcasm in her voice. “Now you’re going to make an effort to get to know me.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. In the past I made it a habit of ignoring you. Unrightfully so. I never took the time to get to know you. I want to change that.”

“This must pain someone like you to put on the pretense of liking me. Well, I won’t tolerate you being nice to me just because you idolize my father.” She stood up and looked down at him. “There’s no sense in putting yourself through all this effort. It’s not necessary. I’m bound to marry you whether I like it or not. If I don’t want to attend a dinner party, I won’t. You can tell people I’m ill if you want, but I won’t put myself in another situation like the one I endured last night. Allow me this one favor without grief, and perhaps we might be able to tolerate each other.”

His eyebrows furrowed. Just how should he respond to that? If he tried to explain what he meant by making an effort to get to know her, she’d probably take it the wrong way. Well, there was no “probably” about it. She would take it the wrong way. And that being the case, he was better off avoiding the topic.

So in the end, he settled for saying, “I won’t force you to go anywhere that makes you uncomfortable.”

At this, she seemed to relent, albeit slightly. With another glance at the clock, she said, “Your five minutes are up. I believe you know the way out.”

She left, giving him no time to respond. Not that he was surprised. She’d been watching the clock the entire time. But maybe, just maybe, he’d been able to say something that helped put her mind at ease about the upcoming marriage. If that was the case, then the five minutes would have been productive ones. He had, after all, secured business dealings within that time. And wasn’t marriage a business arrangement in its own right?

He released his breath. Well, there was nothing else he could do at the moment. He’d have more time to talk to her after they married. Until then, he figured the best thing he could do was leave her alone. Maybe some time away from him would help her adjust better to the marriage.

At least, he hoped so. He rose to his feet and went to thank her father for letting him talk to Iris before he left the townhouse.

***

The day of the wedding came, and Iris was no more prepared for it than she’d been when she learned she was to marry Warren. Despite her protests, her mother and father insisted she look as beautiful as possible for the morning ceremony in their townhouse. And worse, after all the ladies who had prettied her up left, her mother sorted through all the jewelry she’d set out on Iris’ vanity to complete Iris’ new look.

“I know this isn’t the kind of wedding you were hoping for,” her mother said. “But your father seems certain Warren will prove himself to be a worthy husband.”

Iris rolled her eyes, not the least bit shy about letting Melissa, who was with them, know exactly what she thought about this arrangement. Yes, Helena, Melissa, and Chloe had arranged this marriage, so Melissa assumed this was going to lead to good things further down the road. But they didn’t know Warren the way Iris did. He’d say and do anything to please her father.

And that little trick he pulled when she’d allowed him five minutes to talk to her had definitely pleased her father. “This is a good sign,” her father had told her. “He’s taking an interest in you.”

No, Warren wasn’t. She’d wanted to argue with her father, but what was the point? He was far too excited about the marriage to listen to reason.

Her mother came over to her with a necklace with a citrine gemstone on it. “This will match the golden color in your dress.”

She grimaced.

“Oh come now,” her mother soothed. “Your father has good judgment. If he thinks Warren will make a suitable match, then he will.”

Iris let out a heavy sigh and took it. “I’ll put it on, but it won’t influence what kind of marriage I’ll have.”

Her mother opened her mouth as if to protest, hesitated, then offered a reassuring smile. “I know. Necklaces don’t have magical properties. It won’t make Warren fall in love with you.”

“I don’t care if Warren falls in love with me or not,” Iris snapped. She stiffened, surprised she should use that kind of tone with her mother when her mother hadn’t been trying to hurt her. Clearing her throat, she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“I understand. Gentlemen have no idea how difficult it is for ladies when they marry. They get to decide so much of our futures for us. All we can do is watch while it happens.”

“May I intervene?” Melissa spoke up.

Iris and her mother glanced her way, and noting the caring expression in Melissa’s eyes, Iris indicated Melissa could intervene.

“I know how you feel,” Melissa told Iris. “I didn’t want to marry Lord Toplyn on my wedding day. In fact, I was in tears most of the time. I even wore black to protest the union.”

Iris’ mother gasped. “I heard about a lady who did that. Are you telling me that was you?”

Melissa let out a chuckle. “I haven’t heard of anyone else who’s done it, so yes, I think it was me. I believe the Tittletattle had it on the front page.”

“It did,” her mother said. “Don’t tell anyone, but I like to read the scandalsheets from time to time. It relaxes me.” She directed her gaze to Iris. “Don’t tell your father I said that.”

Iris felt a smile tug at her lips at her mother’s joke. But only a small one. She didn’t have enough enthusiasm to muster up any more than that.

“I think we’ve all read the Tittletattle at one time or another,” Melissa replied. “Though I don’t expect most will admit it.”

Iris didn’t care much for it herself, but that was probably one of the reasons why she was never as close to her mother as she was with her father.

“It’s also easier to read about scandal than to be the object of one,” Melissa added. “I think sometimes people read the Tittletattle to see if their names are in it. If not, they breathe a huge sigh of relief and go about their business.”

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Iris’ mother began, “I felt sorry for you when you had to marry Lord Toplyn. Just as I sympathize with Iris.”

“I sympathize with her, too.” Then Melissa turned her attention to Iris and continued, “When Warren came to see me, Helena, and Chloe, he didn’t give us much to go on as to what type of lady he was looking for. All he wanted was someone to give him an heir.”

“Something most titled gentlemen are concerned with,” Iris’ mother added.

“Yes, that’s true. And Warren was no different. However, after further questioning him, it became apparent he would like a lady who can hold her own. I don’t think he’s the type of gentleman who could be happy in a marriage with a lady who is blatantly feminine.”

Iris’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t see how that is a compliment.”

“It is,” Melissa assured her. “Oftentimes when people come to see us, they don’t know what they want. They have a vague idea of what kind of person might make them happy, but what they need is for someone to ask the right questions to help pull out the truth for them. I don’t think you’ll be happy with a gentleman who only wants you on his arm in public. I think you’d like someone you can have heartfelt conversations with. Likewise, I think Warren will do better with a lady who has substance. He wouldn’t be happy with someone if she can’t manage a decent conversation with him, and I think you two share so many interests, you’re bound to find common ground, even if it’ll take a while.”

A while could be an abnormally long period of time. Like forever. But Iris decided not to say that. What was the point? Nothing they said would affect how things were going to be for her once she became Warren’s wife. Warren’s wife. Just the thought made her gag.

“Are you all right, dear?” her mother asked, placing her hand over Iris’ forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”

“I’m just sick to my stomach,” Iris mumbled.

Her mother’s eyes grew wide, and Iris could see the panic in her face. “Do you feel like you’re going to vomit? Should I bring over a bowl?”

“I’m not going to vomit,” Iris assured her. Her poor mother had a tendency to fuss over her far too much. Maybe it was because Iris was an only child. “This wedding is a difficult thing for me to stomach. That’s all.”

“No one can blame you for not feeling well,” Melissa said.

“No, they can’t,” her mother agreed. “I just hope your father’s right and that things won’t be as bad as you fear.”

A knock came at the door, signaling that the vicar was ready to preside over the wedding. Well, there was nothing Iris could do to avoid it. It was inevitable. The last thing she needed was for her father to pick her up and carry her to the drawing room.

She slipped the necklace on as her mother wished, but the gemstone felt like a heavy weight, only reinforcing her loss of the future she had wanted when she thought she might get to marry someone who actually cared for her.

Such silly fantasies. She should have known happy marriages were rare, especially among the noble class. Her chances of a love match had been next to nothing. Really, she couldn’t be surprised she had ended up with someone like Warren.

All the fight left her, and she resigned herself to her future. Pushing down the swell of nausea in her stomach, she turned to her mother and Melissa.

“I’m ready,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm, all things considered.

Her mother’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine,” she replied. “Let’s get this over with.” Then, without waiting for a response, she headed for the door.

Chapter Eleven

Warren didn’t think he’d ever forget the pleasure that surged through him when he saw Iris enter the drawing room. He hadn’t realized she hadn’t taken that much attention to making herself more attractive in the past. Today, however, she’d made the effort to look her best, and the change in her appearance was remarkable. He had no idea she could be so beautiful.

Why had she kept her beauty a secret? If she hadn’t, there would have been at least a couple gentlemen lining up to marry her, especially given the fact that her father was the Duke of Hartwell.

Anthony, who thankfully hadn’t brought his sister, glanced at Warren, eyebrows raised in surprise. Understanding Anthony was just as shocked as he was, Warren offered a shrug. How was anyone to know Iris could look that good?

Warren had invited Malcolm and Robert, but he hadn’t been sure either one would come. Well, Robert, he suspected might, but only because Iris’ friend, Bethany, wanted to be there. But both gentlemen made it to the small ceremony, which was a huge relief. Maybe this was a sign things weren’t as hopeless as he’d feared. He’d like to think there might be something he could say or do to redeem himself.

That matter, however, would have to wait. At least for the moment. Iris’ father was leading her over to him, and Warren’s heartbeat picked up in anticipation. He felt as if he had just invested in a business venture that hadn’t seemed very promising but had resulted in a large profit. Iris, he knew, wouldn’t be all that pleased by the comparison, but given his limited interaction with ladies, he had nothing else to compare this surprise to.

He and Anthony weren’t the only ones who were impressed by the change in Iris’ appearance. The others stared at her as if they weren’t sure she was the lady they had expected. Her mother seemed very pleased by the change, and Warren caught her whisper something to her friend that Iris had finally let her make her “prettier”. That comment struck Warren as odd. Why would the daughter of a wealthy duke not want to look as attractive as possible?

Once Iris was standing by him, Warren smiled, a poor attempt at a greeting. She didn’t respond in kind, but she didn’t glare at him, either. Though she might not have intended it, he took that as a promising sign. She was no longer fighting the union. Yes, he still had a ways to go, but at least this was a step in the right direction.

The ceremony proceeded with ease, though it was quite lengthy. He was sure by the end of it, everyone was eager to get to the wedding breakfast. At least, he knew he was. He should have grabbed something to eat before coming here, but he’d been too busy finishing with the details of getting things ready for Iris’ arrival.

So when they were all seated for the meal, he was relieved. He honestly wasn’t sure if she’d be willing to talk to him, even if they sat together, but as it turned out, her mother and Bethany talked to her. Because of this, it was impossible for him to even talk to Iris, even if she’d been willing to talk to him.

It was just as well. This way no one would see her openly reject him. It was enough she’d done it when he had dinner with her parents. He didn’t need everyone in the room to know how much she despised the marriage. So really, he was thankful she’d been as cordial as she’d been during the ceremony.

When the meal was over, Iris was still preoccupied with her mother and Bethany, so Warren took the opportunity to go to Robert and Malcolm before they left.

“I wanted to thank you both for coming,” he told them.

“I came because Bethany is Iris’ friend, and she wanted to be here to offer Iris comfort,” Robert replied.

“Yes, I had figured as much,” Warren allowed, “but I’m glad you still came.”

Warren took a deep breath. He was never good at expressing his emotions, but he had to try something. Up to now Robert and Malcolm had been the two best friends he’d ever had. Anthony was nice, too, but he felt a kinship with Robert and Malcolm he hadn’t ever had with anyone else. They were like the brothers he never had.

“Robert, I’ve seen the error of my ways,” Warren said. “I’m going to treat Iris better than I did at those dinner parties. I realize it’s going to take time to prove it. I just ask that you give me a chance.”

Robert’s shoulders relaxed, and he smiled. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

Feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, Warren returned his friend’s smile. He looked at Malcolm, wondering what he might say to smooth things over with him. Finally, he ventured, “If there’s something I’ve done to upset you, I want you to know it wasn’t intentional.”

Malcolm winced. “You didn’t do anything. It’s me. I’ve been changing.”

Surprised, Warren studied Malcolm’s expression. The gentleman was obviously struggling with something, but Warren could only guess what that something was. “I don’t understand. Am I responsible for this change?”

Malcolm glanced around the room. “Can we talk in private?”

“Just you and me, or do you want Robert with us?” Warren asked.

“Just you and me,” Malcolm said.

When Warren’s gaze went to Robert to see if that was all right with him, Robert said, “I should go to Bethany.” He took a step away from them but then added, “I believe you mean it, Warren. It would be nice if we could have dinner parties together again, especially since Bethany and Iris are such good friends.”

“Yes, that would be nice,” Warren replied.

Once Robert left, Warren turned back to Malcolm. “This isn’t my townhouse, so let me ask my father-in-law if we can talk in the den, all right?”

Malcolm nodded.

Warren could see that Malcolm worried Warren wouldn’t take the news well. Warren couldn’t be sure of it, either, since he had no idea what he’d done to upset him. Up until recently, he hadn’t even been aware he’d even done things to irk people.

Oh, he knew he bothered some of the gentlemen at White’s, but someone had to stand up and say the immoral behavior they liked to engage in was wrong. If Warren didn’t do it, who would?

Forcing the issue aside, he went over to his father-in-law who was talking to Anthony. “I know it’s tempting to invest everything you have,” her father was telling him. “But there’s a need to save some aside, too. I suggest ten percent of everything you earn should go into an account. That way, if you ever end up with bad investments, you’re not destitute.”

“Wise advice,” Anthony admitted, “though not very fun.”

“Saving isn’t about having fun,” Iris’ father replied. “It’s about doing the right thing.” Noticing Warren, he turned to him, “Are you ready to take Iris home?”

“Almost,” Warren said. “I have a friend who wishes to speak with me in private.” He gestured to Malcolm, who was talking to Regan. “I suspect the matter is serious, and it’d be best if no one was around to hear it.”

“Does this have anything to do with Iris?” her father asked.

“I don’t think so. To be honest, I have no idea what it is.”

“You may go to another room. In the meantime, I’ll have Iris’ things brought to your carriage,” her father said.

Thanking him, Warren turned and headed for Malcolm. He chanced a glance at Iris and saw Robert had joined Bethany and Iris’ mother. Robert must have made a joke, for Bethany and Iris’ mother laughed. Iris managed a smile, but apparently, the strain of having to marry him had taken more out of her than she let on during the wedding.

Forcing his gaze off of her, he turned his attention back to Malcolm and Regan.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Regan was asking Malcolm as Warren approached.

“I’ve given it a lot of thought,” Malcolm replied, “and I owe it to Warren to tell him the truth.”

It was then that Regan noticed Warren. Clearing her throat, she offered Warren a polite smile. “Congratulations on your marriage,” she told him. “Iris is a wonderful lady.”

“Yes, she is,” Warren said, wondering if Regan believed him since she’d been there when he blatantly ignored Iris at his dinner parties.

She told Malcolm she’d be ready to go when he returned, said good-bye to Warren, and headed for Iris.

“The duke said it’s all right if we talk in the den,” Warren told Malcolm.

Since Warren was familiar with the townhouse, he led Malcolm to the den, his heartbeat picking up with each step. It wasn’t that he was afraid of confrontation. Most of his life had been spent in arguing with his half-brother, and to a lesser extent, his stepmother. But this was different. This time, he had to wait for someone he cared about to tell him something he probably didn’t want to hear. And that was a difficult thing to do. However, it was best they get it over with.

Once they were in the den, Warren almost offered him some brandy—a mere courtesy—but then thought better of it. He didn’t think either he or Malcolm felt comfortable enough at the moment to enjoy brandy.

Instead, he gestured to a chair. “Have a seat.”

Malcolm sat, and Warren couldn’t help but notice the way Malcolm didn’t lean back. He sat straight up, hands on his knees. Warren wasn’t sure if Malcolm sat like that because he planned to bolt for the door as soon as he was done, but it certainly seemed like it.

Warren forced a neutral expression and sat across from him, choosing to lean back, a show of being relaxed though it was far from how he actually felt. It was the only way he knew how to deal with awkward situations. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing. Sure, he could easily hold his own against people who didn’t like him, but Malcolm was a friend.

Warren cleared his throat. “I hope that whatever it is, it won’t come between us.”

Warren released his breath. If only he didn’t feel so inept when it came to knowing he was risking losing someone he cared about. Perhaps if his home life had been better, he would know how to adequately do this.

Malcolm seemed just as uncomfortable, for he shifted on the chair. “Whether or not it comes between us is up to you.”

Warren didn’t know what to say to that, so he only indicated he understood.

“Very well,” Malcolm began. “My wife said I should come out and tell you what I did. I’ve been reluctant to because you might not want to associate with me afterwards. But it’s been difficult to be around you, knowing full well what I did. In many ways, it feels like a betrayal.” He paused. “Your friendship has meant a lot to me. It’s not often you meet someone you can discuss business ventures with as much as we do.”

“I agree.” He wasn’t sure if this should worry him further or not. His friend obviously didn’t want to upset him, but he knew he was about to.

Malcolm swallowed then blurted out, “I voted to keep Lord Edon’s book at White’s.”

It took Warren almost a full minute to understand what his friend was saying. “You were the deciding vote?”

Malcolm nodded. “And, if given the chance, I’d do it again.”

“But I thought you were opposed to such filth.”

“It’s not filth. I admit, I thought it was at first, but then I took the time to read it. Lord Roderick’s right. Its main purpose is to teach gentlemen to be good husbands to their wives.”

Since Warren hadn’t read the book, he couldn’t comment on the book’s contents…except… “I remember when you slapped the book out of your brother-in-law’s hands.” He also remembered seeing a drawing of a naked lady when that book landed on the floor, but he opted not to mention that.

“Yes, I did do that. Back then, I didn’t understand the purpose of the book. I assumed, as you did, that the book had no redeeming qualities. I don’t blame you if you don’t agree with me. If I were in your position, I would think I’d lost my senses.” Malcolm drummed his fingers on his knees and glanced at the door, probably wondering if this was a good time to bolt out of the room.

“You really think the book is good for honorable gentlemen to read?”

“I do,” Malcolm replied, his voice soft.

Warren respected Malcolm’s opinion. If he felt the book wasn’t as bad as Lord Edon and Mister Robinson would have him believe, then maybe there was something to it. He didn’t know if he could bring himself to read the thing, which proved Malcolm was a braver gentleman than he was.

“Do you wish me to go?” Malcolm asked, glancing at the door again.

“No, of course not,” he replied. “I mean, I have to get to my bride. It wouldn’t be good to stay here too long in case I inadvertently make her think I’m ignoring her.”

Malcolm’s face relaxed, and he smiled. “To be fair, I didn’t realize you had ignored her at the dinner parties, either. Regan noticed it, but I didn’t.”

“Maybe ladies are more sensitive to these things,” Warren replied.

“I think it was because we were too busy talking about money to worry about them.”

“Yes, probably.” He almost rose to his feet but then thought to ask, “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“No,” Malcolm replied.

Warren breathed a sigh of relief. Well, good. Then there was nothing else to worry about. “Will you start coming to White’s again?”

“Yes. I’ve been wanting to show you some investments I’ve been thinking of doing.”

“Excellent. I missed those discussions.” He enjoyed his conversations with Anthony and Corin, of course, but they didn’t have Malcolm’s financial prowess. “I better get to Iris.” He stood up, Malcolm joining him. “Thank you for telling me.”

“If I’d known it was going to be this easy, I would have done it sooner.”

“Well, it’s better late than never.”

Feeling much lighter, Warren offered Malcolm a smile before the two left the room. It was a shame all his conversations didn’t end this well. If so, people wouldn’t be so difficult to figure out.

Chapter Twelve

Iris swallowed the lump in her throat as she watched the butler and footman carry her trunk and her valise to the carriage. This was it. She was going to leave the comfort of her townhouse and go to Warren’s. She didn’t know if she was going to finally break down and cry or if she was going to be sick.

“If you need anything, don’t be afraid to come to me,” Bethany told her as the two stood in the drawing room.

The other guests had left, except for Robert who was talking to her parents and, of course, Warren. They were standing on the other side of the room, probably because they wished to give her and Bethany some privacy.

“I don’t know what you can do,” Iris said. “Besides listening to me, which does help.”

“I was thinking if Robert marries me, I could purchase a little cottage in the country for you,” Bethany whispered. “Then you could live out the rest of your life in peace.”

And boredom. “It’s a lovely thought, but I don’t know what I’d do with myself. Even if I’m not good around people, I do enjoy social events.”

“Yes, I suppose that would be a problem.” Bethany bit her lower lip then said, “I can always hide you in a room at my townhouse.”

Despite the grim situation, Iris found herself chuckling. Catching sight of Warren approaching, she quickly forced down her laughter. “I don’t think I can delay it any longer,” she whispered to her friend. “I have to go.”

Bethany hugged her. “Good luck.”

Iris chose not to reply. Luck wasn’t going to factor into the equation because for that to happen there had to be a chance of happiness, and there was no such chance with Warren.

When Warren reached them, he glanced from Bethany to her. “Are you ready to go?”

Taking a deep breath to quell her tears or the bile in her throat—she couldn’t tell which was the largest threat—she allowed Warren to escort her out of the townhouse. She gave one last look at her parents, noting the worried expression on her mother’s face and the reassuring one on her father’s.

She wasn’t sure what would happen now. Yes, she knew she’d be going to his townhouse, but what was going to happen once she was there? As much as she didn’t want to think about it, she had to. And the best way to find out was to ask.

Once they were in the carriage, she decided to get to the point. “Now that I’m your wife, what do you intend to do with me?”

He turned to her, eyes wide, and she wasn’t sure what he thought of her question. Either he was surprised or he wanted to laugh.

“I have a right to know,” she continued. “Gentlemen assume ladies can’t handle upsetting news, but I assure you, I can. I want to know what you’ll be doing with me before you do it. That way I can be prepared.”

After a moment, he finally said, “I hadn’t thought about what we’ll do once we’re home. All I know is that the servants will put your things in your bedchamber and see that your needs are met.”

“You mean to tell me that you haven’t given any thought to what our marriage will be like?”

“Well…what do you think we were going to do?”

“I hadn’t the vaguest idea. You’re the gentleman. You’re the one who makes these decisions. My father made it clear I was to marry you regardless of how I felt about it. I had no choice in the matter.”

“So if you did have a choice, you would have chosen to marry someone else?”

“Are you surprised by that?” she asked.

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought he seemed disappointed. “No, I’m not surprised. Deep down, I knew it to be the case.”

“You married me because you wanted my father as your father-in-law. You didn’t want me any more than I wanted you.”

He winced. “I can see how you think that.” He paused then added, “As I’ve already admitted, my interest in you did initially stem from my admiration for your father. But I meant what I said the other day. I want to get to know you. So, when we get home, let’s talk.”

She didn’t know whether to trust him or not. But since he had been honest about his motive for talking to her to begin with, she had no reason to suspect he wasn’t telling her the truth now. “I don’t know if I feel like talking to you,” she admitted. “I’m not sure we make a good match, despite what the Duchess of Ashbourne says.”

“I suppose while I’m being honest with you, I’ll tell you something else you’re probably not going to like hearing.”

She braced herself. “What is it?”

“When I went to see the duchess, I told her my only concern was getting an heir.”

“Oh?”

He shrugged. “I could have wasted time courting a lady, but it seemed more practical to avoid the hassle and have a marriage arranged for me instead.”

“I see.”

“Does this displease you?”

“No. I might be a lady, but I know how things are in London. An heir is a necessity to gentlemen who hold titles.”

“Yes, there is a lot of pressure to have a son to inherit a title. If you don’t have one, the title can end up in the wrong hands.”

“At least my father has no need to worry in that regard. His nephew excels in his studies, and I think he’ll be an honorable gentleman.”

“I barely remember your father mentioning him. Who is he?”

“He’s only fifteen. You wouldn’t know him.”

“Not now, but since he is your cousin, I’m bound to meet him at some point.”

She failed to understand why he cared…unless… “Are you hoping to have something to talk to my father about the next time you see him?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “No. I was asking because you mentioned him. I’m trying to have a conversation with you, not your father.”

If he hadn’t been so candid with her up to this point, she wouldn’t have believed him. The carriage came to a stop, saving her from having to respond. She didn’t know what to say or think. He seemed sincere. He hadn’t tried to deny anything he’d done in the past. But she wasn’t ready to take the leap of faith yet.

The footman opened the door, and despite her apprehension, she got out of the carriage. Only God knew what was waiting for her once she stepped into that townhouse. She released her breath. The anger she’d experienced, followed by the nausea and urge to cry, had now given way to acceptance. Actually, it was a mix between despair and acceptance, but she couldn’t fight it anymore. For better or worse, she was married to Warren.

“May I escort you up the steps?” Warren asked.

“Do I have a choice?” She meant it as a rhetorical question. Whether she liked it or not, she had to go in that townhouse.

“Yes, you have a choice.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, not sure what to make of his answer. Something in his tone indicated he wasn’t limiting his answer to escorting her up the steps. But she couldn’t be certain of the matter. So for the moment, she chose to exert as much control as she could and said, “I’ll escort myself up the steps.”

She waited for him to give an indication he wasn’t at all pleased with her choice, but he didn’t give it. Instead, he nodded and gestured for her to go up the steps before him.

As silly as it was, she found herself hesitating. He’d given her the choice, so she ought to be taking it. But there was a part of her—that ridiculously soft part which had compelled her to take an interest in him when she first met him—that hoped he’d offer to escort her again. When she realized the hope stemmed from wanting him to touch her, she quickly turned and marched up the steps, afraid he might read her mind.

Nonsense. It was utter and complete nonsense. This wasn’t a love match. It would never be a love match. She wasn’t sure what this was going to be, but it definitely wasn’t going to be a love match.

The footman opened the door for her. Again, she hesitated. With a glance behind her, she saw that Warren was halfway up the steps. The coachman was carrying her valise and trunk, close behind him. Her gaze went back to Warren, and she couldn’t help but recall the first time she’d met him. The thing that had struck her most about him was how graceful he seemed when he walked.

She’d thought he must be a good dancer. And she’d been right. When he’d asked her to dance at the ball, she’d been impressed with how easily he managed the steps. It’d seemed as if he’d been born for dancing. She had also imagined he’d be much the same way when it came to kissing.

Her face growing warm from the memory, she turned back to the footman and entered the townhouse. No. This was not a love match. It could be many things, but it wasn’t ever going to be that.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Steinbeck,” the footman greeted, startling her.

She looked over at him and returned the greeting, aware that Warren had made it to the doorway. Her heart skipped a beat. She had no idea being in his townhouse as his wife was going to weaken her. She’d felt strong enough to push him away from her when she was still with her parents. But she had no resistance to him here.

What was it about him that kept pulling her to him? And more importantly, would she ever be free of this nagging desire?

The butler came into the entryway, offered both her and Warren a greeting, and then followed with, “Shall I take her lady’s things to her bedchamber?”

“Yes,” Warren said. Turning those hypnotizing eyes her way, he asked her, “Would you like to see your bedchamber now, or do you want to wait?”

She opened her mouth to speak when someone answered from behind her. “It’s good to see you again, brother,” the gentleman called out.

Warren’s gaze went to the person behind her, and she caught the spark of annoyance in his eyes.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw a gentleman, probably five years younger than Warren standing in the hallway near the drawing room doors. The two shared the same golden hair color and facial features. There was no denying they were related.

“I think my half-brother would like to speak to me alone,” Warren told her. “Perhaps it’d be best if the butler shows you to your bedchamber so you can put your things where you want them.”

“I don’t mind making her acquaintance,” the gentleman said as he went over to her and bowed. “I heard Warren was to marry today, but he neglected to give his family an invitation.”

“His family?” she asked.

“Didn’t he tell you about us?” he responded, looking hurt.

“Well…” She glanced at Warren, who didn’t look the least bit happy by their visitor.

“That’s enough, Byron,” Warren said, stepping between them. “I believe the matter you wish to attend to has to do with me.” Warren turned to her. “I need to talk to him alone.”

Deciding it’d be best if she didn’t get involved in this matter, she nodded and went over to the butler. On her way up the stairs, she chanced another glance at Warren and Byron. It didn’t take much to realize why Warren hadn’t mentioned his family. The tension between the two gentlemen was hard to miss.

Byron’s gaze went to her, and he smiled at her in a way that made her shiver. She couldn’t pin down why a gesture meant to be friendly should unnerve her, but it did. Even as upset as she’d been with Warren, he never once gave her such a strange feeling. Looking away, she continued up the stairs.

***

“Your wife is beautiful,” Byron said as Warren shut the doors to the drawing room. “I can see why you didn’t tell me about her.”

Warren turned to face his half-brother, not bothering to hide his displeasure. “You can’t touch her. She’s a lady. She’s not one of those women who spend time in bed with everyone they meet.”

Byron gasped and pressed his hand over his heart. “I don’t always go after those types of ladies. I’ve had a virgin or two in my time.”

Warren gritted his teeth. Words couldn’t describe how much he loathed these times with his half-brother. “You’re not to go near my wife. I don’t want you looking at her. I don’t want you talking to her. You will have nothing to do with her. Do you understand?”

Byron shrugged. “I suppose it’s just as well. Virgins are boring. They get squeamish at the slightest thing. And it takes time and effort to get past their maidenhead. Ladies who’ve been around are much easier and more entertaining. Plus, they aren’t afraid to do new things.”

With a scowl, Warren snapped, “I’m not interested in hearing about your debauchery.” He crossed his arms. “Why are you here?”

“You refused to acknowledge my missive, so I had to pay you a visit.”

“I already gave you the monthly stipend Father’s will requires. You won’t get any more money until next month.”

“I had an unexpected expense come up.”

“A night of gambling isn’t an unexpected expense.”

“I was sure to win,” Byron told Warren as Warren walked over to the decanter. “It was unexpected that I lost the money. Besides, how did you know that’s how I lost the money? Have you been following me?”

Warren snorted. “I have better things to do with my time than worry about what you’re doing to ruin your life.” He poured himself a glass of brandy and then put the lid back on the decanter. “Your problem is that I know you. If it wasn’t gambling, you would have wasted your money on wine and immoral women. You’re much too predictable.”

“As are you. Once again, you fail to give me the courtesy of a drink.”

“I have to waste my hard earned money to furnish your lavish lifestyle and reckless spending.” In fact, Warren had to do it for his stepmother as well, but at least she didn’t make it a point to show up in his townhouse to annoy him. Shooting Byron a sharp look, Warren added, “The last thing you need is brandy anyway. You get drunk often enough as it is.”

“Well, I’m perfectly sober right now.”

“Good. Then you’ll understand me when I tell you that you’ll have to wait until next month to get more money. If you don’t like my answer, then find a way to earn an honest living. It’d give you an appreciation for the value of money.”

“You’re a selfish gentleman, Warren. You have more wealth than you’ll ever need. Our father gave you the largest portion of the inheritance.”

“Because I inherited the title,” Warren interrupted. “You should be glad I did, too. If it’d gone to you, you would have squandered all the wealth away. Then where would you be?”

Byron chuckled. “I would have married a wealthy lady. I hear your wife is the daughter of the Duke of Hartwell. He has a sizable estate.”

So they were back to Iris. “She’s my wife, and because of that, she’s under my protection. You will not have anything to do with her.”

“I don’t want her. In fact, I don’t care if I ever see her again, even if she is a pretty thing. All I need is a little raise in my monthly allotment. I want an extra crown.”

“No.”

“Half a crown?”

“No!” Warren slammed his glass on the desk, and since it was still full, some of the brandy spilled out and splattered on the smooth surface. Irritated, he yanked his handkerchief out and wiped the desk. “You’ll have to make do with your current allotment. It’s not my fault you’re reckless with your money. If you took the time to save some—”

Byron let out a loud, frustrated sigh. “Yes, yes, yes, I’ve heard all this before. If only I was boring like you and saved and invested, then I’d be worth something. Spare me the speech. I don’t care to hear it. You want to know why no one likes you? It’s because you’re always telling others what to do.”

“Well, your example leaves a lot to be desired. How many illegitimate children do you have by now? Children you don’t bother providing for with that money I give you each month, I might add.”

“There’s no proving any of those children are mine.”

Warren was ready to answer when it occurred to him they’d done this same routine every time they talked. Why was he wasting his time? He had a bride to think about. He didn’t need to spend the afternoon with his reprobate half-brother.

“I’m not giving you any more money than the amount Father made me promise to give you,” Warren said.

To this day, Warren still hated that their father made him swear to give Byron and his stepmother any money. The only one he didn’t mind providing for was his half-sister, Opal. She’d been ten the last time he saw her, and that was six years ago. Given the unfortunate accident when she was thirteen, she’d never even see a Season. So she needed the money.

Warren sighed. He didn’t want to think about it. This was his wedding day, and he intended to spend it with his wife. He picked up his glass and headed out of the room. “If you don’t leave, I’ll have the butler escort you out,” he told Byron.

“That money is as much mine as is it yours,” Byron called out from behind him.

Oh? Did Byron take the time to save and invest? Instead of asking the rhetorical question, Warren chose to ignore him and summoned the butler.

Chapter Thirteen

Iris noted the change in Warren’s demeanor the moment he came to the open door of her bedchamber. His grip on the glass in his hand was a little too tight, and his posture was stiff.

“I was wondering if everything meets with your approval,” Warren greeted as he came in. “If not, then I can make any changes you require.”

He offered a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes, further giving evidence that whatever had transpired between him and his half-brother had bothered him. However, for her sake, he was struggling to be pleasant, and she supposed that counted for something. It meant he cared at least a little if he was willing to see to her comfort.

“Everything is fine,” she replied. Then, scanning the room, which reminded her so much of the one she’d grown up in, she asked, “Did you ask my father on ways to decorate this room?”

He hesitated for a moment before answering. “Yes. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I thought it was the safest way to go.” With an uncertain look, he added, “Are you disappointed?”

“No. I think that was a very practical thing to do.”

“You do?”

Catching the bewildered tone in his voice, she felt the hint of a smile tug at her lips. “I happen to like the practical way of handling things. There are fewer surprises that way. Things are more predictable. Stable. I like knowing what to expect.”

“I do, too.”

They grew silent, and after an awkward moment passed between them, she figured maybe she would give him the benefit of the doubt. He’d been honest with her in the carriage. If he was still standing in her doorway, then it indicated he wanted to talk to her. He had nothing to gain from doing so before it was time for bed.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “Would you like to see the old Sovereign I own?”

She noted the interest in his expression. “You’re willing to show it to me?”

“Well, you seemed interested when my father mentioned it.”

“I am,” he said, stepping further into the room. “I’ve only seen a drawing of one.”

“It’s one of my most prized possessions.” She went to the valise on her vanity and opened it. “I won’t let anyone touch it. Well, except those I trust.”

She slipped on a pair of gloves. Next, she pulled out the small leather pouch from the inside pocket of her valise. After she loosed the strings, she took the coin out. Then she walked over to him.

“I’m afraid I don’t have gloves on,” he said.

He made a good point. She went back to her valise and took out a handkerchief. “You can use this.”

With a nod, he set his glass on the dresser then came back to her. As he took the handkerchief, their fingers brushed, and an involuntary shiver raced up her spine. Oh, how she hated that! Her body was much too responsive to him. She’d thought she was safe by focusing on something important to her, but it seemed no matter how much she prized the coin, it failed in comparison to him. Marriage to him was going to only complicate things. As much as she wanted to hold onto her anger at the way he’d treated her—thereby adding a layer of protection around her heart—it seemed the tactic wasn’t going to work.

Forcing aside her dismay, she waited as he smoothed the handkerchief on his hand. She gently put the coin on his palm. Then she removed one of her gloves and gave it to him.

“You don’t expect me to put that on, do you?” he asked, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Despite her nervousness, she chuckled. “Of course not. You’d stretch it out. Then what use will it be to me? I figure you can use it to turn the coin over.”

“I don’t blame you for being careful with this coin. I would be, too, if it was mine.” He studied the portrait of King Henry VII in his full coronation regalia then turned the coin over. The back featured the royal arms resting on a double rose. “It’s exquisite. The drawings don’t do it justice.”

“No, they don’t. It’s a shame the Royal Mint stopped making them. The new Sovereign is attractive in its own right, but I prefer the beauty of this coin.”

“Seeing it for myself, I’m inclined to agree with you.” He turned the coin over again and continued studying it. “How did you get this?”

“I wasn’t able to get it directly. I had my father’s help.”

He glanced up at her. “You did?”

“My father takes my money and invests it in ventures I think will pay off. In this case, I had him put a good sum of my money into a jeweler’s business.”

“Because you like jewelry?”

Once again, she caught a teasing tone in his voice and couldn’t help but smile. “No. My mother’s the one who fancies adornments, not me. I thought the jeweler gave a convincing argument to my father when he came over to ask my father for money to start the business. He claimed he could design the jewelry better than his competitors.”

This time Warren stopped studying the coin so he could study her. “Your father lets you in the room while he discusses potential business ventures?”

“My father discusses business during our dinner parties. That way I can hear what the gentlemen are saying. The gentlemen aren’t aware I’m also listening to them, carefully weighing the pros and cons of investing in their business.”

“Really?”

She couldn’t be sure, but he seemed impressed. “You’d be surprised how many gentlemen think ladies don’t have the capacity to understand what they’re talking about.”

His expression softened. “You’re right. We have a tendency to think ladies ignore what we’re discussing.”

“I’m curious. What do you gentlemen think ladies are thinking about while you talk business?”

“Fashion, balls, the latest gossip. All senseless pursuits.”

“They are senseless pursuits, which is why I don’t bother wasting my time on them. I’d much rather partake in the conversations gentlemen have.”

He chuckled. “Not all gentlemen have meaningful conversations. Some enjoy worrying over nonsense like gambling and gossip.”

“I haven’t come across those conversations.”

“Given who your father is, I’m not surprised. Your father has the sense to avoid gentlemen like that. I didn’t realize he invited you to listen to investment proposals, though.”

“One thing I admire about my father is his ability to be subtle about things,” she said. “He has a way of doing things so others aren’t aware it’s happening.”

“That’s a good trait. I think he’s able to do it because he’s good with people. I wish I could be so skilled.”

“I do, too. I might be his daughter, but I don’t have his gift. I spend most of my time listening to people. It’s safer that way. You don’t risk doing or saying the wrong things if you’re quiet. My father manages to find the right things to say, regardless of the situation.”

“You know,” Warren slowly began as he placed the coin in her gloved palm, “we might not be so different after all. I’m not good with people. Except, unlike you, I don’t know when to keep quiet. As soon as a thought comes to mind, I speak it. So I actually do say the wrong thing. I think most people tolerate me because of my money.”

“Most people tolerate me because of my father.”

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you, Iris. I was too full of my own conceit to see what I was doing. I meant it when I said I want to be better to you. In the little time we’ve talked, I realize you do have a lot of your father in you. If I enjoy my conversations with him, it only makes sense that I’ll enjoy spending time with you. I’d like to start over.”

It was hard not to give in when he was looking at her in a way that made her knees weak. Her gaze went to the coin in her hand, finding it safer to focus on that instead of him. “I’m afraid of being hurt again,” she admitted.

“I know, and I’m to blame for that.”

She clasped the coin in her hand and ventured another glance in his direction. He seemed sincere. Everything he’d done and said today seemed sincere. She only hoped she wasn’t letting months of unrequited love get in her way of making a sound decision.

“All right,” she said. “We can start over.”

She noted the relief that flickered across his face. “Thank you.”

Not knowing what else to say, she offered him a nod then went back to her valise so she could put the coin back into the leather pouch.

“So, how did that investment with the jeweler go?” he asked.

Glad for the change in topic, she said, “Better than my father expected. My father gave the jeweler my money to put into the business, and the jewelry became the talk of the Ton. As soon as Lady Cadwalader and her friends started wearing it, business took off. I made thirty percent profit. I took the profit and bought the old Sovereign.” She tightened the strings of the pouch and slipped it back into the secret pocket of her valise. “My father still can’t believe that investment paid off so well.”

Warren grinned. “I can’t, either. I always thought money was better invested in ships going to Africa to get the jewels.”

“My father thought so, too.” She took off her glove and accepted the handkerchief and other glove he held out to her. She slipped them back into the valise. “I’ve listened enough to my mother to know ladies can have some influence in London. Even if gentlemen don’t often listen to their opinion, they spend lots of money. And jewelry is my mother’s favorite item to buy.”

“I never would have thought to consider what ladies are buying in choosing what to invest in. I suppose it wouldn’t do me much good anyway. I don’t make it a habit of talking to ladies. I talk to gentlemen, and as you pointed out, they don’t often listen to what ladies think. Like I said, we think you’re only discussing things like fashion, balls, and gossip.”

Noting the teasing tone in his voice, she looked up from her valise so she could see his expression. He seemed much more relaxed now. She had no idea he had a sense of humor. She’d thought he was serious all the time.

“Well,” she began, not hiding her own smile, “there’s something to be gleaned from those things. Jewelry is just one example.”

“Given your ability to afford something like an old Sovereign, I have no doubt that’s true. But be honest. Can you see me sitting with a bunch of ladies?”

“No, I can’t. You strike me as a gentleman who doesn’t spend his time in the company of ladies.”

And that had been one of the things she’d liked about him early on. He didn’t have the reputation for mistresses or other indiscretions. More than that, he chose to surround himself with gentlemen who didn’t, either. She’d taken that as a promising sign he might be one of the few gentlemen who wouldn’t take a mistress after marriage.

“I have a hard enough time knowing what to say to gentlemen, and I share things in common with some of them,” Warren admitted. “I can’t even begin to imagine what I’d have to say that ladies would find of interest.”

“All it takes is an inquiry into the latest fashion or to see if a certain item of gossip is true.”

“I’m sure that would work. It’s just…”

Curious, she turned to him. “Just what?”

“Well, I hate to say this, especially since you are a lady, but such talk might put me to sleep.”

She burst out laughing. “It bores me, too. I have to make sure I drink something that helps me stay awake.”

“I could use something to help me stay awake when I have to be around certain gentlemen.”

“I have yet to come across gentlemen who aren’t interesting to listen to, but then, my father only entertains those who share his love of money and politics.”

“So you do enjoy those topics?”

She nodded. “I’m not like other ladies. It’s why I didn’t fit in.”

“Did you get lonely because of that?”

“From time to time, I did. But as my father said, it’s better to have one or two good friends I can trust than a room full of friends I can’t.”

“I take it Bethany’s such a friend.”

“She is. She accepts me, faults and all. Do you have friends like that?”

“I think so. I’d like to believe I do.”

Surprised by the admission since he seemed to get along with several gentlemen, she said, “I thought Lords Worsley and Durrant enjoyed your company the other evening.” Granted, she hadn’t had a good evening, but it seemed as if he had.

“I don’t know if they enjoyed my company. We do business with the same merchant. It seemed logical to get to know them. I assume they think the same thing. In business, it behooves gentlemen to find the right partners. Sometimes friendship comes from it. Sometimes not. But the important thing is we all walk away from it with a profit.”

“I know what you mean. My father and those he associates with want to benefit financially from all discussions.”

A silence fell between them for a few moments before he asked, “Is there anything you’d like to do?”

She glanced around the room, not sure what he was getting at. She didn’t think they would consummate the marriage until that evening, but maybe sometimes couple did it well before sunset.

“We could go for a walk,” he said. “Also, I have horses if you prefer going for a ride at Hyde Park. Or, if you don’t feel like going out, we could go to the drawing room or den.”

Oh, so that was what he was getting at. She should have known he hadn’t meant they consummate the marriage. He had no interest in her that way. Yes, he was making an effort to get to know her, but that didn’t mean he desired her as she’d longed to be.

Warren cleared his throat. “Since you have an interest in investments and business, I thought you might like to see some of the books in my den. Your father has a couple of the same ones, but I don’t think he has a few of the ones I do.”

Despite her disappointment, her interest piqued at the thought he owned some books her father didn’t have. “Do you have the one by William McGregor on investment strategies?”

“That’s his latest book, and yes, I do have it. Have you read it?”

“No. Not yet.”

“You can read it now if you want. I finished it last week. I’d love to hear your thoughts on it.”

“You would?”

He smiled. “Of course. Now that I know how well you manage with investments, I’m intrigued to learn what your thoughts are on McGregor’s principles.”

She had enjoyed such discussions with her father. Up to now, he’d been the only gentleman who would have such conversations with her. As much as she still wasn’t sure about Warren, it would be nice to be able to talk about her favorite topic.

“I would like to see the book,” she admitted.

His smile widened. “I can’t wait to hear your thoughts on it. Someone who can make a handsome profit off a jeweler’s work is bound to have some good insights.”

“Let’s see if you think I have anything worthwhile to say before you pay me such compliments.”

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you are the Duke of Hartwell’s daughter. I’d be surprised if I didn’t find what you have to say interesting.”

“All right, but only on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You continue being honest with me. I don’t want you to tell me you like my ideas if you don’t. I want a real conversation, one in which we can argue about a particular point. I want the kind of discussion I can have with my father. We treat each other fairly, but we don’t always agree.”

“I think we’ve been doing a good job of being honest ever since we learned we were to be married. I see no reason things should change now.”

“Good. If there’s one thing I don’t like, it’s being made to feel like a fool.”

“I don’t think anyone likes feeling that way.”

Then, before she could blink, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. The action was so sudden that she barely had time to register that it was happening.

“While we’re telling the truth,” he began, “I wanted you to know you’re nice to look at.”

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought a slight blush graced his cheeks.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “we should probably get out of our wedding attire so we can be more comfortable. I’ll meet you in the entryway and show you the den.”

She wanted to reply, but her voice wouldn’t cooperate. All she could do was watch as he left the room. He’d said she was nice to look at. More than that, he’d kissed her. Her skin still tingled from where his lips had brushed her cheek. She wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Her gaze went to the mirror above the vanity, and she studied her reflection. Her mother had been so insistent that she be as beautiful as possible for her wedding day. Was it possible the ploy worked? Did decorating one’s hair and putting on accessories like necklaces make so much of a difference? She couldn’t think of anything else that had changed.

“You should put forth more effort into how you look,” her mother had often told her. “You could be a pretty lady if you’d only take the time to care about your looks.”

“But that’s all superficial,” Iris had replied each time.

“It might be superficial, but it’s what gentlemen will appreciate.”

“The right gentleman will be interested in my mind.”

“Yes, but he won’t get a chance to know your mind if he’s not lured in by your good looks first.”

At the time, Iris had thought her mother was ridiculous. But maybe there was something to it. Maybe her mother had been right. If she had taken the time to pretty herself up sooner, would Warren have ignored her?

That question was speculation, of course. It would never be answered. Perhaps it was better that way. She didn’t need to dwell on the past. Nothing could be done about it. However, it might not be a bad idea to make an effort in the future.

Pondering how she might follow her mother’s suggestion in the future, she pulled the cord to summon her lady’s maid.

Chapter Fourteen

After dinner, Warren was reclining in his chair while Iris sat on the Grecian Couch, reading through the book aloud. They had started this before dinner but had both agreed they were enjoying the book enough to continue after they ate. And so, they went to his den to pick up where they had left off.

He couldn’t recall a time when he’d ever had so much pleasure in a lady’s company. She’d stop reading from time to time to tell him what she thought of what McGregor had written, and he found her insights especially appealing. Had he any idea a lady was capable of such a deep and meaningful discussion on money and business, he would have looked for a wife sooner.

At the moment, Iris happened to be reading a chapter on the benefits and downfalls of being conservative with investments. She stopped in mid-sentence to glance up at him.

“Which approach do you take?” she asked. “Are you willing to risk more for the chance of a higher profit, or do you prefer to play it safe?”

“I like it as safe as possible,” he replied. “Money is too easy to lose to take any chances.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m surprised. I thought you were the type who liked to see if he could get as much of a return on his investments as possible.”

Picking up his glass, he noted it was empty and rose to his feet. “I do like to receive as much back on my investment as I can.” He went to the decanter and poured the brandy into his glass until it was almost half full. “I just like to make sure I don’t lose any money.”

“But how can you be sure you won’t lose anything? There are no guarantees.”

“You’re right. There aren’t. But I like to hedge my bets into the safest position possible. That’s why I seek advice from gentlemen who know what they’re doing. Rushing into anything is a bad idea.”

His half-brother rushed into things all the time. He’d even gotten himself into debt twice. Debt he’d expected Warren to pay off for him. Too late did Warren learn that doing so had only made Byron that much more dependent on him.

But it was best if he didn’t think about his half-brother. No. Today, he wanted to spend his time learning more about this lady he’d just married. A lady, as it so happened, who was turning out to be so very different than he’d thought she was when he first met her. What a refreshing change it was to speak to a lady who had such intelligence.

“Would you like more tea?” he offered, ready to summon the butler.

“No, thank you. I still have some in my cup,” she replied, her gaze going back to the book in her lap.

Warren put the cap back on the decanter. Instead of returning to his chair, he decided to sit next to her. He put the glass on the table beside him and turned toward her. “Tell me, do you take risks?” he asked before she could start reading again.

“I do,” she replied, looking back at him.

He could tell by her expression that he’d taken her off guard by choosing to sit next to her. But he was tired of sitting in the chair. He didn’t know if it was the brandy that had relaxed him, the fact that they were having a fun discussion, or if he couldn’t stop thinking she was lovely to look at. All he knew was that he had a strange compulsion to get closer to her.

She cleared her throat. “While I take risks, I don’t risk anything I’m not willing to lose.”

“How do you decide how much is enough to risk?”

He was interested in hearing her answer. Really, he was. But as she answered his question, his mind started to wander. And it wandered in ways it never had before. He didn’t recall a time when he focused in so much on a lady’s physical appearance. Oh, he knew they were attractive. A gentleman would have to be blind not to appreciate their curves.

But at this particular moment, he found himself especially intrigued with Iris’ subtle beauty. Her blonde tresses fell in gentle waves over her shoulder. Her brown eyes twinkled as she talked. Her lips curled up ever so slightly as she discussed what was probably one of her favorite topics.

Despite his attempt to keep his gaze on her face, he found it going down to her breasts. They were covered. Well, for the most part. The design of the neckline did allow for a glimpse at her cleavage when she made a gesture with her hand or shifted in his direction. He was sure she wasn’t aware that her excitement for the topic made her do these actions even more.

As silly as it seemed, the thought was now just occurring to him that they were married. He didn’t have to restrain himself around her. Funny how he’d never been tempted in this area before. Up to now, his biggest temptation was not taking on a high-risk venture even when Robert, Malcolm, and Anthony prompted him to.

When he’d decided to get married, he hadn’t once given thought to how sexual desire would play into it. He just assumed it’d be like any other venture he went into. A simple transaction. Something to be done out of necessity. Sure, he knew it’d be pleasurable. He wasn’t so daft to believe it wouldn’t be.

But it was just starting to occur to him that the process of having an heir didn’t have to be such a casual affair. It didn’t have to be something he did out of duty. Maybe, just maybe, it could be something he could do for enjoyment. Maybe it might also be something he could look forward to.

He was already enjoying his time with Iris immensely. Far more than he ever thought he would, in fact. He wasn’t sure if she felt the same way. At one time, he suspected she had enjoyed his company. He just hoped he hadn’t ruined his chances with her. He hoped it wasn’t too late to change things for the better.

“Warren?” Iris asked, drawing his attention back to her face.

His face warmed. Did she realize he’d been staring at her breasts? Deciding it best if he not allow her to even mention the fact that he hadn’t been paying attention to what she’d been saying, he offered a smile and took the book from her. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m actually tired of talking about money.”

“You are?” She looked disappointed. “Did I bore you?”

“No, you didn’t bore me in the slightest,” he assured her. Noting the skeptical frown on her face, he added, “I’m telling you the truth. I’ve enjoyed your insights. I just thought it might be time to do something else.” He put the book on the table. “I would like to discuss more of it with you later. Right now, I’d rather focus on you.”

He brought his hand up to the side of her face and brought her lips to his. She was soft and warm, and, more importantly, she responded to him. She didn’t push him away. That was a good sign. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she did.

He’d given her plenty of reasons to refuse his advances. In fact, he hadn’t expected them to even do this much on their wedding night. But there was something about her that pulled him to her, and he found himself acting more boldly than he otherwise would have.

His heartbeat picked up as he deepened the kiss. He didn’t dare confess he’d never kissed a lady before. Surely, all ladies expected their husbands to be experienced in this area. Iris probably assumed he knew what he was doing.

Thankfully, she was a virgin, so she wouldn’t know any better. Now that he thought about it, he was greatly relieved the Duchess of Ashbourne had matched him with an untried lady. Maybe the duchess realized he wouldn’t be able to satisfy a lady in bed because of his formal and stuffy nature.

In the back of his mind, he thought it’d be best to take this upstairs. The den, after all, was hardly a place where they should be doing this sort of thing. But an insistent part of him, the one fully erect and pressing against the constraints of his trousers, demanded he keep going.

This part of him had never been so persistent before. Oh, he knew what it meant and where things were going. It was just that he’d never been so aroused in a lady’s presence. And if he was honest with himself, he would have to admit, while it definitely excited him, it also scared him. He was beginning to wish he’d done more research in this area. Perhaps he should have paid more attention when Lord Roderick had said Lord Edon’s book was worth reading, despite its graphic content.

But it was too late to run out and grab a copy. He was here with Iris now, and there was no way his body was going to let him out of this room without consummating the marriage. Unless Iris didn’t want to do it.

To make sure he had her permission, he ended the kiss and looked down at her. She opened her eyes, and he detected a question in the way her eyebrows furrowed. He struggled for a way to ask if he could continue, but words failed him. He was no good at this. He was sure a gentleman who was used to sleeping with ladies would know exactly what to say. But he didn’t. And because of that, he decided to gauge her willingness by lowering his head and giving her another kiss.

She leaned into him and returned his kiss. Assured he had her permission, he proceeded forward with what he had started. He wrapped her in his arms and deepened the kiss. She, in turn, wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Good. That was very good. Now there was no question as to whether or not she was willing. She was. And that being the case, he became more assertive.

He lowered one of his hands and traced her breast. He hesitated for a moment, just to make sure she wouldn’t push him away. Did ladies even like being touched this way? He liked touching her like this, but how could he be sure if she liked it?

Again, there was no way he would ask. Gentlemen weren’t supposed to ask ladies these kinds of things. They were supposed to just know how to do them. These things were guided by instinct. Except, he had the same feeling he experienced whenever he embarked in an unfamiliar business venture. And that didn’t exactly give him a high boost of confidence.

Even if he was a novice, he owed it to her to act as if he knew what he was doing. Keeping this in mind, he cupped her breast in his hand, gently squeezing it, noting how soft it was. The contact only served to arouse him more, and thankfully, this helped him overcome the bulk of his apprehension.

His lips left hers, and he left a trail of kisses down her neck. From her neck, he descended further, glad her dress had a deep enough neckline so he could kiss the top of her breasts. She let out a soft moan, but, truth be told, he was too enraptured by kissing the space between her breasts to appreciate the fact that his efforts to please her were paying off.

He lifted her breast and was happy to note he was able to see more of it. He gently lowered her neckline so he could see all of it and sharply inhaled. Not only did it feel wonderful in his palm, but it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re exquisite,” he whispered before he lowered his head and brushed her nipple with his tongue.

The pink bud hardened in response, and she ran her fingers through his hair, effectively pulling him closer to her. He continued exploring her breast until the male part of him ached to the point where his trousers were much too restrictive.

But before removing them, he brought his mouth back to hers, and this time he traced her lower lip with his tongue. She parted her lips for him, so he deepened the kiss, this time allowing his tongue to brush hers.

He’d heard brief talk about this type of kissing at White’s, though he had quickly walked to another room, figuring he had no business knowing the details in other people’s love lives. But, he had to admit this type of kissing was far more intimate—and stimulating—than the other kind was. Oh, he had enjoyed that kind of kissing, too. There was no doubt about it. It just seemed this kind made him ache all the more to be inside her.

Unable to take it anymore, he brought one of his hands to his trousers and unbuttoned them, relieved when the pressure holding his erection in place was finally gone. That was better. Now he could concentrate more on what was happening between them. More specifically, he could concentrate more on learning her body.

He lifted the bottom of her dress then slid his hand under it, noting the flesh on flesh contact with her legs. She shifted and spread her legs, and he took the opportunity to bring his hand up higher. The soft fabric of her drawers hindered him from being able to feel more of her until he realized there was a slit in the fabric between her legs.

Intrigued, his fingers slipped through the cut in the fabric. Warm, damp flesh greeted him, and upon further exploration, he noted the opening between her legs. Heart racing, he dipped a finger into her silken flesh and groaned. Oh, but she was heavenly. She leaned back on the couch, encouraging him to recline with her. She parted her legs further and lifted her hips, an action which drew him deeper into her.

He brought in another finger. She was wet. He hadn’t expected it, but he surmised that if he was going to enter her, this made it easier. Still kissing him, she urged him on top of her. The last of his patience departed. He wanted nothing more than to be inside her. And he wanted it right now.

After removing his fingers, he ended the kiss long enough to pull down his trousers and both of their undergarments, which happened quickly, given his excitement. He hurried to settle on top of her, only able to get a glance at the flesh between her legs as he did so. The image was enough to make him groan with need.

She brought him into her arms and wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him the perfect opportunity to enter her. And he took it. He pressed into her, her silken folds surrounding him, tight and warm. He let out a moan and stopped for a moment to savor the initial pleasure of being inside her. She’d felt incredible when his fingers were in her, but this was so much better.

Unable to remain still any longer, he began moving inside her. It seemed as if she’d been made specifically for him. Her flesh wrapped securely around him, welcoming him as if they’d always been together. He went almost all the way out and then back in, and soon established a rhythm, noting that it was easier to move inside her with each thrust.

Each thrust also brought him closer and closer to the inevitable moment when he’d release his seed. He was enjoying this so much he didn’t ever want it to end. He struggled to distract himself by thinking of other things, but that only made him aware that she was working with him, lifting her hips to meet each thrust.

When he opened his eyes, he noticed hers were closed. His gaze went lower, and he noticed her other breast had been freed from the dress, which gave him the most lovely view imaginable. Two breasts bouncing in unison with their movements. And that image was his undoing. Gasping, he grew taut and released his seed. He let out another groan as waves of pleasure coursed through him.

He had figured the climax would feel good. He’d taken care of his needs in the past enough to know this, but this actually felt much more intense than any of those times had. With a moan, he willed the feeling to last as long as it could. But much too soon, the climax receded, and he was brought back to earth.

Weak, he collapsed in her arms, his heart still racing and his breathing ragged. When his head cleared, he lifted himself up on his elbows and kissed her. He didn’t know how it was possible, but he felt closer to her, and he hoped she felt the same. He’d like to think this was the point where things would change for the better, that she might understand he wasn’t going to be the same person who had invited her to his dinner party.

He didn’t dare ask her if she felt close to him after this act. What if she said no? What if she said this was something she was expected to do, so she did it? He knew the rules of the Ton. Wives were for heirs. Mistresses were for pleasure.

He wanted to tell her that he didn’t want lovemaking to be something done out of duty. He wanted it to be something they could both enjoy, that he’d only take his pleasure with her. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was easier, instead, to kiss her and hold her for the next few minutes.

Afterwards, he gathered enough courage to whisper, “May I join you in bed tonight?”

A pretty blush graced her face as she nodded. “Yes, you may.”

Good. At least there was that. She was willing to do this with him again, and in the same evening. He got off of her and pulled up his undergarments and trousers. He’d just finished buttoning his trousers when she was standing by the couch, looking presentable. Minus her unkempt hair, no one would suspect what they’d been doing in here. Even he didn’t believe it. He had thought lovemaking should only be saved for the bedchamber.

“I didn’t bring you to the den, thinking we’d…” He cleared his throat. “Thankfully, I closed the door.”

She offered him a shy smile. “I didn’t mind. The couch is a comfortable one, and, as you said, the door was closed. I think we did a good job of being discreet.”

He took her hand and kissed it. Then, without another word, he led her to her bed.

Chapter Fifteen

When Warren woke up the next morning, he had his arm around Iris’ waist, and she had her back pressing up against his chest. He let out a contented sigh and remained still for the next few minutes, savoring the bliss they’d shared last night. Yes, they still had much to learn about each other, but he felt they were going to be all right despite their shaky beginning.

With a smile, he rose up on his arm and kissed her cheek. She remained fast asleep. The poor thing was exhausted. In his enthusiasm over making love to her, he’d kept her up through most of the night.

He, however, was far too excited to sleep. Noting a hint of daylight coming in through a sliver in the curtains, he released Iris and scooted over to the edge of the bed. He picked up the pocket watch he’d set on the table the night before and noted it was six in the morning.

That wasn’t surprising. He often got up at this time, unlike most gentlemen who slept in until almost noon. But then, they were used to carousing around London all through the night. For the life of him, he would never understand the appeal. The mind was at its best first thing in the morning.

He glanced over at Iris, who was still asleep. What time was she used to getting up? He suspected that she didn’t sleep late through the morning, but she probably didn’t make it a habit of getting up this early, either. And who knew if, being a lady, she could handle all the activity they’d done? Ladies, he’d heard, had delicate constitutions and had to be treated with care.

Which brought him to a pressing topic. How could he bring her pleasure in bed? Had she enjoyed anything they’d done last night? Maybe, in his excitement, he’d imagined that she gotten pleasure from it. He’d been so fascinated in his exploration of her, he hadn’t been able to focus on much else.

As loathe as he was to admit it, he needed Lord Edon’s book. It was either that or ask her if she liked what they’d done, but he’d rather die than let her know how inept he was at this sort of thing. It was far easier to engage in financial and political talk. At least those were topics he was confident about.

Well, that settled it. He’d go to White’s and pick up a copy of the book. Maybe if he went early, no one would be there. Ever since the book got voted in, Lord Edon had left a stack of them in the room where anyone could take a copy. Warren couldn’t be sure, but he thought Lord Edon was more than happy to do that instead of having gentlemen ask him for one.

Careful not to disturb Iris, Warren slipped out of bed and gathered his things. Then he went to his bedchamber through the door connecting their rooms. He softly closed the door so he wouldn’t wake her.

After that, it was a matter of taking a bath and getting dressed. Usually, his valet would give him a shave, but on this particular morning, he did it himself. By the time he was presentable, it was a little after seven.

Good. He still had plenty of time to get to White’s before it got crowded.

He went to the door connecting his room with Iris’ and slowly opened it. She was still asleep. He took a moment to study her. Why didn’t he notice she was an attractive lady when they’d met? It might not have been the striking beauty some ladies had, but it was beauty nonetheless. It was just quieter, subtler.

Maybe he’d been so focused on impressing her father he hadn’t noticed. He had been hoping to marry her for the sake of establishing a lifelong relationship with her father. The gentleman had influence in London, and many wanted to benefit from his wisdom.

But who would have guessed Iris could match her father in wisdom and intellect? Apparently, none of the bachelors had been any smarter than him, for there hadn’t been a line of them vying for her hand. It was just as well. Warren didn’t care for that kind of competition.

Warren went to his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment. After dipping his quill in the ink, he wrote Iris a note to let her know he had to run an errand but would be back soon. He almost added that the errand involved a book, but then she might ask what kind of book. And that would create a lot more questions he’d rather not answer.

So he left it as simple as possible and placed it on the vanity in her room. Then he went to get something to eat before heading out to White’s.

***

Iris stirred as she slowly came out of the world of dreams. The dreams had been so pleasant she lingered as long as she could. Warren was with her in all of them, and she felt enveloped in his love. There was no wondering what he thought of her. She’d been sure of his feelings.

But the dreams dissipated, giving way to the reality of what was really happening around her. With a sigh, she rolled onto her back. Immediately, she noted that Warren was gone. She sat up in bed, holding the blanket to her chest and saw that his clothes and the pocket watch were gone, too.

She shouldn’t be disappointed. She knew he didn’t love her. He probably wouldn’t ever love her. She questioned the wisdom in making it so easy for him to come to her bed. Well, she hadn’t even made him wait until he came to her bed. She’d willingly given herself to him in his den! What kind of husband respected a wife who practically threw herself at him?

She thought she’d built up some type of resistance to him. It’d taken great effort to pretend she didn’t care if he was with her before they married, and silly as it was, she thought she’d been able to erect a wall around her heart. But after he’d said a few sweet words to her and given her some attention, that stupid wall had come crumbling down. She had no idea her heart was such a fragile thing.

What a fool she was. When he had asked her to his dinner party, she’d said yes. Never mind he’d spent most of the afternoon talking with her father and had only stopped long enough to offer her a greeting. At the time she’d thought he had invited her to one of his dinner parties because he wished to get to know her better.

When she’d gone to the dinner, he spent all evening ignoring her, something Regan had been kind enough to point out. Even then, she’d said yes when he asked her to another one. She’d wanted to be with him so badly she was willing to give him another chance.

It was nothing but blind hope that kept making her do everything she could to please him. When would she finally learn he didn’t love her? He never had, and he never would.

She glanced over at the empty spot next to her. Now that he’d made the attempt at getting an heir, her use was worn out, at least until he needed to try again. She got out of the bed, willing the tears back. She hated crying. It was a sign of weakness. But no matter how hard she tried, a few tears escaped and slid down her cheeks.

She had to get out of here. She needed time to regroup. She went to her wardrobe and selected the clothes she wanted to wear for the morning. Then she hurried to the washbasin and cleaned up, spending considerable time patting her eyes and cheeks so no one would suspect she’d been crying. Worse than crying was for people to know she’d been doing it.

After she was able to get a hold of her emotions, she dressed. Usually, her lady’s maid would do it, but she didn’t want to see anyone at the moment. All she wanted to do was get out of this townhouse.

She ran her fingers through her hair and then pulled it back into a bun, a task she managed without any pins. Then she grabbed a hat from the top shelf in the wardrobe and put it on her head. Her mother would be appalled if she knew Iris was going to leave the room without checking her reflection in the mirror above the vanity, but that was exactly what Iris did. Why should she care about the way she looked? She had no one to impress.

She left the room and hurried down the stairs, hoping she might get to the door before any of the servants did, but the butler happened to come into the entryway at the very moment her hand was on the doorknob.

“My lady,” he called out, rushing to her, “let me get the door for you.”

She almost told him she could do it herself, but she decided it’d be easier if she let him do as he wished.

As he opened the door, he asked, “Lord Steinbeck went to White’s. He said he should be back within the hour. Would you like to leave him a message?”

“No,” she forced out then passed through the doorway and quickly made her way down the steps.

If she said any more than that, she might very well burst into a new wave of tears. White’s? The first thing on Warren’s mind had been to leave this townhouse and go to a gentleman’s club?

Don’t think about it. You’ll only open yourself up to new wounds if you think about it.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, her steps quickened as she made her way down the sidewalk. She wasn’t sure where she was going. All she knew was that she needed to get away from anything that reminded her of her husband. And the sooner she did that, the better.

A carriage pulled up next to her and someone called out, “Lady Steinbeck, may I have a word with you?”

Her steps came to a halt as she looked over at the unfamiliar carriage. It had the same crest Warren had on his carriage, but it didn’t belong to him. Her gaze went to the door as it opened. A gentleman peered out at her, and it took her a moment to realize it was Warren’s half-brother.

“I can take you wherever you need to go,” Byron added. “I didn’t get a chance to properly introduce myself.”

She hesitated. If she recalled right, there had been something about him that had given her an unsettling feeling yesterday. “Oh, well…” She shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m in a hurry. A friend needs to see me,” she finally lied, deciding it’d be best if she listened to that small voice warning her not to go with him.

“That’s all the more reason to accept my offer,” he replied. “You’ll get there quicker in a carriage than you will by foot.”

“She isn’t that far. I’ll be happy to talk to you at another time.” When Warren was there. Even if Warren had deeply hurt her, at least she knew she was safe with him.

Hoping to put an end to the conversation, she smiled a good-bye and started walking again. But she hadn’t made it five steps when someone grabbed her from behind and put his hand over her mouth. She struggled to get away from him, but he proved to be much stronger than her. Almost without effort, he dragged her to the carriage and pushed her into it.

Byron, who was still in the carriage, reached for her and pulled her onto his lap, his arms securing her in place. The door slammed shut as she screamed.

“It won’t do you any good to protest,” Byron said, a warning laced with the forced politeness in his voice.

“Let me go,” she snapped, trying to wiggle away from him.

The carriage began moving, and panic took hold of her. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all! She slapped him, but he raised his hand and slapped her back, the force of the impact making her ears ring.

“Now, you listen to me,” he hissed, grabbing her by the arms and pulling her closer to him so that his breath was on her face. “If you keep quiet, no harm will come to you. It’s not you I’m after. I need something from your husband, and you’re the only thing I can use to get it. Once I get what I want, you’ll be free to go.”

She didn’t know if it was the shock of being abducted or the weeks of being stuck in a state of hopeless despair, but she started laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Your brother doesn’t want me. He won’t give you anything.”

“You consummated your marriage, didn’t you?”

The question—so blunt—quieted her laughter. In its place was the heat of humiliation that rose up in her face.

“You were indeed a virgin until yesterday,” he said. “Only a lady who’d been untouched would blush like that. Well, then that means you’re all the more valuable to him. You might be carrying his heir. So you see, he’ll want you.”

He shifted and pulled her off of him. Then he plopped her beside him in the seat. She took a deep breath, hoping it would help steady her nerves, but the ache on the side of her head made her wince. She rubbed the side of her face and turned away from him. Tears stung her eyes, so she blinked them away. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying. Under no circumstance must she let him know he could make her cry.

She forced her attention to the window, noting they were heading out of London. “Where are you taking me?” she asked once she could trust herself to speak without her voice wavering.

“Home.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Home?”

“Yes. You’re going to get the chance to meet your husband’s family. Did he tell you he has a stepmother and a half-sister?”

Warren hadn’t told her anything about his family, which was probably another indication he didn’t care for her. If he had cared, he would have told her something. That was the kind of thing husbands who loved their wives did. But then, she hadn’t been under the delusion he wanted to be with her. Not in the way she wanted to be wanted anyway.

“Oh well,” Byron said, his tone indicating he found the situation somewhat amusing. “The fact that you might be with child will be enough to get him to come home. Take comfort in that. You have some use to offer him.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and kept her gaze on the activity on the street around her. The only thing she really could take comfort in was knowing Byron had no intention of killing her. She rubbed the side of her face again and released a long breath. For the moment, there was nothing she could do. She’d just have to bide her time.

Maybe when she reached an inn, she could find a way to escape. And if that didn’t work out, perhaps she might get Byron’s mother and sister to help her. Certainly ladies would be sympathetic to the plight of someone who’d been abducted against her will. Yes, if all else failed, she’d seek their help. So all hope wasn’t lost. She just needed to bide her time. She’d done it when it came to investing, and she could do it now. Patience. It just required patience.

Chapter Sixteen

On impulse, Warren made a trip to a bookstore on his way to White’s to purchase a new book on investing that he thought Iris might like to read with him. After he made his purchase, he went to White’s, and as soon as he realized there were five gentlemen already there, he wished he’d skipped the bookstore and come here right away instead. Since the gentlemen were sitting at a table playing cards, he hoped he might be able to sneak in unawares. Such luck, however, wasn’t on his side.

“Are you here to see what shameful things are going on?” Mister Christopher Robinson called out.

Lord Edon glanced up from his cards. “We thought you restricted your morality checks to later on in the day.”

The other three gentlemen at the table chuckled. For whatever reason Warren could never figure out, the world seemed to adore the likes of Robinson and Edon.

“However you want to waste your time is your business as long as you don’t try to get innocent parties involved,” Warren retorted.

Then, so as not to give his true reason for coming here away, he sat in a chair in the corner of the room. He set the investing book down and picked up a newspaper. Unfortunately, he had to stay in this room. This was the only room in the entire place that had a stack of Lord Edon’s books clearly on display for anyone to take. Anyone, that was, except for him.

He’d rather die than let any of them know he was here to grab of copy of that book. But he couldn’t risk coming here at a later time, when it was going to be busier. The five gentlemen playing cards and laughing about the latest gossip were bad enough to contend with.

After a few minutes of pretending to read the paper, he glanced over at the card table. None of the gentlemen seemed to be paying attention to him. Maybe he could slip out of here and grab a copy of Lord Edon’s book on the way out. The books were stacked on a small table next to the door. If he walked right by them, he could probably slip one under the book he already had and escape without anyone noticing.

His gaze went to the gentlemen who were laughing and having a great time. That was good. It meant they were distracted. None of them were looking over at him. Maybe, just maybe, he could get this plan to work. He set the newspaper on the table and picked up the book he’d brought in with him. Daring a peek over at the gentlemen, he noted none were looking in his direction.

He stood up, this time watching them. So far, so good. They were still occupied. Quiet, so as not to catch their attention, he tiptoed toward the door. He made it to the stack of books, and his steps slowed. He had to fight back the urge to hurry right on by them in case one of the gentlemen looked over at him at the exact moment he took one.

Iris. He was doing this for Iris. Ignoring his racing heart, he reached for a copy and slipped it under the book on investing. With one last glance to make sure the other gentlemen hadn’t seen him, he darted out of the room. Just as he crossed the threshold, he bumped into someone, and both books fell to the floor.

Face hot, he hurried to pick them up, lest the gentleman he bumped into find out what he had in his possession. This effort, however was in vain, for the gentleman retrieved Edon’s book for him, leaving Warren with the book on investing.

At this point, Warren looked up at the person he’d bumped into and saw it was Dr. Derek Westward, otherwise known as the Marquess of Dodsworth. Of all the gentlemen who could see him with Edon’s book, this was the worst one.

He almost told Dodsworth it wasn’t what it looked like, but what was the point? The doctor wasn’t stupid. It was exactly what it looked like.

“Please don’t tell anyone about that book,” Warren whispered.

He noted the amusement in Dodsworth’s eyes and thought for sure the gentleman was going to draw attention to them. But, to his immense relief, Dodsworth handed the book to him and said, “I won’t. Your secret is safe with me.”

Really? Could it be that easy?

Dodsworth went around him and entered the room where his friends were playing cards. He went over to them and sat down. Warren held his breath, waiting for that dreaded moment when they would all turn to him and laugh. But they didn’t. Instead, Robinson dealt Dodsworth some cards. Dodsworth picked up his hand, and from there, the game continued as if nothing unusual had just happened.

Warren couldn’t believe it. After the way he’d treated Dodsworth the first time he saw him here at White’s, Dodsworth was really willing to keep this whole thing a secret? He wasn’t going to pay him back for being rude?

Warren tucked Edon’s book under the other one. He didn’t deserve the mercy Dodsworth had just shown him. He had deserved to be called out and ridiculed. Why had Dodsworth been nice to him?

Because Dodsworth was a good and decent person. Yes, he might have a tendency to speak his mind and create scandals, but, deep down, he was honorable. And if Warren recalled right, Dodsworth tended to get into trouble when he called out prominent members of the Ton for making fun of others who weren’t there to defend themselves.

Warren tapped the books in his arm, wondering what he should do about this. At the moment, he supposed he couldn’t do anything. Dodsworth was with his friends, playing a game, and enjoying the morning. Well, next time Warren had a chance, he’d make it up to him.

He left the gentleman’s club, lost in thought about the turn of events. How many other people had he been quick to judge without giving them a chance? He’d been wrong about Iris. Now, he realized he’d been wrong about Dodsworth. Certainly, there had to be others.

This matter was still on his mind by the time he returned to his townhouse. He was so lost in thought, in fact, that he didn’t realize the butler was calling his name until he was halfway up the stairs to go to his bedchamber to hide Edon’s book.

Careful not to let the butler see it, he made sure the investment book was the one facing the butler as he turned around. “What is it?” he asked as the butler came up the stairs.

“This came for you, my lord.” The butler handed him a neatly folded missive.

Warren accepted it, his gaze going to the familiar eloquent scrawl. Byron. With a roll of his eyes, he thanked the butler then turned and headed back up to his bedchamber. It was just like Byron to keep pestering him. He did this several times a year. No matter how many times Warren stuck to his word and didn’t send Byron a single mite until the monthly allotment was due, Byron insisted on bothering him. Why should this time be any different?

Warren went into his bedchamber and threw the missive in the trashcan. Then he set the books on the desk. Once he retrieved the key to the top drawer, he unlocked it and set Edon’s book in it. He shut it and locked it, relieved he’d been able to do all of this without Iris catching him. Good. There was no need for her to find out how incompetent he was at lovemaking. He returned the key to the cabinet and then grabbed the book on investing.

He bounded down the steps and searched for his lovely bride. When he didn’t see her in the drawing room or den, he went to the butler. “Have you seen Lady Steinbeck?”

“Lady Steinbeck left about an hour ago,” the butler said.

She did? Doing his best to hide his disappointment, he asked, “Did she say when she’ll be back?”

“No, my lord.”

Warren almost asked him if she’d told him where she was going but decided against it. She had a right to go wherever she wanted without him bothering her. Besides, if she had wanted to be with him that morning, she would have stayed home.

Who could blame her either way? He’d run off to White’s, so naturally she assumed he didn’t want to spend the morning with her. It was probably his fault for not taking the time to let her know how much he was looking forward to spending the day with her when he wrote her the note he’d put on her vanity.

After thanking the butler, he decided he’d make good use of his time and start reading Edon’s book on how to pleasure a lady. He was fifteen pages into it when he recalled the note he’d left Iris in her room. Perhaps she’d written a response.

Of course! Why didn’t he think of it before? It made perfect sense. Why tell the servants where she was going when she could just as easily tell him in a note?

He set the book down and hurried to her bedchamber. His gaze went to the vanity where he’d left the parchment. It was still there. So maybe she’d written him back and expected him to come in here to find it. It wasn’t like she’d been invited into his bedchamber. Leaving a reply here made perfect sense.

But when he picked up the parchment, there was no reply. With a sigh, he set it back on the vanity. So much for that idea. He supposed she didn’t want him to know where she’d gone after all. He wished he could go back and change the way he’d treated her when they’d first met. Things would be so different now if he’d taken the time to talk to her.

All he’d done was treat her with the same disdain his stepmother had treated him from the moment she married his father. Well, he couldn’t do anything about the past. All he could do was change how he did things in the future. Naturally, it was going to take time for her to trust him. Given how much he’d hurt her, it was going to take more than one day to undo the damage he’d done. He just needed to take his time and be patient. That was all.

Feeling better, he picked the note back up and returned to his bedchamber. On the other side of it, he wrote, I just wanted you to know I’m glad you’re my wife. There are few people in this world I feel are my intellectual equal, and you’re one of them.

He paused, wondering if it was appropriate to mention things of a more personal nature. He tapped the edge of his quill on the desk. Just how did a husband go about expressing sentiment?

His gaze went to Edon’s book. After a moment of internal debate, he picked it up and scanned the table of contents until he found the chapter on words of affirmation. Good. That one might have something he could use.

Once he was done reading the chapter, he decided to pick the example that seemed to fit how he felt about Iris the best. Besides being beautiful, you’re also a good companion. I look forward to spending the rest of my life with you.

There. That summed everything up nicely. He returned the note back to her vanity then went back to reading Edon’s book.

***

“I don’t care if you think the horses need a break,” Byron was telling the coachman from outside the carriage. “We need to press on. My brother’s probably seen the missive by now and is on his way. If he comes on horse, he’ll overtake us before we reach the estate.”

Iris watched Byron through the small window in the carriage, and she noted the stiffness in his posture. Money. Why did everything always come down to money? Warren had feigned interest in her because she came with a significant dowry and because her father could give him financial advice which would increase his wealth. And now Byron had kidnapped her for the sole purpose of getting his hands on more money. Truly, the love of money was the root of all evil.

“If we wear out the horses, they’ll be no good to us,” the coachman told Byron. “You won’t stay at an inn, and that’s already straining them.”

Byron fidgeted, obviously not liking this answer but probably seeing the logic behind it. He scanned the landscape, and Iris followed suit, wondering if there was anyone nearby who might offer her assistance. Perhaps if she explained her case, the person might help her get away from her captor.

But no one was in sight. The entire landscape was devoid of people. She was all alone out here with Byron and the coachman. She wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable, and she didn’t like it one bit. Wrapping her arms around herself, she settled back into the seat. There was nothing she could do. Even if she ran off, Byron would catch her.

Her only recourse was to bide her time and hope Byron’s mother or sister might have mercy on her.

“Fine,” Byron finally told the coachman. “We’ll let the horses rest, but I want to continue on in fifteen minutes.”

The coachman nodded and went to feed the horses.

Byron returned to the carriage and said, “If you need to take care of anything personal, now’s the time to do it.” Then he left.

Out the window, she saw him unbutton his trousers. With a shudder, she looked away. She had no desire to watch anyone relieve his bladder. But she figured she better do it, too. Who knew when there’d be another chance? She hurried out of the carriage and found a tree to hide behind while she did her business.

Chapter Seventeen

It was at dinnertime when Warren started to wonder if Iris was ever going to come back home. He’d waited for her to return all day, but the townhouse echoed with her absence. And now, as he sat at the table with a meal he’d selected especially with her in mind since her father had said she liked fish, he was all too aware she was still gone.

What a contrast this had been to last evening. During dinner, they had continued talking about the book, discussing things they’d read in it. He’d thought the entire day had gone very well. He searched his memory for anything he might have said or done that had upset her yesterday, but his mind drew a blank. There was nothing he could come up with to explain why she wasn’t here for dinner.

He forced himself to eat the meal, his mind unwittingly going to the dinner parties he had invited her to. Now that he thought about it, he could remember her attempts to join in the conversation. He’d been too caught up in what Robert and Malcolm were saying to care. A grave error on his part. One that might even haunt him for the rest of his life, given how much Iris wanted to avoid him.

All through the meal, he kept hoping she’d show up. He even had the butler keep her plate at her seat, just in case. But she never showed up, and the awful feeling in his gut only got worse.

After he was done eating, he summoned the coachman to bring the carriage. He took the carriage to her parents’ residence, thinking it was a starting point. Of all the places she’d be, this was the most likely one.

But when his parents greeted him, he quickly learned Iris wasn’t there.

“We haven’t seen her since after the wedding breakfast,” her mother said. “When did you last see her?”

“This morning,” Warren replied. “I went to pick up a book I thought she’d enjoy on investing.” No need to mention Edon’s book. His cheeks still warmed when he recalled reading it, even if half the content had absolutely nothing to do with the actual act of lovemaking. He cleared his throat and added, “It’s a new book, and I wanted to read it with her.”

“Is it the one by Walter Thomas?” her father asked.

Warren nodded. “That’s the one.”

“She would enjoy it,” he replied. “It’s a good book.”

“I was hoping we might start reading it today,” Warren said.

“Well, we have no idea where she is,” her mother told him. “She hasn’t been here, nor did she send a missive telling us where she’d go.”

“I know she’s friends with Miss Carlisle,” Warren said. “I think I’ll check there next. I was wondering if she’s not at Miss Carlisle’s, is there any other place she might have gone?”

“Miss Carlisle is the only friend she feels comfortable with,” her mother replied. “I can’t think of anywhere else she’d be since she’s not here.”

“It’s not like her to run off for such a long period of time,” her father added, his eyebrows furrowed. “Even when she was upset, she made it a point to come home in time for dinner.”

“I can’t think of anything I said or did to upset her after we got married,” Warren said. “I’ve been trying to be a good husband.”

“Oh, we have no doubt you have,” her father assured him.

Feeling better since they weren’t going to blame him, he relaxed. “Well, I think I’ll go to Miss Carlisle’s townhouse and see if Iris is there,” Warren said. “Thank you.”

“Let us know if you need our help finding her,” her father told him.

After assuring him he would, Warren went to Miss Carlisle’s. But that turned out to be as much of a dead end as going to her parents’ townhouse had been. He was baffled. Truly and utterly baffled. If he hadn’t talked to the butler who saw her leave, he would swear she’d disappeared after he left her in bed that morning.

Upon his return to the townhouse, he summoned the butler to ask him, “What time did you say Lady Steinbeck left this morning?”

“I believe it was shortly after nine,” his butler replied.

“And she didn’t say where she was going?”

“No.”

“What was her mood when she left?”

“She seemed to be in a hurry, my lord.”

Warren’s eyebrows furrowed. In a hurry? That could mean almost anything. She could’ve been excited or agitated. “Was she smiling, or was she frowning?”

The butler took a moment to think it over before he said, “She seemed distracted, as if something was weighing on her mind. I had to rush up to the front door in order to open it for her before she left. I told her you went to White’s but would be back within the hour. Then I asked if she wanted me to leave you a message, and she said no. Then she rushed out of here.”

That didn’t give him much to go on. “Is there anything else? Anything you can tell me at all?”

“No. That’s all I know. After she started down the steps, I shut the door and returned to my duties.”

“Are you talking about Lady Steinbeck?” a lady asked from behind them.

Warren and the butler turned to her. The maid stood a few feet away, holding clean towels in her arms.

“Yes,” Warren said. “Have you seen her?”

“Not since this morning when I was picking up more cleaning supplies,” she replied. “She was in your family’s carriage.”

This didn’t sound promising. In fact, it only added to the growing sense of dread that’d been building up within him during the day. “When and where did you see her in the carriage?”

“I saw her a couple streets down that way.” She pointed toward the west. “She was looking out the window. I waved, but she didn’t notice me. I thought since she was with your family, everything was all right. I would have said something if I thought there was something wrong.”

It was then Warren remembered the missive Byron had sent. He turned back to the butler. “When did you get the correspondence from my half-brother?”

“It was about ten minutes after Lady Steinbeck left,” he replied.

“Was he the one who delivered it?” he asked.

“No. It was a lad. Probably from the middle class. I didn’t recognize him.”

“Bring the carriage to the front,” Warren told him.

Without waiting for them to respond, he hurried up the steps. He had to see the contents of that missive. As soon as he reached the trashcan in his bedchamber, he dug the neatly folded parchment out of it. He opened the drapes to allow the remaining daylight into the room. Then he unfolded it, forcing himself not to rip the paper in his haste to read the message.

Blood drained from his face as he read the contents. It was a ransom note. Byron made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he was going to keep Iris at the estate until Warren paid him a hundred pounds.

Warren’s fist clenched the missive, which crumpled into a tight ball. Curse him! Of all the sneaky, underhanded, manipulative things he’d done, this had to be the worst.

Warren spun on his heel, ready to head right out the door and get into the carriage when he remembered the trip would take two days. They’d both need clothes.

He quickly threw some things into a valise then headed for the carriage. Whether Byron expected the money or not was of little consequence. Warren wouldn’t pay it. If he gave into Byron’s demands this time, who knew what his half-brother would do in the future?

Gentlemen who stooped to abducting wives were capable of just about anything. Once they knew they could get away with one transgression, they moved on to another. The thirst for more was never satisfied. Warren had seen this often enough at White’s to understand this basic principle.

So no. Byron wasn’t going to get any money. But he was going to give Iris back to him, and he was going to do it under his terms. He was going to put a stop to this once and for all. He just wasn’t sure how he was going to do it yet. But he’d think of something, and Iris would never go through anything like this again.

***

Two days later, the carriage came to an abrupt stop. Iris jerked awake, surprised she’d fallen asleep with all the swaying and bumping the carriage had done. As she turned her head to the window, her neck ached in protest. But, noting the beautiful manor in front of her, she forced herself to straighten up in the seat so she could get a better look at it.

Warren had never said anything about his family’s estate, which was surprising since the place was exquisite. The manor itself had elegant designs etched into the stone walls. The bushes had been trimmed into the shapes of lions, as if they were set to guard the place. And the flowers…well, they gave the landscape a wealth of color.

Her family’s estate was impressive in its own right, but this surpassed even that. Why hadn’t Warren ever mentioned this? He seemed to brag about everything else, and she knew he prided himself on having beautiful things. But she couldn’t recall a single conversation where he’d suggested his family’s estate was to be envied.

“Finally,” Byron muttered from beside her.

Without waiting for the footman to open the door, he did it and stepped down from the carriage. He shook his shoulders and massaged the back of his neck. In the late afternoon sun, Iris saw the dark circles under his eyes, his disheveled hair, and his wrinkled clothes. No doubt, she looked the same.

Byron glanced her way. “Do you plan to stay in the carriage, or will you be coming out?”

She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her, but she seriously debated staying in the carriage. When she saw the coachman come to the door, she said, “I demand you take me back to London.”

Not that she expected the order to work. She fully expected the coachman to ignore her request, but she felt the need to voice the protest anyway. She was not a willing participant in any of this, and she resented being put in a situation where she was a pawn.

The coachman glanced between her and Byron, his expression uneasy. Well, at least he was showing a small bit of conscience.

Byron glowered at him. “You work for me. You’ll do as I say.”

The coachman lowered his gaze.

Byron gestured for her to come out. “Enough of this nonsense. Get out. You can’t stay in there while you’re waiting for your husband to come get you.”

She was pretty sure she could, and she got ready to tell him that when she saw a young lady with an older one descend the steps from the entrance.

Byron’s gaze went to the two ladies, and he smiled at them. “I told you I could do it. It wasn’t all that difficult, either. Warren has so little interest in her that he left her first thing in the morning after their wedding day.”

The older lady stepped up to the carriage and studied Iris, scanning her up and down as one would inspect a homeless animal when deciding whether or not to bring it into the house.

“She’s not much to look at, is she?” the lady asked then turned her gaze to Byron. “I take it she’s wealthy.”

“Rumors are her father manages very well. Even better than Warren,” Byron replied.

“Oh?”

Iris noted the interest in the lady’s voice as the lady’s gaze went back at her, once again scanning her over. “You wouldn’t know it to look at her.”

“It was an arranged marriage,” Byron replied.

The young lady, who looked to be about sixteen, giggled. “Warren is married for life, but he can’t keep his wife,” she sang.

Byron smirked. “Are you really surprised, Opal?”

For some reason, this only made Opal laugh harder.

The older lady’s eyes finally met Iris’, and Iris felt a chill go straight through her. “Well,” the lady snapped, “are you going to sit there like a dullard, or are you going to come out?”

Iris jerked, surprised at the lady’s sharp tone.

The lady looked over at Byron. “Is she stupid on top of being ugly?”

Ugly? Iris knew she had a tendency to look plain, but she never once thought of herself as ugly.

“Probably,” Byron said. “As far as I can tell, the only useful thing she can do is have an heir.”

This seemed to appease the lady, for she gave a nod of approval. “Then it’s good you waited until after the wedding night to take her.” She reached for Iris. “Come now, child. The carriage is stopped. That means it’s time for you to get out.”

Iris slapped her hand away. “I’m not stupid, and you have no right to keep me here. I demand you let the coachman take me back at once.”

The lady’s eyes grew wide, but then she clucked her tongue at her as if she were a naughty child. “You are stupid if you think such insolence will work. You’re staying here until your husband comes for you.”

“He won’t come,” Iris spat. “You’re wasting your time with me.”

“She doesn’t seem to understand how important heirs are to titled gentlemen, Mother,” Byron told the older lady who remained unmoved by Iris’ warning. Byron glanced at Iris. “Even wallflowers have their uses.”

The lady—his mother—let out a long sigh. “I grow weary of this game,” she told Iris. “You will either come out like a respectable young lady, or I’ll have my son carry you out. Which will it be?”

Iris hesitated.

“I thought you said you weren’t stupid,” his mother snapped.

“I’ll drag her in,” Byron finally said.

His mother stepped aside, and though Iris wiggled away from him, he managed to grab a hold of her ankle and forced her out of the carriage. The action happened so fast that Iris didn’t have time to react. She ended up falling to the ground on her side. She might have made a move to get up if he hadn’t picked her up and flung her over his shoulder, the action so rough it nearly knocked the air out of her lungs.

Opal let out another round of giggles.

Byron proceeded to carry Iris into the manor, his mother and Opal following close behind.

“Take her to Warren’s old bedchamber,” his mother told him and handed him a key. “Then we’ll talk.”

From there, his mother and Opal headed off down the hallway. Byron, in turn, carried her up the stairs, and she bounced against him with each step, which ended up hurting her stomach and ribs. By the time he plopped her on the chair in the bedchamber, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Warren might put up with your poor attitude,” Byron began, “but I won’t.” He drew back his arm and slapped her so hard she fell off the chair. “If you dare embarrass me in front of everyone like that again, you’ll regret it.”

He stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Then he locked the door from the outside, successfully trapping her.

It took her a full moment to understand the full magnitude of what was happening to her, and when she did, she started to cry.

Chapter Eighteen

The sun was making its descent the next evening, and Warren was left with the tough decision of whether or not he should stay at the nearby inn for the night, thereby allowing his coachman, footman, and the horses a chance to get some rest.

He’d taken as many breaks as he’d dared without risking the health of the animals and the well-being of his servants. He could tell by the way the coachman and footman lumbered into the restaurant of the inn that they were exhausted. They’d been good sports, though, never voicing a single complaint the entire way.

The horses were unhitched from the carriage and eating hay from a trough. He wasn’t sure if it was enough to sustain them for another full night’s travel or not. Standing in front of the inn, he tapped his thigh. The innkeeper had said there was room for him, his servants, and the horses, but the rooms wouldn’t last long. All the other inns were booked up. If he was going to stay overnight, now was the time to make the arrangements.

What were the chances that Byron pushed his coachman and horses all the way to the estate without stopping for at least one night to allow everyone a chance to rest? Byron already had a good lead since it’d taken Warren the entire day to figure out what had happened. And all because he hadn’t read the missive. But how was he supposed to know his half-brother would abduct his wife and demand payment to release her?

It was at this point Warren criticized himself for not telling Iris’ parents what had happened. If he had, her father would be helping him right now. But when he’d read Byron’s note, he’d been in such a panic, he hadn’t taken the time to carefully think everything out.

Rarely in his life had he ever done anything this impulsive. He’d spent most of it carefully planning things out in order to eliminate surprises. But when he’d found out what had happened to Iris, he hadn’t taken the time to think. He’d just acted. His goal was to get to her as soon as possible.

Warren didn’t think his stepmother or Byron would physically hurt Iris, but there were things they could say…looks they could give her… There were other ways they could hurt her. Ways he knew all too well.

“Lord Steinbeck,” his footman called out to him.

Warren turned to the gentleman. “Yes?”

“Will you be getting something to eat?”

“Um, yes, I will. I was just thinking…”

Warren’s voice drifted off as he glanced at the sun, which seemed to be setting faster than usual. It was an illusion, of course. The sun wasn’t setting any faster. It was only his worry that made it seem so.

“Mr. Gentry and I don’t mind continuing through the night,” his footman said.

“We didn’t stop last night, and everyone’s tired,” Warren replied.

“Yes, that’s true, but we’re just as worried about your wife as you are. If any of us had thought Mr. Beaufort would have taken her, we would have been more diligent in making sure she was safe. We could have escorted her to wherever she wanted to go.”

“There was no way to know my half-brother would do something like this.”

And if Byron hadn’t made it a habit of sending missives demanding more money, Warren would have known a lot sooner. Warren rubbed his eyes. Ever since Byron was a child, he was impulsive, doing everything he wanted without any thought to others.

Byron’s mother only encouraged the behavior, coddling him and tending to his every whim. Their father hadn’t been much better, constantly excusing Byron. “He’s younger than you,” his father would tell him. “You can’t expect him to be as mature as you are. Give him time. He’ll grow up.”

Sometimes Warren would remind their father that he’d never behaved so foolishly, and this would only be met with a shrug. The only saving grace Warren could see in all of this was that he’d been the one to inherit the title and the running of the estate. Otherwise, who knew what condition everything would be in?

After a long moment, Warren turned back to the footman who was patiently waiting for him to make a decision. “As much as I appreciate the offer, it’s best we get a good night’s sleep,” Warren finally said.

Even Byron, for all his impatience, wouldn’t have pushed the horses or the driver that hard. He would have stopped for at least one night along the way. Despite his insistence he had no money, Warren paid the servants’ wages. Also, being able to afford food and lodging along the way wouldn’t have been an issue. The innkeeper would simply send Warren a bill.

“I’ll book our rooms and see to it the horses are provided for,” Warren told the footman then went into the inn, only pausing long enough to check the sun once more, hoping he hadn’t just made a mistake.

***

The next morning, a knock at the door stirred Iris out of her sleep. For a moment, she thought she’d dreamt the whole thing. She thought she’d wake up back at Warren’s townhouse to find him missing from her bed. But when she opened her eyes, the unfamiliar bedchamber told her she really had been kidnapped and locked away like a prisoner.

“Iris, Iris, Iris,” a lady sang from outside the door. “It’s well past dawn, and you’ve slept too long. So get out of bed, you sleepy head. It’s time to eat. I have a treat. It’s something-”

Iris jumped out of the bed and went to the door, if for no other reason than to stop the obnoxious singing. “How do you expect me to open the door when I’m locked in?” she snapped.

The giggling coming from the other side told Iris it was Opal on the other end. The way Opal cackled was just as irritating as her singing.

“I heard you were rather naughty,” Opal chided, a chuckle still in her voice. “We need to keep you safe so when Warren arrives, you’ll be here.”

“You’re wasting your time,” Iris replied. “He’s not coming.”

“Of course, he is. You’re his wife. We never had anything we could use before, but thanks to you, he has to come. Would you believe he hasn’t been here since he left for school?”

Who could blame him? Iris wouldn’t be stuck here, either, if she could help it.

“Anyway,” Opal began, going back to singing, “I have eggs and bacon on the plate. If you eat them, they’ll be great.”

Iris grimaced. The singing might be bearable if Opal could carry a tune. “Open the door, and I’ll eat,” she replied.

“You promise?”

“I just said I would.”

“But you didn’t eat the dinner Byron brought up for you last evening.”

“I wasn’t hungry then.”

This was a lie, of course. Iris had been hungry. She just hadn’t wanted to give Byron the satisfaction of doing what he wanted. He might be able to lock her in this room, but he couldn’t control her will.

“All right,” Opal said. “I’ll open the door, but you better not try to escape. Mother and Byron wouldn’t like that.”

“Where would I go? They’d only catch me and drag me back in here,” Iris snapped, tiring of this game.

Opal was playing with her much like a cat played with a mouse. Iris was trapped. Iris wasn’t going anywhere, and Opal knew it. Iris was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them.

Iris heard a key go into the lock right before the doorknob turned. The door slowly opened, as if Opal did, indeed, expect Iris to come charging at her in an attempt to escape. But Iris remained still, arms crossed as she waited for the lady to come into the room.

Iris had been so caught up in being a prisoner yesterday that she hadn’t taken the time to really look at Opal. She had the same shiny golden hair Warren did, and she shared the same gentle nose slope and chin Warren had as well. All three siblings took after their father.

Opal came into the room with a tray of oatmeal topped with berries and set it on a dusty table. Then she turned to face her expectantly.

“I thought you said you brought me eggs and bacon.”

Opal looked at the tray. “I could have sworn eggs and bacon were on the plate when I brought the tray up here.” She tapped her fingers to her lips and shrugged. “How strange. The meal seems to have changed.”

That isn’t the only thing that’s strange, Iris thought.

Opal giggled. “Maybe they changed because they knew you didn’t want to eat them. Maybe they knew you wanted oatmeal instead. I’ll let you in on a little secret. If you tell us what you want, you can eat something more to your liking.”

“I want to go back to London,” Iris told her.

Opal put her hand over her mouth and giggled.

Iris stiffened. “I fail to understand what’s so funny about that.”

Clearing her throat, Opal lowered her hands and smoothed out her dress. “You will be going home. There’s no need to make such a silly request.”

“I meant that I want to go to London today.”

For some reason, this made Opal laugh again. “Unless you can sprout wings and fly, there’s no way you’re going to be in London today. It’s a two-and-a-half day’s journey by carriage. And much longer if you were to walk.”

“You know very well what I meant. I said I wanted to go back to London. I didn’t say I expected to be there this very day.”

“Originally, you didn’t specify you wanted to go to London today. That was amended later.” She paused then added, “Don’t worry. You will go, but you’ll go when it’s convenient.”

“Convenient for you and this family,” Iris said.

“Of course. Warren has something Mother and Byron want. Now we have something he wants.”

Opal paused, glanced around the room as if she expected someone else to be there, and tiptoed over to Iris. Iris tried to back away from her, but Opal only continued slinking over to her. Iris forced herself to stop so she wouldn’t end up trapped between Opal and the wall.

“Warren was five when his mother died,” Opal confided, her voice low. “His father married within a week to my mother, and my mother said Warren hated her from the very moment the vows were exchanged. I suppose it’s not uncommon for the child from a first marriage to resent the lady who takes over the role of his mother. Maybe it’s to be expected. I honestly don’t know how remarriages are supposed to work. Are they supposed to be happy unions?”

Having noticed something Opal had slipped into the conversation earlier, Iris asked, “Why did his father marry your mother within a week of his mother’s death?” She knew gentlemen were encouraged to marry soon after their wife died, but that seemed unusually fast.

“It’s not something Mother likes to talk about.”

Sensing Opal was about to turn away from her, Iris took her by the arm and urged her to answer. “Why did your father marry your mother so quickly?”

There was something to this story that was important, and if she didn’t get this information now, she suspected she never would. Next time, Opal might watch her words more carefully.

“Opal,” Iris said, lowering her voice, “why was your father in such a hurry to remarry?” Then, hoping it would help coax the truth from her, she added, “No one will know you told me.”

Opal glanced at the doorway then looked at her. “You promise?” she whispered.

Iris nodded.

“My mother had just found out she was carrying Byron,” Iris replied. “She was having an affair with my father while Warren’s mother was still alive.”

Iris frowned. She should have expected this, except… Except… It was too much of a coincidence that the wife should die so soon after the mistress learned she was pregnant, wasn’t it? “How did Warren’s mother die?” Iris asked.

“Suicide,” Opal answered. “She took poison. She found out that my mother was expecting a child. She couldn’t live with the truth, so she wrote a note and drank poison in her tea.”

Iris studied Opal. There was no reason to doubt Opal believed this version of events. Iris, however, wasn’t so sure. If it’d been her… If she’d been the wife and found out her husband had gotten his mistress pregnant, she wouldn’t be inclined to commit suicide, especially if she had her own child to care for. Someone would have to kill her to separate her from her child. A mother’s instinct was a powerful one.

“Father did everything he could to keep the matter quiet, so no one knows the truth,” Opal whispered. “You mustn’t say anything. Remember, you promised to keep the secret. If the truth came out, it’d damage the family’s good name.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Iris assured her.

And how could Iris do such a thing? It’d bring shame to Warren. The Tittletattle would have too much fun at his expense. Even if he didn’t love her, she loved him, and she couldn’t bring herself to do anything to hurt him.

“So tell me,” Opal said, breaking her out of her thoughts, “do you think a second marriage can be a happy one?”

“That depends on the two people involved,” Iris replied. “Do you think your mother was happy with your father?”

“No. At least not from what I can remember. My mother wasn’t the only mistress my father took.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “You’re familiar with London. Is that kind of thing common?”

“Is it common for people to have affairs?” Iris asked, just to make sure she understood the question.

Opal glanced at the empty doorway then nodded.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Iris replied.

“Then I suppose my brother’s right. He said when I go there for my first Season, I should concentrate on getting a gentleman with title and money. If there can’t be a love match, then what’s the point in worrying about whether or not I like him?”

“Not everyone has an affair, Opal. My father has been faithful to my mother in all their years of marriage.”

“But that’s a rare thing, is it not?”

“While affairs are considered acceptable as long as people are discreet, I think love matches are still very possible. I know a couple of married ladies who have them.” Maybe she didn’t know the ladies very well, but there was no doubt they loved their husbands and their husbands loved them. “I even have a good friend who will soon be married to a gentleman who’ll love her very well.”

“And what of Warren? I know you told my brother Warren won’t come for you because he doesn’t love you. But did you just tell him that to get him to take you back to London? Or do you and Warren share a love match?”

“No, we don’t have a love match,” Iris replied. “Ours was an arranged marriage in every sense of the word.”

“But you love him,” Opal said. She glanced at the door. Then, she giggled and ushered Iris over to the table and pulled out a chair. “My brother was very insistent you eat. He told me if you don’t eat, he’ll come in and force the food down your throat himself.”

Though Iris didn’t want to eat under protest, her growling stomach prompted her to sit down and dip the spoon into the oatmeal.

“If you eat everything on your plate, you can stay up way past eight,” Opal sang in a louder voice, as she dusted off the table around the tray. With another giggle, she added, “It’s what my mother used to tell me when I was little.” She stared expectantly at Iris.

Realizing Opal was going to stare at her until she took a bite of the oatmeal, Iris put a spoonful of it into her mouth.

“There you go,” Opal cheered and clapped her hands. “I knew you could do it. If you eat all of your oatmeal, you’ll grow up to be smart.” She put her finger to her temple and winked.

From there, Opal proceeded to hum as she dusted off other furnishings in the room with her bare hands. Iris watched her for several seconds. There was definitely something wrong with Warren’s half-sister, though Iris couldn’t put her finger on it. At times, the lady seemed as if she understood everything going on around her, but then, at other times, she seemed to have the mindset of a little girl.

Just as Iris turned her attention back to the oatmeal, an angry voice boomed, “What are you doing here?”

Iris jerked, and Opal spun around to face the door, her eyes wide as if caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Byron stormed over to Opal, his eyebrows drawn together in irritation. “I specifically forbade you to come in here.”

“But…but, she was hungry,” Opal said, motioning to Iris. “I heard her stomach growling all the way downstairs.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said. “It’s impossible to hear anything like that from so far away.”

“I have good hearing,” she insisted.

“No one can hear that well, and besides, if she,” he glanced at Iris, “had eaten dinner like she was supposed to, she wouldn’t be so hungry right now.” His gaze went back to his sister. “She chose not to eat. For that, she ought to be punished by going hungry.”

Opal bit her lower lip, shooting Iris a sympathetic look. “What if she wasn’t hungry last night?”

“Nonsense. Of course, she was hungry. She’s just being difficult. Quite frankly, she deserves what she gets. Remember Mother’s rules. We mustn’t reward bad behavior.” He held his hand out to her. “Give me the key.”

Shoulders slumping, she dug the key out of her pocket and put it in his palm.

“Good girl,” he told her. “Now go on to Mother.”

With one last look at Iris, Opal hurried out of the room.

Byron let out a frustrated sigh and wrapped his hand around the key. He went over to Iris and peered down at her. “You’re not allowed to talk to my sister.”

Curious, Iris set the spoon down and rose to her feet so she could meet his gaze head on. “Why?”

“I think it’s obvious. She’s not in the right frame of mind.”

Yes, Iris had gathered that much. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She has limited intelligence. When she was thirteen, she fell off a horse and hit her head on a rock. In addition to breaking a couple bones, she suffered damage to the head. As a result, she’s not normal. You,” he glared at her, “will not give into her fantasies.”

Iris crossed her arms and shot him a pointed look. “I’m not the one promising her a Season in London.”

“She can have a husband,” Byron explained as if she were a child. “She’s built like any other lady. She’s fully capable of having children, and those children will be healthy and intelligent.”

“She’s not mentally fit to have children, and you know it.”

“That’s of little consequence. Maids can raise children. A wealthy titled gentleman in need of an heir won’t mind that.”

“Considering her condition, it borders on abuse to do that to her, especially given her desire for a love match. What you’re doing is selfish and cruel.”

He took a step toward her, and, noting the fire in his eyes, she instinctively backed up.

“Stay out of things that aren’t your concern,” Byron snapped. “You’re only going to be here until Warren pays to get you back. After that, you won’t have anything to do with this family again. Now eat the oatmeal. I haven’t decided whether or not to give you anything else for the day. When Mother finds out you’ve been talking to Opal, she’ll be upset, and I can’t promise she’ll let you have dinner.”

Byron spun on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him. He locked her into the room, and after a moment, his footsteps echoed down the hallway.

When Mother finds out you’ve been talking to Opal, she’ll be upset. Just what did he mean by that? Iris sank back into the chair as she considered his words. There was something almost cryptic about them.

Was his mother afraid Opal would tell Iris something she shouldn’t? Even if Opal wasn’t as mentally capable as a lady her age was supposed to be, it seemed to Iris she understood some things going on around her. She’d certainly understood enough about how her mother married her father.

Perhaps people underestimated how much Opal remembered. It would lower people’s guards and make them comfortable saying things they might not say otherwise. Even if Opal didn’t fully grasp what she’d overheard, she had no trouble passing it on to someone else. And this would explain why Warren’s sister and stepmother never made it to London. Who knew what Opal might let slip to the wrong person? With all the luxury in the place, it wasn’t lack of money keeping them here.

With a shiver, Iris picked up the spoon. She had to eat. She’d had so little during the trip out here, and last night, she’d refused to have anything. If Byron was going to go through on his threat, this just might be her only meal of the day.

Also, there was a very real possibility she might be with child. If that was the case, then she had a responsibility to keep up her strength. Forcing aside the creepiness that hovered over this place, she ate the oatmeal.

Chapter Nineteen

“How long was she with Iris?” Byron’s mother asked once she closed the door to the den.

“You can’t leave Opal alone, Mother,” Byron snapped as he poured himself some brandy. “Especially after what just happened.”

“The maid’s watching her,” his mother replied. “They’re going for a walk. I asked you a question. How long was Opal alone with Iris?”

He lifted the glass to his lips and finished the brandy in one swallow. Every time he came here, it seemed there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to cope with his mother or sister. Slamming the glass on the table, he whirled around to face her.

“I don’t know,” he told his mother. “All I know is that you weren’t with Opal when you should have been. You knew Iris was here, and you know Opal has a tendency to say too much. Yet, you couldn’t be bothered to keep an eye on your own daughter.”

She snorted. “I take no responsibility for how Opal is. I wasn’t the one who told her to go horseback riding after it snowed.”

“Whether or not you like her doesn’t matter. You need to be responsible.”

His mother gasped before a slow smile crossed her face. She threw back her head and laughed. “You sounded just like Warren when you said that.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t insult me.”

“It’s true. That’s the kind of thing he would say.”

“I told you to stop! I’m nothing like him, nor will I ever be.”

“Well, that’s the truth of it. He has the title while we’re stuck getting the monthly stipends. Had your father not included us in his will, who knows if Warren would give us anything?” She straightened her back and clasped her hands in front of her. “Everything always depends on Warren. I knew I should have done something to him when he was a child.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because it would have broken your father’s heart. Despite what you believe, I did love him. He might not have cared much that his first wife died, but it would have devastated him if Warren had.” She paused. “I was too soft to do what was necessary.”

“That’s the penance you have to live with, Mother,” Byron whispered, almost enjoying the way she grimaced. “If you’d only been strong enough to do what needed to be done, I would be the one holding the title.”

As he poured himself another drink, she asked, “Do you think Opal was lucid when she talked to Iris?”

“She was dusting furniture with her bare hands when I found her,” he replied.

With a glance in her direction, he noted the slight relief on her face. He decided not to remind his mother that Opal had to be lucid enough to get into his bedchamber to get the key. It wasn’t like he had put the key out in the open where she could have found it, either. It’d been safely tucked away in a drawer. That little fact, in itself, was enough to alarm him. How did Opal know to look there?

“That was much too close,” his mother said. “Having Iris here is dangerous, especially since Opal is slipping in for visits.”

“That’s why you need to keep an eye on Opal. You can’t shirk your duty. I’ve done my part. Now you must do yours. You were the one who wanted me to do something to get more money out of Warren,” he hissed before he gulped down the second glass of brandy. “So I did.”

“I was hoping you’d choose another option.”

“Like what? Killing him?”

He’d said it in jest, but the way his mother looked at him told him that was exactly what she’d hoped for.

“For goodness’ sakes,” he muttered. “I can’t go around killing people, even it is someone I despise.”

“Think of the reward, Byron. Murder would solve all our problems.”

“Are you daft? It wouldn’t solve anything. People get hung for that kind of thing.”

“Only if they’re caught.”

“No one will believe Warren committed suicide. He’s much too strong-willed for that sort of thing.”

“Then make it look like an accident.”

He shook his head, amazed his mother would even conceive of such a plan. And more importantly, why was it up to him to do the deed? He put his glass aside then turned his full attention to her, crossing his arms as he did so.

“Mother, this is nonsense, and you know it. I lured him here to give us money in exchange for the mother of his future heir. I won’t kill him.”

She slapped him across the cheek. Hard. He had to blink a couple of times to regain his equilibrium.

“You are an insolent child,” she hissed, pointing her finger in his face. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you and your sister. Do you think it was easy playing the doting wife the entire time your father went out to see his mistresses, going through one right after another because he bored of them so easily?”

Byron made eye contact with her and smirked. “What did you expect, Mother? You were his mistress at one time. The only difference between you and the others is that you were willing to kill Warren’s mother so you could marry him.”

His mother glared at him. “Don’t act so noble. You have your share of indiscretions.”

“I’m not acting noble. I know I’m as corrupt as my father was. Why do you think Warren has nothing to do with us? We repulse him. You should see him in London. He’s got an even whiter reputation there than he ever did here.” And Byron hadn’t thought that was possible until he saw it for himself. “He even upsets a lot of gentlemen at White’s by preaching morality to them.”

His mother’s frown deepened. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because killing him is useless. People will never believe he’d take his own life. Besides, I don’t want a wife. I like the freedom of going from one mistress to another, and I don’t want the headache of trying to accumulate more wealth. Warren can deal with it. The title is a burden, Mother, and I want no part of it.”

Noting her face getting red with anger, he chuckled. She had always been ambitious, seeking out what she wanted without regard to anyone else. But there were some things she couldn’t get, no matter how hard she strived for it. He studied her expression, knowing full well she knew it just as well as he did.

“I bet it aggravates you to no end that your future depends on what the gentlemen in your life do,” he said. “You can kill whoever you want, but it doesn’t eliminate any of your real problems, does it? You loved Father, but in the end, you realized you were nothing but a passing fancy to him. You want me to get the title, but I won’t be your puppet. Do you want to know why I have anything to do with you?”

“I suggest you stop right there,” his mother warned through gritted teeth.

But how could he? He was enjoying watching her. She was like a caged animal. Eager for blood but unable to get it. “Mother,” he began, leaning toward her and lowering his voice, “the only reason I tolerate you is because of Opal. I dare say that’s the only reason Warren even sends us the money, despite what Father’s will says. The truth is, Opal is the only redeeming quality you and I have. You may not like hearing this, but Warren’s right about us.”

“You should have stopped when I told you to.” His mother grabbed fistfuls of her skirt and then stormed out of the room without bothering to look back at him.

He watched her, the smirk on his face leaving. His mother was dangerous. Far too dangerous. There was no telling what she’d do to him or Opal.

Well, he only had a couple options at this point. He could take Opal to London, thereby protecting her, but she wasn’t old enough to enter a Season. It’d be best if word didn’t get out in London that she wasn’t in full control of her mental faculties until after marriage. So keeping her here was in everyone’s best interest.

But did he dare leave Opal alone with his mother, even with servants nearby to keep an eye on things? And he couldn’t bear the thought of staying at this place all the time to make sure everything was all right. He had things he wanted to do in London. Being here was like living in a prison. Sooner or later, it would only suffocate him. That was, if his mother didn’t arrange for his early demise.

He drummed his fingers on the table. There was only one good, solid way of dealing with his mother. He was going to have to kill her. As unseemly as the task was, he couldn’t let her take out her frustrations on him or Opal. It was time to get rid of her. And he was going to make it look like an accident.

***

Warren rubbed the back of his neck, which was sore from sitting in the carriage. It was well into the afternoon, but progress seemed to be going unusually slow. He shouldn’t have stopped to rest last night. He should have pressed on. If he had, he’d be at the estate by now. At the time, stopping had seemed like the best option. The horses, the driver, and the footman were all revived from it, even with the little sleep they’d had.

Warren had been unable to sleep, so he’d gone to their rooms to see if they were awake at dawn, and though they hadn’t been, they’d insisted they would be down at the stables and ready to leave within the half hour.

Surely, Byron had stopped, too. He couldn’t be foolish enough to go all the way to the estate from London without one night at an inn. Some small amount of wisdom had to have prevailed.

Warren hoped. And prayed.

But something in his gut kept warning him to get to the estate as soon as possible. Given how fast the horses could move while pulling a carriage, progress was slow. Each minute that passed on his pocket watch seemed to go slower than the last.

By the time the watch read five, he knocked on the roof of the carriage to get the driver’s attention. The carriage came to a stop, and the footman opened the door.

“Yes, my lord?” the footman asked.

“If I take one of the horses and ride ahead, will you still be able to make it to Jamison?” Warren wondered.

The footman’s eyebrows furrowed, but he answered, “There are enough horses to make up for the loss of one.”

Good. Warren scooted over to the door. “I’ll take one and go on ahead.”

“We have no saddle, my lord.”

“I don’t need one. The reins will be enough.”

“But it’ll be dark in a few hours. Even on horseback, you won’t get there before sunset.”

“I know, but I can’t sit here and do nothing. I have to get there sooner than we can make it in the carriage.”

The footman looked as if he was ready to argue but then offered a nod. “We’ll get a horse for you, my lord.”

Warren jumped out of the carriage then waited for the driver and footman to get a horse ready.

“Won’t you take any food?” the driver asked, noting Warren carried nothing on him.

“I’m not hungry. Besides, I’ll get there tonight. I can eat then.” If I’m up to it. Warren wasn’t sure if the adrenaline pumping through his body would allow him to relax enough to eat anything. “I just want to get there. If you need to rest tonight, take this money for an inn.” He gave him the portion they would need to get through the rest of the journey to Jamison.

The gentlemen nodded and finished getting the horse ready. Warren released his breath and got ready for a long and tiring ride ahead of him. Before long, he was on the horse and moving forward, this time at a much faster pace than the carriage could manage.

***

Something was wrong. Iris couldn’t put her finger on it, but the atmosphere in the manor had changed since that morning. Though no one had come to the bedchamber through the entire day, she sensed a restlessness in the air. The only thing that seemed normal—if it could even be termed normal—was when she looked out the window and saw a maid taking Opal for a walk. Opal had giggled and made up a singsong rhyme about the flowers. At one point, she collected a group of them and filled her arms with them. She then flung them into the air and giggled even more.

Iris spent most of the day pacing the room. She’d already tried to get past the lock by trying to break the doorknob, but it was secure. She wasn’t going anywhere. Around noon, she had checked how far she’d have to fall from the window to make it to the ground. In the end, she decided the risk was too great. Not only was it possible she could be with child, but she’d undoubtedly break a bone. In either case, jumping out wasn’t an option.

So she paced. And paced. And paced some more. Things were quiet here. She couldn’t hear any of the usual sounds that should be in a home. There were no footsteps as people went up and down the hall outside. There were no conversations, either.

She knew she was tucked away in the west wing of the manor, but she had no idea she was so far removed from everyone that she was practically invisible. Was it possible that she might die here? If Warren didn’t care enough to come, would anyone even remember she was trapped in this room?

Around six, the key turned in the lock, and Iris faced the door, her heart hammering in her chest. She didn’t know if it was the restless feeling in the air or having been isolated for so long that made her jumpy, but she was definitely on edge.

Byron came in with a tray full of delicious food. He set it on the table and motioned to it. “I’ll return for the tray in a half hour. You don’t have much time to eat, so I suggest you do it now.”

She glanced at the tray, her stomach urging her to eat the fish, vegetables, and pie.

“You shouldn’t be stuck here much longer,” Byron told her. “Warren should be here soon. I expect you’ll be on your way back to London by tomorrow morning at the latest.”

That was only if Warren came. She kept her mouth shut. Why give more voice to her doubts than she already had?

“Either way,” Byron continued on his way to the door, “you’ll need your energy. I can’t guarantee another meal before your departure.” He left the room and locked the door.

Steadying her breath, she went over to the table and ate, the growing feeling of dread welling up inside her with each bite she took. Because there was no denying the fact that each minute that passed brought them all closer to something bad, and she suspected there was no escaping it.

Chapter Twenty

“Why are you here?” Opal asked as Byron tucked the blanket around her.

“I know your lady’s maid usually sees you to bed,” Byron said, “but I wanted to do it tonight. It’s not often I get to see my little sister.” He smiled and patted her arms. “Tomorrow, I’m going to tell you about the different ball gowns you’ll get to wear when you have your first Season.”

As he expected, her eyes lit up, taking on that childlike quality that he’d become familiar with ever since her accident. “Will I look like a princess?”

“A princess? No, you won’t look like a princess.” He waited until her countenance fell before he added, “You’ll look like a queen.”

The spark came back to her eyes, and she giggled. “Then shall I find a king?”

“If not a king, then a duke, earl, viscount, or baron. Remember, we must find someone with a title and lots of money. Money is what will give you beautiful gowns and lots of other pretty things.”

“Like dolls?” She sat up in bed, her eyes wide. “Can I have dolls?”

“Of course, you can.” He urged her to lie back down. “You can have anything you want as long as you do exactly as I say. We need to make the gentleman think you’re normal like other ladies. Once you marry, he can find out the truth. But not before then. So it’s important you act like a big girl.”

She nodded. “I will.”

“Good.” He kissed the top of her head then bent down to pick up the slippers she’d left by the bed.

“One day I’ll go to a ball,” Opal sang, “and it’ll be fun for all. I’ll wear a gown so pretty. All the gentlemen will be looking at me.”

“Opal,” Byron said as he rose to his feet, the slippers behind his back. He waited for her to look over at him then added, “Remember what I said about the singing.”

Her lower lip jutted out. “You don’t like it.”

“If you’re going to secure a husband, you can’t go around singing like a little girl. You need to be a big girl. You should learn to restrain yourself while you’re here. That way, you won’t slip when you’re in London.”

“I can’t ever sing again?”

“Yes, you can. Only do it when you’re alone. Let no one, not even the servants, hear. All right?”

“But it’s hard. Music is always in my head.”

Yes, and that worried him. She could only control her childlike impulses in short bursts, and that might prove a problem when it came time for social events. “I know it’s hard, but it’s very important you keep the music to yourself. The more you practice this technique, the easier it’ll become. I promise.”

“What if I forget?”

“I’ll be there to chaperone, so you won’t be alone when you’re in public. I’ll give you a secret signal if you start to act inappropriately.”

Once more, her eyes twinkled, and she giggled. “A secret? Just between us?”

“Yes. Just between us.”

“How exciting! I’ve never had a secret before.”

“Well, you will when we’re in London.” One the husband-to-be wouldn’t discover until it was too late. But there was no need to worry her over trivial facts. “Have a good night’s sleep, Opal. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She let out a squeal of delight then rolled onto her side so that her back was facing him. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and giggled again, probably imagining all the pretty dresses she’d wear. One thing Opal loved even more than dolls were dresses, and he’d make sure to reward her with dresses for acting like a lady suitable for marriage.

He quietly left the room then went down the hall. His mother would still be downstairs, reading a book or giving the servants their orders for the next day. That gave him the perfect opportunity to go through with his plan.

Making sure no one was around, he set Opal’s slippers on two different steps near the top of the staircase. If his mother missed one, she just might slip on another. And, if fortune did not prevail, he could give her a little push down the steps in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep.

Once he was done setting down the slippers, he went to the drawing room. The sun had long since settled for the evening, but he was sure Warren would be arriving before midnight. At the moment, however, there was no sign of a carriage or a lone rider on a horse.

Byron glanced at the clock. It was a quarter past nine. The wait would be over soon. Then Iris could return to London, and he’d have sufficient money in his possession to use at his discretion. And better yet, his mother wouldn’t be a threat.

“I thought you would be in the den this time of night,” came that familiar voice of disdain.

He turned his gaze to his mother as she entered the room. “How ironic you should come at the very moment when I was thinking of you.”

“All pleasant thoughts, of course.” She rolled her eyes and settled in one of the chairs.

“As a matter of fact, I was having pleasant thoughts.” Just thinking of her dead so she could no longer control him was very pleasant indeed. “Shall I have the butler bring you some tea before you go to bed?”

She eyed him warily. “As long as it’s the butler who brings it instead of you, that will be fine.”

His eyebrows rose. “Afraid I’ll poison you the same way you poisoned Father’s first wife?”

She scowled at him then glanced at the open doors.

“No need to worry, Mother,” he said as he pulled the cord. “There was no one nearby to overhear me.”

“You’re too sure of yourself, and that’s not a good thing. It’s making you reckless.”

“Sometimes one has to be reckless.” He sat across from her and crossed his legs. In a lower voice, he added, “How else will the dirty little deeds get done?”

“You tire me when you’re here. I much prefer having you in London.”

“The feeling is mutual, Mother. Fortunately for both of us, Warren should be here tonight. Or,” he amended, “by tomorrow morning.”

“Knowing him, it’ll be tomorrow afternoon. He won’t push the horses and driver as hard as you did.”

“Time was of the essence, Mother. I had to get here before anyone caught me. Without Iris, we have no bargaining power.”

This, thankfully, shut his mother up.

The butler came in with the tea and poured them each a cup. After he left, his mother pulled out a small bottle of laudanum from her pocket and put some into her tea.

“Doesn’t it strike you as sad that you rely on an opiate to be able to sleep at night?” Byron asked, not bothering to drink any of the tea.

She glowered at him as she stirred her tea. “One might wonder why you need so many ladies. Why isn’t one body as good as another? All of them are built the same way.”

“Breasts look different, Mother. Some are small, and some are big. The nipples also vary in sizes and colors. And would you like me to explain how some are tighter down there than others while thrusting toward a climax? The tighter, the more exquisite the journey.”

She nearly gagged on her tea. “I’m your mother. I won’t tolerate that kind of talk when I’m in the room.”

He only smiled at her, hoping the way he grinned at her unsettled her more than his words had.

She gulped down the rest of the tea and put the cup on the tray. “You are a disappointment.”

“I love you, too, Mother,” he replied, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

She gave him one last scowl before she stormed out of the room.

Good. He straightened up in his chair and listened to her footsteps as she went down the hall. She turned and went to the stairs. He gripped the arms of the chair and held his breath. This was it. Either his plan was going to work or it wasn’t.

He couldn’t hear her footsteps on the staircase, but he knew how many steps there were. Closing his eyes, he counted each one in his head, imagining each foot as it led her toward Opal’s slippers.

Please, let this work. He took a deep breath and released it. Make that harpy’s foot land right on the slipper.

She should be close now. Just one or two steps away from…

A scream cut through the silence, followed by a series of tumbles down the stairs. He bolted to his feet and ran down the hall. The butler came up to her right before he did.

“My lady,” the butler said as he knelt beside her. “My lady?”

Byron stood back and inspected her. Her neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, and though her eyes were open, she didn’t appear to be looking at anything. He breathed a sigh of relief. The plan had worked. Now she wouldn’t be a threat.

The butler checked her breathing and then her pulse. After a moment, he glanced over at Byron. “I’m sorry, Mr. Beaufort, but she’s dead.”

Making an effort to look appropriately grieved, Byron offered a solemn nod. “I was afraid of that when I realized she wasn’t moving.”

The footman and a maid came running toward them. “What is it?” the footman asked. “Is someone hurt?”

Before the butler could answer, Byron said, “Unfortunately. My mother fell down the stairs.”

The butler rose to his feet. “I came here first. Mr. Beaufort rushed out of the drawing room shortly afterwards.”

“You think she tripped on the hem of her dress?” the maid asked, her eyebrows furrowed with worry. “I tried to be careful when I made the gown.”

Byron’s eyes widened in interest. That possibility for causing his mother’s death would work as well as the slippers, but he saw no reason to let the maid needlessly suffer guilt. He turned his gaze to the stairs. One of Opal’s slippers had fallen halfway down the staircase. The other one remained securely in place where he’d put it.

“I think I spotted the thing responsible for my mother’s fall.” Byron climbed the steps until he came to the slipper that had done the trick. Lifting it, he paused, swallowed, and then turned to them. “It wasn’t the hem on Mother’s dress. It was the slipper.” He went back down the stairs and lowered his voice. “This belongs to Opal.”

The maid gasped and put her hand over her mouth.

“Opal couldn’t have left her slipper on the stairs,” the butler said.

“Well, she could,” the maid replied, her voice wavering. “But she wouldn’t have realized the danger she was putting anyone in by doing so. The poor thing is too much like a child.”

“That’s what I meant,” the butler amended. “She couldn’t have left it on purpose.”

“You’re right,” Byron was quick to agree. “She must have taken them off and put them on the steps to put on later. You know how she likes to go barefoot.”

“Yes, that’s true,” the maid replied. “I have to remind her to wear something on her feet when we go outside for her walks.”

Which was why Byron knew the lie would be easy for them to believe. Opal had often complained her slippers made her feet feel too small, so she had a habit of going barefoot around the manor. No one would question her taking them off while on the stairs.

“We shouldn’t let her know her mother fell on her slipper,” the maid said. “She didn’t understand what she was doing.”

“She’s right,” the butler told Byron. “Ever since the accident, Opal hasn’t been herself.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to burden her with the guilt of knowing the truth,” the maid added.

Byron glanced at the butler and footman who seemed to be in agreement on the matter, which made everything much easier for him than he’d thought it’d be. “I wouldn’t dream of telling Opal about this,” he assured them. “She doesn’t know what she’s doing.” He paused. “Perhaps, we can tell her that Mother tripped and fell. It had nothing to do with the long hem on her gown,” he was quick to tell the maid. “It just happened. She tripped and no one knows why.”

“Yes,” the butler replied. “It was a terrible accident.”

“And it was an accident,” the footman said. “Opal wasn’t trying to harm her mother.”

“No, she wasn’t,” the maid agreed. “The dear girl wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“No, she wouldn’t,” Byron said. “I’ll take this back to her bedchamber where it belongs. Then she won’t suspect anything.”

The three glanced at one another, and they all nodded in one accord. “We won’t say anything about this to anyone else,” the butler replied on their behalf.

“Good. Thank you,” Byron replied.

While the butler and footman picked up his mother, Byron hurried up the steps. He grabbed the second slipper on the way and hastened to Opal’s bedchamber. Once at her closed door, he stopped and listened to make sure she wasn’t awake. Sometimes, she’d jump out of bed and shuffle around, trying on clothes or dancing to the music in her head. Sometimes she’d be singing.

But on this particular evening, all was quiet. Good. This was going much better than he’d planned. To be sure, though, he opened the door, careful not to make a sound, and saw Opal was still in bed, her back turned to him. He tiptoed into the room and set the slippers in the exact spot he’d found them before. Afterwards, he softly made his way back out and shut the door quietly behind him.

***

Opal waited until the door clicked shut before she turned onto her back so she could see the door. In the past, no one had come into her bedchamber after she was tucked into bed unless she was making some noise in here. Add this unusual occurrence to the strained dinner, and it all led to bad things.

During dinner, her brother and her mother had given some effort into having a conversation, but they kept glancing at each other as if they expected the other one to lift the knife next to their plate and throw it in their direction.

She thought she was safe, but there was no way she could know for sure. Byron had caught her with the key to Warren’s old bedchamber, and though she had played the fool, she didn’t know if he bought the act. Up to now, she’d been careful about not revealing the truth to anyone, not even the servants.

But tonight things were different. There’d been the underlying animosity between her brother and her mother. Then she’d heard someone fall down the stairs, and someone came into her bedchamber shortly after that. Whoever came into her bedchamber left without harming her. She inspected the room to see what the person had taken or left so she could have an idea of why they’d been there, but nothing about the room seemed different.

Something was going on. She had no idea what it was, but it wasn’t good. Maybe Warren would come tonight. Byron seemed to think he’d make it here before midnight. She had to plead with Warren to take her to London. It’d been six years since she last saw him, but she had always felt safe around him. The only complaint Byron ever made about him was that he was too morally superior to everyone else. If that was the worst thing Warren was, she could handle it much more than the lunacy in this place.

She remained in the bed, just in case either her mother or Byron came back. She doubted a servant would sneak into her room. It had to be Byron or her mother. And whatever the reason was for one of them coming in, she doubted it was to her benefit. Releasing her breath, she closed her eyes, counting every second as it passed.

Chapter Twenty-One

Byron chuckled to himself as he poured himself the brandy in the den. He couldn’t believe how easy it’d been to get rid of his mother. Had he known it was going to go so well, he might have gotten rid of her a long time ago.

Oh well. There was little to be done about it now. At least the deed was done, and he wouldn’t have to worry about what reckless move his mother would make. She had probably planned to kill him. So really, getting her out of the way meant saving himself, and when it came to self-defense, murder was perfectly justified. In fact, it would be careless to let his mother live.

He took a long swallow of his brandy then returned to the drawing room. A glance at the clock showed him it was a quarter to ten. Good. Warren should be here soon, and he could get down to business without his mother meddling her way into the conversation.

She really should have respected her place in society. A lady, after all, should be seen and not heard. Things like money were best left to the gentlemen. Opal, even in her childlike mind, understood this. Had his mother been content to let him take full control of things, he wouldn’t have had to get rid of her. So really, it was her own fault he had to kill her. Yes. Murdering her was perfectly justified once a person took time to carefully examine all the facts.

Why didn’t you just send your mother off to a cottage where she’d stay out of your way?

He shoved aside the pesky voice in his conscience. Exiling her would never have worked. She would have come back. She was much too demanding and outspoken for her own good. She had to die. It was best for everyone. Besides, didn’t he owe it to Warren’s mother to avenge her death?

He drank the rest of his brandy and turned his attention to the landscape, lit only by the moonlight. At least there wasn’t a cloud in the night sky. It’d make Warren’s journey here that much easier, which, in turn, made his own task easier as well. But as of this moment, Warren wasn’t anywhere in sight. No carriage. No sole rider on a horse. Nothing.

Tapping the edge of his glass, he let out a long sigh and looked, once more, at the clock. Only two minutes had passed. Well, there was nothing he could do at this point but wait. He put the glass on the table and lounged back in a chair. He could read to take his mind off the passage of time, he supposed, but it wouldn’t have done any good. Not when the image of his mother’s twisted body kept appearing in his mind.

He shifted and tried not to give into the memory. It only made him uncomfortable. Her eyes had still been open, and now that he thought about it, there had been an accusatory look in them, as if she knew as she fell down those stairs that he’d been the one to leave those slippers on the steps.

She couldn’t possibly have known it. No. Not for certain. But she could have guessed.

He closed his eyes and focused on a better image instead. Warren was a good distraction. Yes, he would soon be here, and when he was, Byron would have the upper hand. He didn’t have the key on him. He’d done that on purpose.

Warren might try to fight him for it, and though Warren wasn’t the strongest gentleman in all of London, he could hold his own in a brawl if he needed to. So the safest bet had been to hide the key in his bedchamber. That way if Warren did assault him, he wouldn’t find the key anywhere on him. And when he realized that, he would be under Byron’s control. For once, Byron would be the one to dictate how things were going to play out, and if Warren wanted Iris back, he’d have to abide by his rules.

Someone picked up the glass on the table next to Byron, and Byron jerked in the chair, his eyes flying open.

The butler offered an apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, Mr. Beaufort, especially given the tragedy of your mother’s death. I only wanted to take your glass so it can be washed.”

“Oh, yes,” Byron replied. “You may take it.”

“Your mother’s body is safely out of the way. We thought it best if Opal doesn’t see it until we get the body presented. The sight, as it is now, might scare her.”

“Yes, it would scare her.” So many things frightened Opal. On some days, the poor girl trembled at her own shadow, which was yet another reason Byron had waited until Opal was in bed before going through with his plan. He cleared his throat. “That was good thinking on your part. But Lord Steinbeck might still arrive tonight, so I’ll still need you to tend to his needs, just in case.”

“Of course, Mr. Beaufort.”

After the butler left with the glass, Byron went back to the window. Still no sign of Warren. He glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even ten yet. He rubbed his eyes and groaned. This was becoming an abnormally long evening. Swallowing, he pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed his forehead. The waiting was starting to get to him.

He returned to the chair and took a deep breath, thinking it would help relax him, but it didn’t. If anything, each second that ticked on the clock made things worse. His skin was starting to feel clammy, and he found himself swallowing more frequently. In addition to that, he noted the quickening of his heartbeat and that he was breathing faster. Surely, this couldn’t all be because he was expecting Warren. Yes, so much depended on this night, but this shouldn’t be cause for such alarm.

You killed your mother, fool. Did you really think you could do that and it wouldn’t bother you? Even if you hated her, she was still your mother.

Byron stood up and went to the window. Still no sign of Warren. He slammed his fist on the windowsill, and that was when a sharp pain pierced his chest.

He put his hand over his heart and gasped. His mother. That mean-spirited lady had done it. She’d actually done it. She’d poisoned his brandy when he wasn’t in the den. He’d thought he’d gotten to her first, but she’d done her own plotting before she retired for the night. He should have known better than to drink that brandy. He should have realized they were going to end up in a duel tonight.

Curse you, Mother. He fell to his knees, struggling to breathe despite the intensifying pain. He rubbed his chest, but it did no good. The pain was only getting worse, and he’d be just as dead as her in a few moments. Leave it to his mother to pick a poison that’d inflict the greatest amount of agony as possible. Curse you, Mother!

He gritted his teeth and tried to call for help, but the words wouldn’t come. He was quickly fading away. The world around him grew dimmer, and he could barely make out the sound of his own groaning. This was it. He was to pay the price for not doing exactly what his mother wanted. She’d done it to everyone else. Why wouldn’t she do it to him, too?

Curse you, Mother. I would kill you again if given the chance.

Then everything around him went dark, and he tumbled forward onto the floor, dead before he could feel the impact.

***

Iris was sitting on the bed, staring at the wall in front of her in the dark room when she became aware of someone turning the key in the door lock. Gasping, she jumped up. Since she’d been confined to this room, no one had dared to come in here once the sun set. Did it mean…could it mean…had Warren actually come for her?

The spark of hope slipped away as soon as she saw Opal. Opal entered the room, closed the door behind her, and hurried over to Iris. In the moonlight, Iris could see an unfamiliar panic in Opal’s eyes.

“There’s a lot of commotion downstairs,” Opal whispered, glancing at the closed door as if she expected someone to find her in a place where she didn’t belong. Looking back at Iris, she said, “Please, you need to help me. It’s not safe here. Something bad is going to happen.” Then after a moment, she added, “If it hasn’t already. We have to get out of here.”

Iris studied the girl, surprised by the clarity in her words. “Is it possible you’re imagining things?” she asked, not sure if she could believe Opal. The girl had seemed sane at times and irrational at others. Maybe this was one of those fluctuations in her intelligence.

“No, I don’t imagine things,” Opal said. “I know you think I don’t understand everything that happens around me, but I do. It’s a long story. Too long to explain when my brother can come in here at any moment. I’ve been lying about my mental condition. It’s not safe here. Mother is angry all the time, and Byron uses anyone he can. It’s best if they don’t know the truth. You understand?”

Even without knowing all the details, Iris sensed the girl’s fear and given what little she did know, she suspected Opal had a right to be frightened. “All right. Yes. I understand. I’ll keep your secret.”

“Thank you. I also need something else from you. Will you plead on my behalf when Warren comes? Please ask him to take me to London when you leave. I don’t know if I can wait until I have a Season to get out of here.”

“I’m not even sure Warren will come.”

“Sure, he will. I was there when Byron told Mother about you. Byron said it was obvious Warren’s in love with you. He said you’re exactly the kind of lady Warren’s always been looking for. So, if Byron says Warren’s coming for you, then he is.”

Iris didn’t know how else to get it through to the girl that she could be wrong—that Byron could be wrong. But at the moment, it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out of here.

“Maybe we can get out of here without Warren,” Iris told her. “Maybe we can leave right now.” When Opal bit her lower lip, she quickly assured her, “I’ll speak up on your behalf when we see Warren.” Whenever that was. “You’ll be having a Season in a couple years, so really, it won’t be long before you secure a husband. But we have to get out of here in order to do that.”

“But what if Warren does come? He’ll be worried if you’re not here.”

Iris was ready to groan in frustration then she came up with a counterargument and smiled. “We can meet him on the way. There’s only one path that will take us out of here and toward London. If he’s on his way, he’ll be on it, and we’ll see each other then.”

Opal thought over Iris’ words for a moment then nodded. “You’re right. And if we do that, then he won’t have to talk to Byron or Mother at all. He’d be relieved to know that.”

Not that Warren was likely to talk to them anyway, but why bring that up? Opal was agreeing to help her escape, and that was more than she thought she’d accomplish tonight.

Opal hurried back to the door and cracked it open.

Curious, Iris came up behind her and listened for any evidence of the commotion Opal had mentioned, but it seemed quiet.

Opal stuck her head out in the hallway and glanced in both directions before she slipped out of the room. Turning back to Iris, she waved for her to follow.

Iris hesitated. What if Opal really was mentally unstable? What if she’d told her she faked a lack of intelligence because she was playing a game with her? But then, this was the first time Iris was able to leave the room, and if she could leave the room, maybe she could get out of this place and go back to London.

She didn’t need a carriage. She could take a horse and get out of here. But she needed some form of protection along the way. With a quick glance around the room, she spotted a letter opener on the desk next to the quill and inkwell.

After she grabbed it, she hid it in her pocket and followed Opal down the hall, being quiet as they made their way to the stairs. The closer they got to the steps, the easier it was to hear a series of anxious whispers coming from the drawing room. So Opal had been right. Something was going on down there.

She stopped Opal and whispered, “If everyone is in the drawing room, can they see us if we go out the front door?”

Opal shook her head. “The drawing room is too far down the hall.”

Well, then all the panic going on in the drawing room might be the distraction they needed. The two hurried down the stairs, tiptoeing the entire way.

Iris thought she heard someone in the drawing whisper something about Byron and poison, but she paid it no mind. She had to get out of here. Whatever was going on didn’t concern her.

They made it to the entryway, and just as Opal reached for the doorknob, it turned and someone threw the door open. Opal let out a shriek and jumped back, bumping into Iris as she did so. Iris quickly regained her balance. She took a moment to see who had opened the door, fully expecting it to be Byron who had come to stop them.

Instead, however, it was Warren. He looked as if he hadn’t slept or changed clothes in days. And he looked angry. He had his mouth open as if he was ready to yell, but then his gaze went to her and his expression softened.

“Iris,” he said, rushing over to her and taking her in his arms.

This time, he whispered her name and buried his face in the nape of her neck. He held onto her, his tight embrace telling her much more than words ever could. And in that moment, she knew he loved her. Really loved her.

Tears in her eyes, she returned his embrace. Truly, she’d never been happier to see anyone in her entire life.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“You couldn’t have come at a better time, my lord,” the butler told Warren, visibly shaking from the evening’s events. “First your stepmother, and now your half-brother. We don’t know what to make of it.”

The footman, a couple maids, the cook, and the gardener had all gathered into the drawing room. Byron was lying on the couch, his skin already taking on the pale color of death. Warren had his arm around Iris’ waist, and Opal stood to the side of the room, taking everything in at a distance.

Warren had expected tonight to be unpleasant, but he hadn’t once considered the possibility he’d be coming back to his estate to find two people dead.

“What would you like us to do with the bodies?” the butler asked.

After a long sigh, Warren said, “Prepare them for burial in the family cemetery. Let me know when the bodies are ready, and we’ll have a quiet ceremony.”

The staff seemed relieved to have something to do, so the footman and gardener carried Byron’s body out of the room, followed by the others, leaving the butler.

The butler came up to him and lowered his voice so Opal couldn’t hear him. “My lord, I’m having trouble reconciling everything that’s happened here tonight. Your mother tripped on Opal’s slippers. It seemed like an accident. We all assumed she left them on the stairs without meaning to. She’s misplaced things before. Given her condition, we believed no ill will was involved in regards to your mother’s death. But in light of what happened with your half-brother, I don’t know what to think.”

“It’s no secret my stepmother and Byron didn’t agree on a lot of matters. It’s also no secret the two had their…indiscretions. I think it’s best to go with the most likely conclusion. Byron set the slippers on the stairs to make it look like an accident, and my mother poisoned him.”

The butler’s face fell, as if he’d been hoping for a better resolution to the dilemma.

“I know it’s not pleasant,” Warren said. “But there is no other possibility I can see to explain all of this.” And knowing them the way he did, it was sad to say he wasn’t the least bit surprised they ended up killing each other.

The butler sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t, either.” After he took a moment to regroup, he asked, “Shall I get your old bedchamber ready for you?”

“No,” Warren replied. “I’d like one of the guest rooms.” He wasn’t ready to go back to his old room that reminded him of all the lonely and depressing years he’d spent in this place after his mother died. “My wife will be joining me, so when our things get here tomorrow, take the valise to that room.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The butler left the room, and Warren went to the doors and shut them. His gaze went to Opal who had remained quiet this entire time. He hadn’t seen her in six years. It was hard to believe she was so grown up now. When he left, she was ten. He didn’t remember much about her, except that she liked to ride horses. And right now, she looked scared and alone.

“I can’t keep you here by yourself,” Warren finally said as he went over to her. He took her by the arm and encouraged her to sit in a chair. “You’ll have to go to London with me and Iris. I don’t know the severity of your condition, but you probably need more attention than the servants can give you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Opal replied, her voice quiet. “I only pretended there was because I was afraid to be here.”

“It’s true,” Iris spoke up. “We talked, and I can assure you she’s as intelligent as anyone else her age. Maybe even more so, given the fact that she came up with the ruse when she was only thirteen.”

Warren glanced from Iris to Opal, his eyes wide. “I don’t understand. Opal, why didn’t you write to me and tell me you were afraid? I would have taken you to London.”

“I did write,” she said. “I wrote when I was thirteen, before I started the pretense. Mother was always angry with Father because of his mistresses, and she’d take her anger out on me. After I was born, he became unfaithful to her. She said since I was a girl, I was a disappointment to him. She said the only child that had any value was a boy because boys could inherit titles.”

Warren pulled up a chair and sat next to her. “What do you mean when you said she took her anger out on you?”

“When she got drunk, she’d hit me or lock me in a room. One time she left me there for two whole days before one of the maids broke the lock to get me out. That was when I wrote to you and told you what she was doing, but Father found the missive as the maid was giving it to the stable boy to take to London.”

“And what happened after that?”

“I don’t know exactly what he did to Mother, but I overheard one of the maids tell another one that she was in too much pain to get out of bed. I didn’t see her for an entire week. When I did, she had some bruises on her face. I knew she’d wait until Father went off to a mistress before repaying me for what he did to her, so I rode the horse and jumped off. I was hoping I wouldn’t live through it, but all I got were some broken bones. When the stable boy found me and brought me to the house, Mother was so overcome with guilt, she was nice to me. I realized that if I seemed like I was incompetent, she wouldn’t hurt me. So I pretended I was like a little child, and it worked. She was no longer mean to me.”

“Oh, Opal,” Iris cried, rushing over to her and kneeling in front of her, taking her hands in hers. “That’s awful.”

Warren swallowed the lump in his throat. “I had no idea any of this was going on.”

“Father didn’t seek out mistresses until you were gone,” Opal said. “None of the horrible things started until then.”

“Opal,” he began, “if I had gotten your letter, I would have come for you. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone to live that way.”

How he wished he’d been able to get that missive she’d written. It might not have prevented a lot of the pain in this family, but things might not have gotten to this point.

“Unfortunately, I can’t undo anything that’s happened,” he continued. “But I can guarantee I’ll do everything in my power to protect you from this moment on.”

Opal offered a grateful smile and hugged him. Feeling a connection to his past he hadn’t experienced since his mother died, Warren hugged her in return.

***

The mood was somber after everyone went to bed. Iris used to think the worst thing that could happen to someone was being a wallflower. But after everything she’d learned from being out here at this estate, she would rather put up with ridicule from Miss Barlow and her friends.

For the longest time, she lay awake in Warren’s arms. They were both naked, more from the need to get out of the clothes they’d been wearing for days on end than from any thought to being intimate. And the nice thing was that this room had clean sheets and had been dusted.

She suspected the reason Warren’s old bedchamber had been neglected was because his stepmother despised him. He was, after all, the child from a previous marriage. She wasn’t sure if she should tell him about the very real possibility his stepmother had poisoned his mother, but after debating it for half the night, she finally decided against it.

What was the point? It wouldn’t change anything. Warren already knew what his stepmother was like, and it didn’t seem like his father was much better. Maybe the best thing was to leave the past behind them and make a new start. Opal would be going to London with them. It might be years before they returned here, and when they did, the ghosts from the past would be long gone.

Yes, it was best to just move on. They couldn’t do anything about the past, but they could do something about the future. Warren loved her, and she loved him. They would see to it that Opal was never placed in a situation where she felt unsafe again. History would not repeat itself.

Iris noticed the first traces of dawn on the horizon right before she drifted off to sleep. When she stirred from sleep, the sun had risen in the sky, and she guessed it was mid-morning. She noticed she was alone in the bed. She sat up to scan the room, the blanket falling to her waist, exposing her breasts to the cool air.

For a moment, she thought she was alone in the room again, but she saw Warren, dressed in his underclothes. He was writing something at the small desk.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He glanced up at her, and though his gaze went to her breasts, she forced aside the urge to cover them. He was her husband. If anyone had a right to look at her when she was naked, it was him, and besides, it made her skin flush with pleasure to see the spark of interest in his eyes.

He cleared his throat and gestured to the parchment he was writing on. “I’m giving instructions to the servants. The estate still needs to be cared for even if we’re not going to be here.”

“Your mind is often on duty, isn’t it?”

“I like to get things in proper order.”

She smiled. “I know, and I like that about you.”

He returned her smile then wrote down another sentence before he stopped and turned his gaze back to her. “I just remembered something. The morning after our wedding, I wanted to get you a gift, and I couldn’t wait until you were awake. So I left the townhouse early to get it. I thought I might get back before you woke up, but unfortunately, you were already gone by the time I returned. I also realized you never saw the note I left you.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “You left me a note?”

He nodded and rose from the desk. “It wasn’t anything fancy.” He walked over to the bed and sat next to her. “I was just letting you know I went on an errand and would be back soon. I put it on your vanity. I thought for sure you’d see it.”

“No, I didn’t.” She decided not to tell him she’d been too caught up in her swirling emotions to even look at the vanity. She’d dressed in such a hurry she hadn’t even bothered to brush her hair, let alone have her lady’s maid help her. But that didn’t matter now. What mattered was that he had been thinking of her the morning after their wedding night.

“I got you a gift while I was out running the errand,” he said.

Interest piqued, she asked, “What gift?”

“It was a book on money.” With a shrug, he added, “The book we shared the night before seemed to bring us closer together, so I thought another one would do the same. Plus, I hadn’t read the new one yet. We’d be able to read it for the first time together.”

She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “That was a lovely gesture, Warren. I didn’t realize you cared for me so much.”

“I do. I admit I’m not good when it comes to expressing my feelings. It’s easier to get you a gift than it is to tell you I love you, but that’s why I got the book.”

And he even came all the way out to this estate to get her back. “If you have a hard time saying the words, you don’t have to. I already know how you feel.”

“I want us to have a good marriage. I don’t want the kind of marriages my father had with my mother or my stepmother. I want to be the kind of husband you can be happy to have.”

“I am happy.” She traced an errant strand of blond hair behind his ear then kissed his cheek. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

“I’ll do everything I can to always make you feel that way.”

She made a move to kiss his cheek again, to let him know she was thankful for him, but he turned his head so that their lips met. Before she knew it, they were intertwined, their arms wrapped around each other, their tongues interlacing.

She was soon helping him out of his undergarments, eager for the skin on skin contact she’d come to enjoy. The assurance of his love prompted her to get on top of him. She rubbed herself intimately against his shaft, noting the surge of pleasure that coursed through her body. They’d done this position before at one point during their wedding night, and the memory of it made her ache to take him inside her. She shifted above him, ready to take him into her, but he stopped her.

“I’d like to try something,” he whispered, his breathing raspy. “Will you let me do something I didn’t do before?”

As if to prompt her to say yes, he cupped one of her breasts in his hands and traced her nipple with the pad of his thumb. This, in turn, sent a spark of pleasure straight to her core. Intrigued to see what he had in mind, she nodded and got off of him.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked.

“Just lie on your back and relax.”

With a smile, she did as he requested. “All right. It sounds easy enough.”

She caught the amusement in his eyes at her joke. “It is. I’ll do all the work. You just need to enjoy it,” he murmured, his hand going back to her breast, eliciting more sparks as he continued to caress her nipple.

He lowered his head and kissed her. With a contented sigh, she brought her hand up to his neck and pulled him closer to her. She really had no resistance when it came to him, and it was probably best he didn’t realize just how weak she felt whenever he touched her.

His tongue brushed her lower lip, and she accepted him into her mouth, this time holding back on her earlier urgency. Yes, she ached to have him in her, but she was curious to see what he had in mind. She was thoroughly enjoying what he was doing so far, and she had no doubt, things would get even better.

And she was right. After he spent considerable time on her breast, first going to one and then the other, he lowered his hand to her abdomen and then to the patch of curls between her thighs. His fingers brushed her so lightly they would have made her tickle had she not been so aroused. But since she was aroused, the action only made her need his touch all the more.

She groaned and spread her legs, inviting him to touch her more intimately. And to her pleasure, he obliged. He traced the folds of her flesh then he proceeded to dip a finger into her. He dipped it in once. Then dipped it again. And again. Each time he did this, his finger went in deeper. It was so purposely slow that it made her squirm in anticipation.

“Warren,” she murmured, lifting her hips to encourage him to go all the way in. “I need you.”

“Patience,” he whispered and kissed the skin just beneath her ear. “It’ll be worth it. I promise.”

She had no doubt he was right. This was probably going to be the most pleasurable thing she ever experienced.

He proceeded to slide his finger in and out of her, each time delving deeper than before, and when he finally reached all the way in, he stroked a part deep within that made her moan in pleasure. She thought he might go back to his methodical motion of sliding in and out of her, but he slipped a second finger into her.

And when he brought his thumb to her sensitive nub as he continued stroking her core… Well, words couldn’t really express how much more pleasurable that was.

She whispered his name and aided him along, rocking her hips in rhythm to his ministrations. She had no idea her body was capable of this kind of pleasure, and it was even better because she was sharing this with Warren.

Soon, the rest of the world faded around them, and she lost track of time. She was barely aware she was crying out his name, urging him to keep going. He did as she bid, his movements fluid and smooth, prompting her to reach the peak of pleasure. And soon, that was exactly where she found herself. She let out a final cry and stilled as her flesh clenched and unclenched around him in time to the waves of pleasure sweeping over her. He kept his fingers in her, prolonging each delicious sensation until she was spent.

Weak, she released her grip on him, her breathing heavy as she expressed her enjoyment over what he’d done for her. His fingers slid out of her, and he settled between her legs. He leaned forward and gave her a lingering kiss before he entered her. She moaned, her flesh sensitive to his penis. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she took him all the way in.

“You feel good,” he whispered as he began to move inside her.

“So do you,” she murmured.

He felt so good, in fact, that she soon became aware of the same mounting need she’d had earlier. Before long, she was working with him, striving for the same peak she’d experienced already. She lifted her hips in time to his thrusting, noting the way the tip of his penis stroked that sensitive area deep in her core. And before long, her efforts were rewarded with another climax.

He joined her soon after, his body growing taut as he released his seed. When he collapsed in her arms, she held him to her, basking in the joy of being with him. He loved her, and she had no doubt he always would. And whatever the future brought, everything was going to be all right because they were going to get through it together.

Chapter Twenty-Three

It was a fitting day for a funeral. The sky was overcast, and it kept threatening to rain. From time to time, there were sprinkles and a burst of wind. It was as if the world was trying to mourn the deaths of Warren’s stepmother and half-brother, but it couldn’t. Warren felt the same way. Something seemed wrong about being relieved they were no longer alive, but there was no denying he was relieved.

He read from The Common Book of Prayer while Iris, Opal, and the servants quietly stood around the two graves. One day, he and Iris would be laid to rest here, along with their son, then their grandson, and so on. The cycle of life would repeat itself. He only hoped when his time came, he would leave a better legacy than the one he’d grown up with.

When he finished, he closed the book and told the servants they could return to their duties. Iris wrapped her arm around his and leaned into him. Opal stood to Iris’ other side, staring at the freshly dug graves as if she expected her mother and Byron to come back.

“It’s over,” he told his sister. “You don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

After a long moment, Opal turned her gaze to him. “I don’t want to come back to this estate. There are too many painful memories here. When I go to London, I want a new start.”

“You don’t have to come back,” he assured her. “I stay in London through the winter. And besides, soon you’ll get married. Your place will be with your husband. Just be careful to choose one who’s honorable in all things. It’s better to have someone who seems boring but is morally decent than someone who seems exciting but has no regard for decency.” He’d seen enough of the latter type and suddenly worried his sister might be too naïve to know the difference, so he added, “I’ll be there to chaperone, so I’ll lead you to the right gentlemen.”

“I never thought you were boring,” Iris spoke up, glancing at him.

“That’s probably because we share a mutual interest in money. I assure you, the topic would put most ladies to sleep,” he teased, and in doing so, the mood seemed to lighten considerably between all of them.

“I think you’ll like London,” Iris told Opal. “It’ll be a refreshing change from everything you’ve been through.”

“We’ll take you to the theatre, to the museum, and other notable places,” Warren promised.

“Can I get gowns like the kind the ladies have on in the portraits that are in the manor?” Opal asked.

With a chuckle, he nodded. “Yes, you can have gowns, but don’t expect me to take you to the seamstress. Iris will have to do that.”

“I’d be delighted to,” Iris replied. “We’ll go with my mother. She has an eye for fashion, and she’d been wishing for a daughter figure she can take shopping.”

Opal seemed excited by the prospect, and Warren was glad she had something to look forward to. She deserved it after all she went through.

“Let’s go back inside,” he said. “We’ll get your things packed and head out in the morning.”

“I can’t wait,” Opal replied.

She lifted the hem of her dress and walked on ahead to the manor, leaving Warren alone with Iris.

“Warren,” Iris began, “do you think you’ll ever come back to this estate? It is your birthright.”

“I’m sure one day I’ll return.” Then, after he gave it more thought, he added, “We’re bound to have children, and they need to see it, especially if one happens to be a boy. At that time, maybe there won’t be so much tainting it.”

“There won’t be. Not with you in control of things. You’ll make this a happy place.”

He glanced at her, grateful for her faith in him, and said, “No. I won’t make it a happy place. You and I will make it a happy place.”

She returned his smile, and they continued the rest of the way in silence.

***

It felt awkward to step through White’s. Warren was the same person, and yet, he wasn’t. White’s, however, was the same. The gentlemen were engaging in the same activities they always had. Some played games. Some read the paper. Some read books. Some quietly talked while sipping brandy. Then there were the more unsavory activities—the gossiping and the gambling. Yes, it was the same place, but it felt different because he was different.

He found Anthony by himself, reclining in a chair with his eyes closed, his expression indicating that he was depressed. Surprised by the sudden change in his friend, Warren bypassed a few gentlemen and pulled up a chair by Anthony.

“What happened?” he asked as he sat down. “Did you lose money?”

Anthony opened his eyes and looked at him. “Worse. I’m engaged to Miss Bachman.”

Warren tried to remember who Miss Bachman was, but his mind drew a blank. “Who’s Miss Bachman?”

“My sister’s friend. You met her at the dinner party I hosted while you were betrothed. Your wife’s father was there. We were having a marvelous discussion on picking the captains who can be trusted to go back and forth to India in a timely manner when you had to leave early.”

“Oh, right. Yes, I remember now. Miss Bachman was at the dinner table.” He really needed to start paying attention when he was introduced to ladies. It was far too easy for him to forget their names. “She was the one wearing the yellow gown.”

“Yes, that was her.” He let out a long sigh. “I hate the color yellow now. It’s all she ever wears.”

“I get the impression you don’t want to marry her.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you?”

“My sister kept pestering me until I gave in.”

Warren stared at him, sure his friend would laugh and tell him he was joking. But he only let out another disheartened sigh. “Why would you agree to marry someone just because your sister wants you to?”

“You don’t know my sister very well. She has a way of making you feel like the worst person in all of London if you don’t do what she wants.”

“But you’re older than her.”

“I might be older, but she’s smarter.”

“That’s not true. You’re brilliant. You’re one of the best investors in London.”

Anthony shook his head. “That’s not the kind of smart I’m talking about. My sister has a way with people. You can be having a seemingly harmless conversation with her, and before you know it, you’re obligated to do something you don’t want to.”

“The matter is easy to resolve. Tell her you changed your mind and won’t do it.”

“It’s not that easy. I’ve tried. The best I could do was delay the wedding until next summer.” He groaned then asked, “What time is it?”

Warren pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s almost two.”

“I promised my sister and Miss Bachman I’d go to the museum with them.” He rose to his feet, looking more like a gentleman about to go to war than one who was about to enjoy an afternoon outing. “Do you enjoy your marriage to the Duke of Hartwell’s daughter?”

“Yes, I love Iris very much.”

Anthony patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a fortunate gentleman. If only we were all so lucky.”

Warren watched him as he left, surprised Anthony couldn’t simply tell his sister he wasn’t going to marry the lady she wanted him to. The matter was such an easy one. Warren had never had trouble saying no when he didn’t want something. He assumed all gentlemen were the same way. Apparently, he was wrong.

“You can’t seem to stay out of trouble,” Warren heard Lord Asheley call out in an amused voice.

For a moment, he thought Asheley was talking to him because he was standing close to him. When Warren looked at him, he realized Asheley’s gaze was fixed on the Marquess of Dodsworth who was playing cards with his friends.

Lord Rossington came up beside Asheley. “What has the good doctor done now to upset the Ton?”

“I think the better question is what hasn’t he done?” Asheley replied with a smirk. “You keep it up, Dodsworth, and you’ll be banned from every place in London.”

Dodsworth put his cards facedown on the table and got up from his chair. “What ails you two so much that you feel the need to bother me?”

“It’s embarrassing to have you associated with White’s,” Asheley said. “Do you really think it’s appropriate to tell the Duke of Richmond his voice is so high that dogs have been known to howl in protest when he’s near?”

Mr. Robinson, Lord Edon and Lord Toplyn, who’d been playing cards with Dodsworth, chuckled.

“It’s not my fault he sounds like a sick violin that keeps screeching off-key,” Dodsworth replied. “But I stand behind my comment. He never should have made the unflattering comment about a certain gentleman who has a tendency to lisp.”

Warren wasn’t sure how many gentlemen realized the gentleman who had a lisp was Lord Farewell. Warren didn’t know him. In fact, he’d only heard of him in passing, but it was no secret people had a hard time understanding him because of the way he talked. That was probably why Lord Farewell was a recluse.

“The Duke of Richmond isn’t someone you want to upset,” Asheley reprimanded Dodsworth, shooting him a pointed look. “If you think Lady Cadwalader is the only one with influence in London, you’re sorely mistaken. She’s a shadow compared to the Duke of Richmond.”

“And yet,” Warren interrupted, “it’s perfectly acceptable for the Duke of Richmond to mock someone who can’t control his speech?”

The others turned to Warren. Well, since he’d already blurted out his thoughts on the matter, he figured he was committed to seeing this through. He rose to his feet and faced Asheley and Rossington.

“I’m dismayed no one is upset with the duke for criticizing an honorable and decent gentleman whose only flaw is the way he talks,” Warren continued. “I’m glad someone had the good sense to stand up for Lord Farewell. Instead of treating Dodsworth as if he did something wrong, you should be thanking him. But,” he snapped his fingers, “that’s right. You can’t comprehend what good human decency is because you’re too busy swapping wives in meaningless bets.”

Both Asheley and Rossington scowled at him. “You’re not perfect, either, Steinbeck,” Asheley said through gritted teeth.

“Really? Then please share what my shameful little secret is,” Warren dared, knowing full well there were no secrets. Well, none they knew. Only Dodsworth knew about Edon’s book.

After a long moment of fidgeting, Asheley let out a huff. “No one likes someone who lectures others on what’s right and wrong.”

“That’s not exactly a secret. I’m well-known for telling people what I think,” Warren replied.

“There’s no sense in wasting your time,” Rossington told Asheley in a low voice. “Especially with someone as uptight as him.” He nodded toward Warren.

Warren’s eyebrows rose, but he chose not to say anything. He had absolutely no respect for those two. In fact, he took their dislike of him as a compliment.

The two left, and Warren expected things to go back to normal as it often did, but Dodsworth came up to him. “There might be hope for you yet.” Then he gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and returned to his game.

Pleased by the unexpected compliment, Warren smiled to himself and headed out of the room. Someone called out his name, and he looked over in time to see Malcolm and Robert waving to him from their chessboard.

He went over to them. “I didn’t realize you liked chess.”

“I don’t think I do,” Robert admitted. “I’ve been trying to understand the appeal of the game, but so far, I’m not impressed.”

“Me neither,” Malcolm agreed. “So many gentlemen enjoy it. We thought there must be something to it.” He shrugged. “It seems like a waste of time to me. I’d rather be drawing up business plans. Speaking of which,” he turned away from the board so he could look directly at Warren, “Robert and I were wondering if you and your wife will join us at my home for a dinner party in three days. We’ll have a ship captain over who will spend the winter in Africa, and he wants to show us a detailed plan on what he’ll be bringing back. If we pay for the voyage, we might reap a good profit.”

“Really?” Warren hadn’t meant to show his surprise, but he hadn’t expected to be invited to one of Malcolm’s dinner parties.

Malcolm nodded. “He might be young for a captain, but he grew up on the ship. In fact, his father was one of the best captains of the seas.”

“No,” Warren clarified, “I meant, are you sure you really want me to come to a dinner party, given what happened with the vote regarding Lord Edon’s book and the way I upset Miss Carlisle when I ignored Iris?” He glanced between Malcolm and Robert.

“I thought we worked all that out about the vote,” Malcolm replied.

“Well, yes,” Warren began, “but I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome to a dinner party.”

“It’s my fault I didn’t come to you sooner. I’ve never been very good with people. It’s why I like working with numbers. Numbers are predictable and easy.”

“I thought I was the only one who felt that way.”

Malcolm chuckled. “No, you’re not. I’ve been awkward with people ever since I was little.”

Warren relaxed. It was nice knowing he wasn’t the only odd gentleman in London. Maybe that was why he and Malcolm had seemed to get along so well from the moment they met.

“Well, I’m not afraid to admit I do all right when it comes to people,” Robert said, a teasing tone in his voice. “But I don’t do as well with numbers. I’ve benefited a lot from being with you two. And Warren, word is that your wife is very happy with you. When your wife is happy, my intended is happy.”

“Intended?” Malcolm asked, eyebrows raised. “Does that mean you finally asked Miss Carlisle to marry you?”

“Not exactly,” Robert said. “I’m going to ask her this evening since I got her father’s permission to propose.”

“A father’s approval goes a long way,” Warren replied.

“And sometimes that approval is to the detriment of the poor brother-in-law,” Malcolm quipped.

Robert shot him an amused look. “Is it possible you and Lord Toplyn will ever get along?”

“I’ll admit that Logan has his moments where he actually seems decent,” Malcolm said, “but he likes to say things to irk me. He thinks it’s funny.”

“I thought you were going to ignore him,” Robert replied.

“I tried.” After a moment, he added, “Apparently, my eye twitches when he upsets me, and he knows it. Now he tries to see how many times he can make my eye twitch. It’s like a game. Believe me, if I could stop the twitching, I would.”

“Unfortunately, you can’t pick all of the people in your family,” Warren said.

Warren had been around Logan enough to know the gentleman had a mischievous side to him. Granted, Logan wasn’t as bad as Byron had been, but he could understand why Malcolm lost patience with him.

“Fortunately, you can pick your friends,” Robert spoke up, “and I consider you both good ones.”

“We do make a good team,” Malcolm agreed. “Let’s play some cards. That will be more entertaining than chess.” He glanced at Warren. “Want to join us?”

Warren smiled with pleasure. “Sure. It sounds like fun.”

“Great.” Malcolm led them to one of the tables where a deck of cards was waiting for them.

***

“We’re glad you’re all right,” Iris’ mother said, giving her another hug.

Iris shot her father a look that implored him to help her. When she came to visit her parents, she had no idea her mother would keep hugging her.

“Iris is fine, my dear,” her father told her mother as he gently pulled her away from Iris. He led her mother to a chair. “You don’t need to keep holding onto her. Byron won’t cause us any more problems.”

“Warren was so worried about you,” her mother said. “He thought you had spent the day with us, but of course, we hadn’t seen you.”

“I had to go to your townhouse to find out what happened,” her father replied. “Thankfully, the butler assured us you were going to be all right. Warren was in such a hurry he didn’t think to send us a message.” He paused then added, “Since he was that worried about you, it means he cares for you.”

Noting the pointed look on his face, Iris smiled. “Yes, I’m aware of how much he cares for me.”

“Good,” her father replied, looking relieved. “That poor gentleman’s been trying so hard to get back into your good graces ever since he learned he was going to marry you. There were times I felt sorry for him.”

“Well, he’s doing fine now, so you have no need to worry,” she assured him.

“That’s good to hear. We’d like to have grandchildren.”

“Yes,” her mother agreed. “While I know they won’t get here right away, I’d like to know you’re working on them.”

Iris had no idea her mother could be so outspoken about such a personal topic, but she chose not to respond.

Thankfully, her father patted his wife’s hands. “Just be happy our daughter has a love match. The rest will take care of itself. Now, Iris, when will we get a chance to meet Opal?”

“Soon. In fact, Opal’s been excited about the prospect of buying some lovely gowns,” Iris began, already knowing this was going to thrill her mother to no end. She paused, just to build up the suspense, “So I told her that when I returned home today, I would take her dress shopping. And,” she glanced at her mother whose eyes lit up, “I was wondering if you’d like to join us since you keep up on the latest fashion.”

She barely had time to finish the last sentence before her mother jumped up from her chair and grabbed her hand to help her up. “It’s already after noon. If we’re going to be back in time for dinner, we need to go right away.”

Iris laughed. “Surely, we won’t be out all afternoon.”

“We’ll probably need several afternoons to get everything we need. The poor girl hasn’t been to London. She has much to learn.”

“But, really,” she protested as her mother practically dragged her to the front door, “we’re only going to look at dresses. It shouldn’t take that long.”

Her mother gasped and stopped so she could turn to her. “What would you think if I told you that all those conversations you and your father have about investments shouldn’t go on for days at a time?”

“That’s different. Money is important.”

Her mother opened her mouth to protest until she caught the teasing gleam in Iris’ eye. “Why, you’re a wicked one. Please tell me Opal is like other ladies, that she enjoys dressing up in beautiful gowns and adorning herself with jewelry.”

Putting all jokes aside, she smiled. “Mother, I have a feeling you and Opal will be as well matched as Father and I are.”

With a cheer, her mother continued to lead her out of the drawing room. Iris called out a quick good-bye to her father, who was chuckling.

By the time, the carriage pulled up to Iris’ townhouse, her mother flung the door open and jumped down. She turned back to Iris and waved her forward. “Come on, Iris. We mustn’t delay. It takes a long time to get an entire wardrobe that every London lady needs.”

That point was debatable, but Iris wasn’t going to ruin her mother’s good mood. The poor lady had to bear with a daughter who couldn’t care less about the latest fashion. It was only right she finally got someone to dote over.

Iris emerged from the carriage and walked up the steps with her mother, inwardly smiling as her mother rambled on about how different colors could best flatter a lady’s complexion.

They got to the door just as someone called out to Iris. Iris glanced over her shoulder and saw Bethany hurrying over to them. They waited until Bethany reached them before going into the townhouse.

After Iris told the butler to get Opal, she led them into the drawing room. “Would you like to join us for an afternoon of shopping?” Iris asked Bethany.

“I’d love to go shopping,” Bethany replied, “but I’ve been worried about you.”

“Didn’t you get my missive?” Iris asked.

“I did, but you only said you were abducted, taken to Warren’s estate, and that he came to your rescue.”

“You did leave out a lot of details,” Iris’ mother agreed.

“I said everything that was necessary,” Iris said.

Her mother’s eyes went heavenward. “Sometimes you are too much like your father. There were a lot of details you left out.”

“I figured I would explain everything when I saw you, and I did.” Iris glanced at Bethany. “I’ll explain them to you, too. If I were to write everything down, my hand would fall off.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t exaggerate.”

“It would take pages and pages to tell it all. It’s much easier, and more practical, to say it in person.”

“All right.” Her mother nodded. “I see your point.”

Bethany groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me, Iris. I’ve been circling the street in that carriage, waiting for you to return here so I could talk to you. When are you going to tell me?”

“While we go shopping,” Iris assured her. And since it was going to take all afternoon, it should be enough time to give Bethany all the details she wanted.

The footman opened the front door, and Iris heard Warren give him a greeting. She went to the doorway of the drawing room and waved to let him know she was there. After he went over to her, he gave her a quick kiss before saying hello to her mother and Bethany.

Iris was sure her face was bright red from the fact that he’d actually kissed her right in front of them, but to their credit, they didn’t tease her about it.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” Iris told him. “Wasn’t there anyone at White’s you wanted to talk to?”

“There was,” he replied. “But I missed you and wanted to come back early.”

“Oh.” She glanced at her mother and friend. “I just invited them to take Opal shopping for some dresses. I thought you were going to be gone until dinner.” She paused then ventured, “I don’t suppose you’d like to join us?”

He grimaced. “As much as I’d like to spend time with you, I’d rather not.”

“I understand,” Iris said. Had it not been for the fact that this was for Opal and that her mother was excited about it, she wouldn’t be doing this.

“We’ve been invited to a dinner party at Malcolm Jasper’s in a couple days,” he told her. “It’ll be you, me, Malcolm, Regan, Robert, and Bethany. I thought it would be nice to spend an evening with some friends.”

“I’d love to go.” And she would. This would be much better than having to endure an evening with Miss Barlow and Miss Bachman. She glanced at Bethany. “Maybe this time we won’t need to drink sherry to get through the evening.” Like they had the last time they had to attend a dinner party with Warren and his friends.

Bethany giggled at the secret joke, though her mother’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion over what was so funny.

Before Warren could ask her what she was talking about, Iris asked, “Can we have them over here sometime for a dinner party?”

He smiled. “Of course. Oh, before I forget, there’s a captain who’ll be there, and Malcolm, Robert, and I are thinking of doing business with him. I’ll have him discuss his plans during the dinner, so you can tell me your thoughts on it after everyone goes home.”

“Really?” Pleased, she placed her hand on her chest. “You’d like my opinion on a potential investment opportunity?”

“Yes. You’re the one who got an old Sovereign due to a wise investment you made.”

The fact that his response was so matter-of-fact touched her even more. “I can’t wait for the dinner party!”

“I have a feeling more sherry will be needed,” Bethany murmured under her breath, a chuckle in her tone.

“That reminds me,” Warren said, looking at Bethany, “you might want to get a special gown. Something appropriate for a bride would be best.”

Bethany gasped. “Did you talk to Robert?”

“I’m not giving anything else away, except to say he has something important to ask you this evening,” he replied.

“That’s horrible. You ruined the surprise for her,” Iris chided him good-naturedly.

“He didn’t ruin anything,” Bethany said. “I’m just glad he’s finally going to ask. I was beginning to think I’d never get a proposal out of him.”

“Well, there you go,” Warren told Iris. “All is well.”

Opal came into the room, and Iris’ mother went over to her. “I’m so happy to meet you! Iris had so many good things to say about you. Oh, I should introduce myself. I’m Iris’ mother.” Then, without waiting for Opal to reply, she added, “You’re very pretty. I can’t wait to see you in pinks and purples. I bet those are your colors.”

“I love those colors,” Opal replied in anticipation.

“We’ll see what we can find in those colors before we move on to other ones,” Iris’ mother said. “You have the kind of complexion that can accommodate many colors, and your figure will work for just about any style.”

“She’s right,” Bethany agreed, rushing over to Opal. “Once we get you in the right clothes and hairstyle, you’re going to have gentlemen clamoring for you.”

“There’s no need to have them clamoring all over her until she has her first Season,” Warren called out above the excited talk between Iris’ mother and Bethany.

Iris’ mother turned to him and smiled reassuringly. “We won’t have them clamoring until it’s time. We promise.”

Warren glanced at Opal, who was giving him a hopeful smile. He smiled at her in return and said, “All right. Have a good time.”

“You’re a good brother,” Iris replied as her mother and Bethany led Opal out the door.

Iris’ mother paused and called out, “Aren’t you coming?”

“Yes, I’m coming,” Iris assured her.

Before Iris could leave with the others, Warren took her hand and pulled her to him. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear.

“I love you, too,” she whispered in return. “I’ll miss you while I’m gone.” Then, on impulse, she gave him a kiss before she hurried out the door.

Quick Author’s Note

Someone’s going to probably wonder why early in the story, Warren thought of Opal as his half-sister but later on, he thought of her as his sister. This was not a typo. I intentionally did it because after Warren found out Opal wasn’t like his stepmother and half-brother, he could fully accept her. That is why she became his “sister” instead of his “half-sister”.

Coming Soon:

A Brand New Regency Series!

The Viscount’s Runaway Bride

(Marriage by Bargain Series: Book 1)

What Anthony Barlow, Viscount Worsley, really wants is a wife who can excite him, but what he ended up with was an engagement to his sister’s very annoying friend. So when Miss Damara Onslow intercepts his carriage, he’s immediately drawn to both her bold spirit and her beauty.

Even more exciting is the offer she makes: money in exchange for marriage. More than happy to get out of the marriage he was dreading, he agrees, and soon they are husband and wife. Never once did he think to ask her why she was so eager to get married, and the truth might be the undoing of them both.

Reserve Your Copy Today!

Don’t Miss the Books that Came Before The Earl’s Wallflower Bride!

His Wicked Lady (Marriage by Arrangement: Book 1)

Regan Alger, the Lady of Cantrell, is bored with her life. Yes, she’s been more fortunate than most. She was once married to a wonderful gentleman, and this love resulted in her young son—a boy she loves more than anything. But even a son can’t fill the void in her life. She misses having a husband, both in and out of bed, so when she happens to come across a gentleman at a ball who ignites her passion, she decides he’ll be her next husband. And she’s not the least bit shy about letting him know it.

Just as determined as Regan is to have Mr. Malcolm Jasper for a husband, he’s equally determined to end up with anyone but her. If he marries her, his life will be one of chaos and scandal. He’s sure of it. After all, she’s much too outspoken and flirtatious. So he jumps at the chance for an arranged marriage, thinking once he secures a reputable and quiet bride, Regan will leave him alone. Little does he know, though, his sister and her two friends know Regan wants to marry him, and they are more than happy to help Regan get what she wants.

Regan’s risk pays off. She manages to secure him as her husband. Will the gamble pay off? Or has she just doomed them both?

***

Her Devilish Marquess (Marriage by Arrangement: Book 2)

Dr. Derek Westward has been happy living his life doing everything possible to upset the Ton. Second to his occupation, it’s one of his favorite pastimes. Then his brother dies, and the worst thing imaginable happens. He inherits the title of a marquess. Now he has to secure the future of his family’s estate with an heir, and worse, he’s expected to be on his best behavior, something he’s been unable to do since childhood.

Miss Danette Everson has given up on ever marrying. At twenty-five, she’s resigned herself to spinsterhood, until her friend decides she’d be better off married. Before she knows it, she’s a bride. But her new husband isn’t the reputable gentleman she was hoping for. No, he’s got a horrible tendency to scandalize the Ton at every opportunity that presents itself. Surely, a pair couldn’t be more mismatched. Whatever were the three matchmaking ladies thinking when they arranged for her to marry the most devilish marquess in all of London?

Other Regencies by Ruth Ann Nordin

Marriage by Scandal Series:

The Earl’s Inconvenient Wife: Lord Roderick needs an heir, and the only way he’s going to get one is by finding a suitable young lady to marry. But one wrong move on his part has just betrothed him to a lady he believes tricked him into a scandal.

A Most Unsuitable Earl: Lord Edon has done everything he can to avoid marriage, including building a reputation as London’s most notorious rake. His scheming mother, however, is so determined that he’ll find a good lady to marry, she’ll stop at nothing to find him one. And the lady she finally picks happens to be London’s most notorious wallflower, the ever-so-boring Lady Catherine.

His Reluctant Lady: From the moment Mister Robinson meets Lady Richfield, he knows they are destined to be together. But it may take the threat of a scandal to convince the reluctant widow that marriage can be the most sensually and emotionally satisfying experience she’ll ever have.

The Earl’s Scandalous Wife: Lord Clement, who others refer to as “the earl who can’t find a wife,” is about to find that scandals aren’t so bad when a lady kisses him at a ball.

Marriage by Deception Series:

The Earl’s Secret Bargain: Toby and Lord Pennella have just made a bet for the hand of Miss Regina Giles. The gentleman she chooses wins the loser’s estate. But things don’t go according to plan when Toby falls in love with her.

Love Lessons with the Duke: Camden asks Helena to help him secure a bride in one month, but soon he realizes he’s in love with her and will do anything it takes to marry her, even if it involves a scandal.

Ruined by the Earl: After losing all of his money in a reckless bet, Logan needs to marry a lady from a wealthy family–and fast. So he does the only thing he can think of and picks one at random to trick into marriage.

The Earl’s Stolen Bride: Orlando Emmett, the Lord of Reddington, fell in love with Chloe as soon as he met her over a year ago. Unfortunately, she married Lord Hawkins before he could propose. Now, she’s a widow. And while he should honor the mourning period, he’s afraid if he doesn’t act fast, he might not get another chance to be her husband. So he plans a way to make sure he gets her before someone else can.

A Standalone Regency Novel that is also Currently Available:

Her Counterfeit Husband: When her abusive husband dies, the Duchess of Watkins plots a way to hide his death so his brother doesn’t get the title. Fate steps in and she comes upon a gentleman who looks just like her husband, and more than that, he doesn’t remember who he is. Has she just come across the best solution to her problem, or has she just made things much, much worse?

Other Books Written by Ruth Ann Nordin

(Chronological Order)

Historical Western Romances

Pioneer Series

Wagon Trail Bride

The Marriage Agreement (coming August 7, 2016)

Nebraska Romance Series

Her Heart’s Desire

A Bride for Tom

A Husband for Margaret

Eye of the Beholder

The Wrong Husband

Shotgun Groom

To Have and To Hold

His Redeeming Bride

Isaac’s Decision

Chance at Love Series

The Convenient Mail Order Bride

The Mistaken Mail Order Bride

The Accidental Mail Order Bride (coming September 4, 2016)

South Dakota Romance Series

Loving Eliza

Bid for a Bride

Bride of Second Chances

Montana Romances Series

Mitch’s Win

Boaz’s Wager

Patty’s Gamble

Native American Romance Series

Restoring Hope

Brave Beginnings

Bound by Honor, Bound by Love

A Chance In Time

Virginia Brides Series

An Unlikely Place for Love

The Cold Wife

An Inconvenient Marriage

Romancing Adrienne

Historical Romance Anthologies (with Janet Syas Nitsick)

Bride by Arrangement

A Groom’s Promise

Other Historical Western Romances

Falling In Love With Her Husband

Kent Ashton’s Backstory (Prequel to Catching Kent)

Catching Kent

His Convenient Wife

Meant To Be

The Mail Order Bride’s Deception

Contemporary Romances

Contemporary Omaha Romances

With This Ring, I Thee Dread

What Nathan Wants

Just Good Friends

Across the Stars

Suddenly a Bride

Runaway Bride

His Abducted Bride

Standalones

Substitute Bride

Bride by Design (under Barbara Joan Russell)

Bonus Material Books to the Romances

Bonus Material from the Nebraska Series

Other Genres

Thriller

Late One Night (flash fiction)

Return of the Aliens (a Christian sci-fi thriller)

Fantasy (mixed with romance)

A Royal Engagement

Royal Hearts

The Royal Pursuit

Royal Heiress

Nonfiction

11 Tips for New Writers

The Emotionally Engaging Character

Where to Find Ruth

To find out more about Ruth Ann Nordin’s books and upcoming titles, you can go to the following sites:

Her Author Blog: http://ruthannnordinauthorblog.wordpress.com

Her Website:

www.ruthannnordin.com

Her Timeline on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/ruth.a.nordin

Join Ruth Ann Nordin’s Email List!

If you would like to receive an email when Ruth has a new book out, go to this link:

https://ruthannnordinauthorblog.wordpress.com/sign-up-for-email-list/

As a thank you for being on her list, she sends out a special scene (usually 1000 to 2000 words long) that is a prequel or epilogue to the book she is releasing. This scene is only available to people on her email list. She will only email when a new book is out, and she won’t share your email with anyone else.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Coming Soon: The Viscount’s Runaway Bride

Other Regencies by Ruth Ann Nordin

Other Books by Ruth Ann Nordin

Where to Find Ruth