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

“That’s the thing. I was reading the best mystery novel, and I suppose I forgot to give him as much handling and attention as he likes, and before I knew it, he was down the bed and on the floor, and heading for the doorway. Oh, why should he go into your room? I’ll never know. It’s as if he wants to get me in trouble.” She brushed a hand through her disarranged orange locks. “The servants are helping me find him. Don’t worry. He can’t have gone far.”

The fact that he couldn’t have gone far was of little comfort to Townsend. A snake was slithering over his floors and carpets. It could be setting up a dandy new home among his boots or linens or shirts. Not only that, the cursed thing had apparently been making itself easy in Jane’s bed, where he himself rolled about with her almost every night. That had been his one rule about her bizarre pets—that they remain outside the living areas.

“We’ll find him shortly,” she said. “You’re not to worry. If everyone is quiet, perhaps I can hear him rustling about.”

“Is he even still in here? He could be anywhere in the house by now.”

When she put her finger to her lips and shushed him, he reached the limits of his patience. “Find the snake at once,” he thundered. “I want it out of here. It belongs in the kitchens.”

The servants burst into motion, but his wife frowned at him with tears in her eyes. “Mr. Cuddles belongs in the African grasslands, but he can’t be there because some horrible person trapped him and brought him to the Exeter zoo. It’s not his fault.”

“Perhaps, but he is in my room at this moment, and that is your fault.”

“If everyone would just be quiet. He’s probably afraid with all this activity, and your yelling—”

“Lady Townsend?” One of the servants called from his dressing room. He and Jane hurried in and found the man standing in the area beyond, the washroom. He and the snake were going in circles, the creature slithering along the floorboards while his man ran after it as if to corral the thing.

“Gently,” Jane warned, kneeling in the snake’s way. “Stop running, please. You’re making him frantic.”

“Is he going to hurt you?” Townsend was caught between a healthy fear of snakes and the desire to protect his wife from the reptile. It had gotten bigger, hadn’t it, over the winter? With Jane on one side of it and his footman on the other, the snake coiled in a corner and stared at them.

“Poor thing,” Jane crooned to it. “I know you’re frightened. Have you gotten yourself into a strange, cold place? These floors aren’t cozy and woody like your enclosure, sweet baby. Let me fetch you and I’ll take you back where you belong.”

Damn him if the snake didn’t seem to be listening to her. She took a small step forward, then another. “Please, nobody move. Just be quiet.”

Townsend looked over his shoulder and waved off the servants beyond the door. Then he stood, helpless, as Jane approached the snake.

“Is he going to bite you?” He couldn’t govern his agitation, but he hadn’t the knowledge or experience to assist her. “He looks angry.”

“He is upset, but he won’t bite me. Royal pythons are docile. Even if he bites me, it won’t hurt, for he hasn’t any fangs, nor the jaw strength of a badger or dog.”

Oh God, a badger or dog. How had he ended up marrying this naturalist? Curse Ophelia, and Wescott, and his misguided quest for revenge. He watched with his heart in his throat as Jane gathered up her skirts and crouched before the animal. Its head moved back and forth but its beady eyes never left her as she reached for it.

“There now,” she said quietly. “Come here, sweet, and I’ll hold you to my breast and soothe you until your heart stops beating so hard. What do you say to that? I’ll hug you close until you feel safe again.”

She spoke to it as if the snake might answer her, and then, in a way, it did answer. Its coils grew less tense. It moved its head forward as she held out a hand, and let her pet and stroke him. A moment later it slithered onto her offered palm.

“Oh, good boy.” Within moments, the snake was coiled about her hand and forearm, content to lie against her body. “Let’s get you back to your enclosure. How tired you must be. I should have let you try to sleep safe in your cage, I know, but it’s so hard with the hustle and bustle, isn’t it? Don’t worry, we’ll be settled in London soon enough.”

She brushed past him, this outrageous, snake-charming wife, leaving him to stew in lingering trauma. He followed her from the washroom, through his dressing room and bedroom, all the way to the hall door. “As soon as you put him away, return to me,” he told her. “We are going to have some words.”