Birching His Bride (Domestic Discipline 1) Read online

  The slight paling of Miss Chandler's face made Edwin want to step in and save her but he couldn't help but feel that was Hugh's duty to protect his future bride from the sly reminder of the Chandler's financial situation. Unfortunately Hugh's attention was being taken up by Mrs. Chandler, who seemed to feel it her duty to keep her future son-in-law conversationally entertained. Going by the look on Hugh's face he probably would have preferred it if she hadn't.

  "Thank you, Lady Brook," said Miss Chandler. Although her looks weren't to Edwin's taste, he had to admit she had the most amazing emerald eyes, right now they looked hard as diamonds as she tilted her head upwards to meet Lady Grace's gaze. "I appreciate hearing it from you personally, although Al- Lord Brook had already wished us happy on behalf of you both."

  Conyngham choked on his wine and Lady Grace looked like she might actually leap across the table at Miss Chandler. Mentioning Grace’s husband was almost guaranteed to send her flying across the handle. And had Miss Chandler almost referred to him by his Christian name? If so it must mean that she knew him well, was perhaps even close friends. Brooke’s lands were near to her family’s estate after all. Why on earth had Eleanor seated these two anywhere near each other? Unless she didn't know... it was possible that the guilty look on her face was just for starving him, not for both starving him and giving him miserable company. There were undercurrents between these two women that threatened to disrupt the entire dinner party if he didn't do something to stop them now.

  "And I'm pleased to welcome you to the family," he said cheerfully, cutting the tension as best he could with false brevity. "Not just because Eleanor's my wife. Hugh and I have been like brothers for years. Has he told you about the time we tried to make a pig's bladder explode in his tutor's closet?"

  "No," said Miss Chandler, turning her wide green eyes to him. There wasn't any real interest in her face, but that hadn't been the point anyway.

  "Edwin, don't you dare or I'll tell her about the time you tried to convince Eleanor the house was haunted," Hugh threatened. As Edwin had expected, the mere mention of the bladder incident had garnered Hugh's attention away from Mrs. Chandler and back to paying proper attention to Miss Chandler, which meant that Edwin could get back to focusing on ways to kill his wife.

  With a little wave, he summoned one of the footmen over.

  "What's the next course?"

  "Beef rubbed with pepper and mustard seeds -"

  Edwin shook his head, cutting the man off and sending him back to his place. His wife was going to have a red hot bottom to match her dress tonight.

  ********

  Although she did her best to avoid her husband Eleanor didn't move quite quickly enough as the women headed to the drawing room to leave the men to retreat to the library and their cigars and port. She let out a little squeak as her husband gripped her upper arm, pulling her into one of the hallway alcoves as the rest of the ladies tittered and chattered their way to the other room.

  "I'm sorry," she said immediately, gasping for air as the shock of how quickly he'd caught her reverberated through her. The words came automatically as she realized she was a bit frightened; no matter how angry he might be it wasn’t like Edwin to ignore the rules of proper behavior, not with an audience. Had she pushed him farther than she’d meant to?

  "If you're not now, you will be later," he said a little grimly. "But that's not why I'm here."

  "It's not?" she asked, relaxing a little bit, but then she looked up into his hooded dark eyes and realized that she shouldn't have relaxed at all. All signs said danger. There was no heat in Edwin's eyes, not of passion or anger, just icy coldness that seemed to slice right through her to the bone. Never before had she seen him look at her like that, as if she was a stranger.

  "What's going on between Lady Grace and Miss Chandler?"

  "Going on?" she echoed. For a moment the heat of anger flared in Edwin's eyes and she realized that it sounded like she was prevaricating. Shaking her head she tried to think. "I don't know, I didn't even know they were acquainted. Are you sure there's something going on?"

  The tight hold his fingers had around her arm relaxed a little bit as he studied her face, seeing the honesty. Of course Eleanor could lie when she needed to, but he'd taken her by such surprise that her expression was completely open.

  "There's definitely something going on," he said, his voice still rather grim. "Keep them away from each other. And we will be having a discussion about this evening’s dinner later tonight."

  And then he let her go. Shaken but knowing that she needed to attend to her guests, Eleanor hurried away to the drawing room where she found that Grace had seated herself on the settee speaking with Eleanor's mother and Mrs. and Miss Brething, while Mrs. and Miss Chandler were conversing closer to the fireplace with Lady Moore. Wondering what Edwin had thought was the problem, Eleanor went to join Lady Grace's circle first.

  The idle chatter about the latest fashion plates should have taken up most of her attention, normally she adored talking fashion - especially with Grace who always looked absolutely divine, but the conversation just reminded her of the dress she was currently wearing. Indeed, as the discussion continued she became more and more aware of her mother's and Mrs. Brething's disapproving glances at her neckline, accompanied by Matilda's wide-eyed occasional stares and blushes. Eleanor was quite sure that Matilda was picturing herself in a similar dress. Color rose in Eleanor's cheeks as she decided that she'd entertained these ladies long enough and quietly slipped away to join the other circle, holding her head high.

  Lady Moore was holding forth about her husband's latest horse purchase, which seemed to interest Mrs. Chandler quite a bit and Miss Chandler not at all. And yet Miss Chandler seemed perfectly content to sit and listen to the older matron's conversation rather than joining the other circle and discussing fashion. Perhaps there was something going on between Miss Chandler and Lady Grace, Eleanor couldn't imagine any other reason that Miss Chandler would still be sitting here.

  "So we're to be sisters," she said brightly, after exchanging the usual pleasantries. The two older ladies had quickly delved back into their conversation, allowing Eleanor the opportunity to speak a little aside to Miss Chandler. "Have you started planning the wedding yet?"

  "Oh yes, thank you for asking Lady Hyde." said Miss Chandler rather shyly. "My mother speaks of nothing else these days."

  "Please, call me Eleanor," she said impulsively reaching out and taking Miss Chandler's hand. "There's no need to stand on ceremony when we're going to be sisters soon."

  "Then you must call me Irene," said Miss Chandler, but Eleanor didn't miss the way Irene's eyes slid over to Grace for a moment before returning to Eleanor. Was she worried that Grace had said something about her? "I always wanted a sister closer to my age."

  "Hugh mentioned to me that you had younger sisters, but he didn't say how old they were."

  "Rosalie is fourteen and Miranda is twelve. My brother Alfred is sixteen and I was always rather disappointed that he wasn't a girl."

  Both of them giggled.

  "I always wanted a sister, period," confessed Eleanor. "I always thought Hugh was rather useless, it never occurred to me until recently that he could provide me with the sister that my parents hadn't."

  "Ah yes," said Irene, although the light in her green eyes dimmed a little. Her smile seemed just a tad less bright and Eleanor couldn't help but wonder why. "But your new husband does not have any sisters?"

  "No, he's an only child. I think that's why he became so attached to Hugh and their friend Wesley. The three of them are more like brothers than anything else. I used to think that he only saw me as an annoying little sister but..." Eleanor's voice trailed off as she blushed, realizing that her thoughts and conversation had almost turned to a place that was not entirely appropriate.

  "So you're a love match?" asked Irene, her voice a little skeptical.

  "No." Giving a little cough Eleanor tried to blunt the sharpness in her voice, pas
ting a false social smile on her face. "No ah... we're just, we've known each other for so long. We're... companions, I suppose you could say. We've known each other for so long that we do care for one another of course." She gave a light little laugh that felt and sounded rather hollow.

  Irene nodded as if Eleanor had confirmed something she'd already known. "That's the most one can expect I suppose." She leaned into Eleanor conspiratorially. "Can I tell you a secret? And you won't tell anyone, not even Hugh?"

  "Of course," Eleanor said, leaning in.

  "And not Lady Brooke, please," said Irene, her eyes sliding back over to the other circle of females.

  "Is there something between the two of you? Edwin had mentioned that it might be best if the two of you weren't seated as closely as you had been at dinner."

  "We don't get along," said Irene firmly.

  Eleanor nodded. "She is one of my dearest friends but I know she does not get along with everyone. Still, dear friend or not, you may trust me because I am sure that we are going to become the best of friends and soon we're going to be sisters. I will not betray your confidence."

  "Thank you," Irene reached out and gave Eleanor's hand a small press, her voice lowering even further as the two young ladies leaned close to each other. Not that the matrons seated with them were paying at all attention to their conversation but it was obvious that Irene didn't want to risk anyone overhearing the slightest word. "I used to hope for a love match but from my observations they happen rarely, if at all. I think that companionship or friendship is the best one can hope for in a marriage. Do you think that Hugh will be content with that?"

  Now Eleanor hesitated. She knew very well that Hugh was already more than a bit smitten with his bride to be, on the other hand smitten didn’t exactly denote love. Perhaps he could be content with a wife who wanted nothing more than companionship or friendship? But then what if he wanted something passionate, something intense, something… something like what she and Edwin had? Or what if he wanted an adoring wife like their mother?

  Unfortunately, before she could think of how to answer Irene, the drawing room door opened to admit Banks with the tea and the men following behind. Edwin entered in the middle of the pack, immediately drawing her eye. He looked every inch the handsome gentleman in his claret waistcoat and evening dress, a small smile on his face as he scanned the room. Seeing that Eleanor was seated with Miss Chandler and Lady Grace was on the other side of the room he gave his wife a small nod of approval, which for some reason only grated on her.

  The whole point of this evening, after all, was to make him angry and force him to realize that his disciplinary tactics weren’t working. She wasn’t supposed to be doing things to get his approval, but at the same time she realized that part of her wanted to. Which just frightened her even more. Was she already turning into her mother after only a few weeks of marriage? Did this mean that she loved him?

  It couldn’t. Surely she’d know immediately if she’d fallen in love. The tingling feeling just underneath her skin was just a symptom of the sensual desires that he’d awoken in her, the ones that he fed every night. Perhaps part of her was reluctant to give up the pleasures of the bedroom, but that wasn’t enough for her to cease in her efforts to gain control over her life and marriage.

  Before tonight Edwin hadn’t always appreciated the time after dinner when the men and women would separate. Often he’d been more interested in talking to the ladies but this evening it had been almost necessary to his equilibrium to have that time away from Eleanor. And also to discreetly send Banks to get him a sandwich so that he wasn’t quite so starving. A glass of port and a cigar, some friendly banter with the gentlemen, and he was feeling much less murderous.

  Not that Eleanor wasn’t going to pay for her transgressions, in fact he’d realized that the many antics of this evening called for a much harsher punishment then he’d ever given her before, but he was now going to be able to approach her discipline from a place of tranquility rather than anger. And he certainly never wanted to be anything but calm and disciplined himself when he was punishing her.

  Following Hugh, who veered straight for Irene, Edwin sat next to his wife and spent the rest of the evening doing the pretty from Eleanor’s side. He didn’t allow her to move more than a foot away from him once all evening, which obviously only increased her anxiety and trepidation. The more he smiled, the more jittery she became.

  Finally they were able to sweep their guests out the door, the small party a success as far as all of them were concerned. Lady Grace and Miss Chandler had managed to stay separated for the entirety of the evening following dinner, which made for a much more amiable gathering overall and Hugh had been quite happy to dance attendance on his soon-to-be bride while Conyngham had kept Lady Grace quite distracted.

  “I’m going to go speak with Mrs. Hester,” said Eleanor as soon as her parents had said their farewell and left. “I’d like to have her opinion on the evening, what she thought worked well and what we might improve upon next time.”

  While Edwin was sure that was true, and he was pleased to know that Eleanor was assuming her duties in regards to being his hostess, he also knew that she was trying to avoid being alone with him. Obviously she knew that she was in trouble.

  "You may speak with her tomorrow," he said firmly, grasping her by the elbow with a firm hand. He looked at Banks. "Tell the staff that we are done for the evening and we should not be disturbed for the rest of the night."

  "Very good, my lord," said Banks with a little bow-like movement as Eleanor let out a small whimper.

  The expression on her face flitted back and forth between fear and a kind of determination, making Edwin wonder exactly what she had been thinking by serving all food that he disliked if she was so anxious about being disciplined. Sometimes he wondered if women's minds worked anything at all like men's; living with Eleanor he was beginning to come to the conclusion that they didn't. If she didn't want to be punished, why had she gone out of the way to do something she knew she'd be punished for? Not only had her menu been malicious, but the inappropriate dress she was wearing was another point of defiance. She could have made it more modest with a fichu but instead she'd chosen to flaunt herself before their family and friends. He still got a flash of jealous anger whenever he thought about Conyngham eying the creamy swells of her breasts, despite the fact that the man had done nothing more than look at what Eleanor was offering.

  As Edwin pulled her along towards their bedroom Eleanor remembered that she was trying to show him that she wouldn't be cowed by his discipline, that no matter what he did she would keep doing what she wanted to.

  Unfortunately that determination was somewhat undermined by the fact that she felt rather guilty about how little he'd truly been able to eat during dinner. She'd seen him manfully forcing himself to taste some of the dishes. Only someone who knew him well, who had studied his face while he'd eaten dishes that he'd enjoyed, would have noticed the tightness around his mouth and eyes, the slight grimaces. Although she'd done her best to pretend she wasn't watching him she hadn't been able to keep herself from sneaky little glances. It wasn't in her nature to be intentionally malicious, especially when she wasn't truly angry with Edwin, and so she rather felt as though she deserved some kind of punishment for that mean trick. The guilt that had quietly been growing all night now felt fit to bursting.

  So it was with mixed feelings that she entered their bedroom, half-defiant and half-guilty. Edwin didn't seem angry anymore, although she knew that he'd been enraged by the end of dinner. Either he had better control over his facial expressions than she thought or he had calmed down. However she knew that calm didn't equate to forgiving.

  Turning to face her husband Eleanor's body language was a study in contradictions. Her chin was high and her hands were fisted at her sides, but her shoulders were hunched and her eyes were wary, her face flushing and paling by degrees. Alone, standing in front of him, she couldn't help but notice how attractive he
looked, despite the blank expression on his face. Part of her fervently wished that she hadn't deliberately ruined this evening; she was quite certain that if she had behaved then they'd been finding wondrous, glorious pleasure together, the way they did almost every night. At least if she'd just worn the dress then she wouldn't have merited more than a spanking.

  Looking at her husband's forbidding countenance she was sure that her punishment was going to be much more severe.

  "Take off your dress," he said in a short, clipped voice, before turning away from her to go into his dressing room.

  With trembling fingers Eleanor did the best she could but she couldn't reach all the buttons in the back. When Edwin returned he was wearing only his breeches and shirt, his hand wrapped around a birch rod. She felt her knees weaken and her mouth dry as she stared at the slender branches, tied with a pretty blue ribbon. The color matched her eyes exactly.

  "Please, Edwin, no," she begged, unable to take her eyes off of the disciplinary instrument.

  "Turn around," he ordered. Closing her eyes, the defiance leaking out of her, Eleanor did as he commanded. She could feel his fingers moving against her, undoing the last buttons of her dress. He helped her shrug it off and then he threw it to the side of them with a violent movement. With his help it only took a few more minutes before she stood completely bare and vulnerable.

  "Pretty Eleanor," Edwin murmured, putting his fingers under her chin and tipping her head up to look at him. She let tears fill her big blue eyes as she pressed her hands against his chest, staring pleadingly into his dark ones which were as hard as stone. "Pretty wife. Why are you so naughty?"

  She bit into her plump lower lip. Because this wasn't the marriage she wanted. Because she was slowly losing control, not just of her life but of her emotions. Because if she didn't make herself hate him, she might start to do more than care for him. She might start to love him. Then she would be just like her mother, bending to the will of a dictatorial husband who didn't have a care for what she might want. Even if Edwin cared for her she couldn't imagine him giving up any power in a relationship; he would use her love, the way her father used her mother's, to arrange the life that he wanted.