The Earl's Wallflower Bride

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  “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 s
omething 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 afte
rnoon.”

  “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.