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 b
e 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.<
br />
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.”
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