Punishing His Ward (28 page)

And Irene didn't know what to say in
response.

Fortunately the maid arrived with the
tea then, and they were able to take refuge in the meaningless
social chatter that the tea service made possible.  It was
soothing, balancing.  The appropriate topics were far away
from Alex or Hugh.

"Where will you be going when the
Season ends?"  Lady Grace asked, perfectly cordial and poised.
 Irene wondered if she would ever be able to perfect that kind
of social facade, the bland face that covered all manner of
anxieties.  She imagined that Lady Grace must have had a lot
of practice, in a manner that Irene would prefer not to experience.
 "Hugh must be eager to return to Westingdon."

"Eventually," Irene said, brightening
as she remembered that they were leaving the Season early.
 "Next week we leave for Bath to attend Spencer's
wedding."

Grace's eyes widened, her lips curving
in an obviously unanticipated smile and then she threw back her
head and laughed.  It was a light, bright, tinkling laugh, one
that wiped away her cynicism and made her look like a young girl.
 She absolutely chortled, and Irene watched fascinated.
 The reaction was so genuine, so unanticipated, and she
couldn't help but grin in response.  Hugh's reaction had been
similar.  Her smile faded a bit.  How well did Lady Grace
know Spencer?  Had he been one of her lovers at some
point?

That would not go over well with Alex
at all…

"Oh dear... and the last of them
falls," Lady Grace said, still giggling a bit as she composed
herself.  "I should have made a bet with someone that they'd
all go down in the same Season, they always did everything else
together until Wesley went to India."

Now Irene's smile returned to full
force.  It was rather amusing that the three friends were all
married during the same Season.  How often did such an
occurrence happen?  Especially when all three had reputations
as firmly entrenched bachelors?  She knew that Edwin and
Eleanor's wedding had been considered a surprise to many, even if
Hugh’s wasn’t, and that Spencer's was apparently even more so going
by Hugh and Lady Grace’s reactions.

"The three of them," Lady Grace
said, shaking her head, now fully composed again although her eyes
were still sparkling. She looked much less like an ice princess now
and Irene suddenly wondered if this was the side of her that
Eleanor normally saw, the side the Hugh remembered. Was this,
perhaps, the Lady Grace that Alex had met and proposed to?
 "And who is Spencer marrying?  The last I heard he was
running from Lord Windham, who was not nearly as accommodating as
Lady Windham led him to believe."

The gossip had gone round
the
ton
rather
quickly, to the amusement of many. Of course, the only one damaged
by it was Lady Windham, who had been hurried from the capital by
her angered husband. Rumor had it he planned to keep her there
until she was with child again, as she so obviously needed
something to occupy her time. Still, it was the Lady’s own fault
for being indiscreet. Wesley had done the proper thing, which was
why Irene had been so convinced that, however he’d become engaged,
it had been through the proper channels. That was just the kind of
gentleman he was, no matter what Hugh had implied.

"His ward, a Miss Cynthia
Bryant."

A little twist of those perfect pink
lips made Lady Grace look almost as though she was sneering.
 "Another love match, I suppose," she drawled, sounding rather
derisive.  “How predictable.”

This time Irene wasn't fooled at all
though.  She was becoming more and more convinced that, like
her blank social mask, Lady Grace's cynicism, sarcasm and sneering
remarks often covered her true feelings.  It didn't make Irene
like her, but she did wonder if buried under all that negativity
might be a woman that was quite likeable.  After all, Eleanor
was very sweet and friendly, and she and Lady Grace had been
friends for years, and Irene had gotten a glimpse of a woman that
she thought was very likeable for just a few moments.  There
must be some reason for Lady Grace’s usual airs.  

"The letter didn't say," Irene said.
 Then, hoping to get the conversation back to a more pleasant
tone and away from Grace’s negativity: "Hugh said he thinks
Spencer must have compromised her."

That got another smile, although it was
still a bit cynical. “That would do it. It must irk him
considerably to be caught in the parson’s trap. I do hope the poor
thing is up to the challenge of being married to him.”

“She certainly sounds like a bit of a
challenge, herself,” Irene said, which then led to an explanation
of the previous letters sent by the Countess to her son. Grace
derived quite a bit of amusement from the conversation and,
subsequently, became quite natural and almost friendly in Irene’s
company. They passed a surprisingly pleasant afternoon, during
which Grace ended up staying in with her, and by the time Irene
left, she wondered if they might even be becoming
friends.

One week before her wedding and since
the night her erstwhile fiancé had proposed, and Cynthia hadn’t
been so much as kissed! 

Well that wasn’t entirely
true.  The Earl had kissed her hand several times.  And
once he’d kissed her cheek.  But nothing more.  It was
frustrating.  Bewildering.

Downright infuriating.

He was a rake, this wasn’t the way
things were supposed to be happening between them! She felt as
though she’d been given a glimpse of heaven only to have it
snatched away from her. Suddenly the Earl was being as much stuffy
starched shirt as when she’d first met him, with absolutely no
bending.

And she didn't have time
to make trouble and earn another spanking and some more alone time
with him; the Countess was keeping her so busy with dress fittings,
shopping for accessories and a trousseau, writing out invitations,
planning the meal, and when Cynthia did have a moment to herself it
was because she was visiting Eleanor.  For once, she was too
exhausted to make trouble. Besides, she didn’t really want another
spanking from him, because who knew if he would kiss her afterwards
again?

Still.

If this was the way her
marriage was going to be, she was no longer very excited about it.
 

“He hasn’t been exciting
at
all,
” she said
to Eleanor, rather aggrieved. “I thought he’d be doing all the
things rakes do, whisking me away to dark corners, kissing me
senseless and trying to get under my skirts. But all he does is
stare at me. And he’s never in the same room as me unless his
mother is there!”

Eleanor laughed. Cynthia was glad to
see that she’d managed to cheer her friend up, even if it was at
her own expense. When she’d first arrived to visit with Eleanor,
the other woman had been looking rather wane. She had some dark
shadows under her eyes and seemed a bit listless. But she’d
insisted that she was fine, when Cynthia asked, and sitting on a
chaise and watching Cynthia pace and vent seemed to have instilled
some life back into her.

“Honestly, I’m not that surprised,”
Eleanor said, giggling a bit as Cynthia pulled a wry face. “He did
warn you that he wasn’t going to thoroughly ruin you until after
you’re wed.”

“Yes I know,” she responded grumpily.
Placing her hands on her hips she glared into the air. “But
couldn’t we do what we’ve already done? I rather liked
that.”

“Even the spanking part.”

Cynthia shrugged. “If that’s what it
takes…”

“Well don’t push him,” Eleanor said
sagely. “You’re just as likely to get a spanking without any of
the… ah… intimacies as you are to get both.”

“That was my thought as well,” Cynthia
said, sighing as she slumped down in the chair across from Eleanor,
tapping her foot on the floor. “He’s not going to be like this
after we’re married, do you think?”

“I highly doubt it,” Eleanor said.
“Wesley’s just a bit… um conservative in some ways. He lost control
with you once, I doubt he’s going to risk it again until after
you’re wed. Even if you did misbehave, he might very well leave the
Countess to deal with you instead of doing it himself.”

“Blast.” Cynthia shook her head
stubbornly. The Earl might be getting his way in many things, but
she wasn’t going to just dance to his tune all the time. “I’m not
going to stand for it.”

“
What are you going to
do?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll think of
something.”

******

Creeping down the hallway,
which was almost pitch black dark, Cynthia carefully counted the
doors she was passing.  Of course she knew which one the Earl
slept in, but it was much easier to determine which was his in the
light of day. In the darkness, with only the barest light to guide
her, it was more sensible to count the doors. Much better than
making a mistake.

Cynthia wanted to know
more about what life would be like with him, not just her daytime
life but her nights and beyond.  She wanted to explore those
wonderful sensations he'd elicited with his fingers, wanted to know
do things with him that she hadn't done with Mr. Carter or any of
the others.  Surely the fact that they would be married next
week meant that some of the standard rules could be bent. Besides
which, she truly didn’t like the idea of him thinking that she
would willingly bow to whatever decree he wanted to
make.

And even if the Earl
didn't agree, well surely a willing, naked woman in his bed would
go a long way towards changing his mind. What man could resist?
What sane man would want to?

As she’d told Eleanor that afternoon,
she was willing to risk a spanking. Besides, after spending an
afternoon with Eleanor, away from all the planning and fuss, she’d
felt very much rejuvenated. Ready to make mischief and for whatever
came after. Since they hadn’t had an event to attend that evening,
she was feeling all the more rested.

Holding her breath, she
grasped the handle of his door and turned the knob slowly, to make
as little noise as possible.  Easing the door open just enough
to allow her to slip in sideways, she paused as soon as she got
inside the door, waiting for some kind of reaction. Waiting for the
axe to fall.

Nothing.

Grinning in triumph, she very carefully
closed the door.  Moonlight trickled into the room and she
gave her eyes a moment to adjust and take in what she could see.
 After all, she'd never seen the Earl's room before.
 Never seen a man's bedchamber at all for that matter.
 

The moonlight made
everything look dark, but she could see that he used much heavier
furniture than she did. Big, intimidating furniture and a large
heavy rug that look up most of the floor space.  Despite the
large size of the room, the bed in the center dominated it.  A
large four poster bed, the bed curtains were tied to the posts and
she could clearly see the lump in the center of the bed that must
be the Earl.  Since everything was dark she couldn’t see the
colors, but she assumed they would be just as masculine as the
furniture. The scent unique to him filled the air, as if his
presence saturated every ounce of space he lived in.

There was only one small
table between her and the bed, so she skirted to the side of it,
tip-toeing as quickly as she could.  Her breath was coming
fast and it seemed so very loud in her ears, but the shape on the
bed didn't stir.  The silk wrapper she was wearing slithered
around her legs, brushing against her breasts as they heaved in
excitement.  She was sure that at any moment he would suddenly
leap up from the bed, shouting at her, but he didn’t. When she
finally reached the side of the bed, she paused to fully appreciate
the view.

The Earl was laying on his back,
gloriously nude.  One arm thrown over his eyes, the other
sprawled across the width of the bed.  His blankets only
partially covered him, one leg and hip and - of course - the area
that she was most interested in.  But she could still see his
muscled chest, the dark hair that was sprinkled across it and in a
line down his stomach; his thighs were just as impressively muscled
as his chest and she had to stop herself from reaching out and
trying to touch him immediately.  He was the most intensely
masculine man she'd ever met, and even more so out of his clothes.
 The last time she'd seen a shirtless man it had been entirely
on accident and not nearly this interesting.  

She wondered if he always slept nude
and what that might feel like. Perhaps she should try it sometime.
He certainly looked comfortable.

Tugging on her sash, she
pulled open the knot and let her wrapper drop to the ground.
 As tempting as it was to just sit and look at him, and not
risk more, that wasn't what she'd come here for.  Cynthia was
determined to be quite thoroughly ruined before her wedding, no
matter what the Earl had said. Or at least a bit more rumpled that
her present state.

Patience was not a virtue, it was a
sign of passivity.  Cynthia preferred action.

Crawling onto the bed, on the side
where his arm was flung outward, she pushed the sheets off of his
body.  The moonlight was just enough to allow her to see his
rod, not quite as big as she'd imagined it; it was long and thick
and laying against his body rather like a big, fat worm.  Was
this was seemed so fearsome when it was in men's
breeches?