Pleasing the Colonel (12 page)

He felt relieved when the dance was over, though it irritated him a bit that the insipid Bartlby asked her for another dance. He asked Miss Jane Livingston for a twirl and enjoyed her good manners and pleasant conversation. He noticed Mr. Bates had asked Lucinda for a second dance as well, and though normally two dances in one night might signify an intention to marry, in this case the party was so small that it could be overlooked. He needed to be watchful, however, as Lucinda no longer had a chaperone to carefully observe her.

At the end of the night, after the guests had departed, the three of them sat for a cup of warm milk before bed. “That was lovely. Thank you, Charles,” Lucinda said, looking happy.

It was nice to see her spirits up again. He smiled affectionately at her. “I'm glad you've found some entertainment here in the country at last,” he teased.

“What do you think of the Livingstons?” she asked.

“I like them,” he said without expanding, his thoughts returning to the unpleasant fact that Bartlby had intruded into the party and had asked Miss Downy to dance twice.

Lucinda looked impatient. “Any of them in particular?” she prodded.

He shrugged.

“And what do you think of Mr. Bates?” she asked eagerly.

“I hear he's penniless,” he replied baldly. Livingston really had paid her quite a bit of attention.

Lucinda recoiled. “Really?”

He dragged his mind back to the conversation. “Yes. He's been to university and is a trained architect, but I think he prefers to ride the coat tails of Mr. Livingston to being a member of the working middle class.”

Lucinda looked disconcerted. “Oh, well, yes. I suppose he did mention architecture at one point… but I thought he simply didn't have to work.”

“Well he doesn't, does he?” he said, unable to leave out a slight condemnation in his tone. He had no patience for men who didn’t make their own way in the world.

The following morning he woke in a foul mood, with a heaviness that sat in the middle of his chest. At breakfast, Lucinda also seemed to be in a temper. He ignored her, too confused with his own tumultuous emotions to pay hers any mind. He decided to go for a ride to clear his head.

He cantered with Banto, his mind running in circles. Marrying Miss Downy was not necessary. Clearly she was willing to put the incident behind them, so he should follow her lead. If in a month's time he observed that she was in distress, he would know that something more had happened and he would marry her. He knew she had no desire to marry a stiff old military man like himself, but he could at least offer her comfort and honor.

When he returned he saw Miss Downy and Lucinda sitting together embroidering and was pleased at first, until he noticed the scowl on Lucinda's face. Frowning, he stood in the doorway unobserved. He had warned the ladies about their bickering and he was fully prepared to spank them both again if necessary.

“So, Mr. Bartlby seemed quite taken with you,” Lucinda said coldly.

He stiffened involuntarily.

Miss Downy spoke carefully. “I don't think so, it was just that there were so few young women to dance with.”

“You might be well suited.”

“If you're referring to his financial status, I suppose that's true. But I think there's more to a marriage than matching finances, don't you?”

“Well, of course
you
would say so. Your ambition would be to marry above yourself, wouldn't it?”

Miss Downy flushed with anger. “Above myself? No indeed, I would take a love match over all else any day. It's only the very
narrow-minded
who think that all that matters is wealth and status,” she snapped.

“It's only the
bourgeoisie
who believe in love matches!” Lucinda shot back.

“No more!” he interjected, startling them both. He'd had enough of this intolerable bickering and he especially didn't care to hear about choosing husbands. “Both of you, in my study.
Now
.”

Miss Downy and Lucinda stared at him with twin expressions of horror. They slowly rose to their feet and he motioned them past him toward the study.

“Bend over the desk and lift your skirts.”

Miss Downy raised her eyes to his and when she took in his stern expression, they filled with tears. He felt a pang of regret that he must punish her, and his face softened in sympathy, but he merely lifted his chin toward the desk. She swallowed and lifted her skirts, bending reluctantly over the large wooden desk. Lucinda's face was angry, but she knew him well enough not to plead or argue. She leaned forward on the desk and pulled up her own skirts.

He took his strap from the desk drawer. When the soldiers fought in the ranks they had a method for resolving it. Both were put to hard labor and neither could be excused from it until the other gave his consent. It forced them to concede to the other to save themselves. But his sister was as stubborn as he was, and he wasn't sure whether this would work. He walked to the side of her. She was holding her breath. The two hard strokes with the strap sounded loud in the quiet room. Lucinda gasped and cried out. Then he turned to Miss Downy and delivered two biting swings with his strap across her round bottom. He returned to Lucinda and delivered two more, then applied the strap twice again to Miss Downy. Tears had leaked out of her eyes by now and she was panting from the pain of it.

“Tell me, Lucinda, has Miss Downy been punished enough?” he asked.

Lucinda turned her cheek and stared at Miss Downy. “No,” she said, gritting her teeth, obviously blaming her for their predicament.

“Very well,” he said, and delivered two more snaps of the strap across her buttocks and then across Miss Downy's. The governess whimpered.

“Miss Downy, has Miss Watson been punished enough?” he questioned.

“Yes!” she gasped. He wasn't surprised. Miss Downy was a smart woman and not particularly prideful. She had probably caught onto his tack.

“Lucinda, has Miss Downy been punished enough?” he repeated.

“No!” the woman gritted again.

He heard Miss Downy blow out her breath like a curse and he repeated, “Very well,” and brought the strap across his sister's reddened cheeks again. He struck her upper thighs on his second swing and she let out a loud yelp.

He repeated the action with Miss Downy's poor bottom, but he did not swing as hard and he did not strike the backs of her legs.

“Now has she, Lucinda?” he demanded.

Lucinda's jaw was clenched and her lips were tight. Her eyes were still furious. “No!” she shouted.

He lost patience with his sister. He brought the strap down on her again and again, at least eight times. When he stopped his heart went out to Miss Downy, who was obviously cringing in despair, fully expecting she would get equal treatment. He walked to her side and tossed her skirts down.

“Leave us.”

Miss Downy stood up from the desk and walked quickly out of the room, wiping her eyes, probably happy to escape.

* * *

She went to her room and tried to nap, but found she couldn't sleep. She felt badly about her argument with Miss Watson, not because she felt she was in the wrong, but because she understood the woman's resentment had come from her own pain. Miss Watson had been serious about Mr. Bates as a suitor but she didn't imagine the lady could forgive his financial situation. Even if she did, it seemed unlikely the Colonel would approve of the match, either.

She sighed. She wanted to help—Miss Watson loved Mr. Bates, and unless she missed her guess, Mr. Bates loved Miss Watson, but they were hindered by his circumstances. She wondered whether the Colonel might help if he understood the full picture. He was normally very quick to read a situation, but he had seemed distracted the night before after the ball, and she didn't think he realized how much Miss Watson cared about her would-be suitor. Certainly the Colonel had wealth to spare, and connections throughout all of England. He could surely help Mr. Bates find work, if he were willing.

After dinner she resolved herself to speak to the Colonel. She knocked on his door and entered, pacing about his study, the swish of the fabric of her shift irritating her sore bottom. He was sitting behind his desk, regarding her with his cool, intelligent gaze.

“What is it, Miss Downy?”

She stopped her pacing and examined the books on his shelf. She still hadn't decided whether she could actually speak to him or not.

“Is it about what happened this afternoon?”

Her hand went instinctively to her backside. She swallowed and turned to pace the length of the room again. “In a manner,” she said at last.

He sat behind his enormous desk and watched her with his impassive expression.

“Did you think your punishment was unfair?” he prompted.

“What?” she said in surprise. “No. Well, I mean…” She shook her head. She really did not want to be in the position of analyzing whether his punishments were fair or unfair. It actually had made perfect sense to her the way that he had pitted them together against him in their punishment, asking each to concede that the other had had enough.

“It's… Colonel—”

He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“You see, I want to tell you something because I think you can help. But it's not my business, really.”

The Colonel raised his eyebrows. “That hasn't stopped you before,” he said sardonically. “Tell me.” His voice carried the quiet authority that she found impossible to disobey. “Sit down,” he said, indicating the chair opposite him.

She eyed the wooden chair doubtfully. “I'd rather stand, if you don't particularly mind.”

She was exceedingly grateful that he didn't smirk at that. “Of course,” he said smoothly. “I wasn't thinking.”

She did walk to stand opposite him. She leaned on her hands on the desk, and then suddenly was discomfited by the realization that she had only hours earlier been bent over it, and she moved back abruptly. She thought she saw the tiniest twitch at the corner of the Colonel's mouth, but she might have imagined it. Again, she was grateful that he did not have the temperament to tease.

She took a deep breath, then hesitated, meeting his eye warily. She sighed. “Miss Watson is in love with Mr. Bates. You did not notice?” She could tell by his surprised expression that he had not. “Your assessment of him last night dashed her hopes and that is why she was so quarrelsome today.” She stopped suddenly, hoping it didn't sound like she was in here to blame the other woman.

The Colonel blinked several times. “Does Mr. Bates love Miss Watson?” he asked at last.

She shrugged. “I have not been taken into her confidence, but it appears to me that he does.”

“I see. I see.” The Colonel stood up. “Thank you for sharing this information with me.” Then he interrupted himself. “Is there more?”

She shook her head. “No, sir.”

“Very well. Thank you. I do appreciate your trust in me.”

She could feel that he was dismissing her, but she felt unsettled. “You will try to help, sir?”

“I will consider what you have told me, Miss Downy,” he said noncommittally.

Disappointed, she curtsied and left the room.

* * *

Miss Downy held a very romantic view of marriage. He leaned back in his chair and considered what she'd just told him. Though she had not made a specific request, the underlying message was clear: he should arrange matters so that Lucinda could marry the man she loved.

But marriages based on nothing but love rarely lasted, in his experience. It takes more than love to weave a happy life together. A couple must be well-matched socially and temperamentally. It was better to choose a decent spouse rationally, because the love would follow if both parties were open to it. That was how it had been with Gracie.

He stood up and paced the room as Miss Downy had just done. His objections to Mr. Bates were very real. It appeared the man was too lazy to earn his own living, which bothered him. But perhaps he would be willing to change? He shook his head. Why was he even thinking this way? Because Miss Downy wanted him to?

A sense of anxiety had come over him. If he believed in acting upon one's attraction for a member of another sex—if he believed in love as the basis of a marriage—then he must face the glaring truth that he had feelings for his governess. The manor had seemed empty while she was away and his disappointment over not having to offer for her had been clear. Yes, he loved Amanda Downy. He sighed. It was true. Even if he looked at things rationally, he could see that she would make an excellent match for him. She was well-bred, intelligent, and well… quite beautiful. Moreover, she'd already taken on a partnership role with him if he considered the way she'd come to give her opinion, first about the children, and now about Lucinda. He had been afraid of the pain of losing another wife, yet wasn't it more painful to live alone this way, when he could have a chance at a second match?

Now what? He sat back down in his desk chair and did what he had been best at in the military: he devised a strategy. He sent an invitation to the Livingston party to dine at the manor the following week.

On the evening of the dinner party, Bates sat beside Lucinda and worked his charm and Charles watched her reluctantly warm under his attentions. After dinner, Mr. Livingston suggested an evening walk, but Charles pulled Bates aside and invited him for a brandy in his study. The man looked torn between taking a moonlit stroll with Lucinda and hobnobbing with him, but good sense won out. “Thank you, Colonel, I'd like that,” he said politely.

In the study, he poured them each a snifter of brandy. Then he asked him directly, “Are you interested in my sister, Bates?”

Bates recovered from the bluntness of the question quickly and met him squarely in the eye. “Yes, Colonel, I am.”

“And what do you have to recommend yourself?”

“I am a trained architect. I have not taken a position in the past year because Mr. Livingston insisted I travel with him, but as of yesterday, I have submitted inquiries to several firms in London.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Because of my sister?” There was no reason to pussyfoot about. He wanted to understand Bates and his motivations completely. He had already requested a full background check on the man from his lawyer, who he had lambasted for not checking Miss Downy's references.