Dealing With Discipline Read online

  Dealing With Discipline

  Book 2 of the Domestic Discipline Quartet

  By G. Angel

  Thank you so much to Queenie and Fifi who have helped me throughout the writing process of this book and to all of you who are constantly motivating me to keep writing.

  As always, thank you to my husband for his love and support.

  Published by Golden Angel

  Copyright 2013 G. Angel

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter 1

  St. George's Church was packed with wedding guests, decorated with pink roses and white lilies, while the Rector, Viscount Petersham, Lord Hyde and the Earl of Spencer waited patiently at the altar. Only the occasional shifting of Viscount Petersham’s weight indicated his nervousness on his wedding day. The various ladies of the ton in attendance fanned themselves, whispering to each other as best they could without being overheard by their men.

  The matrons with unmarried daughters were disgruntled, although they'd known for months about the arrangement between the Earl of Harrington and Baron Standish for their children. The missish daughters sighed over the loss of two of the tons most eligible, and handsome, bachelors, as Lord Hyde had recently been married to Viscount Petersham’s sister. They were eyeing Wesley, the Earl of Spencer, with acquisitive determination. The more brazen widows and unhappily married young women eyed Hugh and Edwin with speculation, wondering if they would remain faithful to their brides and for how long. London was already abuzz with the gossip that Lord Hyde seemed to be nauseatingly devoted to his bride; word of their behavior in Paris during their honeymoon had followed them home, and the ladies in London were finding no better luck in their flirtations than the ladies of Paris had. Then again, considering the close relationship between Lord Hyde and his wife's brother, perhaps he found it wise to cleave unto his wife and no other.

  Reformed rakes made the best husbands of course, but how did anyone know if he was truly reformed? Most of the women, remembering the rumors of the passionate prowess when the men were bachelors, thought it wouldn’t hurt to try their chances with any of the young lords standing at the altar.

  The gentlemen in the crowd ignored the feminine titters and whispered remarks, their minds on their various wagers and businesses, and a few with an eye towards comforting those disappointed ladies of the ton who were sighing over the loss of Harrington's son and Lord Hyde. Not that either Hugh or Edwin had been particularly indiscreet or even overly generous with their affections, but those ladies whose beds they had graced had been well satisfied and their reputations were such that there had been plenty more who would have enjoyed their attentions.

  Standing next to each other, outfitted in their finest clothing, it was no wonder they set the ladies' hearts racing. Hugh was the golden boy, his blonde hair glinting in the sunlight coming in through the windows, looking like every woman's idea of the perfect storybook hero. More than one lady whose bed he had graced had called him an “Adonis,” further enhancing his reputation. Standing next to him, and looking like a dark angel compared to Hugh's lighter features, was Edwin, Lord Hyde. They were the extremes; it would have been easy for any man but Wesley to fade into the background next to such elegant gentleman.

  Wesley was pure rogue, his roving hazel eyes filled with amusement and invitation, the waving, sun-streaked mahogany brown hair tied back into a queue. His tanned face and hands stood out starkly against the crisp linen of his shirt and cravat, making him look all the more dangerous. As a recent returnee to London, from exotic India, and newly come into his title of Earl, he was in obvious need of a wife and an heir. Obvious, that is, to the calculating matrons and their daughters, although gossip said there was no sign of him courting any respectable woman since his return. Surely with the example of his two closest friends he couldn’t be far from the matrimonial way, the ladies reasoned.

  Lady Hyde sat next to her father and mother in the front pew, the Earl of Harrington and his wife. Strange to think that one day Hugh would be the Earl and, as Edwin’s wife, she would be a Marchesse. Unwillingly, her bright blue eyes flitted to the forbiddingly attractive figure of her husband standing next to her brother. Her heart fluttered every time she looked at him and she hated it.

  When they'd returned from their honeymoon, she'd had the awful revelation that she'd fallen in love with her husband. Awful, because she had never intended to fall in love and, worse, she had no sign that he returned any such strong emotions. Oh he cared for her, to be sure... but he always had, in the way that a young man might care for a friend's little sister. She had no idea if his feelings had changed or grown from the affection he’d always held her in. He did desire her, of that she was certain.

  Although now that they were back from their honeymoon, the hinting questions of the other ladies of the ton had her wondering if that desire would continue once she provided him with an heir or if it might wane even before that. It seemed to her that far too many of the ladies were interested in her 'health' because they wanted to know when Edwin might give up his place in her bed and occupy another's. Far too many gentlemen of the ton were only faithful for as long as it took to beget the heir, if even that long, since many began to stray the moment they managed to get their wife with child.

  Would Edwin be one of those? Would she even know if he was? Considering his close friendship with her brother she was sure that he would be discreet, but her heart ached at even the idea. She was torn between wanting to have his child and the fear that the passion between them would end the moment her monthly courses did.

  Sometimes he looked at her in such a way that she felt surely he must reciprocate her feelings. Yet how could she know for certain? He certainly never said so and she didn’t have the experience to know if he treated her like a man in love would, or just a man who was fond of his bride. This was exactly why she’d never wanted to fall in love.

  Once they'd returned home she'd resolved to discover what his feelings towards her might be, but every attempt had confused her further. She'd realized almost immediately that she had absolutely no way to judge whether or not a man was in love with her. There were not many love matches among the ton for her to observe or compare her own marriage with and the one shining example that she had of love within a marriage were her mother's feelings for her father. But even in her wildest imaginings she couldn't picture Edwin acting like her mother; she'd never fooled herself into thinking that he was the kind of man who would shower her with affection, presents and sonnets. Well, presents perhaps, he did like to give her things, but all men gave jewelry and flowers. In fact, many men gave them in lieu of apologies. Affection... if that went hand in hand with passion then he gave her that as well, but men were wont to show passion in the bedchamber, especially with a new wife. And Eleanor knew that she was attractive.

  At first she'd tried to be more affectionate than usual with him to see how he would respond, thinking that perhaps a show of her own would spur him into admitting to some finer feelings. Instead he'd seemed pleased by her affections and responded by taking her to bed immediately.

  Which seemed rather inconclusive since she wanted to know his emotions and not his passions.

  That had led to her pouting and doing her best to give him the cold shoulder, wondering how he would react and thinking that his response might give her further insight.

  That had gotten her a spanking - and not a pleasant one, like on their honeymoon - although not nearly as harsh as any of the ones she'd received before the honeymoon either. It had been more of a reprimand than a punishment for being disrespectful to him. Apparently Edwin did not like to be ignored when he asked her a question.

  Would a man spank the woman he loved?

  It was humiliating and painful, and yet it aroused Edwin like nothing else. So if passion was an indication of feeling then perhaps. But Eleanor wasn’t convinced that it was. Of course, she couldn’t imagine being intimate with anyone other than Edwin, but that was because she was in love. Edwin, of course, had already been intimate with other women before their marriage – many women, she thought darkly. But he’d never been in love that she knew of.

  Not that she had any experience with love herself, but she couldn’t think of any other explanation for the warmth that fluttered through her whenever she saw him, the constant desire to be in his company, the piercing pain that lanced through her at the thought of him with another woman or the fact that she constantly felt herself wanting to bow to his wishes and give him whatever she desired.

  She fought the latter. Not just from pride but from self-preservation.

  If he were to know that she loved him then he could use that, whether or not he loved her in return. Exile her to the country, knowing that she would do as he wished in order to make him happy. The same way her mother had always followed her father’s edicts. And she couldn’t live with that, she couldn’t bear the idea of being so ill-used. She wouldn’t allow herself to be.

  If only she could be certain that he loved her the way she loved him, life would be wonderful.

  “Stop fidgeting,” her mother hissed under her breath.

  Eleanor sighed. “I can’t help it,” she whispered back. “When does this start?”

  “The ceremony should have started already, but that’s to be expected,” her mother hissed back. “There are guests still seating themselves in the rear. Now stop fidgeting and be silent.”

  Rolling her eyes, Eleanor leaned back against the pew. Nervous movement w
as a family trait, one that she shared with her father but she noticed that her mother wasn’t scolding him, even though he was twisting around in his seat as if taking note of who had dared arrived late to his son and heir’s wedding.

  “Sit up straight!” hissed her mother. The whisper strangled in her throat as she coughed delicately into her hand, covering it.

  Stifling a retort, Eleanor straightened her spine. She’d always thought that being a married woman would mean that her parents would no longer try to mold her into the perfect Society lady. Obviously they hadn’t thought the same.

  *********

  “Stop fidgeting,” Edwin whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Hugh. Behind him he could hear Wesley chuckle. Fortunately everyone else was far away enough that they couldn’t hear anything the men said, although he was sure that they could all see Hugh had begun shifting impatiently back and forth on his feet.

  “Sod off,” Hugh muttered back. “You have no idea what this is like, you didn’t have to wait like this for Nell.”

  No he hadn't. Edwin hadn't had to wait at all, not for a courtship nor for a long wedding service. His beautiful lady wife was easy to find, sitting a mere fifteen feet from his position besides Hugh. Dressed in one of her new gowns from Paris, the soft peach and rose accentuating the peaches and cream of her skin and the pink of her lips, she looked much sweeter and more innocent than he knew her to be.

  In fact, his wife was on the verge of sending him straight into madness.

  Their honeymoon had been blissful, he thought that they'd managed to come to an accord within their relationship during their time away. She had been the sweet yet spirited, joyful, passionate and wonderfully creative young woman that he'd known her to be. But it was as if she'd left that woman behind on the Continent. Since their return to London, Eleanor had blown hot and cold to the point where Edwin never knew what he would be facing in the morning.

  The only place she was consistently pleasantly hot was in his bed.

  No complaints about that.

  But she was running him ragged outside of the bedroom. He had the most uncomfortable feeling that his every word, his every action, was being observed and judged by his wife, and mostly found wanting. At first he'd thought that perhaps she was still overwhelmed from her new position within the household, especially as she had finally taken up the reigns of responsibility that she had originally neglected before their honeymoon. Then he thought that perhaps the grandiosity and pomp of her brother's wedding was stirring her envy and possibly her resentment towards Edwin, as he knew that she had not been entirely happy with the simple, private ceremony in which they'd been married.

  He'd tried to be patient, although he'd taken her over his knee when she'd outright ignored his conversation. While he hadn't wanted to stir her resentment, if that was what she was feeling, that didn't mean that he would tolerate disrespect. Still, she hadn't seemed resentful at all afterwards, he thought smugly. In fact she hadn't even tried to protest when he'd stripped the rest of her clothes off and taken her right there, immediately afterwards. It was amazing the effect she had on him, whether her skin was creamy or a bright, hot red…

  "Stop that," Hugh whispered, nudging him in the side with his elbow.

  "Stop what?"

  "You’re looking at my sister like you’re about to devour her. Everyone can see you."

  Edwin realized that Eleanor was staring back at him, her eyes wide as if she was able to see exactly what he was thinking about. Other guests in the crowd were eyeing him as well and he realized that his thoughts must have been practically painted on his face. Most of the men looked amused, most of the women disapproving, and more than one rather envious.

  "You don't have to stay for the reception if you'd like to take your wife home afterwards," Wesley whispered, nudging Edwin from the other side.

  "Shh," said Edwin, turning his head to look back up to the end of the aisle after catching Lord Harrington's eye. Hugh and Eleanor's father managed to look both amused and disapproving at the same time.

  A rustle went through the crowd as the doors at the back of the sanctuary began to open, the stir of excitement as they all turned to see the bride.

  ******

  She was smiling so hard that her face felt broken. Just like her heart.

  Wife. She was a wife. And not to the man she loved. Hungrily she stared across the room at him, only to feel a stab of guilt like lightening through her chest. Quickly she turned back to look at her husband, catching her mother’s eye on the way. She was Viscountess Petersham and she had to remember that. The hard look that her mother gave her only heightened the anxious butterflies in her stomach.

  Not butterflies. Pigeons. Nasty dirty pigeons pecking and scratching and clawing at the inside of her belly.

  She deserved to be pecked from the inside out. Looking up at her husband she was consumed with guilt. Hugh was a perfectly wonderful man; incredibly handsome, unfailingly kind, generous, and with a sunny disposition (her mother would have added titled and wealthy to the list of desirable traits). He had a bit of a rakish reputation, but he also had a reputation for being discreet and there had been no rumor of any woman within the past year. Certainly not since he'd begun courting her. London gossip was a nasty business and she knew that someone would have told her if there had been the slightest hint of impropriety on her groom’s part. Despite the fact that everyone knew this was an arranged match.

  Any other woman would have thought herself to be marvelously lucky in Irene's position. Not only had she found a man to marry her, despite her family's financial situation and her measly dowry of land (although the location of that land was exactly why Hugh was marrying her), but he was young and handsome. Extremely handsome. In fact, going by the gossip, he was one of the most desirable of the unmarried men available.

  But she hadn't grown up with him, he hadn't kissed her skinned knee or taught her to dance or ride. He hadn't brought her violets on her sixteenth birthday. He hadn't been her first kiss.

  Unfortunately she'd given her heart away long before she'd ever met him.

  Perhaps her guilt was misplaced. Her mother had reassured her over and over again that among the ton it was understood that husbands and wives had certain... arrangements. Certainly she'd seen the evidence of that since she'd come to London. There were a few love matches however; in fact she was fairly certain that Hugh's sister had one.

  How she envied Eleanor that. There was no mistaking the affection in Lord Hyde's eyes when he looked at his wife, or the way Eleanor practically glowed when in his presence. Irene didn't feel glow-y at all. She felt rather wilt-y. And like a big fat liar. Because hadn't she just pledged to love, honor and obey? Yet she did not love her husband. She had gone into the marriage already planning to be unfaithful as soon as she had provided him with his heir... but theirs was an arranged marriage and that was how such things were done, were they not? She’s seen so many other marriages like that since arriving in London and her mother certainly espoused the notion, although Irene didn’t like to think about what that might mean about her parents’ marriage.

  She did not expect fidelity from him, had not even before her mother had convinced her that she should acquiesce to the arrangement, and so he should not expect it from her. At least, according to her mother’s explanations. Yet it didn’t sit right with her at all. Shouldn’t she be expected to cleave to her vows?

  "Are you alright sweetheart?" Hugh's voice skated across her nerves, his warm breath tingling against her ear. His breath smelled of mint and Irene found herself instinctively turning towards him, feeling a strange urge to be closer. There was no denying that Hugh was a very attractive man, even to her. "You look pale."

  "I'm fine," she said, giving him her best social smile. The concern in his bright blue eyes only made her feel even worse. Sometimes she wondered if he had feelings for her beyond affection, although her mother had shaken her head over and over during the courtship and said Irene was reading far too much into Hugh's solicitousness and gifts. "Just tired."

  Something foreign and hungry looking glittered in Hugh's eyes for a moment, freezing her breathless to be on the end of such a look. She’d never had a man look at her quite like that, but it was becoming a regular occurrence with him. What did it mean?