Punishing His Ward (Domestic Discipline 3)

Well he might be a rogue and a devil, but he looked like a severe and unhappy guardian to her. Cynthia recognized the features of his brothers in his face, but the Earl wasn't looking at her with playful amusement or gleeful hilarity; he looked just as angry as his mother often did. And not nearly as easy to ignore.

Still. Men often thought she was beautiful, over the years she’d learned that they were much more likely to grant her leeway than women. Even her father had been more easily charmed than her mother. And, as she regained her composure, she didn't miss the way his eyes flicked down to her bosom. Cynthia had often found that beauty and a great deal of cleavage went a long way with men.

"My lord," she said prettily, batting her eyes and dipping down into the low curtsy that often grabbed men's attention.

Wesley, being such a favorite among the ton's ladies, recognized her tactics immediately. In any other young beauty he might have admired her inspiration or been amused by her obvious ploy. But this was his ward and while he might enjoy his leisure, his rakish reputation was a relief from the responsibility that plagued him.

And when it came to this young woman, responsibility was to be his byword. Not only did his personal sense of honor demand it, his mother would as well. He held Cynthia's future in his hands; he was to shelter, succor and care for her until he could get her married off in a reasonable match (his mother wanted a good match, but he was willing to settle for a reasonable one, just to speed things along and get this blatant temptation out of his life). That was his duty as a guardian.

His hardening cock and roving eyes had obviously not heeded his intentions, but he could ignore that.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he forced himself to turn away from her and look at Manfred. "I'll deal with my ward in my study. Get the household back in order now that she's been found. And make sure that no one has disturbed my mother."

"Yes, my Lord," Manfred said with a little bow; his tone and demeanor much more respectful than it usually was when he was addressing Wesley. Obviously he meant to set a good example for Miss Cynthia Bryant on how one was supposed to behave with an Earl. Wesley barely glanced at her, although out of the corner of his eye he could see that she was looking rather pouty and put out at being so deliberately ignored by him. He’d wager not many men were able to overlook her abundance of charms so easily, even if they'd wanted to.

Hell, it wasn't easy for him to do and he was one of the most practiced rakes of the ton. There was just something about her... the slightest hint of refreshing innocence to go with that devious sparkle in her eyes and innate sensuality. As if she truly didn't know where her words and actions might lead, but was willing to explore. An invitation for a knowing man to lead her down the path of wickedness.

Was she an innocent?

Normally he would have thought the answer an immediate no. His father's friend, Lord Harold Bryant, and his wife Susannah had been very conservative. No daughter of theirs would be allowed to behave in any kind of immoral or indecent manner. And he would have banked his mother against any young woman.

Obviously he would have been wrong on all counts. How could the staunchly upright Lord Bryant have sired this seductive, brazen hussy?

Still, he'd have to protect her as if she was completely innocent. If his mother had been aware of any stain to the girl's reputation then she would have included that information in one of her letters. Going by Cynthia's tactics in trying to deal with him, if she was still an innocent it was more luck than anything else. He was going to have to keep a close watch on her. Luckily, as a rake himself, he knew all the tricks of the trade.

"My study," he said to her, rather grimly. "Now."

Turning on his heel, Wesley stalked down the hallway, not waiting to see if she followed. He needed privacy to question her and then to tan her bottom for upsetting the household in such a manner. If she didn't follow immediately then he'd just blister that pert little bottom even more. And damn well enjoy it too.

******

Sighing, Cynthia trotted gamely after Lord Spencer, frowning down at her dress as she did so. She'd never been so easily dismissed by a man, especially not with her bosom so exposed. Lord Spencer had looked, but only for a moment and then he'd moved on to other things.

Maybe he was one of those men who preferred other dishes?

He certainly didn't seem the type though. Of course she was only going by rumors about that type of man, as she hadn’t knowingly met any, but they were said to dress a great deal fancier than Lord Spencer was. The Earl looked as if he didn't care a fig for his appearance. Though she thought he might still be the most dashingly attractive man she'd ever seen, and his sartorial lack of effort did have a certain appeal.

Tall, shoulders as broad as a soldiers, and those pants hugged his legs tightly enough that, unless he was wearing some very clever pads, he had most superbly muscled legs she'd ever seen. Too bad he was apparently a stuffed shirt despite his roguish reputation and dress.

Once they’d entered his study, Lord Spencer didn't turn to look at her until he'd reached his desk.

"Close the door." Once she had, he nodded at the chair in front of his desk. It was a large, cushy armchair with broad arms. More than once she'd snuck into the study for a quiet place to read, on those rare occasions when she was in the mood. The chair was incredibly comfortable, not to mention welcoming.

From his position leaning against the desk it would also give him quite a view down into her cleavage. Cynthia smiled. Maybe he wasn't as immune to her as he appeared. That was a nice thought. Although he just scowled at her even more when he saw her smiling.

With another sigh, she moved across the room and settled down into the chair. Again his eyes flicked down into her bosom and then away before coming back to her face.

Humph.

"Explain yourself."

"Explain myself?" she asked rather wonderingly. How did one explain oneself? She was just... herself.

Lord Spencer glared at her. "Where were you, who were you with and why did you go?"

Oh, explain her actions. Nearly as difficult as explaining herself when it came right down to it. "I was out, with no one, because I was bored."

She'd found, over the years, that it was best to keep things simple when she lied. The vaguer she was and the less she had to remember, the easier it was to stick to her story.