The Earl's Wallflower Bride (22 page)

“You promise?”

“I just said I would.”

“But you didn’t eat the dinner Byron brought
up for you last evening.”

“I wasn’t hungry then.”

This was a lie, of course. Iris had been
hungry. She just hadn’t wanted to give Byron the satisfaction of
doing what he wanted. He might be able to lock her in this room,
but he couldn’t control her will.

“All right,” Opal said. “I’ll open the door,
but you better not try to escape. Mother and Byron wouldn’t like
that.”

“Where would I go? They’d only catch me and
drag me back in here,” Iris snapped, tiring of this game.

Opal was playing with her much like a cat
played with a mouse. Iris was trapped. Iris wasn’t going anywhere,
and Opal knew it. Iris was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of
them.

Iris heard a key go into the lock right
before the doorknob turned. The door slowly opened, as if Opal did,
indeed, expect Iris to come charging at her in an attempt to
escape. But Iris remained still, arms crossed as she waited for the
lady to come into the room.

Iris had been so caught up in being a
prisoner yesterday that she hadn’t taken the time to really look at
Opal. She had the same shiny golden hair Warren did, and she shared
the same gentle nose slope and chin Warren had as well. All three
siblings took after their father.

Opal came into the room with a tray of
oatmeal topped with berries and set it on a dusty table. Then she
turned to face her expectantly.

“I thought you said you brought me eggs and
bacon.”

Opal looked at the tray. “I could have sworn
eggs and bacon were on the plate when I brought the tray up here.”
She tapped her fingers to her lips and shrugged. “How strange. The
meal seems to have changed.”

That isn’t the only thing
that’s strange,
Iris thought.

Opal giggled. “Maybe they changed because
they knew you didn’t want to eat them. Maybe they knew you wanted
oatmeal instead. I’ll let you in on a little secret. If you tell us
what you want, you can eat something more to your liking.”

“I want to go back to London,” Iris told
her.

Opal put her hand over her mouth and
giggled.

Iris stiffened. “I fail to understand what’s
so funny about that.”

Clearing her throat, Opal lowered her hands
and smoothed out her dress. “You will be going home. There’s no
need to make such a silly request.”

“I meant that I want to go to London
today.”

For some reason, this made Opal laugh again.
“Unless you can sprout wings and fly, there’s no way you’re going
to be in London today. It’s a two-and-a-half day’s journey by
carriage. And much longer if you were to walk.”

“You know very well what I
meant. I said I wanted
to go
back to London. I didn’t say I expected to be
there this very day.”

“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.