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"You're lucky I let you come out at all with the way you ended up behaving," her father said sternly, his smile fading a little. "I certainly hope you aren't arguing with me Eleanor. This is a good match. He's young, wealthy, and eager to wed you. You could do much worse."
She could also do much better. Eleanor shook her head, furious, unable to verbalize her thoughts, and her father's smile faded further, his face darkening.
"Eleanor, you will marry him. Tomorrow. He will be here to propose this afternoon and you will accept him."
"Please Papa, don't make me do this," she begged, reduced to it by her panic. "I don't want to marry him."
The look on his face darkened even more and solidified. "You want to marry one of those idiots that you can push around, is that it? Lord Cawdor or Count Bryant? Yes, I saw you leading them around last night. They're not worthy of a woman like you, and the fact that you would even consider lowering yourself to marrying one of those buffoons only highlights the need for someone wiser to make such important decisions for you. Count Bryant is heavily in debt thanks to his gaming habits and Lord Cawdor doesn't have the wit or the will to keep you in line, you’d ruin both his good name and ours within a month."
That was exactly why she was interested in Cawdor! Bryant hadn't been one of the men that she favored, but Cawdor would have done perfectly. Although of course she wouldn’t have ruined him, but she would have had all the beautiful dresses she wanted, and dripping jewels, a husband who would adore her and… everything! She shook her head again, wanting so badly to stamp her foot and scream and throw the kind of tantrum that she used to indulge in up to a few years ago. "I won't!"
Lord Harrington sighed, somehow instinctively knowing it would come to this. His wife had indulged their daughter far too long and he hadn't been paying proper attention or he would have put a stop to it much sooner. Now it was too late and he could only be thankful that Edwin, who was already wise to some of Eleanor's tricks and wouldn't allow her to run wild, had been so interested in her. As much as he would have liked to give Eleanor a proper debut, she'd already shown last night that she couldn't be trusted to be a proper lady.
"You will. Last night you came within a hairsbreadth of shaming the family. Do you know how many matrons saw you leave for a walk about the terrace with Lord Cawdor? And come in looking flushed, like you’d just been kissed?” Eleanor winced, because of course the truth was that she had just enjoyed her first kiss. “You were almost ruined at your come-out ball Eleanor. I will not give you the opportunity to actually do so. If you continue to argue I will spank you."
"But Papa, surely you can't -"
Her father stood, patience wrung out that she was still trying to fight with him. "Over the chair Eleanor."
"No, Papa, please!"
"You're trying my patience Eleanor. You are my daughter and your duty is to obey. I have indulged this conversation long enough. Position yourself over the chair."
Letting out a small sob, Eleanor indulged in stamping her feet as she got into position. It did very little to vent her emotions; she should have left when he told her to and now she bitterly regretted not doing so. By now she'd learned that her father didn't bluff. Lifting up her skirts was the worst part, baring her bottom and vulnerable places for punishment. None of her other friends ever mentioned having to do anything remotely like this, not since they were small children, only her father was so old fashioned and stodgy. They got to wear prettier dresses than her too, with lower necklines, in better fabrics, and go shopping whenever they wanted. They didn't get lectures about proper behavior or immodest gowns. It didn't occur to Eleanor that most of those that were currently unmarried didn't actually need those lectures and that most of her friends were more firmly under the control of their mothers’, whom were all much stricter than her own.
She could hear him opening the cupboard and she winced. Please not the birch, she thought. Unfortunately she was not much heartened to hear the familiar slap of the leather tawse against her father's open palm.
"Ten strokes and I hope this is the last time I will have to punish you," he said. "After all, you marry tomorrow and then you are his responsibility."
The last time? Suddenly Eleanor didn't feel quite so bad. Surely things would be different in Lord Hyde's house. And perhaps she could contrive some manner to escape; if she put off the bedding for long enough then she could run away and have the marriage annulled later.
Leather whistled thro
ugh the air and landed with a crack across the round globes of her bottom.
"One."
Gritting her teeth, Eleanor dug her hands into the leather cushion on the seat of the chair. The last time. She could get through this. Another stroke landed, just below the first, and air hissed out between her teeth.
"Three," she heard her father say as pain flared through her thighs.
Burying her head in the chair, she let herself cry her way through her last punishment, her heated buttocks twitching as the strap fell on it again and again. She would find a way out of this; she might not be able to avoid marrying Edwin, but once out of her father's household she would find a way to have the marriage annulled and then she could have the life that she wanted, the life she had planned for. She would be loved and adored, not dictated to and disciplined or sent away to Brighton to languish.
“Ten.”
The last stroke fell and Eleanor let out a long sigh of relief. Although her buttocks felt fiery and sore, they didn’t hurt nearly as bad as some of the punishments she’d received in the past. And this was her last one.
“Now what do you say Eleanor?”
“I’m sorry Father, for disobeying and arguing with you. I know you only want what is best for me.” The truth of those words suddenly struck her. Although she might hate her father’s methods, she didn’t doubt his love or that he wanted her to have a secure and happy life, they just disagreed on what would make that life for her.
Something of her thoughts must have shown in her face because her father smiled at her, perhaps hearing the ring of sincerity in her voice.
“I do Eleanor, I really do.” And to her surprise, he embraced her gently and didn’t tell her to stand in the corner before giving her permission to leave the room. “Oh, and Eleanor? Could you tell your mother I’d like to see her in here?”
******
When Edwin was shown into the salon that afternoon Eleanor and her mother were both sitting on the sofa looking rather uncomfortable. The redness around both of their eyes indicated that tears had been shed sometime in the past few hours and they were shifting uncomfortably, as if their bottoms hurt. Had Lord Harrington already administered a punishment to his wife? And had he gone back on his word about disciplining Eleanor or had she earned a red bottom for something else?
