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

“Ah, very well. You have moved on, then? It will not bother you to see Ophelia this spring?”

“Can’t we drop this topic of discussion?”

“At the very least, you must mend fences with Wescott, preferably prior to the ball. You may not cause a scene at Felicity and Carlo’s celebration.”

His mother was a sweet, soft-spoken woman who could also be unsparing. He had to force his jaw muscles to relax.

“I would never have caused a scene,” he said.

“Indeed, you’re not the type. I have only known you to cause a scene once, and that was when Wescott proposed to Ophelia.”

He let out a long, slow sigh. His father and Jane weren’t waltzing anymore. He was twirling her then lifting her in the air with a flourish. She looked in his direction, her face aglow with pleasure.

“She is so in love with you,” his mother said. “Look how she smiles at you.”

“She’s smiling because of father. It has nothing to do with me.”

“Townsend.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Mama. Please. I am trying to fall in love with her. I just need time. Can’t I have more time?”

“Of course you can.” She looked down at her hands and touched her fingers a moment, as if adjusting invisible gloves. “I only want you to realize, despite your lingering tendre for Ophelia, that there is so very much to love in Jane.”

He watched his wife, feeling like a scolded schoolboy. Of course he wanted to love her above all others. Of course he wished her to never doubt his affection and fidelity, but everything after Ophelia had happened so quickly, before he had an opportunity to sort things out. He was married while he was still in the mindset of revenge. If he must put away that desire for revenge, what would replace it?

Love for Jane? It had been two months, and he was afraid he still barely knew her. Was it his fault?

“Your father is such an excellent dancer,” she said, collapsing back in one of the armed chairs. “Edward, it was so fun. Can you waltz like that?”

“Better.”

He offered a hand to his wife. Meanwhile, his father bowed low before his mother and soon he and Jane were dodging the other couple in a parlor that was not designed for dancing, but had become a ballroom nonetheless.

Jane grinned at him, her eyes shining. “I love dancing. I’ve never thought myself very talented at it, but now that I can waltz…”

“You’re doing beautifully, my love.” She looked beautiful too, joyous and out of breath.

“I can’t wait to meet your sister and her husband, and your friends, and all your family at the ball. Won’t we be busy in London, having them over to your house and paying calls ourselves?”

“Yes, although it will be your house too, you know. Well, if you intend to live there with me.”

It took a moment for her to register his joke, a moment when she looked worried. Did she think he’d leave her behind in the country? His mother seemed to believe he didn’t love her enough, perhaps his wife felt the same? Why? He was smiling at her, dancing with her. God knew they connected with passionate pleasure just about every night.

He glanced over at his parents. Surely he was doing better than the early days of their marriage, when his father had given his mother a grasshopper as a gift.

“They are lovely, your parents,” said Jane. “I can see why you’re such a good husband now.”

“Am I?”

“Aren’t you? I think so.”

It wasn’t until later that night, as he lay beside her in bed, that he realized he should have reciprocated and told her she was a good wife. He looked over at her in sleep, at her light, fluttering lashes and pouting lips which had given him so much pleasure. He couldn’t leave her after he bedded her, for she made sure there was always some part of her touching him. A fingertip, a toe, or her whole hand wrapped about his hand or forearm. They slept together so often at her request that he felt strange now when he woke up alone.

His mother had said “She is so in love with you.”

What she’d really meant in her tone and expression was “Take care.”

Chapter Eleven

Starting to Understand

Each week grew a little warmer. By the end of March, the trees had budded and the forest was shaking itself to life. Jane seemed delighted with Somerton in spring, and Townsend was glad to see her busy and happy.

He rarely had cause to punish her, for she went out of her way to please him and follow the household rules. She always took attendants with her into the forests, and in fact, put them to work carrying and storing the botanical specimens she collected, as well as small insect corpses and dried animal bones. The servants had grown as fond of their mistress as they’d grown of the much-petted Bouncer in his open cage. Townsend began to fear he might never have another chance to indulge his love of discipline.