A Proper Lord's Wife (Properly Spanked Legacy 2)

He gave back in kind, of course, mouthing and kissing her eager pussy, and even fingering her bum. She cried so enthusiastically when he demonstrated his oral skills, he feared the servants would break into the room to be sure nothing was amiss. Nothing at all was amiss. If theirs could not be a true love marriage, it could at least be a nightly sharing of pleasures. He’d surely acquired the most sexually adventurous of all London’s marriageable crop.

Things progressed in the daytime hours too. His wife requested some small pens be built near the edge of the woodlands, so her disabled rabbit might waddle around and enjoy some fresh country air. Not that Bouncer’s life in the kitchens was miserable. The little rabbit was such a favorite his cage had been redesigned with an open top, so the staff might pet and coddle the bit of fluff each time they passed, and drop in tasty snacks.

Well, whatever kept his wife happy. He had been known to visit the kitchens himself to scratch the little fellow on his downy brown head, and to stare into the snake’s enclosure. Through the glass side of the cage, one could see Mr. Cuddles draped over a branch, or basking beside his water bowl against the side nearest the fire.

It was not the marriage he’d pictured, but it was not a bad marriage.

And there could be children soon, based on her affinity for carnal activity. To be on the safe side, he’d consulted a friend who studied animals, to be sure her pets wouldn’t pose a threat to his wife’s health. As it turned out, the gentleman already knew of Lady Jane, the animal defender, because she had tried to sneak into a Zoological Society meeting dressed in a coat and trousers. His wife was notorious, and he could only be relieved their betrothal and marriage had happened over the winter months, and not during London’s Season, when gossips’ tongues wagged without cease.

By next Season, a few months hence, he hoped to have his new marchioness polished to a smoother, more deferent shine. He’d be a duke one day, and she his duchess, so a high, glossy polish would be a necessity.

He walked out from his private library onto the back balcony, only to see his future duchess striding, nay, practically jogging across the back garden toward the west woods. What was that he’d just been brooding over, about polish? Her hood fell down and she lifted it up again, for the wind was blowing cold this day. He was so engrossed in her hurried progress he didn’t realize for some moments that she was alone.

She was not allowed into the woods alone. He’d told her so on three occasions now since he’d met with resistance and protests of “what if I don’t go very far?” or “what if I only go a short while?” He’d been very explicit in his requirements for her safety if she wished free rein about Somerton’s wild places. She was hurrying because she was disobeying.

He went to the stables for his horse and located the head groom.

“Tell me,” he said. “Have you noticed the marchioness walking to the woods on her own, without anyone to escort her?”

“Sometimes, my lord,” the man answered. “Sometimes she rides Snowbell around the meadows too. She said you didn’t mind it if she wasn’t planning to muck about too long.”

“Did she say that?”

“Yes, my lord. I did tell her she oughtn’t to go alone but she said something about quiet and the magic of the forest, and other things. The mistress is a lover of nature for sure.”

“Indeed.”

“Though it’s coming to the cold winter season, and the days so short. If she were to get lost out there without a mount to bring her home again…”

The worry in the man’s eyes reflected the very real danger of his wife roving around Somerton’s extensive wild lands on her own.

“From now on, she is not to set foot outside the house or stables proper without an escort. Make sure all the stablemen know it.” His voice sounded tight, perhaps from irritation, perhaps from fear. If she got lost, she could freeze to death in this weather. It was an unusually bitter winter, for God’s sake.

“Yes, my lord,” said his head groom. “I’ll tell everyone so.”

“And if my wife says otherwise, you are to fetch me and let me handle things.”

“Yes, my lord.”

It was beginning to dawn on the man that Lady Townsend might be in trouble. Another sober-faced groom handed him his stallion’s reins, and Townsend swung astride it to go fetch his errant wife. Fortunately, he knew exactly which direction she’d gone.

*

Jane loved Somerton’s woods at midday. It wasn’t only because her husband spent midday in his study, making it easy to steal off alone, without clumsy footmen or stable boys trailing her. No, it was because the winter’s light was at its zenith then, and a variety of animals could be depended upon to show their faces, to soak up what light and life they could. Even in rain they’d emerge, although one had to listen harder to hear them.