The Earl's Wallflower Bride (14 page)

“I agree.” He wasn’t sure if this should
worry him further or not. His friend obviously didn’t want to upset
him, but he knew he was about to.

Malcolm swallowed then blurted out, “I voted
to keep Lord Edon’s book at White’s.”

It took Warren almost a full minute to
understand what his friend was saying. “You were the deciding
vote?”

Malcolm nodded. “And, if given the chance,
I’d do it again.”

“But I thought you were opposed to such
filth.”

“It’s not filth. I admit, I thought it was at
first, but then I took the time to read it. Lord Roderick’s right.
Its main purpose is to teach gentlemen to be good husbands to their
wives.”

Since Warren hadn’t read the book, he
couldn’t comment on the book’s contents…except… “I remember when
you slapped the book out of your brother-in-law’s hands.” He also
remembered seeing a drawing of a naked lady when that book landed
on the floor, but he opted not to mention that.

“Yes, I did do that. Back then, I didn’t
understand the purpose of the book. I assumed, as you did, that the
book had no redeeming qualities. I don’t blame you if you don’t
agree with me. If I were in your position, I would think I’d lost
my senses.” Malcolm drummed his fingers on his knees and glanced at
the door, probably wondering if this was a good time to bolt out of
the room.

“
You really think the book
is good for honorable gentlemen to read?”

“I do,” Malcolm replied, his voice soft.

Warren respected Malcolm’s opinion. If he
felt the book wasn’t as bad as Lord Edon and Mister Robinson would
have him believe, then maybe there was something to it. He didn’t
know if he could bring himself to read the thing, which proved
Malcolm was a braver gentleman than he was.

“Do you wish me to go?” Malcolm asked,
glancing at the door again.

“No, of course not,” he replied. “I mean, I
have to get to my bride. It wouldn’t be good to stay here too long
in case I inadvertently make her think I’m ignoring her.”

Malcolm’s face relaxed, and he smiled. “To be
fair, I didn’t realize you had ignored her at the dinner parties,
either. Regan noticed it, but I didn’t.”

“Maybe ladies are more sensitive to these
things,” Warren replied.

“I think it was because we were too busy
talking about money to worry about them.”

“Yes, probably.” He almost rose to his feet
but then thought to ask, “Is there anything else I need to
know?”

“No,” Malcolm replied.

Warren breathed a sigh of relief. Well, good.
Then there was nothing else to worry about. “Will you start coming
to White’s again?”

“Yes. I’ve been wanting to show you some
investments I’ve been thinking of doing.”

“Excellent. I missed those discussions.” He
enjoyed his conversations with Anthony and Corin, of course, but
they didn’t have Malcolm’s financial prowess. “I better get to
Iris.” He stood up, Malcolm joining him. “Thank you for telling
me.”

“If I’d known it was going to be this easy, I
would have done it sooner.”

“Well, it’s better late than never.”

Feeling much lighter, Warren offered Malcolm
a smile before the two left the room. It was a shame all his
conversations didn’t end this well. If so, people wouldn’t be so
difficult to figure out.

Chapter Twelve

I
ris swallowed the lump in her throat as she watched the butler
and footman carry her trunk and her valise to the carriage. This
was it. She was going to leave the comfort of her townhouse and go
to Warren’s. She didn’t know if she was going to finally break down
and cry or if she was going to be sick.

“If you need anything, don’t be afraid to
come to me,” Bethany told her as the two stood in the drawing
room.

The other guests had left, except for Robert
who was talking to her parents and, of course, Warren. They were
standing on the other side of the room, probably because they
wished to give her and Bethany some privacy.

“I don’t know what you can do,” Iris said.
“Besides listening to me, which does help.”

“I was thinking if Robert marries me, I could
purchase a little cottage in the country for you,” Bethany
whispered. “Then you could live out the rest of your life in
peace.”

And boredom. “It’s a lovely thought, but I
don’t know what I’d do with myself. Even if I’m not good around
people, I do enjoy social events.”

“Yes, I suppose that would be a problem.”
Bethany bit her lower lip then said, “I can always hide you in a
room at my townhouse.”

Despite the grim situation, Iris found
herself chuckling. Catching sight of Warren approaching, she
quickly forced down her laughter. “I don’t think I can delay it any
longer,” she whispered to her friend. “I have to go.”

Bethany hugged her. “Good luck.”

Iris chose not to reply. Luck wasn’t going to
factor into the equation because for that to happen there had to be
a chance of happiness, and there was no such chance with
Warren.

When Warren reached them, he glanced from
Bethany to her. “Are you ready to go?”

Taking a deep breath to quell her tears or
the bile in her throat—she couldn’t tell which was the largest
threat—she allowed Warren to escort her out of the townhouse. She
gave one last look at her parents, noting the worried expression on
her mother’s face and the reassuring one on her father’s.

She wasn’t sure what would happen now. Yes,
she knew she’d be going to his townhouse, but what was going to
happen once she was there? As much as she didn’t want to think
about it, she had to. And the best way to find out was to ask.

Once they were in the carriage, she decided
to get to the point. “Now that I’m your wife, what do you intend to
do with me?”

He turned to her, eyes wide, and she wasn’t
sure what he thought of her question. Either he was surprised or he
wanted to laugh.

“I have a right to know,” she continued.
“Gentlemen assume ladies can’t handle upsetting news, but I assure
you, I can. I want to know what you’ll be doing with me before you
do it. That way I can be prepared.”

After a moment, he finally said, “I hadn’t
thought about what we’ll do once we’re home. All I know is that the
servants will put your things in your bedchamber and see that your
needs are met.”

“You mean to tell me that you haven’t given
any thought to what our marriage will be like?”

“Well…what do you think we were going to
do?”

“I hadn’t the vaguest idea. You’re the
gentleman. You’re the one who makes these decisions. My father made
it clear I was to marry you regardless of how I felt about it. I
had no choice in the matter.”

“So if you did have a choice, you would have
chosen to marry someone else?”

“Are you surprised by that?” she asked.

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought he
seemed disappointed. “No, I’m not surprised. Deep down, I knew it
to be the case.”

“You married me because you wanted my father
as your father-in-law. You didn’t want me any more than I wanted
you.”

He winced. “I can see how you think that.” He
paused then added, “As I’ve already admitted, my interest in you
did initially stem from my admiration for your father. But I meant
what I said the other day. I want to get to know you. So, when we
get home, let’s talk.”

She didn’t know whether to trust him or not.
But since he had been honest about his motive for talking to her to
begin with, she had no reason to suspect he wasn’t telling her the
truth now. “I don’t know if I feel like talking to you,” she
admitted. “I’m not sure we make a good match, despite what the
Duchess of Ashbourne says.”

“I suppose while I’m being honest with you,
I’ll tell you something else you’re probably not going to like
hearing.”

She braced herself. “What is it?”

“When I went to see the duchess, I told her
my only concern was getting an heir.”

“Oh?”

He shrugged. “I could have wasted time
courting a lady, but it seemed more practical to avoid the hassle
and have a marriage arranged for me instead.”

“I see.”

“Does this displease you?”

“No. I might be a lady, but I know how things
are in London. An heir is a necessity to gentlemen who hold
titles.”

“Yes, there is a lot of pressure to have a
son to inherit a title. If you don’t have one, the title can end up
in the wrong hands.”

“At least my father has no need to worry in
that regard. His nephew excels in his studies, and I think he’ll be
an honorable gentleman.”

“I barely remember your father mentioning
him. Who is he?”

“He’s only fifteen. You wouldn’t know
him.”

“Not now, but since he is your cousin, I’m
bound to meet him at some point.”

She failed to understand why he cared…unless…
“Are you hoping to have something to talk to my father about the
next time you see him?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “No. I was asking
because you mentioned him. I’m trying to have a conversation with
you, not your father.”

If he hadn’t been so candid with her up to
this point, she wouldn’t have believed him. The carriage came to a
stop, saving her from having to respond. She didn’t know what to
say or think. He seemed sincere. He hadn’t tried to deny anything
he’d done in the past. But she wasn’t ready to take the leap of
faith yet.

The footman opened the door, and despite her
apprehension, she got out of the carriage. Only God knew what was
waiting for her once she stepped into that townhouse. She released
her breath. The anger she’d experienced, followed by the nausea and
urge to cry, had now given way to acceptance. Actually, it was a
mix between despair and acceptance, but she couldn’t fight it
anymore. For better or worse, she was married to Warren.

“May I escort you up the steps?” Warren
asked.

“Do I have a choice?” She meant it as a
rhetorical question. Whether she liked it or not, she had to go in
that townhouse.

“Yes, you have a choice.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, not sure what to
make of his answer. Something in his tone indicated he wasn’t
limiting his answer to escorting her up the steps. But she couldn’t
be certain of the matter. So for the moment, she chose to exert as
much control as she could and said, “I’ll escort myself up the
steps.”

She waited for him to give an indication he
wasn’t at all pleased with her choice, but he didn’t give it.
Instead, he nodded and gestured for her to go up the steps before
him.

As silly as it was, she found herself
hesitating. He’d given her the choice, so she ought to be taking
it. But there was a part of her—that ridiculously soft part which
had compelled her to take an interest in him when she first met
him—that hoped he’d offer to escort her again. When she realized
the hope stemmed from wanting him to touch her, she quickly turned
and marched up the steps, afraid he might read her mind.

Nonsense. It was utter and complete nonsense.
This wasn’t a love match. It would never be a love match. She
wasn’t sure what this was going to be, but it definitely wasn’t
going to be a love match.

The footman opened the door for her. Again,
she hesitated. With a glance behind her, she saw that Warren was
halfway up the steps. The coachman was carrying her valise and
trunk, close behind him. Her gaze went back to Warren, and she
couldn’t help but recall the first time she’d met him. The thing
that had struck her most about him was how graceful he seemed when
he walked.

She’d thought he must be a good dancer. And
she’d been right. When he’d asked her to dance at the ball, she’d
been impressed with how easily he managed the steps. It’d seemed as
if he’d been born for dancing. She had also imagined he’d be much
the same way when it came to kissing.

Her face growing warm from the memory, she
turned back to the footman and entered the townhouse. No. This was
not a love match. It could be many things, but it wasn’t ever going
to be that.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,
Lady Steinbeck,” the footman greeted, startling her.

She looked over at him and returned the
greeting, aware that Warren had made it to the doorway. Her heart
skipped a beat. She had no idea being in his townhouse as his wife
was going to weaken her. She’d felt strong enough to push him away
from her when she was still with her parents. But she had no
resistance to him here.

What was it about him that kept pulling her
to him? And more importantly, would she ever be free of this
nagging desire?

The butler came into the entryway, offered
both her and Warren a greeting, and then followed with, “Shall I
take her lady’s things to her bedchamber?”

“Yes,” Warren said. Turning those hypnotizing
eyes her way, he asked her, “Would you like to see your bedchamber
now, or do you want to wait?”