Claiming His Wife (6 page)

"No."  Wesley glared at his
friends, although he wasn't truly angry.  It was the kind of
thing he'd bet on, and he wasn't entirely surprised that they had.
 "She's still pure."

"Damn," said Hugh, as a triumphant
Edwin held out his hand.  Hugh dug into his pocket and pulled
out several notes, slapping them down into Edwin's palm.
 

"So what did you do?" Edwin asked,
curious.  "Whatever it was, it definitely set her on
edge."

The smile that stretched across
Wesley's face was pure, smug, male satisfaction.  "I just used
the little implements that I brought back from India.  There's
nothing like filling a woman's bottom to make it quite clear who
the Master of the House is."

Edwin guffawed as Hugh shook his
head. 

"I don't need that to assert myself as
Master of the House," Hugh said.  "Other than the oils, I
haven't used your wedding gift at all."

"You don't know what you're missing,"
Edwin said, his eyes gleaming as Hugh pretended to try and cover
his ears, a useless exploit since he refused to let go of his
brandy while he did so.  Before Edwin had married his sister,
Hugh hadn't minded hearing about his exploits, but now he preferred
not to know the details.   Laughing, Edwin leaned towards
Wesley, whispering loudly as Hugh pretended temporary deafness.
 "I haven't used the dilators yet, but I've gotten a bit of
use out of your other gifts."

"At least someone is,"
Wesley said, grinning.  Although he wasn't entirely surprised.
 Hugh had been the one to first introduce himself and Edwin to
the idea of feminine discipline, when he'd invited them to watch
Eleanor receive a birching from her father, but in many ways he was
a prude.  Edwin was far more adventurous, even if he hadn't
reached the level that Wesley had yet.  While it was strange
to think about Edwin and Eleanor together that way, it didn't
bother him the way it did Hugh.

"I don't need such sundry
instruments to discipline my wife," Hugh said loftily.  "All
Irene needs is a spanking now and then to keep her in
line." 

"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 where 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.  

At any time during their
marriage, he could have claimed his marital rights and Grace would
have had no cause to resist.  Anyone who had sheltered her
would have had to give her up, under the law, if Lord Brooke had
insisted.  Instead, he'd let her go her own way for years.
 Eleanor had never seen another man do anything like it, which
was why it was such a scandal among the
ton
.  She was as surprised as
Grace had been, to hear that he wanted a reconciliation.