“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.
The Earl's Wallflower Bride Page 3
