A Proper Lord's Wife (Properly Spanked Legacy Book 2) Page 6

  For some reason, she feared he would ride ahead and leave them behind. Leave her behind. He’d been a little too pleased there was no room for him in the carriage, after the last of her things had been loaded into the traveling compartment.

  Well, he was still there. He hadn’t flown off yet. No, for they were to spend tonight together at an inn, and then arrive at Somerton tomorrow. Would she have her own room at the inn? She wasn’t sure and had been afraid to ask. Either tonight or tomorrow night would be their wedding night when he’d come to bed with her. She’d insisted to her mother and sister that she needed no education on that account, that she knew all there was to know of mating from her animal studies. Her mother had said, “Jane, really!” Her sister had smiled and laughed and said she would certainly be fine if she left the hard work to her husband.

  The hard work?

  It was possible she didn’t know as much as she thought, but Jane prided herself on her practicality. Whatever she did not know, she would learn, either tonight or tomorrow night. She would be the best, most blameless wife to Lord Townsend, the sort of wife he would be proud to accompany in a carriage, when said carriage was not full to bursting with wedding gifts, last minute personal items, and two wild animals in traveling crates.

  Bouncer, her bunny, was a comfortable traveler. All he needed was a cozy box, some fluffy bedding, and a full stomach to fall asleep in the bump and sway of the journey. Mr. Cuddles, her four-foot-long albino python regius, was not used to such close quarters, even though his box was bigger than Bouncer’s. She had rescued the exotic python from a filthy barrel at the Exeter Zoo Exhibition, the poor reptile half-mad and stunted by starvation by the time a sympathetic keeper warned her of his imminent demise.

  Over the past year she had nursed him back to health, soothing his mind with gentle caresses and fattening him up with fresh-caught mice from the kitchens. She hoped Somerton’s cats were as talented as the prolific mousers at her parents’ estate.

  Now and again she peeked in on Mr. Cuddles to be sure the journey wasn’t upsetting him too much. A couple of pats on the head, a soothing rub along his coiled body went a long way to helping him relax. “Soon you will be warm and safe in your new enclosure,” she said. “I’ve told them to put in nice, deep soil and branches, and a big water bowl just as you like.”

  She could not have sent her pets ahead with her lady’s maid, although it would have been easier. Only she knew how to care for them properly, after much study and consultation with books. Hers was a small menagerie, but well-loved. Without her care, Mr. Cuddles would have died in his miserable zoo, and Bouncer would have been long snatched up by predators due to his malformed back foot.

  Jane wondered if there were any animals in need of rescue at Somerton. Townsend said it was a wooded, wild place, and she looked forward to exploring the grounds once they arrived, if Lord Townsend would let her. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back upon the high seat. His carriage was a lovely conveyance, soft and plush, well cushioned for the bumps along the road. She held Mr. Cuddles’ box upon her lap and set one hand near the ventilation holes at the side, because snakes smelled by flicking their tongues out, and her scent might bring her pet some comfort.

  She had not told her husband yet that she owned an albino python—or a lame bunny, for that matter. He’d invited her to bring her pets to their marriage, and promised them a warm, dry corner in Somerton’s stables. She had decided not to explain the sort of pets they were, for fear he’d rescind his permission. Nor did she challenge his requirement to keep them outside the house. Eventually, he’d come to love them as much as she did and perhaps allow them to stay in closer quarters. Until then, she’d make sure to visit them in the stables a few times each day.

  Yes, she was just at the beginning of a grand adventure. She drowsed through some of the journey, having daydreams about a lovely, romantic married life. In the spring, how proud she would be to attend balls and entertainments on Lord Townsend’s arm. All the unkind ladies and crotchety old widows who’d gossiped about her broken betrothal would have to take their words back. She was not unmarriageable after all and would not be a spinster. The engraved gold ring upon her finger made her a marchioness, the new wife of a prominent aristocrat…

  “But I will still make time for you,” she told her pets.

  The tedious journey had her talking to herself, more or less, for the animals couldn’t answer. If Lord Townsend had found a way to crowd into the compartment with her, what would they have talked about? What would they talk about tonight during dinner?

  Would he come to bed with her at the inn? Would they talk then, or move straight to the mating?

  She must remember that it was not called mating in polite society, among people. It was not called anything, or talked about, but her mother had alluded to “the bedding.” Jane had also read an illicit passage in a romance novel once, about lovemaking. Making love sounded beautiful, even if the passage had been too flowery to impart any real information.

  When they finally stopped at the inn, he said she must be tired and that she ought to have her own room so she could rest. What choice did she have, but to go along with his suggestion and spend the night alone? Again, she had the feeling he might leave without her in the morning. It was silly. He was polite and kind, and saw that all her parcels were taken upstairs during dinner, so she would be able to refresh her pets’ food and water before bed, with the kitchen’s help.

  Perhaps that was why he took his own room, because of her pets. It was hard to know his mind, for he was a reserved sort of gentleman, speaking to her of general things, like whether she was comfortable in the carriage, and whether she preferred the roasted or sauced meat.

  All through the inn’s delicious dinner, she stole glances at him and thought about lovemaking. He would be good at it, wouldn’t he? June had assured her he would know what to do. He did seem to be good at a great many things.

  The next day seemed interminable, for she was anxious to get to Somerton and settle in, and smell some fresh, bracing country air. They arrived late in the afternoon, so when the carriage rolled into the courtyard, the grand country mansion was outlined in the rich, golden fire of a setting sun. It was majestically designed, with imposing columns and a tiered Romanesque fountain in the courtyard. She drew in a breath as she noted the surrounding fields and forests. Though the trees were bare and the fields wintry gray, the property seemed as wild and beautiful as he’d promised.

  As she peered out the window, great numbers of household staff emerged and stood on a grand set of stairs to greet them. She felt tired and travel worn, but when Lord Townsend helped her down the carriage stairs, she forced a smile for the smartly attired servants.

  It became a real smile at their welcoming applause. Her husband introduced her as the new Lady Townsend—which would take some getting used to after spending her entire life as Lady Jane. Her personal maid, Matilda, was there, having arrived days earlier with the bulk of Jane’s trunks and luggage. She came forward with the housekeeper, a Mrs. Loring, who invited her to come inside and have a hot cup of tea while her husband supervised the unpacking.

  And oh, she wanted to go inside and see if it was as grand within as without, but she needed to tend to her animals. “I must go to the stables first and help move my pets into their new enclosures,” she said.

  “You’ve brought your pets?” asked Matilda, eyes going wide.

  “Lord Townsend said I could, as long as they weren’t in the house.” Jane set off after the carriage, feeling a bit less than a proper lady in front of the assembled staff, who’d probably expected her to float inside and collapse on a fainting couch.

  She was not the fainting-couch type, and they might as well know it from the start. When she arrived at the large, domed stables, she scanned the spacious interior to see horses being groomed and fed, and luggage disembarked by the light of stolid iron lamps. She saw her pets’ new enclosures ready and waiting near a warming stove, each cag
e crafted of glass, wire, and polished, shining wood. What a beautiful job they’d done following her directions!

  Then she saw a stable boy peer into Mr. Cuddles’ traveling box and drop it with an alarmed cry. The lid popped open and her startled snake slithered out.

  Chapter Five

  Setting Expectations

  The uproar happened so fast, Townsend hardly knew how it started. A man yelled, “Snake! Snake!”

  Another yelled, “Adder! Viper!”

  “No,” his wife cried. “It’s not a viper, it’s a python. Don’t hurt it. It’s my snake.”

  Her snake? He saw a dash of yellow and white, a curving streak shooting across the stable’s center aisle. If it was a snake, it was unlike any he’d seen. For a moment, everyone froze and stared except for Jane, who ran after the thing, arms outstretched. “It’s mine,” she said again. “He won’t harm anything. He’s only looking for a place to hide and be safe.”

  The snake darted under the door of the last stall, the largest one containing his most rambunctious stallion. Whether from the shouting or the sudden appearance of a slithering reptile, the beast began to stamp about.

  “Oh, no,” said Jane. “No, no, no.”

  He shouted as she ran toward the stall. “Stop, Jane. Take care!”

  Between his yelling, the groom’s exclamations, and the stallion’s agitated snorting, the noise rose to a fever pitch as his harebrained new wife yanked open the stall door and entered to try to retrieve the snake.

  “Jane, come out of there at once.” By the time he reached her, she was alongside his horse, bending down, combing through the straw. “You’ll be injured. For God’s sake, he’ll trample you. Are you listening to me?”

  “Mr. Cuddles will die if I don’t catch him. He can’t survive winter weather.”

  She was in tears, oblivious to the stallion’s increasing agitation. Townsend grabbed for reins that weren’t there, trying to settle the horse. “There now, Gallant. Down. Please.”

  The damned snake darted between the corner walls, trying to find a way out of the stall. As he watched, helpless, his wife fell to her knees to trap the snake just as Gallant reared up.

  “Jane, watch out!”

  It happened in seconds, but it seemed an hour that he stared at his wife’s delicate back and his stallion’s great hooves hovering just over top of it. She caught the snake with a panicked sob and stood, oblivious to Gallant’s right foreleg passing inches from her head. The horse twisted sideways as he pulled his wife to the stall’s door. She slipped out ahead of him with the snake held in a knot against her breast.

  The entire stable had gathered to watch this drama play out. Now that she was safe again, a new uproar of chaos burst forth, with grooms yelling, the stable master coughing, and a lone stable boy crying where he stood. Jane cried too, cradling her snake. Her snake!

  Townsend didn’t know where to begin unraveling his feelings. He reeled from anger, fear, shock, and a delayed sense of panic that burst forth in a furious scold.

  “You brought a snake here?” he bellowed at Jane. “That is your pet?”

  “His name is Mr. Cuddles.”

  Her quietly reasonable response piqued him even more. She tutted at the creature, the cursed reptile that might have gotten her killed, checking it over for injury. When she was satisfied it was unscathed, she set it into a glass-faced box near the wood stove. As she closed and latched the box’s lid, he turned to his stable master.

  “You knew my wife was bringing a snake? You built a cage for a snake?”

  “Yes, my lord,” said the servant, abashed. “You said I was to follow the directions she sent.”

  “He built it expertly well,” Jane said, taking his man’s defense. “It’s got the greenery, soil, and water I requested for the snake’s health. Now Mr. Cuddles will be safe and warm, and there will be no more danger from ill-behaved horses.”

  “Ill-behaved horses? My horse is well behaved, my lady, when snakes aren’t being set free in his stall.”

  “That was a mistake. Mr. Cuddles surprised that young man, and he dropped his enclosure.”

  The stable boy cried harder, until one of the groomsmen led him away.

  “Mr. Cuddles?” shouted Townsend, who couldn’t seem to control his temper. “You have a pet snake named Mr. Cuddles and you didn’t think to inform me of this before you brought it into my stables? Where is it from?” He peered into the enclosure. “Is it venomous?”

  “Goodness no, my lord. He is a python regius from the grasslands of Africa. Well, from the Exeter Zoo.” She pushed back a lock of her orange-blond hair which had come undone in the fracas. “I adopted him when he was sickly and likely to die and nursed him back to health. He needed a home.”

  Townsend glared at his wife. “His home is in the wild, not in Somerton’s stables.”

  “He cannot be released into the wild, not unless I take him back to the African continent. He cannot survive England’s forest climate, especially not with his albino coloring.” Her lower lip trembled as she faced him. “Please, he’ll do no harm.”

  “Only get you killed beneath the hooves of my goddamned stallion. Do you even realize what you did? Do you realize how close you came to disaster chasing that damned snake?”

  He’d shouted curses at her twice now, because he didn’t know how to feel or how to take a full breath after watching his new wife almost get her head caved in by a panicked horse. She burst into tears, gripping the sides of her gown, now ruined with dirt and stains from grubbing about after her blasted African python. Mr. Cuddles? Of all the ridiculous, outrageous pets for a young woman to have. Did she cuddle the thing? He wanted to throw something.

  “Go to the house,” he told her, modulating his voice with effort. “Go to your rooms now, as you ought to have done when you arrived, and change out of that muddied gown.”

  “But my other pet—”

  “There’s another?” He asked too loudly. He was still shouting. “Another snake?”

  “No, my lord.” Her voice wavered as she took a step back. “Only a rabbit—a very small one—with a malformed foot.”

  “A malformed rabbit.” He threw up his hands. “Of course.”

  “That is all, my lord. All my pets, just those two. I ought to have told you about them. You see, I care for things, for miserable creatures that I find.”

  “You care for them more than your own life? My horse could have snapped your spine or crushed your skull.”

  “It was an accident,” she said, as if this might make everything that had happened—her near death—acceptable to him.

  He could not bear to stay in the stable another moment. He turned on his heel to leave before he cursed at her again. “I will speak with you, Jane, as soon as your pets are settled,” he said over his shoulder. “You may await me in your rooms.”

  He would not live this sort of life. He’d been married to her for less than two days and already felt his sanity slipping. He did not like chaos and uncontrolled situations, and having nightmares about pythons and trampled women. She must understand this was not acceptable.

  He would explain it to her in no uncertain terms once he was calm.

  *

  Jane settled her pets into their enclosures with shaking hands, and left feeding instructions with the head groom. Tomorrow, she’d bring each of them a treat to make up for all the upheaval. Poor Mr. Cuddles. What a fright he’d had, and now her husband was furious with her. Livid, honestly. She didn’t know how she could ever face him again.

  For now, she would do as he said and retreat to her room. In fact, there was nothing she wanted more than to hide away in shame and change out of her soiled traveling cloak and scuffed slippers. She put a hand to her head. Yes, her hair was disarranged too. Why wouldn’t it be, after she’d scuttled about on the ground in her new husband’s stable?

  She walked past the restless stable hands, attempting to appear dignified even in her dirty, bedraggled state. Beyond the stable, the gr
eat house rose against the now-dark sky like a pretty holiday cake, with rows of windows for decoration. Her faithful maid waited within the entryway to show her to her rooms on the second floor.

  “My lady…?” Matilda’s voice trailed off when she saw her disarray.

  “There was a snake escape,” she replied, her voice tight.

  “Mr. Cuddles escaped?”

  “Yes, and was almost trampled by a horse. He’s fine now, but I’m feeling rather frazzled.”

  “The servants have already drawn a bath for you,” the maid assured her.

  A bath sounded like just the thing. She looked around as she went up the stairs, admiring her new home even in her wearied state. Somerton was as beautiful inside as it was against the night sky, all elegance and grace. The upper landing was tastefully decorated with marble statues lit by a jeweled chandelier, while flickering sconces illuminated hallways headed in either direction. Fresh swags of winter greenery scented the air. She couldn’t wait to see Somerton’s charms in full daylight—if she survived the reckoning with her husband.

  “This way, my lady.”

  Matilda guided her to the right, past silent footmen and a line of polished doors. When they arrived at her suite, she found her rooms, too, were elegant and beautiful. The furniture was decorated in a floral motif, and real blooms nestled in vases upon every table, giving the room a homey feel. A gauzy set of curtains concealed the moon and the night’s darkness. A fire warmed the soaring space, its occasional crackling a reminder of her childhood bedroom.

  The bed was larger than her childhood bed and embellished with a canopy matching the curtains. The carved headboard was tall and imposing, while the footboard was lower and cushioned across the top. A thoughtful artisan had added a stepping stool in the center, sure to come in handy since it was such a high bed. As she kicked off her slippers, a soft wool rug cushioned her feet.

  Matilda led her through the dressing room to a private bathing chamber with its own fireplace and a steaming tub of scented water. Jane sank into the bath with a relieved sigh and washed herself with rose scented soap as her maid rinsed bits of hay from her hair. The faithful servant promised to do her best at brushing clean her soiled traveling gown and cloak before she sent them to the laundress.