The Earl's Wallflower Bride (23 page)

With a shiver, Iris picked up the spoon. She
had to eat. She’d had so little during the trip out here, and last
night, she’d refused to have anything. If Byron was going to go
through on his threat, this just might be her only meal of the
day.

Also, there was a very real possibility she
might be with child. If that was the case, then she had a
responsibility to keep up her strength. Forcing aside the
creepiness that hovered over this place, she ate the oatmeal.

Chapter Nineteen

“H
ow long was she with Iris?” Byron’s mother asked once she
closed the door to the den.

“You can’t leave Opal alone, Mother,” Byron
snapped as he poured himself some brandy. “Especially after what
just happened.”

“The maid’s watching her,” his mother
replied. “They’re going for a walk. I asked you a question. How
long was Opal alone with Iris?”

He lifted the glass to his lips and finished
the brandy in one swallow. Every time he came here, it seemed there
wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to cope with his mother or
sister. Slamming the glass on the table, he whirled around to face
her.

“I don’t know,” he told his mother. “All I
know is that you weren’t with Opal when you should have been. You
knew Iris was here, and you know Opal has a tendency to say too
much. Yet, you couldn’t be bothered to keep an eye on your own
daughter.”

She snorted. “I take no responsibility for
how Opal is. I wasn’t the one who told her to go horseback riding
after it snowed.”

“Whether or not you like her doesn’t matter.
You need to be responsible.”

His mother gasped before a slow smile crossed
her face. She threw back her head and laughed. “You sounded just
like Warren when you said that.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t insult
me.”

“It’s true. That’s the kind of thing he would
say.”

“I told you to stop! I’m nothing like him,
nor will I ever be.”

“Well, that’s the truth of it. He has the
title while we’re stuck getting the monthly stipends. Had your
father not included us in his will, who knows if Warren would give
us anything?” She straightened her back and clasped her hands in
front of her. “Everything always depends on Warren. I knew I should
have done something to him when he was a child.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because it would have broken your father’s
heart. Despite what you believe, I did love him. He might not have
cared much that his first wife died, but it would have devastated
him if Warren had.” She paused. “I was too soft to do what was
necessary.”

“That’s the penance you have to live with,
Mother,” Byron whispered, almost enjoying the way she grimaced. “If
you’d only been strong enough to do what needed to be done, I would
be the one holding the title.”

As he poured himself another drink, she
asked, “Do you think Opal was lucid when she talked to Iris?”

“She was dusting furniture with her bare
hands when I found her,” he replied.

With a glance in her direction, he noted the
slight relief on her face. He decided not to remind his mother that
Opal had to be lucid enough to get into his bedchamber to get the
key. It wasn’t like he had put the key out in the open where she
could have found it, either. It’d been safely tucked away in a
drawer. That little fact, in itself, was enough to alarm him. How
did Opal know to look there?

“That was much too close,” his mother said.
“Having Iris here is dangerous, especially since Opal is slipping
in for visits.”

“That’s why you need to keep an eye on Opal.
You can’t shirk your duty. I’ve done my part. Now you must do
yours. You were the one who wanted me to do something to get more
money out of Warren,” he hissed before he gulped down the second
glass of brandy. “So I did.”

“I was hoping you’d choose another
option.”

“Like what? Killing him?”

He’d said it in jest, but the way his mother
looked at him told him that was exactly what she’d hoped for.

“For goodness’ sakes,” he muttered. “I can’t
go around killing people, even it is someone I despise.”

“Think of the reward, Byron. Murder would
solve all our problems.”

“Are you daft? It wouldn’t solve anything.
People get hung for that kind of thing.”

“Only if they’re caught.”

“No one will believe Warren committed
suicide. He’s much too strong-willed for that sort of thing.”

“Then make it look like an accident.”

He shook his head, amazed his mother would
even conceive of such a plan. And more importantly, why was it up
to him to do the deed? He put his glass aside then turned his full
attention to her, crossing his arms as he did so.

“Mother, this is nonsense, and you know it. I
lured him here to give us money in exchange for the mother of his
future heir. I won’t kill him.”

She slapped him across the cheek. Hard. He
had to blink a couple of times to regain his equilibrium.

“You are an insolent child,” she hissed,
pointing her finger in his face. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done
for you and your sister. Do you think it was easy playing the
doting wife the entire time your father went out to see his
mistresses, going through one right after another because he bored
of them so easily?”

Byron made eye contact with her and smirked.
“What did you expect, Mother? You were his mistress at one time.
The only difference between you and the others is that you were
willing to kill Warren’s mother so you could marry him.”

His mother glared at him. “Don’t act so
noble. You have your share of indiscretions.”

“I’m not acting noble. I know I’m as corrupt
as my father was. Why do you think Warren has nothing to do with
us? We repulse him. You should see him in London. He’s got an even
whiter reputation there than he ever did here.” And Byron hadn’t
thought that was possible until he saw it for himself. “He even
upsets a lot of gentlemen at White’s by preaching morality to
them.”

His mother’s frown deepened. “Why are you
telling me this?”

“Because killing him is useless. People will
never believe he’d take his own life. Besides, I don’t want a wife.
I like the freedom of going from one mistress to another, and I
don’t want the headache of trying to accumulate more wealth. Warren
can deal with it. The title is a burden, Mother, and I want no part
of it.”

Noting her face getting red with anger, he
chuckled. She had always been ambitious, seeking out what she
wanted without regard to anyone else. But there were some things
she couldn’t get, no matter how hard she strived for it. He studied
her expression, knowing full well she knew it just as well as he
did.

“I bet it aggravates you to no end that your
future depends on what the gentlemen in your life do,” he said.
“You can kill whoever you want, but it doesn’t eliminate any of
your real problems, does it? You loved Father, but in the end, you
realized you were nothing but a passing fancy to him. You want me
to get the title, but I won’t be your puppet. Do you want to know
why I have anything to do with you?”

“I suggest you stop right there,” his mother
warned through gritted teeth.

But how could he? He was enjoying watching
her. She was like a caged animal. Eager for blood but unable to get
it. “Mother,” he began, leaning toward her and lowering his voice,
“the only reason I tolerate you is because of Opal. I dare say
that’s the only reason Warren even sends us the money, despite what
Father’s will says. The truth is, Opal is the only redeeming
quality you and I have. You may not like hearing this, but Warren’s
right about us.”

“You should have stopped when I told you to.”
His mother grabbed fistfuls of her skirt and then stormed out of
the room without bothering to look back at him.

He watched her, the smirk on his face
leaving. His mother was dangerous. Far too dangerous. There was no
telling what she’d do to him or Opal.

Well, he only had a couple options at this
point. He could take Opal to London, thereby protecting her, but
she wasn’t old enough to enter a Season. It’d be best if word
didn’t get out in London that she wasn’t in full control of her
mental faculties until after marriage. So keeping her here was in
everyone’s best interest.

But did he dare leave Opal alone with his
mother, even with servants nearby to keep an eye on things? And he
couldn’t bear the thought of staying at this place all the time to
make sure everything was all right. He had things he wanted to do
in London. Being here was like living in a prison. Sooner or later,
it would only suffocate him. That was, if his mother didn’t arrange
for his early demise.

He drummed his fingers on the table. There
was only one good, solid way of dealing with his mother. He was
going to have to kill her. As unseemly as the task was, he couldn’t
let her take out her frustrations on him or Opal. It was time to
get rid of her. And he was going to make it look like an
accident.

***

Warren rubbed the back of his neck, which was
sore from sitting in the carriage. It was well into the afternoon,
but progress seemed to be going unusually slow. He shouldn’t have
stopped to rest last night. He should have pressed on. If he had,
he’d be at the estate by now. At the time, stopping had seemed like
the best option. The horses, the driver, and the footman were all
revived from it, even with the little sleep they’d had.

Warren had been unable to sleep, so he’d gone
to their rooms to see if they were awake at dawn, and though they
hadn’t been, they’d insisted they would be down at the stables and
ready to leave within the half hour.

Surely, Byron had stopped, too. He couldn’t
be foolish enough to go all the way to the estate from London
without one night at an inn. Some small amount of wisdom had to
have prevailed.

Warren hoped. And prayed.

But something in his gut kept warning him to
get to the estate as soon as possible. Given how fast the horses
could move while pulling a carriage, progress was slow. Each minute
that passed on his pocket watch seemed to go slower than the
last.

By the time the watch read five, he knocked
on the roof of the carriage to get the driver’s attention. The
carriage came to a stop, and the footman opened the door.

“Yes, my lord?” the footman asked.

“If I take one of the horses and ride ahead,
will you still be able to make it to Jamison?” Warren wondered.

The footman’s eyebrows furrowed, but he
answered, “There are enough horses to make up for the loss of
one.”

Good. Warren scooted over to the door. “I’ll
take one and go on ahead.”

“We have no saddle, my lord.”

“I don’t need one. The reins will be
enough.”

“But it’ll be dark in a few hours. Even on
horseback, you won’t get there before sunset.”

“I know, but I can’t sit here and do nothing.
I have to get there sooner than we can make it in the
carriage.”

The footman looked as if he was ready to
argue but then offered a nod. “We’ll get a horse for you, my
lord.”

Warren jumped out of the carriage then waited
for the driver and footman to get a horse ready.

“Won’t you take any food?” the driver asked,
noting Warren carried nothing on him.

“I’m not hungry. Besides,
I’ll get there tonight. I can eat then.”
If I’m up to it.
Warren wasn’t sure
if the adrenaline pumping through his body would allow him to relax
enough to eat anything. “I just want to get there. If you need to
rest tonight, take this money for an inn.” He gave him the portion
they would need to get through the rest of the journey to
Jamison.

The gentlemen nodded and finished getting the
horse ready. Warren released his breath and got ready for a long
and tiring ride ahead of him. Before long, he was on the horse and
moving forward, this time at a much faster pace than the carriage
could manage.

***

Something was wrong. Iris couldn’t put her
finger on it, but the atmosphere in the manor had changed since
that morning. Though no one had come to the bedchamber through the
entire day, she sensed a restlessness in the air. The only thing
that seemed normal—if it could even be termed normal—was when she
looked out the window and saw a maid taking Opal for a walk. Opal
had giggled and made up a singsong rhyme about the flowers. At one
point, she collected a group of them and filled her arms with them.
She then flung them into the air and giggled even more.

Iris spent most of the day pacing the room.
She’d already tried to get past the lock by trying to break the
doorknob, but it was secure. She wasn’t going anywhere. Around
noon, she had checked how far she’d have to fall from the window to
make it to the ground. In the end, she decided the risk was too
great. Not only was it possible she could be with child, but she’d
undoubtedly break a bone. In either case, jumping out wasn’t an
option.