Read The Earl's Wallflower Bride Online
Authors: Ruth Ann Nordin
Tags: #sex, #historical romance, #regency, #regency romance, #arranged marriage, #virgin heroine, #virgin hero, #ruth nordin, #enemies before lovers
The Earl's Wallflower Bride
Marriage by Arrangement: Book 3
The
Earl’s
Wallflower
Bride
Ruth Ann Nordin
Wedded Bliss Romances, LLC
The Earl’s Wallflower
Bride
Published by Ruth Ann Nordin
Copyright © 2016 by Ruth Ann Nordin
All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by
any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in
writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are either the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any
actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.
Cover Photo images Period Images.
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reserved – used with permission.
Cover Photo images Dreamstime.
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This book may not be reproduced, transmitted,
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electronic, or mechanical without expressed written consent of the
publisher/author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in
critical articles and reviews.
Coming Soon: The Viscount’s Runaway
Bride
Other Regencies by Ruth Ann
Nordin
Dedication: To Susan Layton who always has a kind
word to say. Thanks for making me smile!
Chapter One
August 1817
“I
’m going to arrange a marriage for you.”
Lady Iris, the Duke of Hartwell’s daughter,
sat in stunned silence. She couldn’t have heard him right. There
was no way he said what she thought he’d just said. All she could
do was watch as he paced back and forth in the drawing room, hands
behind his back, looking determined to press through with this
conversation no matter what.
Her mother, who was sitting beside her on the
settee, spoke up. “You had a marriage arranged for Iris?”
“No, I said I am going to arrange a marriage
for her,” he corrected.
Iris finally came out of her shock in time to
sputter, “I-I don’t understand. Haven’t I been doing well this
Season?”
Her father stopped pacing. “You’ve behaved
admirably the entire Season. I can’t think of anything you could
have done better.”
“Then why won’t you let me choose my
husband?” Iris asked.
“If it was simply a matter of gentlemen
asking for your hand, then I would let you choose.” He paused, his
brow furrowed as he struggled to answer her. After a tense moment,
he released his breath and gave her a sympathetic look.
“Unfortunately, there are no gentlemen requesting your hand. The
Season is quickly coming to an end, and I don’t want you to have to
go through a second one. Ladies are much more desirable during
their first Season.”
Iris bit her lower lip, wondering if her lack
of a betrothal meant she wasn’t desirable to gentlemen. Maybe Miss
Barlow was right. Maybe there was no hope for her.
“Oh, Iris,” her mother said, “your father
doesn’t mean you have nothing to commend yourself. You do. You’re
intelligent, witty, compassionate.”
“But I’m not pretty,” Iris replied.
“I didn’t say that,” her mother argued.
“You didn’t have to. I’m not at all that
interesting to look at. I know that. I was under no impression that
I was. I was just hoping there’d be at least one gentleman who
valued what was on the inside more than the outside.” But Iris was
quickly learning that appearances were everything, especially with
the Ton.
“Iris, you are pretty,” her father said.
“Sure, you are,” her mother agreed.
“You say that because you’re my parents,” she
replied. “You don’t see me the way gentlemen do.”
Or other ladies for that
matter. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell them some of the
ladies had nicknamed her
The
Wallflower
because she was neither good
looking nor did she have anything interesting to add to the
conversation. Only Bethany Carlisle had taken the time to get to
know her well enough to become her friend.
“You have a lot to offer gentlemen,” her
father said. “You just need to talk to them long enough for them to
figure that out.”
Iris hid the urge to groan. “Father, that’s
the problem. I’ve tried to contribute to the conversations they’re
having, and most of the time, I’m ignored. They don’t even notice
me.”
“Are you talking about that dinner party at
Lord Steinbeck’s?” her mother asked.
“That’s when I became aware of it.” Thanks to
Regan who cared enough to point it out. Iris shook her head. “It’s
not just him. There have been others.” But there was no denying
Lord Steinbeck had hurt her the worst. What a fool she’d been to
give him a second chance.
“Well,” her father began, his voice taking on
an encouraging tone, “that’s a good reason right there why we
should have a marriage arranged for you. The gentleman who marries
you will have to notice you.”
Iris frowned, not at all thrilled with his
line of reasoning. “It’s a sad state of affairs when a lady needs
to become a gentleman’s wife in order to be noticed.”
Despite her comment, her father didn’t lose
his enthusiasm. In fact, he seemed all the more excited about his
plan. “This will be a good thing. I just know it. Now, don’t look
so glum. I’m leaving this decision up to London’s best
matchmakers.” He tapped her affectionately on the hand. “I hear
these particular ladies have secured love matches for their
clients. I was unable to find the right gentleman for you, but they
will. I guarantee it.”
“Who are these ladies?” her mother asked.
“The Duchess of Ashbourne, Lady Toplyn, and
Lady Reddington,” he replied.
Her mother’s eyes widened. “I’ve heard good
things about them.” She turned her gaze to Iris. “Maybe this will
work.”
“Of course, it’ll work! I’m going to meet
with them tomorrow to discuss a suitable match for our
daughter.”
“Are you going to take Iris?” her mother
asked.
“If she wants to come.” It was then her
parents turned their attention back to her, as if they realized she
was still in the room with them. Her father smiled, hope in his
eyes. “What do you say, Iris? Would you like to join me?”
Iris glanced from one parent to the other,
not convinced this was going to be the wonderful thing they
imagined. Even so, she realized it might be best if she had some
say in who they selected for her.
“All right. I’ll go with you,” Iris said,
praying her father knew what he was doing.
***
“You have plenty of time to have an heir. Why
rush into getting one?” Anthony asked.
Warren Beaufort, the Earl of Steinbeck,
turned from the window in his drawing room to face his friend.
Well, at least one of the few remaining friends he had left. As of
late, Anthony Barlow, Viscount Worsley, was the only one still
willing to come to his townhouse.
Anthony shrugged from where he sat in his
chair. “It doesn’t matter to me what you do. I just don’t want you
acting in haste simply because the Marquess of Dodsworth set out to
irritate you.”
“He’s not the reason I’m doing this,” Warren
replied.
Well, at least he wasn’t the main reason.
Yes, the marquess had bothered him when he’d said Warren led a
miserable life because he had no heir to pass on his title to.
But there was more to it than that. Life was
something one couldn’t take for granted. He’d barely known his
father because the fool thought engaging in immoral pursuits was
more important than being with his family. His reckless lifestyle
had been so hard on Warren’s mother that she’d committed suicide
when he was only five. His father, not being the least bit sorry
over her death, had married his mistress a week later. Warren’s new
stepmother, in turn, gave his father a son and a daughter. Warren
had left the estate as soon as he was old enough and had little to
do with any of them. His father succumbed to an illness and died
shortly after, leaving him with the title, and he’d been good about
honoring his wishes ever since.
Now it was time to move on to the next part
in his life. It was time to have an heir. And, unlike his father,
he’d be there for his son.
Warren picked up the decanter and poured
himself another glass of brandy. “I’m beginning to think the only
thing that is consistent in this life is one’s lineage. If I have a
son, nothing can change it. A part of me will continue on in
him.”
“But there are no guarantees you’ll get a
son,” Anthony reminded him. “Plenty of titled gentlemen have
daughters and no sons. Take the Duke of Hartwell, one of the
gentlemen you most admire. He only has one daughter. His title will
go to his brother or his nephew. It won’t be passed on to her or
her children.”
The Duke of Hartwell, he remembered. For some
reason, he thought he should know who his daughter was, but her
name eluded him at the moment. Oh well, it was no matter. Anthony
had brought up a valid point, and it was worth answering.
“I will have children with my wife until she
has a son,” Warren said. “It’ll be my top priority.”
Anthony chuckled. “Even if you have a dozen
or more children, you might end up with all girls. However,” he
lifted his glass and winked, “it should be fun trying.” Then he
finished the brandy in his glass.
Warren supposed he should be thinking of it
that way, but he was much too concerned about getting a son to
worry about frivolous things like enjoying himself. His
half-brother enjoyed himself all the time. And all for what? Just
so he could live like a pauper?
“I have to at least try to have a son,”
Warren said. “I’ve worked hard to build the wealth I have. I want
to make sure it goes to the right gentleman.” God help him if it
ended up with his half-brother. “It’s a shame we need ladies to
have the heir. It’d be so much easier if we could do it on our
own.”
Anthony shot him a pointed look. “It might be
easier, but it wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable. You’re looking at
this the wrong way. If nothing else, a wife is meant for
pleasure.”