An Earl for Iris
Ellie St. Clair
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
THE DUKE SHE WISHED FOR
Chapter 1
Also by Ellie St. Clair
About the Author
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Also By Ellie St. Clair
Standalone
Unmasking a Duke
Christmastide with His Countess
Happily Ever After
The Duke She Wished For
Someday Her Duke Will Come
Once Upon a Duke’s Dream
He’s a Duke, But I Love Him
Loved by the Viscount
Because the Earl Loved Me
Happily Ever After Box Set Books 1-3
Happily Ever After Box Set Books 4-6
Searching Hearts
Duke of Christmas
Quest of Honor
Clue of Affection
Hearts of Trust
Hope of Romance
Promise of Redemption
Searching Hearts Box Set (Books 1-5)
The Unconventional Ladies
Lady of Mystery
Lady of Fortune
Lady of Providence
Lady of Charade
Blooming Brides
A Duke for Daisy
A Marquess for Marigold
An Earl for Iris
1
1813
“And then, Mother walked into the guests’ sitting room, finding two fully grown men rolling on the floor, well in their cups. With Father out, the next thing I knew, she was running into our own sitting room, as flustered as ever and—”
“Iris? Iris, there you are!”
When Millie’s voice cut through her tale and into her consciousness, Iris turned away from the counter at the general store, where she was regaling her friends with the latest narrative from her family’s inn. There had been many stories of interest from The Wild Rose Inn since a steady stream of men had come to stay with them, home from the war effort and either convalescing or hiding for one reason or another now that they were back on English soil. The many stories had only increased Iris’ popularity among the other young people in town.
“One moment,” she said with a smile to the two young women and the teenage boy who had gathered to listen to her. They were from just beyond the town’s borders, in for supplies and the latest gossip to return home with.
“Millie!” she said, turning her attention to the girl, who had originally been close with Iris’ oldest sister, Daisy. Since Daisy had married her duke and left home, however, Millie had become increasingly close with the other sisters as well. When Iris took in Millie’s flustered appearance, her countenance became much more serious as her worry increased. “Whatever is the matter?”
“Can we go outside for a moment?”
Iris looked back at her audience and was disappointed in the thought of leaving them before finishing her story, but Millie looked so concerned that she nodded and followed her out the door onto the road, where the late summer air was thick with unexpected heat despite their proximity to the sea.
“I need your help,” Millie said the moment they were out of earshot of any passersby.
“My help?”
Of the four Tavners sisters, Iris certainly wasn’t the one most came to for help or advice. Of course, with Daisy and Marigold married and moved away, between Iris and Violet, she supposed she might be the more approachable one as Violet’s head was always stuck in a book. Although, if anyone took the time to ask her, Violet actually typically provided a clear head and sound thoughts.
“Yes, your help. You are the perfect person to aid me.”
“Very well. What can I do?”
It was actually kind of nice to be the one someone came to for help for once, and Iris determined she would do what she could to aid Millie.
“You know Father wants me to marry Ernest, the apothecary’s son,” Millie began.
“Yes, I am aware,” Iris said, wrinkling her nose at the thought. “You simply cannot marry the fool.”
“Of course not,” Millie said forlornly. “He is more self-absorbed than any person I have ever met, and when he looks at me I feel chills creeping down my back. Father doesn’t understand these things, and is insistent, as he feels Ernest could provide me with a stable home.”
“I suppose it is true that if he follows his father’s profession, an apothecary would be able to provide for you.”
“Unlike a fisherman.”
Iris hadn’t wanted to say it, but Millie was right. The man Millie loved, Burt Clarkson, would likely live near to poverty for the rest of his life. But Millie loved him, and to her, that was all that mattered.
“You are set on marrying Burt, are you not?”
“I am,” Millie confirmed, though she didn’t look particularly happy. “He has offered for me, but my father turned him down. Now Ernest has asked for my hand and my father agrees though I certainly do not. I cannot marry him, Iris, I simply cannot!”
“No one can force you to marry, Millie,” Iris said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“He is my father. I am all he has in this world,” Millie said, her brown eyes turning desperate. She was quite fair and pretty, and it was no wonder she had more than one man interested in her. “I cannot have him renounce me or turn from me, for then what would I do? No, I have thought of a better way.”
“What is it?” Iris asked, curious now.
“We must convince Ernest that he is no longer interested in marrying me. What better way to do so than to turn his attention elsewhere?”
A sinking feeling filled Iris as she hesitated at first, but then had to ask, “And how would you do that?”
“By turning his affections toward you!”
“Oh.” Iris swallowed hard.
“I know it is much to ask, Iris, but with just a bit of attention from you, I’m sure he would lose all interest in me. You’re the most beautiful woman in town, everyone knows that, and he has made it abundantly clear to all that you would be his first choice. There’s a dance in a few days’ time. All you have to do is visit him at the apothecary’s before that, flirt a little, dance with him that evening, and he will be smitten and forget all about me. Your father would never force you to marry someone you didn’t want, not like mine. So, would you do it?”
Iris bit her lip. This was the last thing she wanted to agree to, and yet, she had said she would help Millie in whatever way she could.
“I…”
“You have no one else who has captured your affections, have you?” Millie asked sudden
ly. “For if so, I would never ask this of you.”
Iris ducked her head for a moment. The truth was, there actually was someone who had captured her affections, as Millie put it. An image came into her mind of a man with light brown tousled hair, broad shoulders, and a smile so warm and charming it could melt the frozen ice of a lake in mid-winter.
But it didn’t matter that he had her heart. That particular man was not for her, as he had made perfectly clear but two months ago when she had misread his signals and leaned in to kiss him. Thinking of it now filled her with horror once more at the embarrassment it had caused her, for she had been well and truly rejected. His heart was with another, and she would do well to remember it.
“There is no one,” she said now, forcing a smile onto her face. “Sure, Millie, for you, I will do it.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Millie said with relief, placing her hands on Iris’ arm. “I knew I could count on you.”
And, for a moment, Millie’s gratitude was enough.
* * *
Or so Iris thought, until later that afternoon when she found herself within the apothecary’s shop. She hadn’t often been in here, for her sister Marigold had always seemed to be coming up with some concoction or another to treat their family’s ailments.
But now that Marigold had moved near Cambridge with her husband, they had to once more rely on the apothecary should they require any particular treatments for ailments that might arise within the family or the boarders at their inn.
“Iris Tavners, how lovely to see you today,” said Mr. Abernathy, the apothecary, as he looked at Iris overtop of his spectacles. “What seems to be the issue today?”
“I, ah, am actually here to see Ernest,” she said, forcing a smile to her face, despite the loathing within her stomach. “Is he in?”
“Oh!” Mr. Abernathy said in surprise. “He is, actually. One moment.”
As he scurried to the back of the shop, Iris turned to look around her at the rows of bottles upon the walls. Mrs. Abernathy gave her a wave from the corner, where she was currently sitting at a table filling some of the said bottles. Iris cringed. She could hardly imagine life wed to the apothecary. Perhaps if he was a decent man, it would be no issue, but Ernest—
“Iris!” he exclaimed as he came out of the back room, pushing through the swinging doors. “I hear you have inquired about me. I am pleased to finally hear it.”
Ernest had come courting a year or two ago, and Iris had swiftly brushed him aside. He was far too arrogant for her liking. If she was being honest, Iris would have to admit that she far preferred a man who was more eager to sing her praises than his own.
“Yes, well—”
“It does make sense that the two of us should explore what could be with one another, does it not? You are, after all, the most beautiful girl in town, and therefore it makes perfect sense that we would make a match.”
Goodness, she had done nothing but ask if he was within the shop and he practically had them married. This was too much. She couldn’t—
“You were almost too late, you know,” he said, leaning across the counter, whispering conspiratorially. “I am soon to be betrothed to another. Although, I imagine that is what lured you my way. I should have created such a scheme ages ago! Nothing a little jealousy won’t cure.”
As he laughed, Iris managed a weak smile. Every fiber within her body desired to flee, to leave him behind, but then she remembered Millie and her desperate plea. There was one thing Iris was not, and that was a coward.
She looked down for a moment before turning her gaze back up to Ernest from beneath her lashes, a practiced look that always seemed to work.
“How do you know that is why I am here, Ernest?” she asked, dipping her voice ever so slightly. “Perhaps I am simply here to ask your advice on a potion or two.”
“Perhaps,” he said with a shrug. “But I know better.”
“You are too intelligent to fool. As it happens, there is to be a dance at the Johnsons’ new barn in a few days’ time,” she said. “I was hoping you would save me a dance or two.”
“That is a rather forward request, Iris.”
She shrugged. “I have never been afraid to pursue what I desire.”
“Very well, Iris,” he said, a sly smile on his face that, while handsome, was also far too contrived. “I shall see you there. I eagerly await our time together.”
Iris smiled and nodded before sauntering out the door. The moment the sunlight hit her face, she practically gagged. She certainly hoped Millie appreciated this — and that she captured her man, Burt. Nothing else could ever be worth it.
2
August Williams, the Earl of Westwood, rested his head upon his arms, which were crossed upon the desk in front of him. He stared at a glass of amber liquid from where it sat beside a half-empty bottle.
That damned bottle was currently the only thing providing him any comfort. His only friend, his only reassurance in this cruel world.
Well, perhaps he was being slightly too dramatic. He did have friends. The problem was that they all knew of his current predicament, and he had no desire to speak to any of them of it much longer.
And his best friend… well, he hadn’t turned out to be much of a friend at all.
He had just reached a hand out to take another sip when there was a knock at the door.
“My lord?” his butler implored, his voice somewhat tremulous as he had, unfortunately, been the recipient of August’s foul moods for more than a week now. “You have a visitor.”
“I am not in residence.”
“You bloody well are, Westwood.”
August sat up straight, sobering quickly. “General,” he said, now standing at attention. “My apologies. I had no idea—”
“Sit, Westwood. Time is of the essence.”
August did as he was bid by one of the few men who could evoke such ready agreement from him. General Dobbins was the very reason he had found himself involved with the Crown in the fight against the French. The man had recruited him for a very specific purpose, but as far as August was aware, his commitment was now finished and he was free to live the life he chose — though such a life had proven no longer available to him.
“What seems to be amiss, General?”
“Have you noticed anything untoward lately?” the older gentleman asked, ignoring him, as he stared at him through eyes surrounded by creases of worry, his brow furrowed. August shook his head no as he offered his superior a seat. Despite his concern, he couldn’t help appreciating the General’s significant mustache, which was a sight to behold.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” he answered.
“Anyone following you? New acquaintances?”
“No,” August said, though he didn’t add that he had hardly left his townhouse since his return just over a month ago, on the night he had discovered the truth, which had changed his life forever.
“Very well,” the General said, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “I have some unfortunate news, Westwood. When we first brought you home from France months ago, we did so because we thought your identity had been compromised. We were loath to have you return, for you were quite well accepted within the French courts.”
A role that had been rather enjoyable, for both his purpose there as an English spy as well as the lavish parties and occasions in which he had taken part.
“Yes, but I thought that you had ascertained there was nothing of which to be worried. It was the reason you had told me I could return to London following my short stay in Southwold at the flowery inn.”
The General sighed. “It appears we were mistaken — the second time. Our sources tell us that your true identity emerged. The French were embarrassed by their trust in you, and few know who you really are. However, it seems they have sent someone after you, for they are unsure of what else you may know that you have not yet shared.”
“I have shared all of my intelligence, General, I assure
you of that,” August said, wondering if perhaps the General was simply being overly cautious.
“I trust that you have,” the man responded agreeably. “But I believe they are worried about information you may hold that is of an importance of which you are not even aware.”
August pondered that for a moment. He supposed there could be some truth to the thought. He had become acquainted with many in the French court, and had been trusted by most. Who knows what could prove to be useful to the English one day?
“Interesting,” he said, leaning back now, before belatedly offering the General a drink.
“No, thank you,” said the man. “I am surprised, Westwood. You are handling this with much less concern than I would have thought. You do understand that your life could be in danger, do you not?”
“My life was in danger since I left for France,” August said, though he didn’t add that now he no longer cared as much about it. For when he departed England’s shores nearly a year ago, he had something — someone — to return home to. Now, the promise of her was gone, and he was alone. He had his mother and sister, sure. He loved them and knew he must provide for them. But were anything to happen to him, his brother was ready and willing to take the title of earl.
August hadn’t possessed such a title when he had left England. He hadn’t learned of his father’s death until returning to England’s shores, and he was left with a sense of guilt that he had missed his father’s last days. But he knew the previous earl had been proud of him and his commitment to his country. At least he had that assurance to live with.
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