“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 pic
ked 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?”
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