A Proper Lord's Wife (Properly Spanked Legacy Book 2) Read online

  Now, he appreciated the space. It felt good to take a breath. Such a farce, to listen to the polite banter in the parlor, as the two families planned a wedding embarked upon by accident. It had taken all his discipline not to bury his head in his hands. That would have been rude, of course, and hurt the feelings of his future bride.

  His bride. For God’s sake, things were moving quickly. Upon first impression, the lady was sweet, if awkward. He could barely see her face beneath her bonnet’s brim. Just a bit of delicate nose and that prim, dainty chin.

  “There are benches over there, if you’d like to sit.” She led him from the stairs toward an Italianate arch. “Or we could walk beneath that arch into the back gardens. There are paths, and a fountain.”

  “Which would you prefer?”

  The question seemed to fluster her. She stopped and turned, her eyes searching his as if to divine what he wanted. Then, as he watched her, a corner of her lips turned up in surprise, or delight. “Do you know, our eyes are the same color? Just exactly the same.”

  It was unexpected, this artless outburst. She was right. Her eyes were the same pale, gold-flecked brown color as his, perhaps even golder now that she’d lifted her face toward the sun. His mother had once described them as having a copper cast. His sister Felicity likened them to amber. He thought it was probably some chance mixture of his mother’s grey eyes and his father’s dark brown ones.

  And here now, yes, was a young woman with the same unusual gaze.

  “If we’re still, we might grow too cold.”

  It took him a moment to realize she was answering the question he’d posed earlier. “You’d prefer to walk then?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  After her exclamation about his eye color, she turned shy again, facing away from him although she still rested her hand upon his arm. She was a bit taller than most women, so he didn’t have to lean down to escort her. He was learning all these things about her now, a mere week or two before they were to wed. He tried hard not to compare her to his memories of Ophelia. There was nothing but misery down that pathway, for he’d adored Ophelia with every fiber of his being. Poor Jane could hardly be expected to measure up.

  Do not obsess over Ophelia now, he scolded himself as they passed beneath the stone archway into a neat, landscaped garden of low shrubs and limpid winter flowers. There was, indeed, a grand fountain a little farther on, with a stately Roman maiden holding a pitcher. Lady Jane gave him a small, sideways smile.

  “Water flows out of her pitcher in warmer months. There’s a clever pressurized pump beneath, but it’s turned off in winter so it won’t be damaged if the water freezes to ice.”

  “Yes, it’s the same at my parents’ manor. The pump is turned off at the first hint of frost.”

  They stood and stared at the water, which was clean and clear. “No fish?” he asked, teasing.

  “Not here. The groundskeeper treats the water to keep it free of mold and odor, and the fish wouldn’t survive that type of poison very long. Well, I say it’s poison, but it’s not that, it’s only unnatural. When bugs fall in, they die. Frogs used to jump in and die, but I asked my father if we could create a sort of barrier to prevent that and so, you see…”

  She leaned to show him the pale line where the fountain’s edge had been extended several inches with decorative marble work.

  “It’s far enough out that frogs can’t hop in anymore. If they try, all they do is hit their heads on the underside, and decide to go somewhere else.”

  “That’s amazing.” It was amazing, really, to hear a young woman speak at such length about frogs. At least she was looking at him now.

  “It was too sad before, to see them floating about the fountain belly up.” She shuddered, then brightened. “As for the fish you mentioned, we have three great, massive ponds at our country home in Reading, and there are ever so many fish in there.”

  He hadn’t the heart to tell her he’d only been joking about the fish, so he was obliged to listen to her list off the numerous varieties that made their homes in Lord Mayhew’s ponds. He tried to look interested, while picturing, for his own entertainment, how horrified her parents would be to know their daughter was chattering to him about frogs and fish in this beginning stage of their acquaintance.

  Marlow and August would howl at this story later. The naturalist, indeed.

  “Shall we move on?” he asked when she came to the end of her fish monologue. “See more of the gardens?”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you cold?”

  “No, the sun warms me well enough.”

  He offered his arm again, and she took it more readily this time. They walked in silence for a moment or two, then Jane let out a small sigh. “I’m sorry I went on about the fountain,” she said. “And the ponds. It’s just that I know so much about fish.”

  He must not laugh. He would not laugh. If he did, it would be the maniacal laughter of a man who’d mistakenly engaged himself to the most bizarre woman in England.

  “You may speak of whatever you wish,” he said. “I have heard from some friends that you’re a great lover of nature.”

  He felt her fingers tense upon his sleeve. Well, she had spent the past ten minutes going on about aquatic animals. She hadn’t scrabbled about in any of the garden beds yet. Perhaps she wished to, and barely restrained herself.

  “I do enjoy nature,” she said at last. “I find it very interesting.”

  “In what way?”

  She turned toward him, thinking. “In the way that it never stays the same. There’s always a mystery to it. Nature is connected to life. It is life, don’t you imagine? And look how complicated that can be. Life, I mean.”

  Her face grew animated as she warmed to her topic. There must have been some surprise on his face, no matter how he tried to hide it, for she followed up weakly.

  “Perhaps I think about these things too much.”

  “Not at all.” He cast about for a proper response and hit upon a remembrance from his school days. “According to Socrates, an unexamined life is not worth living.”

  “Ah, Socrates.” Her smile returned. “He believed nature was akin to divinity. It’s telling that so many philosophers have concerned themselves with nature’s mysteries. It’s endlessly interesting, don’t you think?”

  I think, Lady Jane, that Lord Hobart probably lost his nerve after just such a conversation as this. He’d met Hobart on a few occasions, and remembered him as a small-minded fellow, unlikely to bear much interest in the mysteries of nature. For Townsend, the most interesting parts of nature revealed themselves in the bedroom. One found mystery and divinity indeed, if one bedded down with an adequately voracious woman.

  A dangerous line of thought, that, as he strolled with his maidenly fiancée. She was still going on about Socrates, God save him.

  “I suppose I am talking too much and behaving like a bluestocking,” she said, as if she’d heard his thought. “There, I shouldn’t have said that either.” Her ladylike mask fell away, revealing more honest anxiety. “I must admit I’m not the best at…”

  She paused, biting her lip, and glanced back toward the house.

  “What are you not the best at, Lady Jane? Vapid conversation? Have you studied philosophy when you ought to have been perfecting your witty banter?”

  He was teasing, but she answered with a serious frown. “I was meant to marry a family friend, so I haven’t had much practice with courtship.” She gave him a sideways look. “I suppose you’re used to more well-spoken women.”

  “If by well-spoken, you mean capable of prattling on about absolutely nothing for the better part of an hour, then yes. That’s not a difficult art. You can learn to be better at it if you like, Lady Jane, but when we’re alone, you may speak as you wish.”

  What a kind and husbandly thing to say. He was warming to her strangeness, against all odds. She’d never have the grace or beauty of Ophelia, but she wasn’t unpleasant. They would rub along to
gether well enough if she wasn’t a bore.

  “What beautiful gardens,” he said, as they strolled past a ruthlessly manicured hedgerow. “Did you have a hand in any of the planning?”

  “Not this section, no. The head groundskeeper won’t let me touch it, but I have my own garden nearer the house, one I’ve planted myself.”

  “How wonderful.”

  “I’m sure you won’t wish to see it, not at this time of year. It’s more colorful in spring.”

  “Everything is more colorful in spring, isn’t it?”

  Was his answer too curt? She was silent for long moments, then she said, “I suppose we’ll be wed by then. By spring.”

  “It seems your father wants us wed at the earliest opportunity.” He didn’t say it meanly, or with sarcasm, but beneath her bonnet’s brim, he could see her delicate jaw go tight.

  “Don’t you wish to wed?” she asked.

  It was tempting to tell her the truth, that this had all been a terrible accident, that he did not wish to wed any woman but the one Wescott had stolen from him. But to admit he’d meant to offer for her sister, not her, in some quest for petty revenge…

  He couldn’t do it, not after the tremor he’d heard in her voice.

  “Of course I wish to wed you,” he said. “I wouldn’t have offered for you otherwise. I hope you didn’t find it impertinent, that I didn’t seek an introduction first.”

  “Impertinent? Oh, no. Just a little surprising. If I may ask…” She stopped on the path, and he stopped too as she drew her arm from his. “Why did you choose to marry me, Lord Townsend? Is that too rude a question?”

  She was not flirtatious, this one. She was not glib and teasing as other society ladies were. She was awkward and sincere in a way that unsettled him. He cleared his throat and removed his hat, turning the brim in his hand.

  “It’s not rude, Lady Jane. I’m sure you’re due an answer.”

  “No, you needn’t tell me. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  It was a silly, pointless argument they were having, but it gave him time to frame a plausible lie to spare her feelings.

  “If you must know, I heard of your plight during the events of last season, when your expected fiancé decided… Well.” He turned his hat again. “I heard you were poorly treated, and it incensed me. I felt the need to come to your rescue, to play the hero, perhaps.”

  Her eyes were wide, amber-gold and utterly trusting. What a liar he was, and she believed every word. He looked across the gardens toward the fountain, returning his hat to its proper place atop his head. “It was forward of me, yes. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Oh.” She turned away, biting her lip again. “No, I don’t mind.”

  “As a proponent of decency and honor, I saw an opportunity to come to your aid and I took it. Why, I had been looking for a prospective wife for some time when I heard of your plight.” Such lies. Unctuous, flowery lies, while his fiancée was guileless to a fault.

  Another thought came into his head. Did the poor woman wish to marry him? He’d assumed, because of her desperate circumstances, she’d gladly accept his offer, but maybe she preferred to remain unwed at her country home, cataloguing fish, gardening into her spinsterhood, surrounded by the nature she loved so much. If she were to break their engagement, no one could fault him.

  “Jane. I must ask you something now, in private, before we return to your parents’ parlor.” He took her delicate hands and squeezed them gently when he saw the panic in her gaze. “No, it’s nothing worrisome. It’s only that…this has all been so sudden. I didn’t speak to you before offering for your hand as I should have, and your father seemed to feel you did not need to be consulted about a marital agreement.”

  A spot of color rose in her cheeks. “No, he didn’t consult me. But he knew I wished to marry. When Lord Hobart decided he didn’t want me after so many years of expectation, oh…” Her voice trembled before she steadied it. “It piqued my feelings very much.”

  From the tears in her eyes, he’d done more than pique her feelings. He’d hurt her badly. She could be so easily damaged, this one. The union which had seemed merely inconvenient to this point began to seem perilous. Lady June would have been so much safer. She was shining and confident, and would have helped him exact revenge on Wescott. Lady Jane was a crystal vase at the mercy of his brutish, selfish fingers.

  He resisted the urge to drop her hands, but it was she who pulled away, to brush at the corner of one eye. He reached into his coat to remove his handkerchief and held it out to her in silence.

  “I don’t know why I’m going teary,” she said, accepting it and then waving it as if to banish her emotional display. “I was so pleased to learn you wanted to marry me. It made the other situation easier to bear. To forget even. I worried, after what happened with Lord Hobart, that I might be untouchable. Wouldn’t that have been a terrible thing?” She glanced away, frowning. “And perhaps you know that around that same time, June was jilted by your friend Lord Wescott.”

  “He’s no friend of mine.” Now he could, at last, tell the truth about something. “When I heard what he’d done to your sister, after raising her expectations, he ceased to have my regard. Gentlemen should not behave so.”

  “Yes, June was very hurt.”

  “Lord Wescott has a habit of acting selfishly, even if it hurts others. You may be sure I’m not that type.”

  Her eyes met his. Amber-gray. Brown. Copper. Whatever they were, they were full of sincere emotion.

  “Do you want to hear something amusing?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “When I heard you’d asked for my hand, I feared it was some kind of prank. I thought…” She shook her head. “When your heart is broken once, you fear it will be broken again. How relieved I am to know you’re not the heart-breaking sort.”

  He said nothing, caught in a spell of guilt and longing. He wanted to be the fine man she thought he was, not the scheming, uncaring man who’d asked for her hand. Curse it all. He couldn’t go back and change how things had begun between them. He could only move forward.

  “I did not propose to you as a prank, Jane,” he said, holding her gaze. “You needn’t worry about your heart being broken anymore.”

  She smoothed his handkerchief across her gloved fingers. “Very well. I won’t.” Her smile was bright, sudden, almost tremulous. “Instead, I shall look forward to being your bride.”

  “Just as I look forward to becoming your husband,” he replied politely.

  She had a way of looking at him, a sort of adulation bordered by fear. It affected him more than he liked.

  “Once we’re wed, I’ll believe I’ll take you to Somerton,” he said, leading her back along the path. “It’s my country retreat in Berkshire, very wild and wooded. Considering your devotion to nature, I’m sure you’ll like it there.”

  “I can’t wait to see it. It must be a very fine place.”

  It was a fine place to get away from town and throw wild parties. As for marriage, that remained to be seen.

  “And I’ve a large town house here in London, a place we can call home during the Season. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds wonderful, my lord.” She paused a moment. “I’ve been meaning to ask you… I have a few pets which are very special to me. If you don’t mind, I would like to keep them with me after we’re married.”

  Of course this nature-loving woman-child would have pets to bring to their marriage. She probably had dogs, cats, rabbits, all the furry, smelly things. Well, he wasn’t a monster. He wouldn’t separate his naturalist from her beloved animals. The busier she kept with her pets, the less she’d bother him.

  “Yes, you may bring all your belongings to your new home, Jane, and that includes your pets. If you’ll write out the necessary requirements and measurements for kennels, I’ll send them to my groundskeeper at Somerton so he can get to work.”

  “How generous of you, Lord Townsend. I’m so pleased.” She said
this with real joy, not the nervousness that had afflicted her up until now.

  “Prepare the instructions as soon as you can, so he can have everything ready upon your arrival after our wedding.”

  Her eyes shone with a new, fond regard. “Thank you so much, my lord. Truly, thank you. I desperately hoped you would allow me to bring my animals. They mean so much to me.”

  “I wish you to be happy.” He held up a finger in warning. “However, I must set a rule. No pets in the house. I prefer a calm, orderly household, and pets can be a nuisance, always getting under your feet.”

  “Of course, my lord. As long as they have a secure, warm place to stay, I’m content. Oh…” She placed a finger upon her pointed little chin, tapping it twice. “Have you some dependable mousers at your estate?”

  “Mousers?” He modulated the amusement from his voice. “Yes, I believe we’ve three or four excellent mousers at Somerton.”

  “Perfect. Then I can leave my cats at my family’s home, where they’re happiest. They’re older, you see, and set in their ways. They’ve always had the run of the estate.”

  “That’s settled then. Anything else you require, just add it into the instructions. The Somerton staff is excellent, and I’m sure they’ll be anxious to help you feel at home.”

  She turned shy again, just like that, giving him a crooked smile. “Do you want to know something else amusing?”

  “Certainly.”

  “I was so afraid to meet you today. I saw you only a few times last season, from afar, and you seemed…intimidating.”

  Was this, now, an awkward attempt at flirting? “Intimidating?” he repeated.

  “I feared you might be a cold-hearted type because you are so handsome. Oh, I don’t know why. I suppose sometimes I expect the worst for no reason at all, maybe so I won’t be disappointed if things go wrong. But you don’t seem cold-hearted. You seem very warm and kind.”

  He met her gaze, looked into those eyes that were just like his own. He had cold-heartedly thought of every possible way to escape this engagement, but here he was. “I was raised in a loving home and taught to be a proper gentleman,” he said. “If I’m ever cold-hearted to you, well, then, you must let me know.”