The Earl's Wallflower Bride (9 page)

Warren blinked in surprise, but her father
chuckled. “My daughter has quite the sense of humor. She can match
anyone in a game of wits if given the chance.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Warren slowly replied, not
convinced by her father’s lie.

Nor should he be convinced. He should take
this as an indication of her absolute disgust for him. Maybe then,
he’d forget this horrible idea of marrying her.

They were quiet for the rest of the carriage
ride, and she was relieved. She didn’t have anything to say to
either of them right now. This entire evening was going to be
draining enough without trying to think of something to say. With
Miss Barlow and Miss Bachman there, this just might be the worst
evening of her entire life.

Chapter Eight

W
arren had misjudged how much he’d hurt Iris when he’d ignored
her at his dinner parties. He hadn’t realized he’d been so
insensitive that she had outright animosity toward him. As much as
it pained him to admit it, Robert was right to criticize him. How
many times had he unknowingly ignored people? Was Iris the only
one, or were there others?

The carriage came to a stop in front of
Anthony’s townhouse. He got out first and stood right by the door
so Iris would have no choice but to let him help her down. She
glanced at his extended hand then made a move to scoot around him,
but he maneuvered so that she had no choice but to take his
hand.

“I won’t bite,” he teased, hoping to lighten
the mood.

“You might not, but I will,” she replied.

“Iris,” her father said, “that is enough.
Take his hand and step down.”

She scowled at Warren but placed her hand in
his. Had he taken her hand in the past? He wished he could recall.
The sensation was very pleasant. She might not have the beauty
other ladies did, but there was no mistaking the spark that shot
through him at her touch. No. He probably hadn’t touched her. At
least, he hadn’t touched her hand. He would have remembered that
kind of spark. He was sure of it.

All too soon, she removed her hand from his.
He had to stop himself from reaching out to touch her again, just
to see if the spark happened by chance or if there was something to
it.

Her father left the carriage and smiled. “I
thought I recognized Lord Worsley’s title when you mentioned him,”
he told Warren. “He’s the one who just doubled the money in his
investment.”

“Yes, and he did it in only three months,”
Warren replied. Recalling her father’s words about Iris’ love for
discussing finances, he turned to her and added, “Lord Worsley put
money into a gentleman’s business that did much better than I
expected it would.”

Warren thought she might ask him what the
nature of the business was, thereby opening up a conversation where
they might talk, if even for a few moments. But she only shrugged
as if she couldn’t care less and headed straight for the door.

Yes, there was no doubt about it. She didn’t
like him at all. The only reason she was marrying him was because
her father was insisting on it. Otherwise, she would have backed
out of it already.

He followed her up the steps, her father not
far behind him. When they reached the door, he knocked on it.

“I only recently made Lord Worsley’s
acquaintance,” Warren told them. “We happened to meet while in the
marketplace. He was negotiating the price of a painting he liked,
and I stopped to watch his technique. It was quite impressive. I’ve
never seen anyone manage to get half off a new item before, and he
did it all within five minutes.”

He thought this might impress Iris, but she
turned toward him, her lips forming a tight line. “You mean to tell
me Lord Worsley, a gentleman known for having more money than he’ll
ever need, robbed a poor painter out of half the money rightfully
due to him?”

“I wouldn’t say he robbed the painter. He
negotiated with him to obtain a more suitable price.”

“More suitable for who?”

“Well…for himself. He was the one who was
buying the painting.”

“I happen to be familiar with the painters in
the marketplace, and none of them are living in excess like this.”
She gestured to the townhouse. “Lord Worsley can afford to pay the
full price. He’s just too selfish to do so.”

Her father cleared his throat. “Iris, this
might not be the time to have this kind of conversation.”

She shot her father a sharp look. “You’re
right. It’s not. It would have been far better had I been there
when Lord Worsley was denying the poor painter the money rightfully
due to him. Who knows if the painter had a wife and children to
provide for? But I suppose if you’re like Lord Stein-blech or Lord
Worse-ly, you don’t care.”

Warren didn’t know which
part of the insult he should pay attention to the most. She had
intentionally referred to him as Stein
blech
, indicating the mere thought of
him made her gag. But she’d also called him heartless. So that was
her estimation of him? She honestly thought these things when she
thought of him?

“I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t encouraged
you to express your opinions,” her father muttered under his
breath.

She seemed as if she was ready to respond
when the front door opened.

The three turned to the footman who welcomed
them to the dinner party and led them into the drawing room.

The three couples were engaged in a lively
conversation, and Warren, Iris, and her father happened to come in
while they were all laughing. How Warren wished things were half as
pleasant between him and Iris as they were with the other couples.
He’d been making it a point to talk to her—to include her—but it
wasn’t having the effect he’d been hoping for.

The footman waited until their laughter died
down before announcing Warren’s arrival with Iris and her
father.

Anthony rose to his feet and went over to
them. “Ah, we get to meet the mysterious future Lady Steinbeck at
last,” he said and bowed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Then he
turned to her father. “It’s a privilege to have you here. You’re a
legend, Your Grace.”

“I am?” her father asked.

“Certainly. My friend here,” he gestured to
Warren, “praises you at almost every opportunity he gets.”

Her father smiled and glanced at Warren.
“Really?”

“Oh, yes,” Anthony replied. “And how
fortunate it is that the Duchess of Ashbourne matched him with your
daughter. Earlier this Season, he said he most wished to marry your
daughter out of all the other ladies because you would make an
ideal father-in-law.”

Warren hid his wince. That comment,
undoubtedly, would not help his cause with Iris. She’d assume his
only interest in her was to get her father for an in-law. It was
bad enough he’d forgotten her name and had ignored her at his
dinner parties. Now there was this to contend with.

“My dear brother,” Miss Barlow said, rising
to her feet. “Aren’t you going to include us in this
discussion?”

“Of course.” Anthony turned to the others.
“Lady Iris and Your Grace, this is my little sister, Miss
Barlow.”

“I’m not so little anymore,” she playfully
argued. “I’m in my first Season.”

“Yes, she is right,” he said. “I stand
corrected. She is a grown lady. She’s with Lord Durrant this
evening. Miss Bachman, over there, is with me.”

They all greeted each other, and Warren
breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the evening would go smoothly now
that Anthony’s comment had been shoved aside. He silently thanked
Miss Barlow for interrupting when she had. Who knew how much worse
things could have been?

“Sit and join us,” Lord Durrant encouraged.
“I believe the dinner isn’t going to be ready for another ten
minutes.”

“He’s right. It’s not,” Anthony said.

Since the settees were taken up, Warren made
a move to sit in a chair next to Iris, but at the last minute, she
veered away from it and sat on the other side of her father. Warren
should have expected this, but he hadn’t. Never once did he think
she’d purposely ignore him in front of his friends. It was one
thing for her to do that when it was just him and her parents, but
this was actually embarrassing.

He didn’t know whether he should be upset or
contrite. It certainly didn’t help his image to be spurned by his
betrothed in front of these reputable people. And yet, hadn’t he
done the same thing to her? Hadn’t he subjected her to the same
level of embarrassment she was now subjecting him to? So really,
wasn’t he only getting what he deserved?

“Are you going to stand all evening, or do
you plan to sit at some point?” Miss Barlow asked, a teasing tone
in her voice.

Warren offered a smile and sat down. “I was
wondering if anyone noticed I hadn’t taken a seat,” he joked.

Everyone but Iris laughed. Iris just looked
at him as if she’d never heard anything so stupid in her entire
life.

“It’s nice to have Your Grace here this
evening,” Anthony said. “Why, shortly before you arrived, we were
debating whether it’s more practical to invest in high-risk
business ventures that might yield a high profit or if it’d be best
to stick with low-risk ventures that will yield minimal
profit.”

“I think it depends on your situation,” Iris’
father replied. “If you already have money and are young, I see
nothing wrong with risky ventures as long as that risk doesn’t
include any money you can’t afford to lose. The older you get,
however, the more conservative you should be.”

“I knew it!” Durrant cheered. “I was thinking
the same thing.”

“Now I appreciate all the praise Steinbeck’s
given you,” Anthony said.

Warren resisted the urge to plead with
Anthony to stop. Anthony meant well. He was trying to be pleasant.
He didn’t know what was going on with Iris.

Fortunately, the butler came into the room to
announce dinner was ready. Warren breathed a sigh of relief.
Hopefully, the evening would go better from here.

***

The dinner went worse than Iris thought
possible. Not only did Miss Barlow and Miss Bachman glance at her
from time to time and whisper to each other, often giggling
afterwards, but Lord Worsley continued to point out how much Warren
adored her father.

“I must say,” Worsley said at one point, “you
really understand business. I consider myself fortunate that you
will be my friend’s father-in-law.”

Iris was used to hearing people say such
things, so she’d learned how to tune most of it out. But this
evening, with Warren, Worsley, and Durrant all doing it, it made
her sick. Indeed, she could barely eat anything on her plate.

She was merely a means to an end. This
marriage had nothing to do with her. The marriage was really about
uniting these gentlemen into endless dinner parties where they
could discuss politics and money. These were topics she’d usually
enjoy, but this evening, she couldn’t bring herself to care about
any of it.

Her father must have picked up on her mood,
for he gave her a look that told her things would get better with
Warren, even if she didn’t believe it.

Well, he was right about one thing. She
didn’t believe it.

“Have any of you seen an old Sovereign?”
Warren spoke up.

“
No, I can’t say I have,”
Lord Durrant said.

“Lady Iris has one in her possession,” he
told him.

She frowned. What was Warren doing?

“It’s true,” her father said. “She purchased
it herself with money she earned in an investment.”

She caught the snickers from Miss Barlow and
Miss Bachman, though the others missed it. She fidgeted in her
chair, not sure what her father expected from her. And more
importantly, what could she say that wouldn’t earn her more disdain
from Miss Barlow and her friend?

“What investment was that?” Warren asked
her.

Iris forced her gaze off of Miss Barlow and
saw that Warren was looking at her. Iris was so stunned he’d talked
directly to her right in front of everyone that she dropped her
fork, which, in turn, fell to the floor.

She quickly bent down to retrieve it just in
time for the butler to come over to do it for her. Of course. She
should have remembered the butler was there in case anyone needed
assistance, and this included dropping utensils. She made a move to
sit back up, but the butler moved at the same time and the two
bumped heads.

“I’m sorry,” Iris told him.

“Don’t be, Lady Iris,” he assured her while
he stood up. “It’s my fault. I’ll bring you another fork.”

It hadn’t been his fault. It’d been an
accident, but before she could correct him, he was already out of
the room.

“I told you she was awkward,” she overheard
Miss Barlow whisper to her friend.

Iris’ face warmed. She glanced around the
table, wondering if anyone else had overheard them, but the
gentlemen had gone on to talk about other things so maybe they
hadn’t. In that case, she’d been spared further embarrassment.