The Earl's Wallflower Bride (8 page)

“I would if Robert did that to me.”

“Yes, but Robert would never treat you that
way.”

“That’s true. It’s hard to know how Lord
Steinbeck will react.”

Indeed, it was. So far, no missive had come
declining the marriage. It was a shame, too. Things would be so
simple if he’d say he’d have nothing to do with her. Then she’d be
free of him.

“If he is going to end the engagement,”
Bethany began, “I suspect he’ll do it soon. If it was me, I would
send a missive today or tomorrow.”

Her friend was right. She couldn’t expect
anything in the morning. Usually, a missive would come around the
afternoon or the next day. Hopeful once more, Iris prayed her
actions last evening might result in the one thing she wanted most:
freedom from Lord Steinbeck.

Chapter Seven

U
nfortunately, when she did receive a missive the next day, it
wasn’t the polite request to end the engagement like she’d hoped.
No. It was something worse. Much, much worse.

I am writing to invite you to Lord Worsley’s
dinner party this Friday. It’d be my pleasure to introduce you
publicly as my betrothed. Speaking of which, I hope you don’t mind
a special license. I’d prefer to marry you sooner rather than
later. Your father and I discussed the matter and think a wedding
next week would be best. I would have consulted you on the matter,
but you had taken ill with a headache, and I hadn’t wished to
disturb you.

When the words on the parchment finally made
sense, she let out a shriek and dropped the missive.

Her mother came rushing into the drawing
room. “What’s wrong?”

“Where’s Father?” Iris demanded.

“I think he went to see the Duchess of
Ashbourne. Maybe I can help you.”

“I don’t understand it,” Iris said, stomping
on the missive. “I just don’t understand it!”

“What are you doing?” Her mother urged her to
stop stepping on the missive and bent down to retrieve it. “What is
this?”

“Wasn’t I rude to Warren when he was here?”
Iris asked.

“Yes, you were,” her mother replied,
smoothing the parchment. “If I hadn’t known the circumstances that
led you to such behavior, I would have locked you in your
bedchamber for a week for the way you acted.”

“Exactly! So why does Warren still want to
marry me?” When her mother gave her a blank look, she gestured to
the missive. “Go on. Read it. Then you’ll see why I’m in a
panic.”

Her mother turned her attention to the
missive and read it, moving her lips as she did so. When she was
finished, her eyebrows furrowed. “Oh my.”

“Now you see why I’m in such anguish.”

“This doesn’t give us much time to get your
dress done for the wedding.”

“What?” Iris’ life was quickly coming to an
end, and her mother was worried about her dress?

“Well, this is an important day. You need to
look your best.”

“Who cares about how I look?”

“You should. You are going to be a married
lady, and it’s necessary you look like a countess. We have so much
to do. We’ll need to trim your hair, get the appropriate jewelry,
find someone to use creams and ointments to make you beautiful… Oh,
there’s no end to all the things that I must tend to. I’ll be back.
I need to get ready to go out. Then we’ll get the process
started.”

“But-but...” Iris stammered as her mother
rushed out of the room. “Mother!” she called after her.

It did no good. Her mother was already on her
way up the stairs. What had just happened? Could her mother really
change her mind that fast? Did her mother now fully approve of her
marrying that horrible Warren?

***

Iris tried to get out of going to Lord
Worsley’s dinner party. She feigned every illness she could think
of, but her father wasn’t buying any of them. And her mother… Well,
her mother was so caught up in the excitement of making everything
perfect for the wedding that she’d forgotten all about Iris’
misery.

“It’s not like we can talk your father out of
it,” her mother had told her earlier that morning when Iris
confronted her about it. “You’re going to marry Lord Steinbeck
whether we like it or not. We might as well make the best of
it.”

Make the best of it, indeed! Iris had never
heard anything more absurd in her entire life. There was nothing
good that was going to come from the marriage. Nothing good at
all.

And this evening, she had to go to Lord
Worsley’s dinner party. God help her if Lord Worsley’s sister was
there. Miss Barlow thought so little of her. It’d make for a
disastrous evening if she had to deal with her. She put her face in
her hands and groaned. It’d be her luck that Miss Barlow would be
there.

A knock came at her bedchamber door. She
didn’t have to ask who it was. The upbeat rapping on the door told
her it was her father, and he was only too happy about the match.
Ever since Warren had eaten dinner with them, her father had
insisted everything would be much better next time she saw him.

She glanced at the window. Just how far down
would her climb be if she escaped? She didn’t think there was
anything she could hang onto. She’d probably have to jump. But
would she survive the fall?

“Iris?” her father called from the other side
of the door. “I know what you’re thinking, and I must remind you
that if you try to escape through the window, you might break a
bone.”

She looked at the door. How did he possibly
know she’d been thinking of escaping? It was positively spooky when
he read her mind.

Reluctant, she stood up and trudged to the
door, feeling more like she was going to the gallows rather than a
dinner party. She took a deep breath and opened the door. She’d
like to say she was surprised by her father’s wide smile, but the
truth was, she wasn’t.

“Lord Steinbeck is here,” he said. “And
you’ll be happy to know he remembers you.”

So she finally made an impact on the
scoundrel. What was she supposed to do? Jump around and sing his
praises? Since she was a lady, she managed to keep the thought to
herself. Not only would it be unbecoming of her to stoop to that
level, but her father was so wrapped up in his adoration of Warren
that he’d probably mistake her sarcasm for excitement.

So she chose the safest response she could
manage. She rolled her eyes.

“It’s a start,” he told her. “He’s making an
effort.”

Remembering her was proof he was making an
effort? This time she didn’t hold back her thoughts. “Splendid! I
shall swing on the chandelier for joy that Lord Steinbeck finally
remembers someone as pathetic as me.”

“Just because he didn’t remember you before,
it doesn’t mean you’re pathetic.”

“Sure, it does.”

He opened his mouth to further argue with
her, but she breezed past him and hurried down the stairs. She made
it to the drawing room in time to see Warren inspecting his
reflection in the mirror. Hmm… Selfish, rude, and vain. Was she
ever getting the deal of a century in marrying him! That, of
course, was another sarcastic thought. But, this time, she managed
to restrain her tongue.

Instead, she snuck up behind him and said,
“Your cravat is crooked.”

He jerked and whirled around to face her. “I
didn’t see you come in.”

No, of course not. He was too busy admiring
himself to notice her reflection. “I’ve been forced to come down
and go to the dinner party with you,” she said, pretending to yawn.
“Usually, dinner parties are fun, but in this case, you’ll be
there.” She shrugged. “If the food tastes good, then I suppose I’ll
manage to stay awake while you and your friends ramble on about
some nonsense until I can slip away and enjoy a more entertaining
conversation with the ladies. That is, if there are any ladies.
Will there be ladies there tonight?”

He seemed shocked for a moment, but then he
gave her that irritatingly sweet smile of his. “I understand what
you’re doing, and I deserve it. There is no excusing the way I
treated you at my dinner parties. You have every right to be angry
with me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. What kind of
trickery was this?

Her father cleared his throat, and they
turned their attention to him. Her face flushed. Just how much did
her father hear? The words she spoke weren’t intended for an
audience, even if she felt betrayed by that audience.

With a smile, her father walked over to them.
“I told you my daughter is feeling well,” he told Warren. “She has
a tendency to be shy around new people, but I’m sure you will do
everything you can to make her feel comfortable this evening.”

“Yes, Your Grace, I most certainly will,”
Warren assured him, seeming a little too eager to do as her father
wished.

Ah, so that was it. Warren was being nice to
her because of her father. She didn’t know whether to be mildly
annoyed or downright furious. There was nothing in, or of, herself
to warrant Warren’s good graces. He was being nice to her because
of her father.

“See?” Her father turned to her and smiled.
“Everything’s going to be fine.”

She crossed her arms and glared at her
father. That was easy for him to say. He wasn’t her.

“There will be other ladies there,” Warren
told her. “Lord Worsley’s sister and Miss Bachman will be in
attendance.”

Her jaw dropped. Miss
Barlow
and
Miss
Bachman would be there? Together?

Warren frowned. “Are you all right?”

“She’s fine,” her father replied for her.
“She’s just nervous. As long as she’s included in the conversation,
things should get better.” Her father gave her a pat on the back.
“Everything will be all right.”

When she didn’t move toward
the door, her father gave her a gentle nudge. But her feet remained
firmly in place. No. She couldn’t. An entire evening with Miss
Barlow
and
Miss
Bachman? Just what had she done to deserve this? Was it because of
her behavior when Warren was here at dinner? Was she being
punished?

“I won’t leave you out of the conversation,”
Warren promised.

Warren then made a move to touch her elbow,
but she hurried past him to get to the door. Under no circumstances
could she allow him to touch her. Sure, Bethany thought it’d be a
fate worse than death to be touched by him. But for Iris, his touch
had a way of making her weak. She had no defenses against him.
Curse her body. Why couldn’t it cooperate with her mind?

She didn’t bother looking behind her to see
if Warren followed as she left the house and ran down the steps to
the carriage. She assumed he did. But she wouldn’t look. If she
looked, then she’d give away the fact that he had power over her,
and that was the last thing she’d ever let him learn.

The footman opened the door of the carriage
for her, and she let him help her in. Once she was seated, she took
a deep breath in an effort to control her racing heart.

Then another horrible thought came to her.
She was about to sit next to Warren in this carriage. What if he
assumed she was so excited to be near him that she ran all the way
out here?

Drat! She shouldn’t have been in such a hurry
to get here. In trying to get away from him, she probably made him
believe she was eager to be with him. Oh, why did this whole thing
of courting have to be so difficult? Gentlemen, especially those
with Warren’s conceit, could be flattered by the slightest
thing.

Her father stepped into the carriage.

Surprised, she blinked. “You’re coming?” she
asked her father.

“I thought I’d chaperone this time,” her
father said as he sat across from her. “Your mother offered to go,
but she’s been so caught up in planning the wedding, I thought it’d
be best if I came instead. Besides, this will be a good chance for
you to talk to some ladies. Who knows? They might become your
friends. It worked when you met Miss Carlisle.”

Warren sat next to her, and she scooted as
far as she could from him. Given the limited size of the carriage,
she ended up hugging herself and leaning into the window. If Warren
noticed, he didn’t give any indication of it.

“I know Miss Carlisle,” Warren said. “My
friend, Lord Dunnaby, enjoys her company immensely.”

“Lord Dunnaby is courting Miss Carlisle?” Her
father gave her an encouraging smile. “That’s wonderful. If they
marry, then you and Warren can have them over for dinner
parties.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, but yes, it would
work well that way.” Warren looked at her. “Would that help ease
your nerves about dinner parties if your friend was there?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. What was he trying to
do? He hadn’t bothered much with her up to now, and suddenly, he
was interested in her opinion? “No, it wouldn’t ease my nerves,”
she told him. “You’ll be there.”