The Earl's Wallflower Bride (21 page)

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 him 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

T
he 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.