To Love, Honor, and Obey... (Fated for Love) (20 page)

Obedience frowned in confusion. “With Lady Wickenham, you mean.”

Myra shook her head. “I don't rightly know. She left the same night you did, and took nothing but her horse. Her horse was returned by a villager the next day. He found it wandering down the main road.”

Obedience let go of her arm and stepped back. “I see,” she said, but she didn't. How could they just be gone? How could they despise her so much? What was it about her that drove people away?

“What will you do, Myra?”

The maid shrugged. “I'll find something, I suppose.”

Obedience looked around the kitchen courtyard in dismay. The light was fading quickly as full evening set in. She looked back to the poor maid. “You were kind to me when I needed it. You can come to Willowton if you like.”

Myra brightened. “Thank you, ma'am.”

“Come tomorrow and Mrs. Moore will get you settled into a room.” Obedience untied Tulip.

Myra bobbed a curtsy and waved as Obedience rode away. Obedience let her tears fall where they may as she took a more careful trot back to Willowton. What had become of her sister? She had to know. Perhaps their relationship could be salvaged if their mother wasn't there to strain it. She would ask Chance
whenever he returned if there was some way to hire someone to search for her sister. A bow street runner, perhaps. She rode straight to the stables, mopping up her tears as she walked to the house before Mrs. Moore could see them. The housekeeper had turned into a mother hen of late. She entered at the back of the house, taking the back stairs to her room where she would change and bathe before having a tray brought to her room. She was lost in her thoughts, following the floral pattern of the carpet as she entered her room. She pulled the bell pull by her door and sat at her dressing table waiting for Angela.

Something moved in the mirror and when she looked
up, she saw Chance in the reflection, lounged on her bed. She scowled at the reflection, afraid to move or she might burst into tears—or throw something at him. How dare he look so pleased with himself. She was in no mood to play nice and give him a happy homecoming. “I certainly hope your boots don't get dirt on my pristine coverlet.”

His arms were folded behind his head, but he looked down at his boots and scowled. He sat up and slid to the foot of the bed. “I realize you were not pleased with my departure, but I expected a warmer reception than that.”

Obedience turned on her stool and gave him her coldest stare. “What kind of welcome would you prefer?” She could see his jaw flex in irritation.

He stood languidly and strolled over to her. “A kiss at least
,” he said archly.

Obedience turned back to her dressing table. “Ask me again in a week.” He came forward and grabbed her shoulders, putting his lips to her ear. “I kissed you when you asked me to.”

She narrowed her eyes when they met his in the mirror. “I shouldn't have had to ask. Furthermore, I shouldn't have been the last to know you were leaving, and only moments before you left. I shouldn't have been left alone so soon after—” She clamped her mouth shut, fighting the tears that wanted to come. “Forget it.”

“No.” He pulled her up and turned her to face him, holding her tighter when she tried to squirm out of his arms. “You're right. I treated you badly and I'm sorry. I swear I will make it up to you.”

“How do you propose to do that?” she said frigidly.

The door opened. Obedience couldn't see past his broad shoulders but she assumed it was Angela. Chance turned and looked, one brow raised. “Leave the tub and buckets. I'll tend to the duchess tonight.”

Obedience turned pink from head to toe. She could hear many footsteps as the tub was set out and filled with water, then silence. Chance looked down at her and smiled. “Alone at last.”

“They will think the worst of us
,” she hissed.

“We're married. They can think what they want. Now,” he spun her around and began to unbutton the back of her dress.

Obedience covered her face with her hands, ashamed that she should be fighting him, booting him from her room, but instead she held still, wanting whatever he planned to do, and hoping it would lead to lovemaking.

She brought her hands down as he pulled her dress down over her shoulders, pulling her arms from the sleeves. She wiggled out of the dress and stepped out of the pile of material. She watched him in the mirror as he kissed her shoulder.

“Is this what happens in marriage?”

“I beg your pardon?” He looked up and met her eyes in the mirror.

“A husband behaves like an arse and then tries to redeem himself by seducing his wife?” She raised an eyebrow sarcastically.

He stepped back
from her. “Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it.”

She moved away from him. What was she supposed to say? “I needed you to be here.”

“I know, and I wanted to be here, but I had to go. I had to meet with solicitors and bankers, and a host of other overly serious gentlemen. There are still many things to be done in the wake of my father’s passing, but I always wanted to be here.”

Obedience wrapped her arms around herself. “My mother left, and Patience wasn't with her. I don't know where she is and I'm worried.” She blurted. It felt good to tell him, although she was still very upset with him.

His eyebrows shot up. “Your mother left? Permanently?”

He sounded pleased. She went to her dresser, pulled the note from the top
drawer, and handed it to him. He read it silently, frowning. Then tossed it on the bed and shrugged. “Good riddance.”

“I went to the house to see her—them, but she left two days ago. I spoke to Myra, my previous ladies maid, and she said Patience disappeared the night I left with you, with nothing but her horse.”

This time he did react with some concern. “Did she have a beau?”

“No.” Obedience said vehemently. She took a calming breath. “But... she is pregnant.”

At this his eyes went as round as saucers. “Ah... that explains a lot about their behavior. Was the father unsuitable? Perhaps now that her plan to marry me came to naught she ran away to be with him?”

Obedience shook her head. “She said he was a local lord, and that it was...” she swallowed, “not of her choosing. He would not marry her.”

Chance's face changed into a mask of anger. “She was raped?”

Obedience nodded.

He came forward and wrapped his arms around her. She let him, melting into his hard frame, and letting go of her anger.

“I'm sorry for what happened to your sister.
Whatever it is you want me to do, all you have to do is ask.”

“I want to find her
,” she said against his chest.

“We will find her. I can
hire someone who can look discreetly.”

He sounded so confident, like the matter was already resolved. They stood there holding each other for a moment until Chance pulled back. “Your bath is getting cold.” He moved away and finished filling the tub, saving one bucket to rinse her hair.

“I don't need you to attend me in the bath,” she said bashfully.

“Oh, but that is exactly what I intend to do.” He took her hand and pulled her
toward the bath. She complied, embarrassed, and very intrigued.

He pushed her chemise from her shoulders, leaving her standing before him naked. He stared at her boldly, taking in every part of her body with his eyes. He handed her into the tub and she lowered into the warm water. He lathered a cloth with soap and she did her best to hold still as he thoroughly washed every part of her body. When he was
done, she was flushed with desire and extremely aroused. He finished with his hand between her legs, dropping the cloth, and letting his fingers brush against her.

“Sit up so I can rinse your hair
,” he urged her, keeping the one hand between her legs and tipping the bucket over her head with another. He slipped a finger inside her as the water spilled over her. Setting the bucket down, he cradled the back of her head and kissed her.

Obedience held her eyes closed as his mouth merged with hers in a wet, slippery kiss. She tipped her head back even further, moaning into his mouth as he slipped his fingers in and out of her in a tantalizing rhythm. He released her mouth and moved away. She opened her eyes in disappointment, her body crying out silently for more. He reached
for the towel and stood, holding it open. He wrapped the towel around her as she stepped out of the tub.

“Now will you tuck me in to bed?”
she said hopefully.

“Not until
you’re dry,” he said, and he proceeded to dry her just as thoroughly as he bathed her.

Obedience woke with renewed vigor. Last night had not gone as she had expected, but she wasn't disappointed. He was taking a new path with her, a gentle, doting approach that left her body hungering for him, but also pleased with his careful wooing. She had never been wooed before, and she had to admit she liked it. He stayed with her all night, batting her eager hands away from his manhood, and squashing her attempts to take things further. It had been fun to turn the tables on him and be the
seducer instead of the one being seduced. He was trying to play the gentleman with her again, to slow things down, and tenderly introduce her to all the intricacies of lovemaking. That was fine, she would play along because it was fun and made her feel special, but that didn't mean she would play fair.

Her only problem was she only knew what he had already shown her, and he
alluded to there being so much more. She couldn't make up her own rules if she didn't know the game. She needed to find out what else there was to know, so she could plan a coup.

She was combing the library for books when Mrs. Moore found her doing exactly thus.

“Ma'am, a young woman has arrived under the assumption of joining our staff.”

Obedience grimaced. She forgot to tell Mrs. Moore about Myra. “Oh
, yes, Myra Cunning. She was my ladies maid before I moved here. My mother has moved away permanently and left some of her staff without direction. I invited her to come here. I thought she could be my ladies maid again so Angela is not so busy. I know she loathes my curls as much as she tries to hide it, bless her heart.”

Mrs. Moore tilted her head in thought. “I won't say she won't be relieved, ma'am. I'm sorry to
hear that so many were put out of work so suddenly.”

“And most likely without reference
,” Obedience added.

“Would you recommend we bring anyone else on? I'm happy to say the house is much livelier now despite our recent loss,” Mrs. Moore paused before continuing, “
but in time the family will be growing and we will need the extra help.”

Obedience kept her eyes on the books and her back to Mrs. Moore. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment.
Surely, Mrs. Moore wasn't alluding to children? Obedience wanted to melt into the rug. Was the whole household privy to their lives? Obviously not, or they would know that such an occurrence was unlikely given Chance had yet to let them venture there again.

“I will have to think about it, Mrs. Moore. With the exception of Myra, I was not overly fond of the other staff.”

“Yes, ma'am. I'll tell Angela the good news—er, tell her she can resume her normal duties and show Miss Cunning to her new quarters.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Moore.” Obedience sighed in relief once the housekeeper was gone. She had a sudden thought. Myra had admitted to working at an opera house before finding more respectable work. She hadn't admitted it outright, but she had alluded to
knowing
a few gentlemen before leaving London. She wondered if she should ask her for advice. The more she thought about it, the more merit the idea had. She abandoned the library for now, and headed to the Red Parlor.

*~~*

Chance sat in his study staring at the pile of correspondence on his desk. He tried to summon the urge to open letters, but if he were going to be honest with himself, he wanted nothing more than to search out Obedience and do wicked things to her. He hadn't anticipated wooing his wife to be so bloody difficult. He was in a constant state of arousal since his return only yesterday. He picked up the letter opener and stabbed at an envelope. He committed himself to opening and responding to five letters before he would allow himself to leave his desk.

An hour
later, he accomplished his goal, but only at the sacrifice of his eyesight. Mr. Fable had terrible penmanship for a secretary. He would have to discuss it with him or risk going blind. The man had questions about everything, even the thickness of hay to be strewn about in the chicken coops. Dear god, it was mind numbing. Chance pushed away from his desk. It was nearly time for lunch, he hadn't seen his wife all morning, and he was determined to get outside into some fresh air.

After making a few
inquiries, he found his wife in the Red Parlor, a room she had claimed for her own use. She was reading a book, lounging on a settee and absently twirling a curl around her finger. He narrowed his eyes as he watched her. “Why do I have correspondence coming out my ears and you get to lie about and read.” He approached her and pulled the book from her hands. He looked at the title. “Poetry of all things.”