Birching His Bride (Domestic Discipline 1)

Upstairs on her bed, Eleanor took deep breaths, slowly calming herself. When she had first walked in the door she had been resigned to Hugh and Wesley taking Edwin’s attention away from her for the first time since they had left on their honeymoon. Now she was grateful for it. Who knew what Edwin might have done if he’d seen how upset she’d become, what he might have guessed.

Staring blindly out her window, Eleanor told herself that this wasn’t a complete disaster. After all, Edwin didn’t know she was in love with him. He had no idea the power he had over her. And perhaps he did have deeper feelings for her.

She would just have to test that and find out.

And if he did not then she could go back to her original plan and become such an inconvenience that he wouldn’t want to live in the same household as her. The very thought of being separated from him made her feel empty and nauseous, but surely that was better than losing herself to this chaotic surge of emotions, better than ending up like her mother. She would not be shunted off to the country at Edwin’s whim, she would choose to go.

But only if he didn’t love her.

Drying the tears from her eyes, Eleanor forced herself to calmness and began to plan how she would discover her husband’s feelings.

Epilogue

Her hands shook as she dragged the brush through her hair, a shining gleam of ivory in the candlelight against the fiery tresses. Staring at herself in the mirror she felt as if she were looking at a stranger.

I can’t do this.

It was far past the time she should have already been in bed and asleep. Her mother had sent her to her room hours ago to ensure that she would be well rested for tomorrow’s events. Just thinking about it unsteadied her breathing and sent her heart racing. At first she’d tried to sleep, she truly had, but after laying in the darkness with her thoughts surrounding her, unable to diminish her fears, she’d relit the candles and sat down at her dressing table. What else could a woman in her position do?

It wasn’t as if she could shimmy out the window and run away.

Where would she go? Maybe… No. He wouldn’t be able to help her. Even if he wanted to. She had no money of her own. Although she’d made friends during her Seasons, none of them would help her. Not with this.

“Irene?” The disapproving tones of her mother’s voice made her wince as the bedroom door opened. “Why aren’t you sleeping? You’re going to have dark circles under your eyes on your wedding day!” The way she said it, dark circles sounded like the most tragic thing that could happen.

“I can’t sleep,” she said, setting the brush down and staring at the reflection in the mirror. Her mother entered behind her, wrapped in a comfortable looking blue robe, the cotton hem of her nightgown peeking out from the bottom. Looking at her, Irene realized that she was slightly chilled, her own thin cotton gown not allowing much for warmth. “Mother… I… I’m not sure…”

The baroness sighed, coming to stand behind Irene and meeting her eyes in the mirror. Hard agate met pleading emerald without sympathy. “We’ve talked about this Irene. You must marry Viscount Petersham.” Her hand came to rest on Irene’s shoulder, fingers digging into the soft flesh and Irene flinched. “We have no choice. You must marry someone who can take care of our debts and the only one willing to do so with the dowry of your land is the viscount. If you do not marry him we will be impoverished. And he seems to have some affection for you.”

“That just makes it worse!” Irene protested, driven to it despite the hardness of her mother’s expression and words. “When it was nothing but a business arrangement… what if he becomes angry with me for deceiving him?”

Her mother snorted. “I said he has affection for you, you foolish girl. That means nothing over time. Enough affection and he will get an heir and a spare on you quickly and then you can do as you please. He will have his own lovers, perhaps mistresses. It is the way things are done.”

But what about love? Irene wanted to ask, but she didn’t. She already knew her mother’s views on that subject. But her mother could see it in her expression anyway.

Leaning down, her mother whispered in her ear, her hard, dark eyes trapping Irene’s in the mirror. “When you have given him his children, he will have done his duty and have no more need for your bed. And then you may see if Lord Brooke returns your… affections. But do not come crying to me if he uses you and your love,” she said the work mockingly, “and then breaks your heart.”

Irene didn’t respond. She just sat, staring blankly into the mirror, seeing nothing. Regretting the day she’d unburdened her innermost thoughts about marriage and love to her mother. Wishing that she were anyone but the daughter of an impoverished baron. Hugh was a good man, she was sure of it. He didn’t deserve a wife who was in love with someone else.

But what else could she do?