A Scandalous Arrangement (23 page)

“I believe I will be able to achieve the correct sartorial standards, Victoria. I have luggage at the station and will make arrangements to have it conveyed to Wynne House at once. We can change there. Should I order a carriage too to take us to the event, or do you already keep one? Where is this illustrious affair to be held, anyway?”

“A carriage? No, we do not… I mean, it is in Halifax. But…”

He stood and offered her his elbow. “And you
will
waltz with me, Miss Wynne. I will insist upon it. We really should be getting along then. Are you done here?”

Her head reeling, it did not occur to Victoria to do other than rise and link arms with him. “Yes, I am quite finished. But, I do not understand. If this is a flying visit, why would you have a full set of evening wear in your luggage? And how long are you able to stay?”

“Ah, well, that is why I needed to call on you unexpectedly. Ill-mannered of me, I do realise…” He led her down the stairs to her personal entrance at the rear of the mill. Victoria made no comment on his choice of route, though she did note that he seemed entirely familiar with her property. He had clearly not wasted those hours on his last visit while she remained in bed half the morning.

“That is perfectly all right, sir. I am delighted to see you.” An understatement, but it would have to suffice. In particular she was ready to admit to herself that she found the prospect of attending the annual awards dinner on his arm infinitely more attractive than her previous solitary plans. And after… “Do you intend to stay at Wynne House tonight, sir? I believe the room you occupied last time has been aired.”

“Yes, if that is quite acceptable to you.”

“It is your house, sir.” Her remark lacked the acrimony such words would have held just days before.

Adam gestured to her to precede him through the outer door then turned to close it behind him. “Do you have the key?”

She produced it from the pocket of her second best working day gown and waited while he secured the lock. He returned the key to her and offered her his arm once more. “Well, that is one of the matters that brought me here with such urgency today. I have with me the papers transferring Wynne House to your sole ownership. You just need to sign them in order to complete the transaction. So you could, if you wish, refuse me your hospitality.”

“I will not do that, Mr. Luke. You are most welcome.”

Adam paused, turned to her. “Would it cause you embarrassment, Victoria, if I were to kiss you? Here, in the open, in full view of your home and any passers-by?”

Victoria smiled up at him. “I believe that would cause no lasting harm, sir.”

He grinned back, his expression warm, playful even. He tipped her chin further up with the tips of his fingers. “Ah, Miss Wynne, I will leave you with a sore bottom—disobedience must be punished, as I am sure you understand—but I would never wish to cause you lasting harm.”

“Of course, sir.” Victoria managed to murmur her response an instant before his lips brushed hers.

* * *

“Mr. Luke, this is a most pleasant surprise.” Hester Wynne emerged from her drawing room, drawn no doubt by the sound of voices in her hallway. She rushed to her visitor, hands outstretched. “We had not expected to see you again so soon. Victoria, you should have told me to prepare for a guest.”

“I did not—”

Adam interrupted her. “It is entirely my fault, Mrs. Wynne. Victoria was not expecting me either. I trust I am not inconveniencing you unduly.”

“Not at all, not at all. You will stay for dinner, I assume.”

Victoria took up the arrangements. “Mr. Luke has kindly offered to accompany me to the Weavers and Spinners Awards Dinner this evening so we will just take a light meal before we leave, if that is convenient. I have invited Mr. Luke to stay with us tonight though. Is his previous room ready, do you know?”

“I am sure it is. Or will be.”

“I am most grateful, Mrs. Wynne. I wonder, might I prevail upon you even further for the use of one of your servants to drive down to Hebden Bridge station to collect my luggage from there?”

Hester called for the downstairs maid and issued rapid instructions. Within moments a lad from the gardens had been dispatched to the station, and the upstairs maid was set to laying a fire in their best guest room. Hester insisted on serving tea in the drawing room until the arrangements were accomplished.

“So, Mr. Luke, will you be remaining with us for several days then?” Hester’s question was no doubt prompted by the mention of the trunk at the station. Victoria was as eager as her mother to know his plans.

Adam sipped his tea, then replaced the delicate china in the saucer with a soft clink. “Sadly no, Mrs. Wynne. I sail for New York tomorrow, from Liverpool. On the afternoon tide.”

“What?” Victoria’s teacup reconnected with her saucer with somewhat less decorous clang. Her mother’s eyebrow lifted, her disapproval of such treatment for her finest porcelain quite apparent. Victoria ignored her. “America? You are going to America?”

Adam offered her a smile, though his expression was serious now. “I am. I have urgent matters to attend to that only came to my attention yesterday. I have interests in New York that require my direct intervention. I knew that, and had intended to make the trip in a couple of weeks’ time, but another opportunity has arisen unexpectedly, which I would not wish to miss. Land has become available for sale close to New Orleans. I have been seeking such an opportunity for some time and have agents ready to inform me should a suitable opening occur. One has, and I prefer to view the property personally before making what will be a sizable investment. The site will not be on the market for long. I cannot delay, so will combine the two deals in one trip.”

Hester nodded her approval. “Ah, of course. The demands of business. You should not miss the opportunity, clearly. Liverpool, you say…?”

“Yes. I have several vessels docked there.
The Viking
is scheduled to depart for New York tomorrow so I telegraphed her captain to reserve a berth on board. I will need to be on my way by lunchtime.”

“I see. But you have made something of a detour, have you not, Mr. Luke, especially since you seem to find yourself in such a hurry.” Victoria was thinking much the same thing but said nothing. Her mother was asking all the right questions.

“There were matters I needed to discuss with Miss Wynne. Affairs pertaining to the partnership between us, and of course to the transfer of this house back to your family. I did not wish to delay those so I left London a day earlier than I might have done in order to come here. I prefer to deal with these things in person, I am sure you will understand.”

Victoria rather thought that her mother’s expression suggested she did not entirely grasp the need he described to present himself here in person, but Hester Wynne was far too polite to comment. Instead her mother bowed her head, replaced her own teacup on the tray, and excused herself.

“You will need to talk then, and I will not disturb you further. Please feel free to remain here, though of course the library is also at your disposal. I expect Georgina and I will be in bed by the time you return from Halifax, but we will look forward to seeing you at breakfast, Mr. Luke.”

He stood, offered her a formal bow. “I am grateful for your understanding, madam. And for your unfailing hospitality. We will attempt not to disturb the household on our return.”

Hester waved her hand at him in airy dismissal. “Ah, but we are heavy sleepers here, Mr. Luke. Pleased do not be concerned about that. Enjoy your evening.”

As the door clicked shut behind her mother, Victoria got to her feet. “New York to New Orleans? That is a considerable distance. This will be a lengthy trip.”

“Several weeks, certainly. I would anticipate being back in England within about two months however.” He lowered his tone as he crossed the room to where she stood. “And I expect you to be waiting for me.”

She lowered her gaze. “Of course, sir. I, I will miss you.”

“And I will miss you, Victoria. This trip is a nuisance, I would have avoided it if I could. Especially as we were becoming so well acquainted. I have interesting plans for you, which I had hoped to progress quite rapidly.”

“I see.”

“I am sure you do not, or you would not appear quite so calm. My plans include whipping you, caning you, spanking you in ways you cannot start to imagine, and paying particular homage to your delightful little arsehole. There is more, naturally, but we will come to all of it in time.”

Victoria had believed herself acclimatised to his particular preferences but his explicit descriptions brought a heat to her face that she could not conceal. Especially as Adam insisted on cupping her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Ah, I have shocked you. Good. You will have ample time whilst I am away to anticipate my wishes and to come to terms with my intentions. Do you still believe you will miss me?”

“Yes, sir. I will.” She had no doubt about that, despite his scandalous objectives for her person. “I will look forward to your return. Will you be able to let me know when to expect you?”
Was she being too needy? Too demanding?

“Of course. I will write to you when my plans are clear. You will be able to contact me through Horace Catchpole if there is anything of a more commercial nature that requires my attention. As to the rest…” He cocked his head, seemed to be amused at the flush that deepened across her cheeks. “…as to the rest, I suspect Horace would struggle to advise you. Save any such queries for my return.”

“I will, sir.” Victoria hesitated, wondering if she might ask her next question. He appeared relaxed and in a good humour though, so she decided to press him. “Why did you come here in person? I am delighted to see you, of course, but I was expecting a note from you. That is what you told me you would do. You could have simply written to me, explained your change of plans. I would have understood.”

He tightened his grip on her chin, angled her face to better meet her eyes. “Would you? I doubt it. After the weekend we spent, if I had sent you a formal note to tell you I had been unexpectedly called away on business, for several weeks at least, and that you were to await my further instructions—what would you have made of that? Truthfully, Victoria?”

“I, I would have believed you, sir. Why would I not?”

“You would have tried to believe me, I don’t doubt. You would have spent the weeks I was away hoping our arrangement had not faltered at the first hurdle. I do not flatter myself that your regard is personal. I fully appreciate that you have clear business objectives here and you would not harbour any desire to see them thwarted. So rather than risk unsettling you, I prefer to explain in person, and to be assured that you do indeed understand, and that you know I will be back.”

Victoria closed her eyes, her last defence against the unfamiliar feelings churning in her stomach. Her bottom was clenching, the effects of his earlier explicit statements, but her inner turmoil was based on more than that. She may not like to admit it, even to herself, but this arrangement was about a lot more than just business, more even than the baby she longed for.

She would miss
him
. It was that simple.

Two months. That was not an eternity. It would pass. Slowly, but eventually it would pass and he would return.

“Thank you, sir. For being so considerate.”

“You are welcome, Miss Wynne. And now, before we retire to our rooms to prepare to dazzle the assembled elite of the Yorkshire wool trade, there is one further matter requiring our attention.”

“Sir?”

“Did I not expressly forbid you to work long hours? I instructed you to recruit an assistant, or better still I suggested that you might consider promoting Mr. Timmins and getting an assistant for him. I do not wish you to be spending evenings in your office, or worse still, bringing correspondence home to work on.”

“I…”

He laid a finger across her lips. “I heard what you said to Mr. Timmins, just before I made my presence known. You were going to miss the soirée in Halifax, and instead spend the evening in your library with your ledgers. Not good, Miss Wynne. Absolutely not what I require of you. I have made that clear already, but I see I must reinforce my message. Another spanking is in order.”

“Shall we…? I mean, the library…?”

He shook his head. “No, I believe we will manage perfectly well here. I doubt your mother will come back, and the servants are unlikely to disturb us.”

“But, there is no table in here. And anyway, this is the parlour. You cannot spank me in the parlour. It just would not be decent.”

“Decent? Have I given you the impression I care for decency overmuch? I see I need to disabuse you of that notion too.” He glanced around the room. “Ah, that will do fine.”

He released her chin and strode over to the window where a pair of fine Sheraton mahogany chairs flanked the heavy brocade curtains. He selected one and brought it to the centre of the room. The seat was padded, and the chair armless. He sat on it.

“Please come here and lay across my lap. You will lift your skirts, then remain still and quiet while I do what must be done.”

Victoria regarded him, wide-eyed, speechless. It was not so much the spanking; she was learning to be relaxed at that prospect. Rather it was the use of her mother’s parlour for such a purpose. This dainty room was designed for tea parties, for delicate, polite conversation, for elegant little cakes and exquisite needlecraft. It was not the place for such, such—debauchery.

“I am waiting.” Adam’s stern tone brought her from her stunned reverie.

“Sir, I would prefer to use the library. If you please.”

“I do not please, Victoria. Neither do I intend to remain here waiting for you to regain control of your affronted sensibilities. If I am compelled to come and fetch you, your punishment will be doubled.”

Her brain insisted she continue to protest, but Victoria’s feet had other ideas. She inched toward him, gulping. Her heart was thumping; she was afraid, though not of him. The spanking would soon be over, and she knew by now that her body would respond delightfully to it. Rather she dreaded anyone ever knowing what she had done, here, in Hester Wynne’s inner sanctum. Was she really about to lay herself across a man’s lap, within the hearing of a houseful of servants, and her family, and bare her bottom for a spanking?