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“No, it was not,” Aurelia insisted. “I suggested it. It was my fault.”
“It was my fault,” said Josephine. “It was entirely my idea. Neither of you is to blame.”
Arlington threw back his head and laughed. “It’s not the end of the world, chaps. So they were looking at some ribald drawings. All of us have done the same. Sometimes a lady’s curiosity can get the best of her, eh?” He winked at the three of them, looking so much like a piratical Viking that Minette smiled.
Her smile faded as August’s frown deepened and he crossed his arms over his chest. Minette wished she might go home with His Grace rather than her husband, who looked very irritated indeed.
“I didn’t even know you were here,” she said to him, with a touch of sullen pique.
“I’m here,” he said. “Now, stand up and tell your friends goodbye. We’re returning to Barrymore House.”
Minette took Aurelia and Josephine’s hands, squeezed them and whispered “I’m sorry.” She got to her feet, smoothing out her dress so she didn’t have to look at her brother as she walked to her husband’s side. All of this was terribly embarrassing, but surely not as awful as what was to come.
Chapter Eleven: Disturbed
They arrived home in the midst of some crisis with August’s father. Lady Barrymore was crying, the servants were running around trying to be helpful, and Minette was ordered to go to her room.
“Why can’t I help too?” she asked. “Why am I always sent away?”
“Do not anger me further,” her husband said tightly. “Go.”
And so Minette went, slinking upstairs in shame. This was not at all how she had pictured a marriage to August, and nothing she tried seemed to make things better. All she wanted was a smile, an affectionate glance. Something besides lectures and sharply spoken orders to go to her room.
When he came to her an hour or so later, she searched his features for any tenderness, any husbandly regard at all, but there was nothing. Only irritation. She stood and faced him with her back to the wall.
“Well?” he said by way of greeting. “What have you to say about your activities at Townsend’s today?”
She clasped her hands in front of her. “I’ll begin by saying that I’m completely finished looking at lewd engravings. The lot of it is outrageous and not helpful to me at all. Why, some of it is patently ridiculous, not that I’m criticizing Lord Townsend’s tastes—”
“I told you already that you were finished looking at it,” he said, cutting her off. “Don’t you remember?”
Oh dear. She took a deep breath. “Yes. I do remember you telling me not to look at any more naughty books. I can’t explain why I disobeyed you. Perhaps because I’ve always been curious to a fault. I don’t deny it, and it’s gotten me into cartloads of trouble over the years.” She took a step sideways as her husband approached her. “But I regret very much going against your command. I’m terribly sorry that all your gentlemen friends, including my brother, came upon the three of us behaving in such an unladylike fashion and looking at such...unladylike...” She dug in her heels as he took her arm. “Such unladylike literature,” she spit out. “From now on, it’s nothing but tracts on moral philosophy and...religion...and household management for me. Oh!”
She tried to resist as he pulled her to a nearby chair, but he was far stronger, and all too handily she found herself turned over his lap. He pushed her skirts up, exposing her bottom to the cool air. “Oh, please, I’ve said I was sorry.” His thighs felt hard and unforgiving against her stomach. She reached to brace herself against the floor. “Please, I wish you wouldn’t spank me.”
“Last time you disobeyed me, I promised the next time you wouldn’t be able to sit down.”
“But...oh...oww! That will mean an awfully long and hard spanking.”
His only answer was a growl.
Minette cried out as his palm rained down on her bottom. She had believed the paddle must hurt more than anything on earth, but she’d been wrong. His hand was large and firm and hard, and he walloped her in such a steady fashion she could barely catch her breath. The pain quickly mounted to an unbearable burn. She squirmed and tried to pull away, but he wrapped an arm about her waist and cinched her against his thighs.
Now she couldn’t move an inch, couldn’t do anything but kick her legs in helpless torment. “Oh, please. Ouch! That hurts! I’m certain you wouldn’t want to leave me bruised.”
“Hush and stop kicking.”
Stop kicking? How was she to do that in the midst of this awful pain? “I did not even enjoy looking at those books,” she wailed. “You’re punishing me for something I’ll definitely never do again.”
“I’m punishing you for being disobedient, and embarrassing me in front of my friends.” The spanks never stopped as he scolded her. He reddened the sides of her buttocks, the center, the bottom curves, over and over until her whole backside felt on fire. “I’m going to tell my brother,” she said in desperation. “If you don’t stop, I’ll tell Warren.”
“Warren is busy blistering Josephine’s bottom right now, just as Townsend is doubtless spanking Aurelia. Because of you, I might add. You earned this spanking and you’re damned well going to take it. Now keep your hands down, and if you kick your legs again, I’m going for the paddle and starting over.”
Minette realized she’d dug her fingers into August’s leg. She put her hands back on the floor but it was impossible to lie still as he punished her backside. Her whole arse ached with a stinging, wretched pain, but it wasn’t as bad as the pain of knowing he disapproved of her so thoroughly.
“Please stop. Please, I’ll do anything, if you’ll just stop being angry. I’ll do anything you ask, if you’ll just...” Love me. Even in the throes of her pain and panic, she didn’t dare say it. She didn’t dare ask for his love because she was terrified of him saying no. “Ow. Ohh. Please, I want to be a good wife. I can’t bear this. I don’t want you to hate me.”
His hand stopped. The arm at her waist loosened. She bit back a sob, afraid to look up at him while she was in this state. The throb in her bottom seemed to beat along with her racing heart. “I don’t hate you,” he said gruffly. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“I know you didn’t want to marry me. I know you don’t want me for your wife.” She could barely speak through the emotion choking her throat. “I know you wish for a different wife, but if you’ll only tell me what to do, I’ll try to be... I’ll try to be whoever you want. I’ll be whatever you want if you’ll only tell me. Because I don’t know!”
His palm rested heavily across her bottom. Her skin was so heated from the punishment that his hand felt cool. With an abrupt movement, he lifted her and put her on her feet. She was relieved at the respite, but somewhere along the way she had completely lost her composure. She fought for breath, for calm, as she gazed into his eyes. He looked stern and displeased as ever.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I only want everything to be all right between us, and I don’t know what to do. I wish I could be a pleasing wife, so you aren’t always frowning and sending me to my room. That’s why I talked to Esme, and Aurelia and Josephine, and looked at those books. I don’t want you to see me as a child.” Her voice rose in anguish. “I want to be your proper wife.”
His hazel eyes narrowed as he leaned forward in the chair. “You think if you learn lewd sexual acts you’ll be a proper wife?”
“Perhaps.” She rubbed her bottom through her skirts. “I don’t want you to see me as a sister, or some naughty child to spank over your lap. I want to entice you. I don’t want you to go to Esme for...those things.”
“I won’t go to Esme anymore,” he said, leaning back again. “Now that she’s met you, she’s fallen in love with you like everyone else and told me to find my pleasure elsewhere.”
She let out a shuddery breath, staring at the fine knot in her husband’s cravat. “I could give you pleasure if you’d let me. If you could bear to...” She couldn’t look him in the face. “I’m sorry it’s me you had to marry. But maybe, if you closed your eyes...”
“Minette, please.” His voice sounded so tortured and miserable that tears filled her eyes.
“I’m not a child,” she said through the blurry haze. Desperation made her bold. She thought of the drawings she’d looked at, the voluptuous women and the thrusting men. There had been spanking in the books too, with whips and birch rods. Was her husband one of the men who became aroused by such things? She’d take any arousal she could get. She put her fingers on the buttons of August’s breeches, and he didn’t stay her hand. Beneath the fabric, she could see the burgeoning outline of his manhood.
She said a silent prayer to the god of well-meaning wives, and freed the first button from its loop.
*** *** ***
August felt curiously out of breath. Not from the spanking. He could have spanked her another hour, and probably should have, but then she had begun to sob, and speak of him hating her.
God, he’d made Minette believe he hated her. It was a horrible thing.
He hadn’t been paying attention. He’d been so caught up in his own crises and misgivings that he hadn’t considered how his actions would seem through her eyes. She thought he hated her. Now she was leaning over him, undoing his breeches, and he felt too guilty to make her stop.
