To Tame A Countess (Properly Spanked Book 2) (18 page)

Josephine pulled away and rose from the water. “I certainly do not.”

“If you wish to remain in England, you must follow English rules,” he said, his voice sharpening in measure with hers. “You mustn’t be careless of gossip, for my sake, if not yours.” He glowered at her as she wrapped herself in a towel. “I beg you to remember, I married you as a kindness, at great detriment to my accustomed way of life. I have an interest in politics and social reformation, so the regard of the
ton
is important to me. I’m also a peer with a number of material and financial obligations. I can’t allow your disdain for societal rules to endanger my interests or my career.”

Cold rivulets of water ran down her shoulders and back. “If I’m such a detriment to you, why don’t you get rid of me?”

“What a capital idea. Shall I throw you from the tower, or push you out the window?”

She pursed her lips at his jest. “Either would work. Then you could marry someone more suitable, some simpering mouse who follows all the ‘English rules.’”

Warren toweled off with considerably less modesty than she did. In fact, he stood quite naked, his broad shoulders and rippling torso displayed to intimidating effect. “Do you truly wish to argue and be disagreeable, and anger me again, Josephine?”

The tone of his voice, coupled with the memory of her latest spanking, prompted a wary response. “No, my lord.”

He moved closer and traced a fingertip down her cheek. How could he be so frightening and yet so gentle? “I don’t want to throw you from any towers,” he said. “I’d miss you terribly when you were gone. I only ask what any man would ask of his wife, that you respect me, and protect the honor of my name. I mean to respect and honor you too. Have I bullied you, or abused you in anger, or ignored your basic needs? Have I forced my attentions upon you without your consent?”

She stared into his piercing blue eyes, and knew he had done none of those things. He’d spanked her, yes, but only when her behavior fell outside the bounds of polite comportment.

He took her arm and turned her around. “Lift the edge of the towel, if you please, so I may inspect the damage to your bottom.”

She did as he asked, feeling exposed as he crouched down to examine what he’d done to her.

“It appears you’ll survive,” he said. “And you won’t cut up at Madame Lafleur again, will you?”

There was only one acceptable answer, no matter how cross she felt. “No, my lord.”

He released her and launched into yet another lecture. “I suppose you don’t enjoy having a hair brush taken to your backside. I’m sorry for it, but you may expect these disciplinary measures to continue as long as your attitude or behavior calls for them. I didn’t sacrifice the pleasures of bachelorhood to join myself to a scold and a shrew. I don’t require you to become a simpering mouse; I only ask that we show consideration to one another in this marriage.”

You’re a hypocrite
, she thought. Was it considerate to be overbearing, haughty, and self-interested, and constantly paddle your wife? But she didn’t want another punishment, so she kept her lips shut tight against those condemnations and obeyed with stiff docility when he ordered her to bed.

The ball was a day away, and it seemed to Warren that Josephine had finally resigned herself to her new role as his countess. She’d been docile as a lamb during the final fitting of her gown, a lovely work of pale green with voluminous skirts and tiny pearls and flowers on the bodice. They’d spent a few hours in the ballroom, practicing how to dance. She proved naturally graceful at following his lead.

Very much as she did in bed.

Perhaps at some point she’d realize things like bondage, sado-masochism, and sodomy were not standard marital practices, but he hoped by then she’d be too corrupted to care.

No, not corrupted. He didn’t wish to think of his wife in terms of corruption. Certainly, he’d had to pay women a great deal of money to perform the services Josephine now happily performed, but Josephine was an innocent to the core, so innocent and earnest and raw that he didn’t feel capable of enjoying other women anymore. Most men did stray within their marriages, but for him, her erotic surrender seemed a fantasy unlikely to be surpassed by anyone else.

If only her surrender extended beyond their marriage bed. Though his wife was perfectly aware of the dinner hour, Warren waited with Minette alone at the table, the soup going cold. With the ball the following night, they had much to discuss. He beckoned a footman and directed him to send upstairs for his absent wife.

After a few minutes, the man reappeared.

“My lord, the countess is not in her rooms.”

“Well, where is she?” He glanced at Minette. “Do you know where Josephine’s gone?”

His sister shook her head. “I haven’t seen her since breakfast. I believe she wasn’t feeling well. Nerves, you know, about the ball. Perhaps she’s gone for a walk in the garden?”

After twenty minutes of searching failed to produce his countess, Warren experienced the first pangs of alarm.

“Where can she be?” asked Minette, her large blue eyes shimmering with tears.

Warren questioned the staff, who couldn’t remember when or if Josephine had left. His mind turned with unhappy possibilities. Had she run away? Had she only slipped out for a walk, and had some mischief done to her? The more he considered such a scenario, the more worried he became. His wife was a damned nuisance sometimes, but she was his responsibility and he cared for her. He rather suspected he was growing to love her, a realization that terrified him almost as much as the fact that she was gone.

He sent word to Townsend, August, and Arlington that Josephine was missing and asked if they could join the search. They responded at once and set out to various areas of town to ask if anyone had seen a lady fitting her description. Warren grilled the servants, down to the quietest kitchen maid, and then took to the streets himself, riding through surrounding neighborhoods. Had she called on a friend? Had she walked or taken a hack? Had someone abducted her? Were they holding her for ransom?

I want a cottage, just big enough for me. I want it to be in some quiet town, with a garden and a…a little fence.

Had she run away from him? He had to consider it.
No.
She wouldn’t dare. Something had to have happened to her, something unexpected that had detained her. Unfortunately, he was accomplishing nothing wandering about town. Perhaps there was news at home. Perhaps she’d even showed up, out of breath, having gotten lost on an unauthorized afternoon stroll. He turned his horse for Park Street when a familiar voice hailed him in the misty night.

“Ahoy, Warren.” The Earl of Stafford rode up, his mouth curved in a half-smile of mockery. “I hear you’ve misplaced your wife.”

He scowled at the man. “If I have, it’s none of your affair.”

“You look awfully worried. But when you marry a madwoman, what do you expect? Have you checked the docks? The scurvier parts of town?”

“I’ll knock you off your horse, you bleeding bastard. See if I won’t.”

Warren hadn’t the time or inclination to stand about trading barbs with Stafford. He continued on his way, only to have the bloody idiot fall into step behind him.

“Go on, then, if you’re not going to help look for her,” Warren snapped over his shoulder.

“Why should I help? I didn’t marry her. You did. You stole her right from under me, and you call
me
a bastard.”

“She was never under you,” Warren said, trying to erase that imagery from his mind.

“She could have been, if not for your interference. I never would have told you about her if I knew you’d take her from me.”

“I didn’t take her from you. She was never yours.” The sharp words came out like a cracking whip. “We fell in love. Lord Baxter approved of the match, so we decided not to wait.”

“Of course, that’s the drivel you’ve been putting around, but no one believes it.”

“Speaking of drivel that no one believes, if you continue to disparage my wife’s name—”

“I never would,” Stafford said, feigning horror.

“If you continue to disparage my wife’s name with your whispers,” he continued, talking over the man, “then rest assured every future heiress you angle after is going to know the precise nature of all your crimes.”

“What crimes?” He flicked his bejeweled fingers. “I’m no worse than you, my lewd fellow. Might explain why your doting wife took herself off to God knows where.”

“I mean what I say. Leave off talking about me and Lady Warren, or I’ll make it difficult for you to step into any sort of civilized drawing room for the rest of your life. Your finances alone…”

“Really, these threats.” But he could see Stafford was shaken. The dissolute earl would be easy to ruin—and it would be hard to marry into money once he was. “Very well.” His expression darkened, like a spoiled child deprived of a toy. “I don’t suppose anything I can say is as bad as the truth of your marriage, anyway. She’s run off and left you, which speaks volumes. When she’s not at your big, fancy ball, what will everyone say?”

“Go to the devil,” Warren said, and put his heels to his horse.

“Yes, they might say that,” Stafford called after him. Warren ignored him and galloped to Park Street, where his friends had convened to wait for news. Townsend and Arlington talked together near the fire while August paced back and forth. He could tell by their concerned expressions that Josephine hadn’t been found. Minette sobbed in the corner, too frightened to even fawn over August the way she usually did. Warren comforted her as best he could and summoned Mrs. Everly to take her up to bed.

“No word of Lady Warren?” Arlington asked once Minette was gone.

“None,” he replied. “I’ve been up and down for hours. I don’t know where she can be. No one remembers when they saw her last, so I’ve no idea how long she’s been missing.” He could hear the hysteria in his own voice. If she was trapped somewhere, or hurt, or frightened… He could hardly bear to think about it.

Townsend sighed and rubbed his chin. “You’re certain she’s not curled up in some quiet corner of the house? Say, do you remember how Minette used to wander in her sleep? We used to find her in the strangest places. Up in a tree, or in a cabinet, or sprawled out in the neighbor’s garden.”

“Don’t remind me,” said Warren. “Thank God, she hasn’t done that in years. And I doubt my wife went sleepwalking in the middle of the day.”

“Did the two of you argue?” asked August. “Have a disagreement of some sort?”

“Not recently.” There had only been the tension over the ball, but Josephine had moved past that.

His friends regarded him with sympathy. “We’ll go out and look some more,” said Arlington. “You stay here in case she turns up. If you can, get some rest. For all we know, she’s hiding in some remote corner of your household, not wishing to be found. In the morning, have the servants search again. It’ll be light in a few hours and we can send people door to door, asking if anyone has seen or heard anything suspicious.”

Warren knew Arlington only wanted to help—and that he was probably right—but to wait until morning arrived…

“Minette is frightened,” Townsend added. “Stay here in case she needs you, and see what the new day brings. If the rest of us hear anything, we’ll send for you.”

Warren buried his hands in his hair with a groan. Rest? Wait? But he supposed he had no other choice, except to keep riding the dark, empty streets of London, beset by helplessness and fear.

*** *** ***

At some point, Warren must have fallen asleep on a chaise in the front drawing room. The crisp tap of a servant brought him to wakefulness. Sun streamed in the tall windows. Warren thought to himself,
Why am I here?
and
Why am I still dressed?
And
Why am I so tired?
Then he remembered that Josephine was missing. He shook his head, trying to focus on what the butler was saying.

“Lord Townsend,” the servant repeated. “And Lady Warren.”

He sat upright as Townsend walked into the room. The dark-haired man propelled Josephine forward with an arm about her shoulder; she looked as pale and wretched as Warren felt. Relief overcame any confusion or questions, at least for the moment. He strode over to embrace his wife.

“Thank God. Has any harm come to you? Are you perfectly all right?” He took her from Townsend, inspecting her from head to toe.

“I’m fine,” she said in a tremulous voice.

“My dear girl.” He clasped her close, stroking wisps of hair back from her face. She shivered in his arms, her tears wetting his cheek. He squeezed her hard, then released her and turned to Townsend. “Good Lord, how I worried. Where did you find her?” He turned back to Josephine. “Where on earth have you been?”

When she didn’t answer, Townsend spoke up. “She’s been at my house. I had no idea, I promise you. I’ve sent word to the others that she’s been found.”

Warren rubbed his forehead, staring at her. Josephine began to bawl in earnest, sniffling into her sleeves. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I decided to hide.”

“Hide from what?” he asked.

“She said you were forcing her to attend the ball this evening.” Townsend arched a brow at him. “You monster.”

Warren narrowed his eyes at Josephine. All his worrying, his sleepless night. His alarm and Minette’s fear, and all the hours his friends and servants had spent searching for her. “You went to the Townsends’ house to
hide from the ball
?” he asked in a very slow and deliberate way.

“Yes, because I don’t want to go.” Her trembling voice held a panicked edge. “I don’t want to be married to you, if I must do these things. I don’t want to be trotted out in front of hundreds of people and forced to act happy for your vaunted career. I want to go live in my cottage. I want to be left alone. I want—”

“You want a spanking,” he said, cutting her off. “And I’ll be happy to give you one when I regain control of my temper.” He beckoned a footman and gestured toward the adjacent doors. “Barnard, will you escort Lady Warren to the smaller parlor and see that she awaits me there?”