“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 h
im 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 do
or 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.”
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