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The house was in an utter uproar. After a chat with his mother in which he accepted her invitation to stay for dinner and fended off her demands that he trim his hair immediately - he rather liked having hair that was longer than fashionable and most ladies didn't seem to object - he'd gone to introduce himself to his ward. Unfortunately, "confined to her bedroom" she was not.
She was missing, it appeared, and no one had seen her leave or even seen her walking around the house. But somehow the chit had snuck out.
Furious, especially after seeing how worn out his mother was from dealing with the hoyden's antics, Wesley had ordered that his mother not be informed of this latest debacle until they located the little brat. At which point he would deal with her. For a moment he almost regretted that they weren't at Spencer place, for he knew very well that there was a large leather tawse there as well as a wooden paddle, either of which would come in handy right now.
When it became clear that she wasn't anywhere in the house, he sent out what servants could be spared to look for her in the streets. Manfred supplied him with his greatcoat and then he went out looking for her as well, even though he didn't know what she looked like he was overwhelmed with the need to feel as though he was doing something. He'd always been an active youngster and he'd grown into an active man. It just wasn't in his nature to sit idly by.
Armed with a brief description, not that it would do him much good since she apparently had brown hair, brown eyes, a pleasing face and figure and no one had any idea of what she was wearing, Wesley strode down the street.
He'd barely gotten halfway down the block when a woman burst through a crowd of young men who were walking in front of him and ran directly into his chest.
"Oof."
His first thought was that she squished rather nicely against him. Soft bosoms pressed against his chest before she bounced off. Looking down he realized he had a rather nice view of them as well. Somebody's mistress no doubt, no respectable woman would wear such a low-cut dress during this hour of the day.
"Oh I'm so sorry, I beg your pardon!"
Reluctantly removing his gaze from her rather spectacular bosom, he looked up to catch just a glimpse of her face before she continued to rush past him. He was left with an impression of a brunette with rather mussed hair that glinted with hints of gold and copper in the sunlight, wide hazel eyes framed with long lashes, and soft pink lips that just begged to be kissed. For just a moment his ire was forgotten as he turned to admire her backside as she hurried down the street.
It wasn't until she darted up the stairs to a house and immediately went in without knocking that he realized she'd just entered his mother's house.
Hell and damnation!
Apparently he'd just met his ward. His incredibly attractive ward. Who squished very nicely against him and was dressed like a doxy.
Bloody hell.
Look for book 3 in the Domestic Discipline Quartet, Punishing His Ward, now available for sale on Amazon.com. For now, enjoy this small (unedited) excerpt to whet your appetite:
Chapter 1
Out of all the words in the English language, Cynthia's absolute favorite was "don't."
One could learn what the most interesting things in life were if one always listened to what they were told not to do and then promptly did it. That was how she'd learned that climbing trees was great fun and so was swimming in the lake. It was how she'd learned breeches were more comfortable than skirts and riding astride much more exciting than riding in a lady's sidesaddle - although she could do both. Kissing was another great fun that she would have missed out on if she listened to that word, "don't."
The moment Cynthia was told "don't" do something, she immediately felt the strong urge to do it. And it led to such wondrous discoveries!
As she'd grown older those discoveries were what gave her life sparkle after her parents died. Of course she missed them very much, she did, but that didn't mean that her life should always be sad. She was sad when she thought of them and she'd mourned them very properly and during her mourning period had tried to behave as the perfect young lady that she hadn't been able to be during their lives, but once she'd thrown off the black she'd thrown off that shroud of gloom as well. Life was just more fun when one was attempting all the things one wasn't supposed to do.
Which was how she'd ended up sneaking out of Lady Spencer's house in Bath to go meet with the scandalous Mr. Carter. According to her ladyship, Mr. Carter was a rogue, a rake, a dissolute braggart and a man completely without honor. Her ladyship's clear instructions had been "don't ever even talk to him, avoid him at all costs."
How was Cynthia supposed to ignore such temptation? She figured that Mr. Carter must know even more wonderful things that one wasn't supposed to do than Cynthia did herself. And she had
to admit that she rather thought he cut a dashing figure with his air of indifference, those lazy brown eyes and that mop of golden curls that was always slightly mussed. So of course when he'd coaxed her onto the terrace during one of the assemblies she'd gone willingly, only to be interrupted moments later by an irate Lady Spencer.
Fortunately he'd found her in a shop this morning, her hovering chaperone nearby but not within earshot, and had murmured that he'd like to meet her. She'd whispered back that she'd meet him at the nearby park in the afternoon, when she knew Lady Spencer would most likely be entertaining. At first her ladyship had tried to include Cynthia more often in her 'at-homes' but Cynthia quickly grew bored of sitting, drinking tea, and listening to viscous old ladies exchange gossip. Although she did perk up whenever any of them had anything to say about her ladyships sons.
She'd become great friends with Matthew and Vincent Spencer, and while she hadn't met the Earl of Spencer yet she rather enjoyed hearing stories about him. Most of the best stories weren't told in Lady Spencer's presence, but a few of the old dragons would whisper the juicy tidbits to each other while the Countess was occupied, and Cynthia had managed to overhear quite a bit. Gambling, tumbling other men's wives, gallivanting about town... it all sounded quite grand to her. They said he was as handsome as the devil with a twinkle in his eye that could make the most chaste lady turn up her skirts for him.
Cynthia knew that she wasn't supposed to know what that meant, but she did. When she was ten her mother had tried to keep her away from the fields where her father was breeding his horses, which of course had only meant that Cynthia had immediately snuck out there. Later, clandestine observations of the household staff as well as visiting house guests had added to her education. When she was told not to go into her father's study unless he was present she'd quickly discovered why; he had quite a collection of erotic etchings and some very informative books which had been very useful.
Perhaps the most delightful "don't" she'd ever received was "don't touch yourself between your legs." Combined with her observations, the books and the drawings, she'd quickly managed to discover exactly why touching herself between her legs could be quite wonderful, although she still hadn't discerned why it was a "don't."
Mr. Carter had wanted to touch her between her legs today, but she hadn't allowed him to. She didn't think they could take that much time, although she certainly planned on touching herself there as soon as she was able. His passionate kisses and wandering hands had quite aroused her. But she had remained cognizant of the fact that Lady Spencer couldn't remain shut up in her room forever, even if the woman had thrown quite a fit when she'd realized that her charge and the roguish Mr. Carter were standing far too close to each other in the store. She'd dragged Cynthia home immediately, told her to stay in her room until the Earl arrived there this afternoon to "deal with her" and then immediately took refuge in her own room.
Of course Cynthia wasn't going to stay in her room, not when she wanted to know what Mr. Carter could show her, but she had known that she only had a limited amount of time. Then they'd almost been caught by a pair of gossiping girls who were talking in high-pitched excited voices about how both the rakish Lord Hyde and the Earl of Spencer had been seen in town.
