Claiming His Wife (5 page)

Irene was both looking forward to and
dreading seeing her sister-in-law again.  She hoped that
Eleanor would be able to forgive Irene for her part in Edwin's
discovery of Eleanor's plans.  Although Eleanor had been
gracious enough in the letter that she'd written to Irene,
accepting her heartfelt apology, she wouldn't blame Eleanor for
holding a grudge.  Especially if she and Edwin were still
unhappy.

But Eleanor was nothing
but smiles and embraces when she greeted Hugh and Irene.
 Edwin, as darkly imposing as ever, kept her close by his
side, but Eleanor seemed content to be there.  Her face was
paler and more wane than it had been in London, but Irene hoped it
wasn't because she was unhappy here with Edwin.  

"We've been invited by the Countess of
Spencer to dinner tonight, if you feel well enough for it," Eleanor
said cheerfully.  "If not, we can make your
excuses."

"I'd like to go and meet the future
Countess," said Hugh, grinning cheerfully at his sister.  The
look of eager anticipation that passed between them was so filled
with sibling understanding that Irene felt envious for a moment.
 Not that she doubted Hugh's love for her, but since she'd
never had a sibling, she felt envious over the closeness that
Eleanor had with her brother and his friends.  Her husband
glanced down at her, his blue eyes sweeping over her as if checking
to ensure she was well enough to go along with his plans.  "As
long as Irene's amenable.  We can wait till tomorrow, if you'd
prefer to rest, sweetheart."

"No, I'd like to go," Irene said,
although she did give Eleanor a plaintive look.  "Do I have
time for a bath, beforehand?"

"Of course, I've already
had one drawn up for you," Eleanor said, detaching herself from
Edwin's side and taking Irene's arm.  She gave her brother a
look.  "For you too, and I recommend you use it before you and
Edwin disappear into the study for scotch.  Come, Irene, we
can have a nice
coze
while you bath."

Irene giggled as Eleanor drew her
away, ignoring Hugh sputtering behind her.  

******

Letting Irene soak in her bath first,
Eleanor directed the maids in unpacking the trunks her brother and
sister-in-law had brought.  She was relieved to have them in
the house, as a bit of a buffer between herself and Edwin, as she
still hadn't told her husband about her condition.  Placing
her hand over her stomach, she worried at her lower lip, knowing
that she wouldn't be able to hide it for much longer.  Already
her body was changing, not just her level of energy, but she'd
noticed that her stomach and breasts were becoming rounder.
 Her recent cravings for sweets could only explain so much of
that.

Hugh had insisted that he and Irene
share a room, which hadn't surprised Eleanor, although she'd told
him that he'd have to bathe where she'd had the tub set up for him.
 She wanted a chance to be alone with Irene and find out what
had happened in London while she was away.  More importantly,
she wanted to know what had happened between Irene and Hugh, since
the letters they'd exchanged hadn't been especially
detailed. 

At first Irene seemed
almost reluctant to confide in Eleanor, but once she began to tell
her tale, Eleanor understood why.  She gasped at hearing that
Hugh had punished Irene in front of someone -
Lord Brooke
 of all people!
 Yet, she understood why as well.  If she'd known why
Irene had wanted to leave the capital, she would have never invited
her sister-in-law to escape to Bath with her.

Of course, then Edwin
wouldn't have overheard Irene talking and then come to Eleanor the
way he had, and maybe they wouldn't be quite so happy now.
 Well, as happy as she could be when she was still worried
about whether he had feelings for her.  Although he behaved as
a doting husband, she'd seen other marriages where the man behaved
that way and the lady had no idea he had a mistress on the side.
 Most of the time she felt completely secure in his
affections, but she still had those niggling doubts that wouldn't
let her go.  

If only the blasted man would tell her
how he felt about her.  

"Have you received any word from Lady
Brooke?" Irene asked as she dressed, the maid helping to cinch her
into an evening gown appropriate for dinner at the Countess'.
 

"No, should I have?"  Eleanor
asked, startled out of her reverie.  She knew there was quite
a bit of animosity between her sister-in-law and her best friend,
so she was surprised to hear a complete lack of it in Irene's
voice.  

The pretty redhead worried
her lower lip, sighing slightly.  "Alex told Hugh and me that
he wants to reconcile with her."

Eleanor burst out laughing, although
there was no true humor in the situation.  "That will never
happen," she said, with conviction.  "Grace would run to
America first.  In fact, I'm not sure she hasn't thought of it
already."

"What happened between them?"
 Irene asked, settling herself down on the chair next to
Eleanor's now that she was dressed.  The dark green silk that
she'd put on brought out the emerald of her eyes and made her red
hair look gloriously rich.  The pale cream of her skin glowed
in the firelight.  "Do you know?"

"I do, but I can't betray Grace's
confidence, I'm sorry."

Irene waved her hand.  "No, no,
of course you shouldn't.  I just wish that there was something
I could do for them... she seems so unhappy and I know Alex has
been miserable since she left him."

That made Eleanor raise her eyebrows.
 After all, for him to be miserable over his wife's separation
from him, wouldn't he have to care about Grace?  Yet, from
what Grace had told her, Alex had never been particularly invested
in her personally.  Of course, Irene could have a different
perspective.

She sighed.  Marriage, as she'd
learned, could be very complicated.  "Perhaps when she comes
to visit me this summer I'll be able to ask her."

"You don't think she'll come for the
wedding?"

"No.  She and Wesley know each
other but they aren't close, whereas Lord Brooke is a particular
friend of his."  Although Eleanor rather wished Grace was
coming.  She would love the opportunity to observe Grace and
Lord Brooke in the same locale again; there was something between
the two of them that just didn't make sense.

******

Meeting Wesley's other
friend, Viscount Petersham and his wife, was not an occasion for
misbehavior, Cynthia reminded herself.  Even if she wasn't
feeling particularly pleased with her future husband.  Two
days after he'd tied her to her own bedpost and done unspeakable -
and incredibly pleasurable - things to her body, she still didn't
know how she felt about him.

On one hand, she'd loved tracing the
welts from his belt on her bottom and the subsequent soreness in
her nipples from the clips he'd put on them.  The pleasure
that he'd brought her to had been intense.  On the other, he'd
done unspeakable things to her bottom.  Inside her bottom.
 The poor little hole was still tender and yet... that had
been part of the pleasure.  It was
humiliating. 

Even more so since he'd
barely touched her again since then, when she was still craving him
so desperately.  Rubbing herself, the way she'd done before,
just didn't fulfill her the way he had.  She'd learned that
there was a very keen difference between pleasure she gave herself,
and pleasure given to her.  Touching herself wasn't nearly as
exciting as when Wesley touched her.  Besides, shouldn't he
want to touch her more?  Every other man she'd met had
constantly been coaxing her to allow them more liberties; the man
she was going to marry barely kissed her hand or cheek.
 

Well, except when she'd pushed him to
punish her.

But she wasn't sure she
was ready to do that again; the last time had left her wary of him.
 She remembered telling him that she wanted a husband who
wouldn't bore her.  He would certainly be that, but now she
was unsure if that was a good thing.  The things he'd done to
her... well, they'd been unimaginable.  Far beyond anything
she'd thought of doing with a man.  Even if it had been both
exciting and pleasurable, for the first time in her life she'd been
frightened by her reaction, because he'd gone far beyond the bounds
she'd even thought possible.  Which was why she was on her
best behavior tonight, doing the pretty for Eleanor and Edwin, and
the Viscount and Viscountess.  

The Viscountess wasn't at all how
Cynthia had pictured her, not after meeting Eleanor.
 Although, the Viscount was.  He was as goldenly handsome
as Eleanor was angelically beautiful, with piercing blue eyes and a
quick, flashing smile as he looked down at his wife.  The
Viscountess wasn't a fashionable beauty; she had red hair and
freckles, for one, but she was quite pretty even if she'd never be
a Diamond of the First Water.  Quite shy too, from the way she
practically clung to her husband's arm as she was introduced to the
Countess.  

Cynthia hoped the
Viscountess wouldn't be boring. She had the look of a woman who
would be horrified by impropriety.  Or, if she was, that her
presence wouldn't make Eleanor prim and proper as well.
 

"May I present my betrothed, Miss
Cynthia Bryant," the Earl said, pressing his fingers briefly
against hers on his arm, as if telling her to behave.  She
stifled the impulse to stick her tongue out at him.  The Earl
might be wildly unpredictable in private, but he was a stuffed
shirt in public and she wasn't about to purposefully court his
displeasure.

She curtsied prettily, and smiled
demurely.  "It's very nice to meet you."

To her amusement, everyone
in the room looked at her slightly askance, as if waiting for her
to do something naughty.  Cynthia kept the demure smile on her
face, feeling her fiancé’s arm tense under her fingers.  From
the narrow-eyed look he gave her, she was quite sure that he
thought her good behavior was a cover and he was trying to figure
out what mischief she was up to.  How galling it would be for
him to discover that she wasn't up to anything at
all. 

It was sure to frustrate him
greatly.

Cynthia asked after their
travels, the way a young lady should, and felt Wesley stiffen even
more, if that was possible.  Oh, this was going to be fun.
 The better she behaved, the more wound up he would get.
 She didn't realize that the gleam in her eye was only making
the Earl feel even more on edge, but she would have been quite
satisfied with that knowledge as well.

******

"I'm disappointed," Hugh announced,
settling down in his seat, a snifter of brandy in his hand.
 The ladies had withdrawn to the drawing room, leaving the men
at the table for their drinks.  "After all the descriptions of
Miss Bryant as a hellion, I expected a much more debaucherous
showing."

"Perhaps Wesley has had a steadying
influence on her," Edwin teased.  He shot his friend a look.
 "Although, I have to admit, I was expecting something from
her this evening as well.  She certainly looked as though she
was plotting mischief."

"Did she?" Hugh asked, looking
somewhat confused.  To him, Miss Bryant had seemed the very
picture of a sweet young miss.  Granted, she had quite a
figure for a young miss, which he was sure had attracted Wesley,
but he hadn't seen any of the spirit that he'd expected.
 

"It's in her eyes," Wesley said,
glancing at the door.  Tension had gripped him all evening as
he'd waited for Cynthia's behavior to degenerate.  It hadn't,
not once, and he didn't know whether he was relieved or
disappointed by it.  He certainly hoped he hadn't put her off
misbehaving entirely, but going by her expression he hadn't.
 He just didn't know what the damned chit was up to.
 "She was playacting, although I don't know for whose benefit
- yours, mine or my mother's.  I'm sure you'll have ample
opportunity to see her antics before the wedding."

"Although she has been on better
behavior the past couple of days," Edwin observed, raising his
eyebrow at Wesley.  "Eleanor wondered what you had done to
her."

The memory of Cynthia's last
punishment made Wesley grin, even as his cock hardened slightly.
 He'd been in a state of almost perpetual arousal following
that night, which he'd only managed to deal with by keeping his
distance from his bride.  Given the opportunity, it was all
too tempting to divest her of her virginity before the wedding
night, which was absolutely not something he was going to do.
 Especially not in his mother's house.

Still, he wouldn't object to punishing
her again.  He'd taken one virginity from her the other night,
indulging in his most depraved fantasy, as he'd buried himself in
her tight arse after belting her creamy cheeks to a dark red.
 The little wanton had enjoyed herself too, for all she'd been
embarrassed by the act.  As much as Wesley enjoyed indulging
in that particular perversion, he knew he was going to have to keep
it strictly for special punishment occasions or it would lose its
potent effect on her.  There wasn't much his little minx was
embarrassed by, and he certainly didn't want to cure her of that
particular one.

"Well, well," Hugh said,
raising his eyebrows.  "It appears Wesley
did
 anticipate his wedding
night."  He looked at Edwin.  "You owe me twenty
pounds."