To Tame A Countess (Properly Spanked Book 2) Page 17

  She had told so many deep dark secrets to him this day, one more slipped out, little more than a whisper. “Yes, I want to belong here. I want to be a proper English lady whom everyone admires.”

  “Then give me this season to help you. Three months, until August. If you decide then that you still wish to hide in the country, at your manor or mine, I’ll allow you to do so, even though it means we’ll have to be apart.”

  A week ago, an hour ago, she would have jumped at the opportunity to be away from him. Now, curled in his lap with her soul bared in revelation, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be alone. Again. “Where will you go if I retire to the country?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Well, I’d have to be in London at least some of the year to sit in Parliament, and I must travel to see to my other interests, my holdings and such. It’s not ideal to live away from each other, especially if we have children, but if being among society gives you too much pain…”

  Children? She pictured holding a sweet, smiling child with auburn hair, or blond curls, and her heart gave a squeeze of aching desire. There was so much to strive for, if she could only be brave. She took a deep breath and let it out. “I suppose…perhaps…I can try to do better. If you’ll help me, I’ll try to make my way in society, starting tonight with this horrifying ball you’ve planned.”

  He pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead with such tenderness it brought more tears to her eyes. “My brave, lovely girl. No, don’t cry anymore,” he said, brushing her cheeks dry. “You must trust me. Everything will be well.”

  Chapter Thirteen: The Ball

  There were doubtless many tasks to accomplish before the evening’s entertainment, but Warren went upstairs instead to rest with Josephine in her room. He found it impossible to leave her after the emotional story she’d just shared, and she seemed grateful for his arms around her as she closed her eyes.

  But Warren couldn’t sleep. He felt like the world’s most loathsome ogre for punishing his wife. Of course, such breaches of trust and safety had to be dealt with, but if he had known the reason for her outrageous behavior, he would have gone about things with a lot more sympathy. All this time he’d been bedding her and perverting her, and spanking her for real and imagined faults, and he hadn’t even known her. He hadn’t understood anything about this woman he had wed.

  Well, he would do better. Nothing would please him more than a harmonious marriage with true affection. As he held her and stroked her hair, he vowed to encourage greater trust between them. Above anything, he wished her to feel safe. It was the least he could offer after her nightmarish experiences as a child.

  Her lady’s maid came tapping at the door a while later. Josephine startled awake in his arms, looking rumpled and groggy, but then she smiled at him. It was a very small, somewhat hesitant smile, but he thought he would always count it among the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

  “You must prepare for the ball now,” he said, brushing a kiss against her lips. “Try not to worry about being judged or stared at. Just do your best. I’ll be there to help too. All right, darling?”

  She nodded. “I’ll try not to embarrass you.”

  “No hiding in the house plants. Rudiment number one.”

  Her light, sweet laughter assured him they were once more in accord, so he left her to her lady’s maid and headed to his sister’s room. Minette answered his knock with the expected pout.

  “I don’t want to talk to you, Warren.”

  “I want to talk to you,” he said, holding the door open when she would have shut it in his face. “You ought to know that as bad as your punishment was, Josephine’s was worse. I hope you’ll be kind to her tonight.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I’m not angry at her,” she said. “I’m angry at you. How long will you continue to spank me as if I was a naughty child?”

  “You are a naughty child, Minette. It was very ill done of you to aid Josephine, and worse, to watch me go out of my mind with worry when you knew perfectly well where she was. I reserve the right to spank you for such behavior until you reach your majority, or until I manage to marry you off into some other man’s keeping. And God help the poor sod, whoever he is.”

  “I can’t wait to be married.” She flipped back her blonde curls and frowned at him. “I’m certain my husband will be much less a tyrant than you.”

  “Perhaps he will. At any rate, Josephine is preparing for the ball. I’m sure she’d like to speak with you when you’re ready. She could use your support tonight. You’ve always been wonderful at these sorts of things.”

  He could see the compliment melt away a bit of her anger. By the time the women came downstairs, they seemed in pleasant spirits once more. They walked arm in arm, heads together in close conversation. Their quick, easy friendship had pleased him, and he was glad to see their camaraderie had survived this unfortunate affair. The two of them were visions in their ball gown finery. Minette wore pale pink, which suited her rosy complexion, and Josephine looked ethereally lovely in green.

  He went to his wife and bowed over her hand. “You take my breath away.”

  Josephine blushed as if his compliment embarrassed her. Perhaps it was a bit strong for public ears. Minette flounced off, muttering again about tyrants as the first guests began to arrive.

  “The carriages are in a line around the block,” Josephine said. “I saw them from upstairs.”

  “I suppose when the floor is adequately packed, you and I can begin the dancing. A waltz, perhaps? Some might find it scandalous.” His gaze dipped to the enticing expanse of her gown’s neckline. “But I don’t care.”

  Josephine fluttered her fan. “I got in trouble for not caring, as I recall.”

  He saw teasing in her gaze, and marveled at it. “I don’t doubt you’ll find trouble again, Lady Saucymouth. But pray…not tonight.”

  He led her into the ballroom as the crowds of guests thickened. It wasn’t proper for a husband and wife to hang onto one another at such occasions, but newlyweds might get away with it. He was aware of speculative glances, but many more admiring ones, particularly from his gentlemen acquaintances. He narrowed his eyes at one or two known for extramarital dalliances. He had no wish to share Josephine, and, more surprisingly, no wish to dally himself. More than one lady was disappointed when he didn’t respond to their blatantly flirtatious advances.

  Near midnight, he and Josephine danced a waltz, opening the way for other couples to join them. The ball was a monumental crush, but a success. Josephine gazed at him in just the right way, whether in guile or innocence, he didn’t know. It was a gaze of love cloaked in propriety, a shy, sweet fascination that would put to rest any lingering gossip that the match had been forced under duress. He was afraid he looked at her in the same enamored manner, judging by Townsend’s bemused looks.

  While Lady Townsend made her way over to visit with Minette and Josephine, Warren stood and chatted with his friend. “Have you seen August and Arlington?” he asked. “They were supposed to come.”

  “They’ll be along.” Townsend shifted as guests packed closer around them. “Seems you’ve already got all the people you need. I saw Baxter a little while ago, looking pleased as punch that his ward is so happily married.”

  Warren snorted. “Good thing he wasn’t around last night.”

  The two men escaped the crush, climbing to an open balcony overlooking the festivities. “Look at them.” Townsend pointed to Minette, Josephine, and his wife. “Have you noticed? Not one of the three has sat down the entire evening.”

  “The sore bottom club. Poor lambs.” Warren leaned on the railing. “Poor conspiring lambs, who shall know better next time.”

  Townsend laughed. “I wouldn’t count on it. It makes me nervous to see the three of them together. They could be plotting revenge.”

  A couple of gentlemen came to bow over Josephine’s and Aurelia’s hands and ask for a dance, breaking up the trio. Minette stood a moment alone, and then a familiar, dark-haired gentleman came to offer her a dance too.

  “Oh, look, there’s August with Minette,” said Townsend. “I told you they’d be here. Arlington’s probably over by the food.”

  Warren frowned as the two of them headed to the dance floor. His sister stared up at his friend as if he were a god. “I wish he wouldn’t encourage her,” he said.

  “Who, August? He has no interest in your sister, believe me. He’s only being polite. Should he have left her standing alone?”

  “Yes, probably. Someone else would have come.”

  “It’s a childish infatuation on Minette’s part, nothing more. She’ll leave it behind as soon as one of these other dunderheads manages to capture her attention. Honestly, did we ever act like that?” He pointed to some of the younger men, more than one of whom gawked artlessly at Minette in August’s arms.

  “No, we never acted like that,” said Warren. “We only went to balls when we had to, and swore to one another we wouldn’t accept a shackle until we were fifty. How foolish we were.”

  “Not foolish, just young. Like Minette.” Townsend turned his back on the dancing blur of guests. “I perceive Lady Warren is in better spirits. You didn’t have to drag her down the stairs?”

  It was his friend’s offhand way of asking if things were all right after the morning’s drama. Warren thought how very many things had happened since then. A harsh punishment, and even more difficult revelations on Josephine’s part.

  “I understand better now why she was afraid,” he said. “And I didn’t have to drag her. She promises she’s going to give the season a go.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” His friend looked back down at the guests. “It was good of you to marry her. I hope everything works out for the best.” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “If Aurelia had wed you as she wished, what would have become of poor Baroness Maitland? She’d be at home polishing all the gaudy new rings Stafford purchased with her inheritance.”

  “I’m glad now that I wed Josephine.” Warren watched her dance around the ballroom with Lord Grimshaw, smiling, head held high, all to please her husband. “As for Aurelia, that snarl’s in the past. She ended up with the right person.”

  “It’s early to say, but I think Josephine ended up with the right person too.”

  Warren stared hard at the banister. “I don’t know, Towns. I don’t know if I’m a decent husband sometimes. I’m better than Stafford but… I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what? Stafford is a perverse, self-centered arsehole. He has no conscience. You’re nothing like that.”

  Warren’s chest felt tight with shame. Josephine had been an innocent when he married her and he’d taken full advantage, asking her to do things most gentlemen would only ask of a whore. A perverse, self-centered arsehole? Perhaps he was that too. He took a bit too much pleasure in spanking his wife’s bottom, that was certain.

  “It’s not the same, old chap,” Townsend said.

  “What’s not the same?”

  “The activities you’re thinking about. The things that are making you go red about the ears.” His lips curved in a smile. “I know your brand of perversity, and it’s not the same perversity of Stafford’s ilk.”

  “But…the things I ask of her… She’s a lady,” he said, his voice harsh and tight.

  “Is she a willing lady?”

  “Of course she is. But only because she doesn’t know any better. She wasn’t raised in a traditional fashion, to harbor feminine inhibitions, so I’ve taken advantage, just as someone of Stafford’s ilk would.”

  “Stafford sees women as objects to use, vessels to hurt and manipulate for his own pleasure. I know you, Warren. What you do with your wife is not the same.”

  “It feels the same to me sometimes.”

  “Listen.” Townsend leaned closer to him and lowered his voice. “Don’t tear yourself to pieces. I do everything with my wife.” He raised a brow. “Everything. It’s perfectly all right.”

  “Everything?” He regarded his friend, thinking of prim, pure Aurelia. “What do you mean, everything?”

  “Everything,” Townsend drawled, with slow, deliberate emphasis. “For Aurelia’s honor, I won’t go into specifics. I’ll only say we engage in a delightful array of marital activities, and it pleases us both. If you’ll recall, you were the one who goaded me to demand what I desired.”

  “I was drunk then, and mostly asleep.”

  “But you were right. As you know, Aurelia was raised very traditionally. She’s been bred to propriety from the cradle, and yet she enjoys…”

  “Everything?”

  “Pretty much. Yes.”

  Warren let out a low whistle. “How I admire you right now.”

  “Don’t admire me,” he said impatiently. “Just wipe that guilty look off your face. You’re nothing like Stafford, because you care about your wife and you want what’s best for her. If you and Josephine enjoy unusual intimacies in your marriage, then get down on your knees and thank the heavens for it. I certainly do.”

  The idea of getting down on his knees, and heaven, brought some rather lurid images to Warren’s mind. He turned to seek out Josephine among the dancing couples. He imagined stealing her from her partner and crawling beneath the ruffled skirts of her gown, pushing her back and tossing them over her head…

  Townsend grinned and nudged him on the shoulder. “Everyone’s watching you stare, so you might as well go down to her already. I daresay no one will bat an eyelash if you choose to dance with your wife an outrageous number of times.”

  A flush heated his cheeks, to be caught staring so avidly. “We’re supposed to be silencing gossip, not inviting more,” he said, tearing his gaze from Josephine.

  “You’re supposed to be silencing the wrong kind of gossip, and giving the ton something more pleasant to prattle on about. If it helps, I’ll go reclaim my wife as well. We’ll play reformed rakes, transformed by love and marriage. Come, Warren, add more yearning to your gaze.”

  Warren grinned. Easy enough to add more yearning. He couldn’t wait to take her upstairs, away from the music and whirl of society, and be alone with her again.

  *** *** ***

  Her husband never said so, but Josephine knew he would come to her afterward. She waited up in her dressing gown, peeking out the window at the last of the retreating carriages. Her feet hurt from dancing nearly every dance, many of them with her husband. Her face ached from forced smiles, and her brain hurt from trying to come up with answers to the inane conversation of her dance partners. She had tried to be a gracious countess for Warren.

  And he’d told her he was pleased. The last time he danced with her, he’d bowed his head close to hers and murmured “What a very good girl you are,” and the tone of his utterance had reminded her of private and exciting things. His touches, his kisses, his authority, even the punishment he’d given her earlier. She’d clung to him rather too closely for propriety as he’d guided her through dancing figures, but he hadn’t seemed to care.

  She turned at a firm tap on the door. A moment later, Warren entered the room. He wore breeches, but nothing else of his formal finery. His defined chest muscles shone in the candlelight, and she had an image of him dancing in the ballroom as he was now. How the ladies would have stared! He had been the handsomest gentleman there, in her estimation. Remarkable, that he was hers.

  She felt the strangest impulse to smile at him, to flirt, to be coy and drop her lashes as she’d seen other ladies do, but she didn’t know if she might look ridiculous. Instead she stood still as he approached her. A shy smile trembled at the corners of her lips.

  “Lovely Josephine.” He embraced her, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’ve wanted to kiss you all night.” He did so now, gently at first, teasing her mouth open with patient pressure. “Darling,” he said in the midst of this play. “How beautiful you looked in your gown. How gracious and dignified you were.”

  “You too,” she whispered, leaning away. “You looked very splendid in your black silk, like an estimable gentleman.”

  “We fooled them all, then, didn’t we?” He laughed, swinging her into the one-two-three steps of an abbreviated waltz. She heard a softer, lighter sound of merriment and realized it was coming from her. He pulled faces, humming the music and imitating some of the most notable guests until she grew breathless from laughter.

  He stopped, out of breath himself, and swayed with her in the middle of her room. He held her hand in his, palm to palm, against his heart. “Do you remember the night we met, Josephine? At Baxter’s ball?”

  “Yes, of course. I found you very strange.”

  “The feeling was mutual, but I still wanted to dance with you. Did you want to dance with me? Even a little? Tell the truth.”

  She gazed at him, remembering how she’d shrunk from his size, his heat, and his solidity. He had frightened her more than anything. She still felt agitated when he was near, but it was a different sort of agitation now. “I—I was rather afraid to touch you that night. Or even look at you. Much less dance with you.”

  He gave his pirate’s grin, dirty and lopsided as a listing ship. “What if you had known then that you would go to bed with me?”

  “I would have run screaming from the room.”

  He laughed hard at that, and let go of her hand. “Come with me. There’s something I’ve wanted to show you. Nothing to make you run away screaming.” He thought a moment. “Well, perhaps.”

  She opened her mouth to protest but he was already drawing her along to his suite of rooms opposite. His furnishings were as bold and masculine as hers were frilly and feminine, all black and deep blue with gold edging that caught the candles’ glow. His bed was gargantuan, big enough across for four people. He tossed her into the middle of it, then went to fetch something from a chest.

  “You must forgive me,” he said. “I enjoy playing with you far too much.”

  “Forgive you for what?” she asked warily.

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