My Naughty Minette (13 page)

“Well, I suppose whoever delivered the parcel must have mistaken our address.”

He flung the books down on the desk. “Damn it, Minette. Everyone hates me enough for jilting Colton’s daughter. You needn’t add fuel to the fire by having these sorts of things delivered in my name to the wrong damn address.” So much for keeping his temper. She was no longer standing very close. “Where did you get them? Where on earth would you procure such volumes?”

She started to say something, then stopped, then started again. “You will find this the most appalling story, August, and there’s every reason you should, for I’m so ashamed to have done this. But I’m going to be perfectly honest and—”

“Where?” he interrupted in a thunderous voice.

“Dirty Esmeralda.”

Now he was the one blinking and staring. He could not for the life of him process what she’d just said. “Did you... Did you just say ‘Dirty Esmeralda’?”

She took another step back. “Yes. I know I should not have gone to speak with her.”

“You went to
speak with her
?”

August grasped for calm. Minette could not know of Dirty Esmeralda or his visits to Garrett Street over the years, and even if she did know, she couldn’t possibly have gone to see her. A woman of Minette’s station would never acknowledge the existence of a courtesan, much less visit her. Would she? But this was Minette, who hadn’t the least bit of sense.

“I don’t want to say how I knew a-b-bout her,” his wife stammered beneath his darkening regard. “Except that I was a rather petite child and it was easy to hide places and eavesdrop, and listen to conversations when you all didn’t think I was listening, and so I knew that you and Dirty Esmeralda—”

“Stop saying her name,” he snapped. “What I do with that woman is none of your damned business. It’s nothing you ought to know.”

“Yes, that’s absolutely true,” said Minette. “And I wish I had never eavesdropped or learned about her, or gotten the idea to visit her because I thought she might know a bit more about you than I know, since you two have been on intimate terms for quite a while longer than you and I—”

He put his hands over his ears. “Stop. Stop talking. Just stop.” He covered his face with his hands. If anyone saw her at Esme’s doorstep, she would be ruined. He would be ruined. Warren would eviscerate him. “You didn’t go see her, did you? You didn’t really go and meet with her.”

“I’m afraid I did. But I can explain.”

“There’s no explanation you could give me that would make this all right. When did you go? Who saw you?”

“No one saw me,” she said in a tone of reassurance. “I took great care to conceal my identity and knock at the back door. And she was ever so pleasant a lady, considering I showed up unannounced. I can see why you enjoy her company.”

“No, Minette. You and I are not going to converse about Esmeralda and what a pleasant lady she is. Do you understand what you’ve done? You’ve paid a call on a courtesan. You borrowed lewd books from her.”

“Yes, and I’m terribly sorry they were delivered to the wrong address. What a coil it would have been if little Augusta had cracked one of them open. They’re not meant for children.”

“
Not meant for children.
” He kept repeating her because he couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. He couldn’t believe any of this was happening. She had paid a call to a courtesan—his courtesan. He felt outrage, shame, and a dozen other emotions he didn’t really have words for. He could feel the flush rising in his face as she gazed at him with her wide blue eyes. “Come here, Minette,” he ordered.

She gave him an assessing look. “I’m not sure I want to do that.”

“Come here,” he repeated with a great deal more heat.

“Why? What are you going to do?”

“I’m either going to spank you or wring your daft little neck.” She could not continue with these irresponsible capers, not with all the other challenges of his current life. She had gone to visit Esme, his longtime paramour. He couldn’t believe it.

He couldn’t allow it to happen again.

She took a step back, and another. “If you would just let me explain why I felt the need to—”

“Come here,” he said in a voice that was really very strident indeed.

“I don’t want to come there,” she replied. “I think I would rather go to my room, or take a walk in the garden. Shall we go and have a walk in the garden together? I believe you need it. Outdoor strolls can be ever so calming for choleric humors. You know, it’s not a good idea to discipline a person when you’re angry. My brother always waited until he calmed down before he punished me for something, especially if it was a serious offense. Or an irritating offense. Would you say you are more irritated or angry at the moment?”

And there it snapped, the last attenuated strand of his patience. He strode toward her with a growl, arms outstretched to grab her and turn her over his knee, and redden her bottom until it hurt even to look at it. By the time he finished spanking her, she’d wish he’d throttled her instead. She’d certainly wish she’d never gone calling on Esme.

With a squeak of alarm, his wife turned in a whirl of skirts and fled.

Minette ran out of her husband’s study and down the east corridor, past formal portraits and rich tapestries. It wasn’t at all dignified for a lady to run, arms pumping and legs flying, but if she didn’t run fast enough, he’d catch her before she could find a place to hide, and that wouldn’t do at all.

She could hear August behind her calling her name. She ran faster, toward the grand foyer where there would be footmen, perhaps even the butler to intercede if she begged for his help. Her husband could spank her if he wished, but not now, when he was so clearly furious. So much for her plans of seduction. He’d ignored her wiles, confiscated her books, and snarled at her for visiting Esme. Her immediate future seemed bleak.

And then she saw a familiar face before her, and heard a beloved greeting. “Ahoy there, mopsy. My word, is there a fire?”

She threw herself into her brother’s arms, burying her face against his chest. “Thank goodness,” she sobbed, clutching him. “Thank goodness you are here.”

“Whatever is the matter?” He gazed down at her in consternation. “Are you crying?”

August’s roar echoed down the hall, along with his footsteps. “Minette! I’m going to catch you, young lady, and when I do—”

He stopped as soon as he saw her with Warren. She squeaked and took up a position behind her brother’s muscular frame. She couldn’t see Warren’s face but she could see August’s expression go wary.

“Come to visit?” he asked Warren in clipped tones.

“Something like that,” Warren replied in an equally cold voice. “Care to explain why you’re bellowing at my sister? And why she’s hiding behind my back?”

Minette peeked out at her husband. August shifted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure it’s any of your business,” he said, “but we’ve had a row over something she did.”

“A row? She’s running from you over a row?
What have you done to my sister?
”

It terrified Minette, the way he said these words. “He hasn’t done anything,” she said quickly, only so that dark, threatening voice would go away.

August said nothing, only held her brother’s gaze. Minette let go of Warren, cowed by feelings of guilt that August stood there alone, accused, when she ought to be his support.

“Don’t glare at him,” she told her brother. “August has every right to be annoyed. I went to call on someone I shouldn’t have called on, and borrowed improper books which were delivered to the wrong address, and a little girl almost received them, and now the neighbors are angry with August, in addition to the Coltons and everyone else.” She took a deep breath, swiping away tears. “I’ve annoyed him while his father’s ill, and his mother dislikes me, and he never meant me to be here anyway, and—”

“Minette.” August’s voice cut off her painful recitation. “Perhaps you will walk in the garden while I speak with your brother alone.”

Anxiety made her face and ears go hot. “Are you going to tell him to take me away?”

“Do you want to go away?” asked Warren. “I’ll take you this minute if you wish.”

“You’re not taking her anywhere,” August said.

“Don’t argue, please.” She moved so she stood between her brother and her husband. “Don’t fuss at August, Warren. I don’t want to go. But after today’s misadventures, I’m afraid he’ll make me go.”

Warren looked back at August. It was hard to believe the two men had ever been friends; there was such animosity between them now.
Because of you, impossible girl. All of this is your fault.

How many times had her brother warned her that August wouldn’t make her a suitable husband? She had thought she’d known better. She ought to have listened and saved everyone a great deal of pain. “I don’t want to go,” she said to August. “I’ll behave better, I promise. I’ll stop annoying you. I’ll stay in my room and—”

“Minette, I’m not sending you away.” August softened his voice and took her hand, just for a moment, before letting it go. “I’m not sending you anywhere, but I think I’d better have a word with your brother now that he’s here. Don’t you agree?”

She looked between the two glowering men. “Perhaps you and Warren ought to stroll in the gardens. As I said, it’s very calming for choleric humors. And I can... I can go and find Mrs. Collins and arrange for some tea.”

“Yes, why don’t the two of us stroll in the garden?” said Warren. “And then we’ll have tea. You were very good to think of it, darling.”

The affection in his voice almost started her sobbing again. What a failure he must think her. August would doubtless tell him all her shortcomings and Warren would realize she was a terrible wife. Perhaps he would insist on taking her away for August’s sake. What a muddle she’d made for everyone, all because of her sleepwalking and because she had pretended to be a servant girl when she wasn’t a servant girl.

She was starting to suspect that servant girl was the only one who would ever experience August’s tenderness and warmth.

*** *** ***

August felt too tense to walk. He felt too tense to speak, and yet he must do both out here in his father’s gardens. It was a cold afternoon, when one might walk more quickly to warm the blood, but both of them kept a slow gait. A cautious gait.

“How is your wife?” August inquired as they turned onto the path. “I pray Josephine is well.”

“She’s very well,” Warren replied. “She plans to call tomorrow, when she’s not feeling so ‘jolted and jangled’ from the trip.”

“Minette will be happy to see her.”

“Minette is generally happy to see everyone. Especially you, which is why I was shocked to arrive and find the two of you at odds.”

At odds. Was that what one called it when a wife hid behind her brother to escape you? Sobbing, no less. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“Nonetheless, I would like an explanation.”

August knew he must confess the dire state of their union. Minette was the man’s sister. Warren ought to know that things weren’t exactly rubbing along, and so he thought a long while about the best way to say it. “Your sister and I are not very suited to one another, as you have always known. We’re different in habit and temperament, and with the history between us, what we have can barely be called a marriage. If you wish to begin annulment proceedings, I won’t stand in the way.”

Warren pursed his lips. “It’s not what
I
wish, Method. It’s what my sister wishes. Let’s be clear on that.”

Were they to attack one another with Christian names, then? Very well. “What your sister wishes, Idylwild, is not in her best interest.”

“Not in your best interest, you mean.”

They walked a bit farther in silence. As younger boys they used to tear through these gardens, beating one another up whenever possible, whacking one another with sticks, digging holes so the other might fall into it. Had they changed so much?

“We have not consummated the marriage,” said August.

“Yes, you have,” Warren snapped. “There will be no annulment. You’re stuck with her.”

“She’s not happy here. She’s restless all day, then walks in her sleep every night, wandering about in her shift. They find her in the library, the parlor, or curled up halfway down the stairs.”

“I’m not surprised she’s wandering in her sleep. I understand you’re both unhappy. But she loves you.” Warren stopped and turned to him. “She lives for you, and you very well know it. You’re the sun in her sky, the only flower in her meadow. You always have been. I don’t understand why you can’t return that love. She’s charming, she’s pretty, she’s well-mannered, she’s cheerful—”

“She’s perfect. I know. She’s also been my sister as long as she’s been yours. What do you want me to do?”
Sleep with her? Debauch her? Slake my lusts between her thighs?

He didn’t have to say the words. Both men heard them in his tortured tone.

“She went to see Esme,” August said. “We argued because she went to ask Esme for marital advice.”

He could see Warren was taken aback, as shocked as he’d been. “Did anyone see her there?”

“She says no, but who knows? Your sister doesn’t think before she acts.”

“She never has,” Warren said.

“She wants things of me, husbandly things I can’t do to her. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.”

Warren began to walk again, avoiding August’s gaze. “Is it because of me? Because she’s my sister? If you need my permission... If it has to come down to that, you have it, man. She’s your wife. You have to treat her like...your wife.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

Warren gave him a sharp glance. “You need someone’s permission, apparently. You have Minette’s. You have mine, damn you. Who else’s do you need?”

“My own,” August said raggedly. “Try to imagine my situation.”

“I understand your situation, but you’ve got to figure things out. Do what comes naturally. I don’t imagine you need lessons.”

“You know I don’t.”

Warren’s jaw tensed. “God, I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to think about any of this. Can’t you just make her happy? You slept with her once, which is why all of us are in this snarl. She might have been engaged to some other gentleman by now.”