His Spoilt Lady (6 page)

Linnett was
incensed at Charles’s sudden departure and pulled down the carriage
window, calling after him, “Charlie! Oh, Charles, do come
back!”

She tried to
stand up and follow him, but the plaid rug caught around her legs
and she ended up sprawled across the seat of the coach. John
reached over and hauled the wet, seething, angry girl upright. He
moved to sit beside her, and she immediately begun to berate him
for ruining her chances with Charles. John laid his fingers gently
against her lips.

“Hush now, and
just listen to me, young lady. “You
are
going to marry me.
You really have no choice, for if you refuse me, your reputation
will be ruined, and Lord Charles is very much afraid that if I do
not marry you, he will have to!" He held up his hand for silence as
Linnett vehemently protested. “Yes, I am very much aware that such
was your intention, my girl, but as you see Charles...” John paused
and suddenly lent forward, pushing open the door to the coach,
which in his hurry to leave, Charles had left slightly ajar.

It swung open,
revealing Davis the coachman standing with his ear pressed to the
door, listening. Caught red-handed, he stepped back, his face
flushing as he stammered, “Sir! Sh.... shall you be wantin’ to
leave now, sir?"

“Yes,” John
said smoothly. “If you would drive us back and then return for Sir
Thomas Wainwright, I will pen a note for you to take him on your
return, explaining this evening’s turn of events.” John calmly
leaned over to the door and tugged it shut.

He then drew
the curtains at both end windows. “That will help keep the draughts
and would-be eavesdroppers out. I am sure that you saw Davis’s
face, my dear? This juicy bit of gossip will be talked of in all
the best drawing rooms before the week is out. Accept our
betrothal, Linnett, for you really have no other choice.”

His grey eyes
flicked over her, taking in her bedraggled appearance. “Now let us
see to you, for you are completely wet through, child. Come, move
closer to me.”

Linnett’s eyes
filled with foreboding, and she drew herself away from him,
scrambling into the corner of the coach, where she pulled the rug
up under her chin and stared warily at him with narrowed eyes.

“Now what is
it?” John asked wearily. “Look, as much as I would like to put you
over my knee and spank you soundly, which incidentally, you do very
much deserve, I think we must concentrate on getting you warm, if
not dry, before you catch your death from cold. Just look how you
are shivering!” John took hold of the blanket and pulled it away
from her. “Come now, there’s a good girl, and let’s get the worst
of the wet off you.”

John had
intended to rub her briskly with the blanket, but when he stretched
out his hand to her, Linnett whipped forward and sunk her teeth
deep into his wrist, drawing blood. “Ahh!... Why you spiteful
little baggage....I have a good mind to... you have been asking for
this you little brat...well, I’m going to warm you up
properly!”

John, provoked
beyond endurance, recalled, too, her vicious attack on him earlier,
not to mention her ill-mannered behaviour over the past few days.
He hauled Linnett across his knee, determined to teach her a much
needed lesson in manners. He raised his arm and proceeded to spank
her with good force. Linnett’s face was smothered in the wet wool
rug, which hampered her struggles and muffled her cries, but she
managed to sink her teeth into John’s thigh. Although the blanket
took the worst of the bite, John jumped and gritted his teeth, now
determined to teach this harridan a lesson she wouldn’t forget.

John flung up
her wet gown and yanked down the sodden and already drooping
drawers, baring Linnett’s behind. She was horrified and so shocked
that she stilled for a moment. John took his time to admire the
pair of peach shaped alabaster orbs lying across his lap. He
stroked the silken skin before raising his hand and landing a
satisfying slap on Linnett’s exposed bottom. John was more than
satisfied with the pink hand-mark now marring her pale skin.
Linnett shrieked. NO ONE, but no one, had ever treated her so! John
continued to spank Linnett, catching her hand as she tried to
protect her flaming and now painful bottom.

“Oh no you
don’t,” he told her.

His hand
continued slapping Linnett’s bottom, his arm swinging in a
repetitive arc, delivering her punishment with immense pleasure.
“You have been a spoiled brat all your life, and your father should
have taken you in hand years ago but never mind, you are to have a
husband now, and I will see to all your needs after we are wed, my
sweet, even your neglected needs.”

Linnett howled
and kicked but to no avail, and she wondered how much more of this
pain she could take. Her bottom was on fire, and despite trying to
be brave, she sobbed in earnest. At last, her writhing behind well
and truly punished, John released her. She certainly looked warmer,
her bottom as pink as a...well, an English rose, he mused, a slight
smile tugging at his lips.

“Don’t you
d-dare laugh at me!” Linnett glared at him furiously. “As soon as
my father hears about this, he’ll k-kill you, you, brute!”

Her mouth
wobbled precariously. She had never been so humiliated in all her
life. She trembled with rage, thinking again that no one, but no
one, had ever subjected her to such treatment before. Oh how she
hated John Foster! She would never marry him now, no not even if he
were the last man on Earth! Her father was going to be livid with
John; he would probably hang him for what he’d done. Linnett
enjoyed a satisfying vision of John Foster hanging from their oak
tree in the garden.

When the coach
finally arrived back at the house, Davis opened the door and leapt
back in surprise as his mistress tumbled down from the coach and
streaked headlong into the house. John leaned forward and watched
her disappear, shaking his head pensively. Slowly he climbed down
from the coach himself and walked across the gravel to the
entrance. Once inside, he went straight to the library, where he
knew Sir Thomas Wainwright kept his brandy. John poured himself a
generous glass and settled comfortably in the chair nearest the
fire to await Sir Thomas’s return. He knew that he had to be the
one to tell Linnett’s father what had occurred tonight; he wondered
how the elderly man would react to him spanking his precious
daughter.

Linnett,
meanwhile, had run straight up to her bedroom. She was sorry now
that she had told Lottie not to wait up for her. Trying to remove a
wet satin ball gown by oneself was no easy task, particularly when
your fingers were stiff with cold and you were shivering violently.
Eventually, she managed to free herself of the cumbersome dress.
Using an old soft blanket, she rubbed her hair and body vigorously
to get dry. After throwing some coal on the dying fire and giving
it a rattle with the poker to bring it back to life, Linnett ran
over to the bed and jumped into its soft inviting depths, snuggling
down.

She reflected
miserably on the disastrous evening. A few tears of self pity began
to trickle down her cheeks. Oh how she loathed that odious man! How
dare he treat her like that! Well, at least now Father would stop
making plans to marry her off to him. Linnett knew her father would
be absolutely horrified by tonight’s events. No doubt when she
arose in the morning, John ....bloody, yes that’s the word for him,
John bloody Foster, would be long gone from this house. Linnett
smiled drowsily to herself and finally drifted off into a deep
sleep.

The next
morning dawned chill and bright. Linnett awoke refreshed and lay
listening to the bird song outside as she stretched and threw off
the covers. Just then, Lottie tapped at the door and walked
straight in as she did every morning carrying a bucket of steaming
hot water.

“I thought
after your escapade last night you might like a soak in the tub.
Hattie and Jane are following me with more water. I’ll just leave
this here and fetch the tub. Mr. Foster had a bath this morning
so...”

Linnett
interrupted her, shouting, “What! Is he still here then?”

“Why, yes miss,
an' there’s a secret plan afoot if you ask me.” Lottie said,
tapping the side of her nose and nodding sagely.

Linnett sat
bolt upright. “What do you mean, Lottie, what
plan
?” But
before Lottie had time to answer, the upstairs maids arrived with
the hot water. Lottie slipped out of the door to fetch the copper
tub that was used by the family for bathing.

Later that day,
Linnett sat on a hill some way from Lavenstock. It was a favourite
spot of hers. The fragrant meadow afforded a lovely view that swept
as far as the sea. Linnett was reeling from shock at the interview
she had had with her father that morning. Fully expecting outrage
and anger on her behalf, especially after the previous night’s
spanking incident, she had been unprepared for his hostile reaction
towards her.

He had summoned
her to his study after she had breakfasted alone in the dining room
and castigated her. Seating herself confidently in a chair opposite
his desk, it had taken her a few moments to realise it was
she
he was berating and not the odious Foster! Sir Thomas
had not even let her interrupt him to explain the true version of
the previous night’s events. Linnett realised that she had never
before seen her father so angry with her. He left her no choice in
the course he outlined for her but told her in no uncertain terms
that she was to marry John Foster. Linnett would be otherwise
ruined by her behaviour of the previous evening, and he would brook
no disobedience from her. He blamed himself, he said, for sparing
the rod and spoiling the child.

It was at this
point that Linnett had indignantly raised her voice in protest,
but, holding his hand up to silence her, Sir Thomas had shouted at
her, his face purple with rage. Linnett found that she was nervous
of her father for the first time in her life, and she had subsided
quietly into her chair, listening without further attempt to
interrupt him until he had finished.

The essence of
it was that she would marry John Foster, and her dowry meant that
John would become the sole heir to the business. As the dry
financial details were explained to her, Linnett realised that John
Foster would, in effect, own her! They were to marry in a
fortnight’s time and leave for Boston America the following day
from Plymouth. They would travel on one of the company’s ships, The
Tempest, which her father had given to Foster. It would be carrying
a cargo of tea and cloth back to Boston. When Sir Thomas Wainwright
had finally finished this litany, Linnett had fled to her room,
hastily donned her riding clothes and left the house. She had
galloped off at speed some short while later, on her beloved horse
Pango, the birthday gift from her father three years previous.

So now here she
was, sitting on the ground wondering what on Earth she should do
about the whole situation; desolately, she plucked at the soft
spring grass. Linnett had always assumed that she would be left to
choose her own husband. Her father had always indulged her, and it
had not even occurred to her that he might select a husband for
her, let alone someone she did not even like!

Oh, Linnett
knew it was common practice for parents to make matches for their
daughters. But having grown up without a mother, she had become
accustomed to thinking for herself. After all, her father had
encouraged her to do just that. Linnett found her thoughts drifting
to this man Foster. He was certainly very good-looking, if you
liked dark brooding men, which she most definitely did not. There
was something dangerous about him, there had to be, for her to feel
so unsettled around him...especially now after the humiliating way
he had treated her. It was all so unfair! She wanted to marry
someone easy-going like Charles, someone who would not interfere
over much with her perfect life, someone who would leave her to
plan their social calendar and let her do pretty much as she liked.
Not some overbearing tyrant like this Foster, a man who resorted to
violence when disagreed with. And what was it her father had told
her? Oh yes. “John tells me that you are wilful and heedless and
need a strong man as your husband, one who will know how to quell
and modify your behaviour.” Linnett squirmed, absolutely mortified
and furious, the nerve of that man...the insufferable cheek!

“Ooh,
detestable bullying oaf!” Linnett squealed aloud, startling Pango,
who swung his head up from where he was quietly cropping the lush
spring grass, his dark intelligent eyes watching his beloved
mistress and waiting to see if she would call him to her. As
Linnett continued to sit, frowning into the distance, he dropped
his head back down and began to tear at the turf once again.

Well, thought
Linnett, if things did not change within two weeks, and the worst
happened and she did end up married to that, that insufferable
bastard, she would show him! If she could make his life difficult
enough, then perhaps she would be able to make an arrangement with
him that he should go back to Boston alone, leaving her behind with
her father; plenty of marriages continued in just such a manner.
The more she thought about her plan, the more sensible it seemed to
be. Fairly soon, she felt much better about the situation, so much
so that Linnett decided that when she saw John she would suggest
her idea straight-away, using her father’s age and ill health as
good reason for remaining behind in England. Having solved things
to her satisfaction, she mounted her horse and turned in the
direction of home.

On her return
to Lavenstock Hall, Linnett was dismayed to find that John had left
the house and would not be returning until the day of their
proposed wedding. The reason given was that he had business to
attend to in Plymouth. In fact, although he did have some tasks to
attend to, the real reason was that he suspected Linnett would
attempt some sort of plan in the hope that she could put a stop to
the wedding. He had no wish to antagonise her further with his
constant presence. The sensible solution, he concluded, was for him
to remove himself far from the line of fire. Sir Thomas Wainwright
was adamant that the wedding would take place, and he was extremely
pleased that his plans had at last come to fruition. He was most
reassuring and jovial whilst seeing John to his coach after
luncheon.