To Tame A Countess (Properly Spanked Book 2) Read online

  “I mean what I say. Leave off talking about me and Lady Warren, or I’ll make it difficult for you to step into any sort of civilized drawing room for the rest of your life. Your finances alone…”

  “Really, these threats.” But he could see Stafford was shaken. The dissolute earl would be easy to ruin—and it would be hard to marry into money once he was. “Very well.” His expression darkened, like a spoiled child deprived of a toy. “I don’t suppose anything I can say is as bad as the truth of your marriage, anyway. She’s run off and left you, which speaks volumes. When she’s not at your big, fancy ball, what will everyone say?”

  “Go to the devil,” Warren said, and put his heels to his horse.

  “Yes, they might say that,” Stafford called after him. Warren ignored him and galloped to Park Street, where his friends had convened to wait for news. Townsend and Arlington talked together near the fire while August paced back and forth. He could tell by their concerned expressions that Josephine hadn’t been found. Minette sobbed in the corner, too frightened to even fawn over August the way she usually did. Warren comforted her as best he could and summoned Mrs. Everly to take her up to bed.

  “No word of Lady Warren?” Arlington asked once Minette was gone.

  “None,” he replied. “I’ve been up and down for hours. I don’t know where she can be. No one remembers when they saw her last, so I’ve no idea how long she’s been missing.” He could hear the hysteria in his own voice. If she was trapped somewhere, or hurt, or frightened… He could hardly bear to think about it.

  Townsend sighed and rubbed his chin. “You’re certain she’s not curled up in some quiet corner of the house? Say, do you remember how Minette used to wander in her sleep? We used to find her in the strangest places. Up in a tree, or in a cabinet, or sprawled out in the neighbor’s garden.”

  “Don’t remind me,” said Warren. “Thank God, she hasn’t done that in years. And I doubt my wife went sleepwalking in the middle of the day.”

  “Did the two of you argue?” asked August. “Have a disagreement of some sort?”

  “Not recently.” There had only been the tension over the ball, but Josephine had moved past that.

  His friends regarded him with sympathy. “We’ll go out and look some more,” said Arlington. “You stay here in case she turns up. If you can, get some rest. For all we know, she’s hiding in some remote corner of your household, not wishing to be found. In the morning, have the servants search again. It’ll be light in a few hours and we can send people door to door, asking if anyone has seen or heard anything suspicious.”

  Warren knew Arlington only wanted to help—and that he was probably right—but to wait until morning arrived…

  “Minette is frightened,” Townsend added. “Stay here in case she needs you, and see what the new day brings. If the rest of us hear anything, we’ll send for you.”

  Warren buried his hands in his hair with a groan. Rest? Wait? But he supposed he had no other choice, except to keep riding the dark, empty streets of London, beset by helplessness and fear.

  *** *** ***

  At some point, Warren must have fallen asleep on a chaise in the front drawing room. The crisp tap of a servant brought him to wakefulness. Sun streamed in the tall windows. Warren thought to himself, Why am I here? and Why am I still dressed? And Why am I so tired? Then he remembered that Josephine was missing. He shook his head, trying to focus on what the butler was saying.

  “Lord Townsend,” the servant repeated. “And Lady Warren.”

  He sat upright as Townsend walked into the room. The dark-haired man propelled Josephine forward with an arm about her shoulder; she looked as pale and wretched as Warren felt. Relief overcame any confusion or questions, at least for the moment. He strode over to embrace his wife.

  “Thank God. Has any harm come to you? Are you perfectly all right?” He took her from Townsend, inspecting her from head to toe.

  “I’m fine,” she said in a tremulous voice.

  “My dear girl.” He clasped her close, stroking wisps of hair back from her face. She shivered in his arms, her tears wetting his cheek. He squeezed her hard, then released her and turned to Townsend. “Good Lord, how I worried. Where did you find her?” He turned back to Josephine. “Where on earth have you been?”

  When she didn’t answer, Townsend spoke up. “She’s been at my house. I had no idea, I promise you. I’ve sent word to the others that she’s been found.”

  Warren rubbed his forehead, staring at her. Josephine began to bawl in earnest, sniffling into her sleeves. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I decided to hide.”

  “Hide from what?” he asked.

  “She said you were forcing her to attend the ball this evening.” Townsend arched a brow at him. “You monster.”

  Warren narrowed his eyes at Josephine. All his worrying, his sleepless night. His alarm and Minette’s fear, and all the hours his friends and servants had spent searching for her. “You went to the Townsends’ house to hide from the ball?” he asked in a very slow and deliberate way.

  “Yes, because I don’t want to go.” Her trembling voice held a panicked edge. “I don’t want to be married to you, if I must do these things. I don’t want to be trotted out in front of hundreds of people and forced to act happy for your vaunted career. I want to go live in my cottage. I want to be left alone. I want—”

  “You want a spanking,” he said, cutting her off. “And I’ll be happy to give you one when I regain control of my temper.” He beckoned a footman and gestured toward the adjacent doors. “Barnard, will you escort Lady Warren to the smaller parlor and see that she awaits me there?”

  He thought she might protest, the foolish girl, but one of his patented glares subdued her, and she allowed the servant to lead her from the room.

  His friend, meanwhile, had turned toward the windows, as if he had not just heard this little drama. “I’m sorry,” Townsend said after a moment. “I had no idea she was there until the servants tattled. Aurelia had secreted her in her dressing room. Her maid saw toes peeking out from beneath a suspiciously bunched-up row of gowns.”

  “Blast. I never would have thought. Josephine doesn’t even know Aurelia. She’s not yet come to call.”

  “No, she hasn’t.”

  The two friends looked at each other. Warren muttered a colorful string of oaths. “Minette must have had a hand in this. I’ll kill her.”

  “Be calm, man,” said Townsend. ”Minette behaved wrongly, but I won’t let you kill her on my watch. Unless you’re speaking in a purely disciplinary sense.”

  “Oh, I am,” he ground out. “That little liar knew exactly where Josephine was all night, while I paced the floor, and she cried and fretted and clutched her curls like London’s most talented actress. All of it, a deception.” He brought his fist down in a crash against the nearby table top. “Damn it, I don’t like being colluded against. Both of them are mad.”

  Townsend stayed silent as Warren grasped for calm. A fit of temper wouldn’t change anything. He took a few steps and sank back down onto the chaise. “It’s a hell of a thing when your wife doesn’t want to be married to you.”

  “I remember the feeling,” said Townsend. “It’s not a pleasant one.”

  Warren knew that Townsend and Aurelia had had a rocky start to their marriage. He wondered if Towns had ever felt this bleak. “I’ve only been trying to help her,” he said. “You know me. I don’t have a sinister bone in my body. I’ve been everything that’s kind.”

  He chose to ignore Townsend’s snort of laughter, and the smile he hid behind his hand.

  “Perhaps she just needs more time to get used to her new life,” his friend said when he’d composed himself. “More time to get used to being the Countess of Warren.”

  “How much time does that take?”

  “A bit longer than you gave her to prepare for this ball, I suppose.”

  Warren threw out his arms. “It’s a ball, for G
od’s sake, not a damned execution.”

  “Not to you. Perhaps it feels so to her. I wasn’t able to draw much conversation from your wife during the ride here, but I gather she’s terrified to face the ton tonight. You’re so concerned with painting a picture of marital bliss that you’ve disregarded your wife’s feelings. Which rather works against the whole marital-bliss effort.”

  Warren scowled at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side, you bastard.”

  “I would have been on your side a year ago, but marriage changes things. Which I imagine you already know.” He shrugged. “At any rate, I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner that Lady Warren was hiding at Townsend House. Aurelia will know better than to go along with such a scheme next time.”

  “Go easy on her,” Warren said, studying his friend’s determined expression. “She only meant to help my wife.”

  “Will you go easy on Lady Warren then? And Minette?”

  He thought a moment. “No. I suppose I won’t.”

  Townsend clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll let you get to your business, then, and I’ll get to mine, so the lot of us can move on.” He paused to receive his hat and gloves from the butler outside the drawing room door. “You know, I’m glad I’m not the only married one of us anymore. How did August and Arlington react to the news? Were they alight with congratulations?”

  “More like scorn,” said Warren. “I think August was angry.”

  “That’s because he sees his own marriage heading down the line. Well, I’ll see you tonight. I’m looking forward to the ball, even if Lady Warren isn’t. Perhaps I’ll even dance with my wife.”

  “Scandalous. I hope you do. It will give the guests something to gossip about besides my farce of a marriage.”

  Townsend tipped his hat with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Sometimes marriages that begin as farces develop into rewarding unions. Give it some time, my friend. Give it some time.”

  Chapter Twelve: Punished

  Josephine sat trembling, hands clasped in her lap, outside her husband’s study. The measured smacking noises within, and Minette’s yelps of entreaty, did nothing whatsoever to soothe her nerves. Josephine might have crept off and hidden, if not for the footmen stationed at the end of the hall.

  She was glad she had no choice to escape. She deserved to be punished. She only hated that Minette must be punished also for something that was entirely her own fault.

  After ten sound smacks, Minette burst out of the study, tearful and red-faced.

  “I’m glad you’re married to him and not me,” she said to Josephine. “He’s a horrible, heartless man.”

  Lord Warren appeared at the door, and Minette took herself off, muttering about tyrannical older brothers while rubbing her bottom through her skirts. Josephine looked up at him, feeling deep remorse and a quailing sense of dread. Why on earth had she tried to run away? Even if it had worked and she got to miss the ball, her husband would have killed her when she came home afterward. Somehow, in her panic, that hadn’t occurred to her.

  But now it did. She could guess from his taut stance, from the forbidding look on his face, that she was in for a much more difficult ordeal than Minette. His lips were tight, pursed in a stern line. He didn’t even speak to her, only motioned her into the study to meet her fate.

  He paused after he closed the door, crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her. “Well, Josephine. What have you to say for yourself?” he asked in a deceptively pleasant tone.

  She didn’t know. She didn’t know what she had to say for herself, or what he wanted to hear. Her eyes darted to the large, polished surface of his desk. It was utterly bare, except for the short, thick strap that lay across it. She wrapped her arms around herself and stood with her knees pressed together beneath her skirts.

  “I apologize,” she finally managed. “I am so very sorry for my foolish behavior. I—I don’t know what else to say.”

  “Oh, well. In that case, I have plenty to say for both of us.” His previously pleasant voice took on a biting edge. Oh, this was going to be worse, even worse than she thought. “Do I have it in the right, that you prevailed upon Minette to secret you away from here, and help you hide at the Townsend household until after the ball?”

  “Yes, my lord,” she said, trying to sound appropriately abject. “I asked Minette for help.”

  “And caused her to be punished also. You left this house without a word to anyone, throwing lives into an uproar, causing my friends and my servants to search for you all night when they might have been resting in their beds. You involved the Townsends in your scheme, thereby creating anger and tension between Lord Townsend and his wife. You’ve embarrassed and insulted me by running away like some abused waif because I expected you to attend a goddamned ball. Is that the long and short of it?”

  “Well, the thing is—”

  “Is that correct?” he interrupted with unnerving emphasis. “Yes, or no?”

  “I told you I didn’t want to have a ball. You knew how I felt, but you wouldn’t listen. What was I to do?”

  “What were you to do, my darling? The answer to that is simple. You were to put on your goddamned ball gown, smile at our goddamned guests, and dance a time or two, as any normal English female might do.”

  His insinuation came through loud and clear, that she wasn’t normal. Didn’t he understand that was exactly why the idea of this ball made her run away?

  “You won’t listen,” she said, wringing her hands. “You won’t listen to me. You don’t care.”

  “Don’t I?” He had seemed somewhat calm when he first admitted her to his study, but no longer. The volume of his words rose with each syllable as he stalked back and forth. “Do you have any idea the tormented thoughts that ran through my head while you were gone? I feared you had been abducted, or ravished. I feared you were hurt or lost somewhere. I thought a thousand terrifying things. Does that sound like I don’t care? Have you any idea how anxious I felt when you turned up missing?”

  The harsh emotion in his voice scared her almost as much as the thick, black strap. “I only planned to stay away until the ball was over, you see. I would have come back.”

  “Damned right you would have come back.” His exclamation made her jump. She backed up as he walked toward her. “You’re a married woman and your place is with your husband. I arranged that ball in our honor, for your well-being, to secure your place in society and discourage careless talk. I’m trying to fix things, while you’re doing everything in your power to make things worse. It’s as if you want to marginalize us. It’s as if you want to ensure I’m forever apologizing for you in polite company.” He stopped nose to nose with her. “Did you even think about how it would have looked to everyone when you weren’t there?”

  “I don’t care,” she said in a high voice. “Don’t you understand? I don’t care how it looks to everyone. I don’t care what people think of me.”

  “I care!” His thunderous reply echoed off the walls. “I understand that you don’t care. You’ve told me that lie enough times, damn you, but what about me? I care, as you very well know! You’re my wife. You belong at my side, supporting me, bringing honor to my name. It’s not your job to embarrass me in front of hundreds of guests because you don’t care.”

  He was furious. Her smiling, easy-going husband had been transformed—by her folly—into a very wrathful man.

  “I understand that I shouldn’t have done it.” She spilled out apologies, only wanting to mollify him. “It was weak of me, and selfish, you’re perfectly right. Please, don’t hurt me. Don’t punish me. I won’t ever do such a thing again.” She swallowed hard, knowing from his expression that her pleas were in vain.

  “I wish I could trust your words, but I don’t.” He gave her a hard look. “I punished you at Lord Baxter’s for sneaking off behind his back, and now you’ve done it again. You did what you wished, not sparing a thought for anyone else’s feelings, and embroiled my friends—even my own sister—in
your scheme. Such actions call for a very harsh consequence, because I’ll be damned if I have to punish you for this on a third occasion.”

  She’d lost count of the times he’d cursed at her, and now he was going to punish her harshly, which she surely deserved. Oh, how she wished she could dispute his accusations, but all of them were true. She should never have hidden away and frightened everyone. She hated herself for her cowardice, more than he knew. To explain her past to him, to explain the reasons she did so, might spare her some of his anger. It might even spare her this punishment, but she couldn’t bear to speak of the bleak experiences that had made her into the coward she was.

  He paused, as if he too wanted her to explain these awful shortcomings in herself, but she could not. With a sigh, he walked toward the desk. “Up to this point, I’ve only spanked you to calm you down, to refocus your attitude, or to address minor trespasses. This will be a severe punishment spanking and it will hurt considerably worse. Come here, Josephine.”

  Her insides wrenched and turned over. She felt like she might empty her stomach as she plodded to the desk. She eyed the stout, weathered strap resting on top, affixed at one end with a sturdy handle, marking it as a tool of punishment for despicable miscreants such as herself. “The finest English leather,” he said, as he noted her studying it. “For correcting regrettable mistakes. You will bend over the desk and raise your skirts, please.”

  She could not move. She could not imagine doing something so far outside the bounds of common sense. His temper seemed to have peaked over the course of his scathing lecture. Now there was only this frightening, detached authority.

  “Of course, any resistance or refusal to accept your punishment will only make things worse,” he said. “Bend over and raise your skirts. I won’t repeat it again.”

  She stepped to the edge of the desk and folded herself over the top. It was precisely the right height for such a use. The rounded edge of the wood supported her hips, and her feet had firm contact with the floor. She reached to her sides and drew up the skirts of her gown. A humiliated flush flooded her cheeks and heated her ears and neck. Her whole body trembled, anticipating the pain to come. The strap appeared pliable and worn, a prodigious punishment instrument.