Punishing His Ward (24 page)

Entering the drawing room, she saw
Cynthia sitting on the couch looking rather out of her depth, while
the Countess had the servants bringing in various color
samples. 

“Eleanor, how lovely!”  The
Countess said, looking up and smiling with pleasure.

“Eleanor!”  The relief in
Cynthia’s face was clear, she jumped up and ran to hug
Eleanor. 

“Cynthia!”  Although there was a
bit of reproof in the Countess’ voice for Cynthia’s brash behavior,
there was no real censure.  Eleanor bit back a laugh; Edwin
had told her about his conversation with the Countess and her plans
for Wesley to marry Cynthia.  The fact that she’d actually
been successful would probably mean a great deal of tolerance for
Cynthia’s behavior as long as it wasn’t scandalous.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Cynthia said,
pulling away from Eleanor but still clinging to her hand.  In
a lower voice, she said to Eleanor: “You have no idea how glad I am
to see you.”

"No, no, no, the cream and
sage, not the cream and mint. She wants her gown to be rose pink
and the mint will be too light to contrast nicely against
that."

"I'm sorry, my lady, but these are what
I could find," the exasperated housekeeper said.  

"Oh dear... I hope they're not at the
estates.  I suppose I should go have a look."  Turning,
the Countess smiled at Cynthia and Eleanor.  "Please excuse
me, dears, I really must go look at the linens we have here."
 

When the Countess left, Cynthia sighed
with relief and plopped down on the chaise in a distinctly
unladylike position.  Eleanor couldn't help but laugh as she
seated herself on the comfortable couch across from her.

"She's a force of nature, isn't
she?"

"Let's just say, I'm glad
I don't have an opinion on what the color of the linens, and
relieved that she even asked me what color I would like my wedding
gown to be!" Cynthia said, giggling a bit.  She gave Eleanor a
wry look.  "I suppose you've heard?"

"Of course," Eleanor said,
smiling warmly.  "Wesley sent a note to us this morning
telling us that, as of last night, you are engaged.  I'm
incredibly pleased to offer you my best wishes."

"I fear I may need them."
 Twirling one of her curls around her finger, Cynthia looked
in the direction of the door the Countess had exited through. The
gesture made her look rather younger and more unsure than she
normally did. The morning dress of soft sky blue she was wearing
only emphasized that.  "I was worried she'd be upset.
 But if she was, she's hiding it very well."

"Why did you think she'd
be upset?" Eleanor asked, rather curious.  It appeared that
Cynthia had also been unaware of the Countess' machinations. Edwin
had told her about them, of course, after they’d returned home from
the first Assembly.  Although that wasn't too surprising that
Cynthia was unaware; Wesley was not the type to go along easily if
he thought he was being manipulated, and Cynthia didn't seem to be
either.  She didn’t think that Cynthia would have gone along
with any plan of the Countess’ if she’d been aware of
it.

Cynthia shrugged.
 "I've been a bit of a trial to her, on occasion, I'm afraid."
 She didn't look particularly sorry about it though, Eleanor
thought with amusement.  "I didn't think she'd want me as her
son’s Countess, but she seems rather eager to become the
Dowager."

"Well Wesley's been a
trial to her his whole life," Eleanor said, smiling
cheerfully.  "And she still likes him.  Perhaps she
thinks he deserves you.  Unless you're overcome by a sudden
desire to behave now that you're going to be a
Countess?"

To her surprise, Cynthia hesitated.
 Her hand rubbed the side of her bottom.  "Well... not
entirely.  Although the Earl doesn't react quite like the
Countess when I do."

Rather shocked at the
revealing gesture, Eleanor stared at her.  "Did he spank
you?"

Somehow she couldn't imagine it.
 Oh yes, her brother had been raised to do so.  And
serious, dictatorial Edwin... it had been surprising but not
entirely shocking that he disciplined her in such a way -
especially considering that he was the man her father had chosen
out for her.  But charming, easy-going, good-tempered Wesley
who was always quick with a joke?  He had spanked his
ward?

"More than once," Cynthia said rather
ruefully, blushing although she appeared to be attempting to look
nonchalant about it.  "He ah... may have caught me kissing Mr.
Carter last night."

"Oh dear..."  Well,
perhaps Eleanor could understand Wesley's reaction then; she'd seen
the way he watched Cynthia.  Still, it was hard for her to get
her head around the idea.

It seemed that Cynthia was eager to
share, wanting someone to talk to about the experience, because she
leaned forward so that she could lower her voice a bit.  "He
spanked me in the carriage... much harder than he's done before.
 I'm still sore today but I can't let on in front of the
Countess, I don't know what she'd think.  But he spanked me
and then he put his hand between my legs, which he'd never done
before... is that usual?  It felt wonderful but I'm a bit
worried since almost immediately after he told me that we would be
married.  Are you sure it's only a man's cock in there that
can get a woman with child?"

Eleanor found herself at
an utter loss for words.  So many revelations that she
absolutely had not needed about her childhood friend! She turned
bright red just thinking about him in such a way.  It seemed
he was more akin to her husband that she'd realized, despite their
different temperaments.  If Wesley had touched Cynthia like
that then no wonder he had decided to marry her, although Eleanor
was still shocked that Wesley found such activities arousing.
 She didn't want to think about it, he was so much like a
brother to her... did that mean that her own brother-

Oh stop, stop!

She had to answer Cynthia’s questions
and halt that line of thought.

"My understanding is that
it must be a man's... ah... rod, because of the seed that is
expelled from it," she responded, slightly dazed, in such a low
whisper that Cynthia had to lean even further forward to hear her.
 "His fingers can't... ah, won't...” Eleanor felt her face
turning even brighter red. She shook her head, trying her best not
to picture the situation in my mind, when something else Cynthia
had said finally came to her attention. “Did you say he
told
 you that
you're getting married?  He didn't ask you?"

Cynthia shook her head.
 "He took me to my room last night, after he spanked me in the
carriage, but he didn't do anything but kiss me. I thought he was
going to, but he didn’t... and then when I asked why he didn’t, he
said I'd have to wait until we were married to be completely
ruined."

Rubbing her fingers to her
temples, which were suddenly pounding, Eleanor wondered what on
earth was wrong with her male friends.  First Edwin and now
Wesley.  At least her own brother had done the right thing and
been betrothed and married in the proper way.  Although it
somehow seemed completely ironically appropriate that Wesley, great
rake that he was, would insist on his bride being a virgin on their
wedding night, to the point of refusing to do the deed himself.
 He could be surprisingly conservative in some ways. Even if
he was rushing the wedding.

Of course, if he was
amenable to bedding Cynthia before the wedding perhaps he wouldn't
be in such a rush to get to the alter.  Or perhaps he would be
in more of one so that it wouldn’t be too telling to count back the
months after her first child was born.  

"Well he did the right
thing in that regard.  Although I can't believe he was so...
so... bloody man, he should have
asked.
"  

As Cynthia burst out laughing at
Eleanor's surprising cursing, she found herself giggling a bit as
well.  

“Would you have said yes if he
asked?”

Cynthia nodded firmly. “Absolutely.
He’s… so very exciting isn’t he?” she asked in a wistful voice.
Eleanor heard the desire in her voice for something more than
exciting, something more like the emotions that Eleanor yearned to
have from Edwin, but she didn’t think Cynthia would have too much
to worry about.

As far as she could tell, Wesley was
well on his way to being in love with his fiancé. She’d never known
him to lose control the way he apparently did around Cynthia. And
if he didn’t want to marry her, he would have never done
so.

The Countess came swanning
back into the room a moment later, causing Eleanor to give silent
thanks that she hadn't been in hearing distance of Eleanor's
intemperate language mere minutes before.  Beaming, the
Countess showed them the sage and cream linens that she'd been
looking for and began chattering about the arrangements for the
ceremony and wedding breakfast to follow.

Although she was already feeling
exhausted, Eleanor pasted a smile on her face as she listened.
 Edwin was still with Wesley and she wasn't going to send to
him to ask if they could take their leave, everyone would realize
there was something wrong with her.  Something more than just
an illness.

Her hand wandered back down to her
belly, stroking the fabric over it without thinking about it.
 Before she told Edwin that she was with child, she would do
everything she could to secure his affections and ensure that he
wouldn't be like other husbands, who lost interest in their wives
once they were breeding.

And the bloody man better make a damned
declaration sometime soon!

******

As soon as the library
door closed behind Eleanor, Edwin's face broke out in the grin that
he was keeping constantly suppressed lately. Even larger and
brighter than the one he’d given Wesley when congratulating him on
his engagement.

"You must congratulate me
as well," he told Wesley, his chest near bursting with the news.
 "Eleanor is
enceinte
!"

Wesley let out a whoop,
splashing some of his whiskey out of his glass (not that either of
them noticed) and the two men hugged each other fiercely, before
Wesley broke away and shook Edwin's hand, congratulating him.
 "But why didn't she say anything while she was in
here?"

"Yes well... I have to ask you not to
share the news just yet," Edwin said, "as she hasn't officially
told me."

"Then how do you know?"

Edwin snorted.  "Please.  You
know how Nell adores social events, and yet she wasn't at the
Assembly last night."

"I thought she wasn't feeling
well."

"She hasn't been feeling well for quite
some time, although she does her best to hide it.  And she's
been particularly unwell in the mornings, her maid told me.
 Besides which, I can count as well as the next
man."

Grinning, Wesley went to
his cabinet.  "This calls for a special drink. The good
brandy.  Even if I can't congratulate you officially or
mention it to her yet.  Why do you think she hasn't told
you?"

"Who knows," Edwin said,
waving his hand.  "I assume she's waiting to be absolutely
sure... or perhaps she's worried I'll curtail our social activities
if she tells me.  Which she'd be absolutely right about, I’ll
be ensuring that she doesn’t wear herself out; I'm extremely
relieved we're already in Bath where it's much easier to do so.
 Not that it was difficult last night, she actually asked to
stay home."

"Well it's a good thing
you already knew what was wrong, or you might have thought it was
something serious," Wesley said, handing Edwin a snifter of his
best French brandy.  The situation called for it.  Good
grief... in two weeks’ time, their entire little cadre would be
married and one of them was already with child.

He wondered how he would
feel when Cynthia carried his child.  Proud, certainly.
 Would his eyes have the same radiance that Edwin's did?
 The silly, soppy grin on Edwin's face should have made Wesley
shake his head at the poor sod, as it would have a month ago.
Instead he just felt glad for his friend and eager for the day when
he might wear a similar expression.  Gads, that was almost
terrifying.

"So, decided you couldn't live without
your ward, eh?  Or was it your mother's practicing that tipped
your hand?"

"Ah... well.
 Certainly my mother contributed, which I’m starting to
suspect was her intention, but last night during the carriage ride
home... well let's just say that matters progressed to a point
where a marriage proposal would be expected, if not strictly
necessary."

Edwin shook his head,
laughing.  "That is not in the least bit surprising. I wish
Hugh had been here, we could have placed bets on when you would
fall.”

“I wasn’t that obvious,”
Wesley objected, getting an arch look from his friend.
 

“I'm more surprised that
you're waiting two weeks to do the deed."

"My mother,  you
know," Wesley said with a shrug, looking faintly sheepish.  "I
knew she'd want to plan something and I found I couldn't deny her
the opportunity. Still, two weeks is better than four."