The Earl's Wallflower Bride

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  “Originally, you didn’t specify you wanted to go to London today. That was amended later.” She paused then added, “Don’t worry. You will go, but you’ll go when it’s convenient.”

  “Convenient for you and this family,” Iris said.

  “Of course. Warren has something Mother and Byron want. Now we have something he wants.”

  Opal paused, glanced around the room as if she expected someone else to be there, and tiptoed over to Iris. Iris tried to back away from her, but Opal only continued slinking over to her. Iris forced herself to stop so she wouldn’t end up trapped between Opal and the wall.

  “Warren was five when his mother died,” Opal confided, her voice low. “His father married within a week to my mother, and my mother said Warren hated her from the very moment the vows were exchanged. I suppose it’s not uncommon for the child from a first marriage to resent the lady who takes over the role of his mother. Maybe it’s to be expected. I honestly don’t know how remarriages are supposed to work. Are they supposed to be happy unions?”

  Having noticed something Opal had slipped into the conversation earlier, Iris asked, “Why did his father marry your mother within a week of his mother’s death?” She knew gentlemen were encouraged to marry soon after their wife died, but that seemed unusually fast.

  “It’s not something Mother likes to talk about.”

  Sensing Opal was about to turn away from her, Iris took her by the arm and urged her to answer. “Why did your father marry your mother so quickly?”

  There was something to this story that was important, and if she didn’t get this information now, she suspected she never would. Next time, Opal might watch her words more carefully.

  “Opal,” Iris said, lowering her voice, “why was your father in such a hurry to remarry?” Then, hoping it would help coax the truth from her, she added, “No one will know you told me.”

  Opal glanced at the doorway then looked at her. “You promise?” she whispered.

  Iris nodded.

  “My mother had just found out she was carrying Byron,” Iris replied. “She was having an affair with my father while Warren’s mother was still alive.”

  Iris frowned. She should have expected this, except… Except… It was too much of a coincidence that the wife should die so soon after the mistress learned she was pregnant, wasn’t it? “How did Warren’s mother die?” Iris asked.

  “Suicide,” Opal answered. “She took poison. She found out that my mother was expecting a child. She couldn’t live with the truth, so she wrote a note and drank poison in her tea.”

  Iris studied Opal. There was no reason to doubt Opal believed this version of events. Iris, however, wasn’t so sure. If it’d been her… If she’d been the wife and found out her husband had gotten his mistress pregnant, she wouldn’t be inclined to commit suicide, especially if she had her own child to care for. Someone would have to kill her to separate her from her child. A mother’s instinct was a powerful one.

  “Father did everything he could to keep the matter quiet, so no one knows the truth,” Opal whispered. “You mustn’t say anything. Remember, you promised to keep the secret. If the truth came out, it’d damage the family’s good name.”

  “I won’t tell anyone,” Iris assured her.

  And how could Iris do such a thing? It’d bring shame to Warren. The Tittletattle would have too much fun at his expense. Even if he didn’t love her, she loved him, and she couldn’t bring herself to do anything to hurt him.

  “So tell me,” Opal said, breaking her out of her thoughts, “do you think a second marriage can be a happy one?”

  “That depends on the two people involved,” Iris replied. “Do you think your mother was happy with your father?”

  “No. At least not from what I can remember. My mother wasn’t the only mistress my father took.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “You’re familiar with London. Is that kind of thing common?”

  “Is it common for people to have affairs?” Iris asked, just to make sure she understood the question.

  Opal glanced at the empty doorway then nodded.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Iris replied.

  “Then I suppose my brother’s right. He said when I go there for my first Season, I should concentrate on getting a gentleman with title and money. If there can’t be a love match, then what’s the point in worrying about whether or not I like him?”

  “Not everyone has an affair, Opal. My father has been faithful to my mother in all their years of marriage.”

  “But that’s a rare thing, is it not?”

  “While affairs are considered acceptable as long as people are discreet, I think love matches are still very possible. I know a couple of married ladies who have them.” Maybe she didn’t know the ladies very well, but there was no doubt they loved their husbands and their husbands loved them. “I even have a good friend who will soon be married to a gentleman who’ll love her very well.”

  “And what of Warren? I know you told my brother Warren won’t come for you because he doesn’t love you. But did you just tell him that to get him to take you back to London? Or do you and Warren share a love match?”

  “No, we don’t have a love match,” Iris replied. “Ours was an arranged marriage in every sense of the word.”

  “But you love him,” Opal said. She glanced at the door. Then, she giggled and ushered Iris over to the table and pulled out a chair. “My brother was very insistent you eat. He told me if you don’t eat, he’ll come in and force the food down your throat himself.”

  Though Iris didn’t want to eat under protest, her growling stomach prompted her to sit down and dip the spoon into the oatmeal.

  “If you eat everything on your plate, you can stay up way past eight,” Opal sang in a louder voice, as she dusted off the table around the tray. With another giggle, she added, “It’s what my mother used to tell me when I was little.” She stared expectantly at Iris.

  Realizing Opal was going to stare at her until she took a bite of the oatmeal, Iris put a spoonful of it into her mouth.

  “There you go,” Opal cheered and clapped her hands. “I knew you could do it. If you eat all of your oatmeal, you’ll grow up to be smart.” She put her finger to her temple and winked.

  From there, Opal proceeded to hum as she dusted off other furnishings in the room with her bare hands. Iris watched her for several seconds. There was definitely something wrong with Warren’s half-sister, though Iris couldn’t put her finger on it. At times, the lady seemed as if she understood everything going on around her, but then, at other times, she seemed to have the mindset of a little girl.

  Just as Iris turned her attention back to the oatmeal, an angry voice boomed, “What are you doing here?”

  Iris jerked, and Opal spun around to face the door, her eyes wide as if caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  Byron stormed over to Opal, his eyebrows drawn together in irritation. “I specifically forbade you to come in here.”

  “But…but, she was hungry,” Opal said, motioning to Iris. “I heard her stomach growling all the way downstairs.”

  “No, you didn’t,” he said. “It’s impossible to hear anything like that from so far away.”

  “I have good hearing,” she insisted.

  “No one can hear that well, and besides, if she,” he glanced at Iris, “had eaten dinner like she was supposed to, she wouldn’t be so hungry right now.” His gaze went back to his sister. “She chose not to eat. For that, she ought to be punished by going hungry.”

  Opal bit her lower lip, shooting Iris a sympathetic look. “What if she wasn’t hungry last night?”

  “Nonsense. Of course, she was hungry. She’s just being difficult. Quite frankly, she deserves what she gets. Remember Mother’s rules. We mustn’t reward bad behavior.” He held his hand out to her. “Give me the key.”

  Shoulders slumping, she dug the key out of her pocket and put it in his palm.

  “Good girl,” he told her. “Now go on to
Mother.”

  With one last look at Iris, Opal hurried out of the room.

  Byron let out a frustrated sigh and wrapped his hand around the key. He went over to Iris and peered down at her. “You’re not allowed to talk to my sister.”

  Curious, Iris set the spoon down and rose to her feet so she could meet his gaze head on. “Why?”

  “I think it’s obvious. She’s not in the right frame of mind.”

  Yes, Iris had gathered that much. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She has limited intelligence. When she was thirteen, she fell off a horse and hit her head on a rock. In addition to breaking a couple bones, she suffered damage to the head. As a result, she’s not normal. You,” he glared at her, “will not give into her fantasies.”

  Iris crossed her arms and shot him a pointed look. “I’m not the one promising her a Season in London.”

  “She can have a husband,” Byron explained as if she were a child. “She’s built like any other lady. She’s fully capable of having children, and those children will be healthy and intelligent.”

  “She’s not mentally fit to have children, and you know it.”

  “That’s of little consequence. Maids can raise children. A wealthy titled gentleman in need of an heir won’t mind that.”

  “Considering her condition, it borders on abuse to do that to her, especially given her desire for a love match. What you’re doing is selfish and cruel.”

  He took a step toward her, and, noting the fire in his eyes, she instinctively backed up.

  “Stay out of things that aren’t your concern,” Byron snapped. “You’re only going to be here until Warren pays to get you back. After that, you won’t have anything to do with this family again. Now eat the oatmeal. I haven’t decided whether or not to give you anything else for the day. When Mother finds out you’ve been talking to Opal, she’ll be upset, and I can’t promise she’ll let you have dinner.”

  Byron spun on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him. He locked her into the room, and after a moment, his footsteps echoed down the hallway.

  When Mother finds out you’ve been talking to Opal, she’ll be upset. Just what did he mean by that? Iris sank back into the chair as she considered his words. There was something almost cryptic about them.

  Was his mother afraid Opal would tell Iris something she shouldn’t? Even if Opal wasn’t as mentally capable as a lady her age was supposed to be, it seemed to Iris she understood some things going on around her. She’d certainly understood enough about how her mother married her father.

  Perhaps people underestimated how much Opal remembered. It would lower people’s guards and make them comfortable saying things they might not say otherwise. Even if Opal didn’t fully grasp what she’d overheard, she had no trouble passing it on to someone else. And this would explain why Warren’s sister and stepmother never made it to London. Who knew what Opal might let slip to the wrong person? With all the luxury in the place, it wasn’t lack of money keeping them here.

  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

  “How 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.

&
nbsp; “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.