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"This coming from the man who wanted a wife he didn't have to discipline at all," Wesley reminded him.
"Well... I have found that it does have some benefits." Hugh smirked and gave them a significant look. "After all, disciplining a wife is very different from disciplining a family member."
"I should hope so," Edwin muttered, considering that it was his own wife's bottom that Hugh had learned on. But, he still remembered how unaffected Hugh had been when he'd brought Wesley and Edwin in to watch Eleanor's birching. Not having a sister of his own, Edwin couldn't quite imagine what it must be like to discipline someone he wasn’t interested in sexually, but he knew how shocked Hugh had been by his own reaction when it was Irene under his hand instead of a family member.
All three men sipped at their brandy, contemplating their marriages. Hugh was smugly happy, having received everything he wanted and more from his marriage to Irene. His redheaded goddess was sweetness and passion, and he enjoyed slowly breaking through her demure walls. Still uncertain over Eleanor's behavior, Edwin had been much happier with his wife since their retreat to Bath; she seemed to have calmed down considerably after their first few days in town. The atmosphere here seemed much more conducive to their happiness than London had. He was in alt over her conception, and was looking forward to when she finally confirmed it and they could celebrate.
Wesley, like any soon-to-be married man was thinking about his upcoming wedding night, as well as what life would be like once his little hellion was his wife. Dark fantasies shifted around his head, all of which had sprung up since he'd belted and buggered his fiancé and she'd so obviously enjoyed it.
None of them wanted to share their current thoughts, however, so the conversation quickly turned to Wesley's company and the trade with India. Much safer topics altogether.
******
The Countess reigned supreme over the conversation between the ladies, which meant that only socially conventional topics were discussed. Irene, like her husband, was somewhat disappointed by Cynthia's decorum. However, unlike Hugh, she was also relieved, as she didn't quite know how she would react to misbehavior. She wasn't comfortable enough in high society to know how a lady would react - although it would be helpful to see the Countess and Eleanor's reactions.
Not for the first time, Irene inwardly railed at her own mother for the lack of training she'd received. She was so used to being told exactly what to do and how to do it, that being on her own was quite frightening, especially in the presence of a woman like the Countess. Wesley's mother wore her authority like a mantle, easily and confidently. Irene could only hope that one day she would do so as well.
Eleanor invited both ladies over for tea the next day, but the Countess had a prior engagement and had to decline; however, Cynthia gleefully accepted. Irene wondered if being away from the Countess' presence would mean that Cynthia's true mischief would emerge. She almost hoped so. Just so she could see. Perhaps it would make her feel less guilty over her own untoward behavior a few weeks before.
******
Grace had never thought she'd be relieved to arrive in a sleepy place like Bath, not while the Season was still going on, but she truly didn't think she could stand another hour in the carriage with her husband. The man was driving her batty.
Both nights on the road, she'd had to sleep in the same bed as him - which, of course, meant she got very little sleep at all. Her tingling awareness of his proximity meant that she could barely relax. Especially since the few times she did so and managed to fall asleep, she invariably awoke in his arms. She couldn't even blame him, because it was quite obvious from their positioning on the bed that both of them had moved towards each other.
Riding in the carriage wasn't any better. She'd truly expected him to spend at least some time on his horse. Instead, the blasted man joined her in the carriage both morning and afternoon. The confines of the conveyance seemed to shrink, as if he filled it with his very presence, far beyond his physical form. Sometimes he spoke, sometimes they rode in silence, but he was always watching her.
The worst was when she fell asleep in the carriage, exhausted from lack of sleep the night before. Every time, she awoke in his arms. The first time, she'd cursed him and immediately thrown herself across to the other side of the carriage. To his credit, he'd released her immediately, but she'd been well aware of his arousal. By the third time, she'd no longer been startled and had been weak enough to relish the feel of his arms around her. She hated herself for pretending to still be slumbering, just so she could feel the press of his warmth against her, pretend - for just a moment - that they were back in time, before she'd overheard his conversation with her father.
But she could never hold back the memories, or the bitterness, for very long. Especially because she didn't understand why he was doing what he was doing now. He hadn't spanked her since that first day, thankfully, but then again she'd been doing her best to ignore him. Once she'd realized that fighting him was futile, that, for some reason, he'd decided he preferred reconciliation over divorce, she'd done her best to shut him out. It didn't seem to matter to him that she never answered; he sometimes filled the silence by speaking to her.
Things about his estate, about his company. About his life. Sometimes she caught herself beginning to smile when he made a rare quip or witticism. She could only hope he didn't notice. She didn't want him to think she was softening towards him, although she was. Even if he had apologized about the way he’d handled the original situation between her and Irene, there were so many other issues between them that they didn’t discuss at all.
So she was relieved when the carriage rolled to a stop in Bath and Alex helped her out. The torment of traveling with him was over. There would be no more falling asleep and waking up in his arms, no more being forced into a tiny space with him, and no more temptation to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing.
"Grace?"
Eleanor's familiar voice, filled with shock, was all Grace needed to push her over the edge. She looked up, into the face of her best friend, who was gorgeously attired in a blue dress and bonnet, obviously out shopping, and burst into tears. Immediately, slim arms surrounded her shoulders, even as strong fingers pressed against her back. The rush of emotions was overwhelming, and she clung to Eleanor, burying her face in the other woman's shoulder as she sobbed.
"Come here, Gracie," Alex said, his voice low and almost tender. She obediently let go of Eleanor, too overcome to even try and fight him, and let him sweep her up into his arms. Part of her knew she should be protesting his high-handedness, but another part felt comforted being held by him, letting him take over and get her off of the street before she utterly humiliated herself. Besides, her legs felt weak, and he was obviously feeling strong. "If you wouldn't mind coming in with us, Lady Hyde, I think Grace could use your company while I see to opening up the house for us."
"Of course," Eleanor said, her voice filled with worry and confusion. “I was just out shopping… I didn’t realize you were here… I… just a moment.” Grace heard Eleanor giving her maid directions to return to her own house and inform Lord Hyde of wh
ere she was. Relief that her friend wasn't abandoning her made Grace go even limper in Alex's arms, she even felt grateful to the brute for asking Eleanor to come in with them.
How could he be so considerate and simultaneously so uncaring? Yet, she'd had proof in the past that he was. He'd fooled her for their entire honeymoon into thinking that there could be more to their marriage than just convenience. Right now, she found strange comfort in the illusion.
A few minutes later, Grace and Eleanor were deposited into the main drawing room, and Grace's tears had subsided to small sniffles. Alex asked a maid to bring them tea before retreating from the room, leaving the ladies blissfully alone. For the first time in days, Grace felt like she could breathe. Unfortunately, some tiny part of her also felt a bit forlorn at the loss of his presence, but it was only a very small, very foolish part of her.
"Grace..." Eleanor's voice trailed off and she shook her head, tugging off the blue bonnet and placing it on the couch beside her as she searched for words. Or, more likely, searched for what question she wanted to begin with. "What are you doing here? With him?"
"I wasn't given a choice," Grace said, sniffling again. She knew she must look a fright, but neither Alex nor Eleanor had commented on it. Eleanor just reached into her reticule and retrieved a handkerchief, silently passing it over to Grace to wipe her tear-stained face with. "Peters betrayed me... he was working for Alex all along. All of my servants were." Tears started to flow again as she told Eleanor everything.
About riding in the carriage with Alex, his insistence on sleeping in the same room, his behavior towards her every time she fell asleep, and his determination to reconcile. Her confusion. Eleanor was the only person in the entire world that knew everything; all of Grace's humiliation, her bitterness, and her loss when she'd discovered that Alex saw her as nothing more than a bargaining chip. Although Grace had been determined to keep the hurtful words to herself, this past Season she hadn't been able to hold her tumultuous emotions inside any longer when she and Alex had been in the city at the same time for the first time in years. She'd needed her friend, and Eleanor had been there for her.
So Eleanor completely understood Grace's confusion over Alex's current behavior. Indeed, Eleanor had been quite confused when she'd first met Lord Brooke, because he hadn't seemed at all the monster that Grace had always made him out to be. Even after she'd found out why Grace had estranged herself from him, Eleanor hadn't seen that kind of uncaring husband in his behavior. When she'd been quite rude to him, out of loyalty to her friend, he'd asked Edwin not to punish her too harshly, because he admired that loyalty.
From what Grace was telling her now, Lord Brooke's behavior was certainly not that of a man who had no finer feelings for his wife. Even now, he'd asked Eleanor to come in on Grace's behalf, rather than trying to isolate and intimidate her.
