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

“I’m sure they’d like that.” He leaned back against the doorjamb. Even in her peripheral vision, she could see his lips were tilted in a frown.

“It’s been over a week,” he said quietly. “How long will you stay angry with me?”

She stared down at her book. “As long as it takes. I do not really know.”

“Forever?”

She thought of his nighttime visits, now put on hold. She remembered the way he’d caressed her and made her forget everything but the heft of his body over hers. She remembered his patient lessons, revealing all the exquisite sensations contained in her womanhood. She thought of the children she’d envisioned having with him. She thought of good moments they’d enjoyed before the bad, before the realization that maybe those moments had been faked.

She thought of Bouncer’s enclosure and Mr. Cuddles’ handsome new container. Forever was a long time. She meant to answer him but couldn’t because her throat closed with emotion.

He sighed so softly she almost didn’t hear it. “All right, Jane. Have a good dinner.”

“You as well,” she murmured, studying the page hard. She wasn’t learning anything. She was just waiting for him to go away.

*

If Jane wasn’t going to dinner, Townsend wasn’t going to dinner. Instead, he told the kitchen staff to take the night off from cooking and went to the club in search of Marlow and August, who might be able to take his mind off his troubles with their talent for spouting nonsense.

Unfortunately, he didn’t find them. Perhaps they’d already gone to Pearl’s for the evening to play bachelor love games, to spank pretty, willing courtesans in trumped up scenes. To his surprise, the idea of it no longer appealed to him, not when he’d spanked the most exasperating, spirited, wonderful wife in the world.

Curse it, he had to find a way to mend their rift. Without much thought, he started walking toward Wescott’s house. His friend had been married several months now. He might have some useful advice.

When he rang the bell, he was admitted to the foyer. Wescott’s youngest sister materialized, greeting him as he gave the butler his hat and cane. “Townsend, how lovely to see you.”

“Likewise, Elizabeth. Are the Wescotts here?”

“They are. Hazel and I came over to visit Ophelia because she’s helping plan Hazel’s wedding, but they’re being so tedious Wescott and I stole away to have dinner alone.”

“I see. Do you think I might join the two of you?”

“Of course.” Her steady gaze sharpened. Elizabeth knew more than most about his struggling marriage, for she had been with Jane the night of the ball when his lies of omission had come due.

He could see her searching for the words to pry, to ask after Jane’s well-being. He might as well come clean about the fact his marriage still wasn’t functioning up to par. “I’m hoping Wescott can give me some advice.”

“Advice? Wescott can’t give advice to save his life,” she said. “But he’ll be a good ear for listening. He owes you that.” She walked him toward the dining room, then stopped and touched his arm. “Jane loves you very much, you know. Very much.”

“I’m not sure she does anymore.”

“She does. She wouldn’t be so angry with you otherwise.”

He could see more in her open gaze. Questions, concerns, the desire to reassure. But she did not reassure. Sometimes he wondered if Wescott’s youngest sister had powers of divination. She did have the appearance of a wild Welsh fairy, and otherworldly eyes. Did she already know his and Jane’s future? He was afraid to ask, so he turned from her and continued toward the dining room.

“When will Hazel marry?” he asked, to change the subject.

“In June, to Lord Fremont, and goodness, they are sickening together. It makes me jealous, how perfect they are.”

Just as Elizabeth read others easily, she made an open book herself. She did not find the planning tedious at all; she was jealous her sister would soon marry someone she loved, while she was the youngest, still waiting…

“Wescott, your friend is here,” Elizabeth announced as they entered the dining room. “You’d better order another plate. He looks hungry.”

“Towns! What a pleasant surprise. Have a seat.”

Wescott gestured for the footman to set another place. Townsend had clearly interrupted their meal, but neither seemed to mind. Elizabeth was picking at her plate, nearly finished, and Wes was at least half done, but he took second helpings to keep him company.

“Sorry to barge in,” he said. “I went to the club, but August and Marlow weren’t there.”

“Our unmarried friends have more freedom, don’t they?” Wes said with exaggerated wistfulness.

Elizabeth looked over at her brother. “You don’t mind the loss of freedom. You were beside yourself that your wife was too busy for dinner.”

“Not beside myself,” he protested. “Who wants to be involved in wedding planning?”