The Earl's Wallflower Bride Read online

  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. http://www.periodimages.com/welcome-to-periodimagescom. All rights reserved – used with permission.

  Cover Photo images Dreamstime. www.dreamstime.com. All rights reserved – used with permission.

  This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without expressed written consent of the publisher/author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Coming Soon: The Viscount’s Runaway Bride

  Other Regencies by Ruth Ann Nordin

  Other Books by Ruth Ann Nordin

  Where to Find Ruth

  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 d
rawing 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.”

  Warren grimaced. “Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me to read Lord Edon’s horrible book.”

  “No, I would never suggest that. The whole matter of conceiving children isn’t complicated. No one needs a book for that. I’m just saying if there is pleasure to be had in something, why not accept it?”

  “It’s hard to concern oneself with pleasure when the call of duty is so persistent.”

  “Well, I wish you much fortune in your quest. May you find a wife who bears you a son on your first try.”

  Warren picked up his glass and said, “From your lips to God’s ears.” Then he took a drink of brandy.

  ***

  Iris tried not to stare at the three ladies sitting in the drawing room of the Duchess of Ashbourne’s townhouse, but each of them were beautiful. The Duchess, who’d introduced herself as Helena, had golden hair that practically shimmered as the sunlight coming in through the window touched it. Iris also had blonde hair, but it lacked the luster of the other lady’s. Also, Iris didn’t have the smooth white skin and perfect lips that formed a heart when pressed together. No, she had freckles and her upper lip was fuller than her lower one.

  The other two ladies, Melissa, who was Lady Toplyn, and Chloe, who was Lady Reddington, had dark hair, but they were equally as beautiful. Their complexions were clear and their cheeks rosy. The only way Iris could manage rosy cheeks was if she was embarrassed or if she pinched them. Then there were their figures. All were perfect hourglasses, even after having children. Iris had more on the bottom than the top, making her inadequately proportioned.

  What gentleman in his right mind would want her when he could have someone who looked more like them? None. And that was why her father brought her here.

  She lowered her gaze to the cup in front of her and took a sip of the tea. She didn’t mean to compare herself to them. Nothing good ever came from it.

  “We’re more than happy to help you find the best match for your daughter,” Chloe said. Then she told Iris, “What we usually do is start by asking what kind of gentleman you’d like to marry.”

  Iris made eye contact with Chloe, surprised when she saw the lady looking right at her. Iris glanced at her father. What did he want her to say?

  As if he could read her mind, her father said, “Only you can answer this, Iris.”

  “Yes, if you could have any gentleman at all, what would he be like?” Chloe clarified.

  “Um, let me think,” Iris murmured as she traced the edge of the cup. “Well, I suppose it’d be nice to have a husband I could talk to. I’d like to have some things in common with him.”

  “Like what?” Melissa asked.

  “I enjoy discussions about money and politics. I’ve also hunted foxes. I like playing card games and racing horses.” Iris stopped tracing the cup as a thought occurred to her. Perhaps one of her problems in attracting gentlemen was that she didn’t share interests that a typical lady did. Even her newfound friend, Bethany, had interests similar to the other ladies they knew. “I’m not sure what gentleman wants to be with someone like me. I’m not what they expect in a lady.”

  “Nonsense,” her father argued, quick as always to come to her defense. “There are plenty of gentlemen who share those interests. I know I do.”

  Helena smiled at them. “Am I right in assuming you two are close?”

  Iris nodded. “My mother’s joked I’m more like a son than a daughter. So, you can see my problem. No gentleman wants to marry someone who’s more like a son. They want someone with the grace and charm of a lady.” Not to mention the looks to go with it.

  “I really wish you wouldn’t do this to yourself,” her father told her. Turning his gaze to the three ladies, he continued, “Surely, there must be someone in London who can value her. She wouldn’t simply be a wife. She’d be his friend. He’d view her as an equal. She’d have his respect and admiration.”

  “What you’re saying is,” Helena began, “that he must not find a strong and intelligent lady intimidating.”

  Her father snapped his fingers. “Exactly! Iris, the problem isn’t you at all. It’s never been you. We just need to find the gentleman who will welcome someone who can challenge him. Too many gentlemen want to feel superior to their wives.”

  “It’s true some want that,” Helena said. “But I assure you there are gentlemen who want a wife who can be his equal.”

  Her father gave Iris an encouraging smile. “You see? I told you this was the answer to our dilemma. You just wait. They’ll find the perfect gentleman for you, and you’ll have exactly what you deserve: a love match.”

  Chapter Two

  Two weeks later, Warren debated whether he should go to White’s instead of going to the Duchess of Ashbourn
e’s townhouse. When he’d made the appointment to visit with her and the two ladies who were notorious for their success in arranging marriages in London, it seemed like a simple matter.

  But now that the day had finally come, he experienced a wave of apprehension. What if this wasn’t the right way to go about things. Was it really wise to trust his fate to three ladies who didn’t know him? How could they adequately find a suitable wife for him?

  Then again, what were his requirements in a wife anyway? All he wanted was someone who could bear him a son. How hard could that be? Yes, he could go to balls and seek one out. The Season, however, was quickly coming to an end, and he really didn’t want to waste time going through the process of finding her and then courting her. All that time would be better spent securing the plans for his investments.

  Decision made, he bypassed White’s and headed straight for the duchess’ residence. Yes, this was the more intelligent way to go about it. He wouldn’t go all the way to Africa or India to gather spices, precious stones, and other expensive items. He hired people to do that for him. This would be no different. Except instead of paying someone in hopes of gaining a monetary reward, he was paying someone in hopes of gaining an heir. This was another business transaction, just like everything else he did. And he was good at business transactions.

  When he reached the front door, he knocked and patiently waited. As soon as the door opened, he said, “I’m here for my meeting with the Duchess of Ashbourne. I’m Lord Steinbeck.”

  “Yes, Her Grace is expecting you.” He gestured for Warren to follow him. “She’s in the drawing room waiting for you.”

  Excellent. Her Grace was punctual. Already, this was turning out to be a profitable endeavor. He followed the footman and saw three ladies sitting in the room. Her Grace was on the settee, sipping tea, while Lady Reddington was at the desk, holding a quill over some parchment, and Lady Toplyn was in a chair across from the settee. The group seemed orderly, another promising sign.