To Tame a Countess (Properly Spanked 2)

“I mean what I say. Leave off talking about me and Lady Warren, or I’ll make it difficult for you to step into any sort of civilized drawing room for the rest of your life. Your finances alone…”

“Really, these threats.” But he could see Stafford was shaken. The dissolute earl would be easy to ruin—and it would be hard to marry into money once he was. “Very well.” His expression darkened, like a spoiled child deprived of a toy. “I don’t suppose anything I can say is as bad as the truth of your marriage, anyway. She’s run off and left you, which speaks volumes. When she’s not at your big, fancy ball, what will everyone say?”

“Go to the devil,” Warren said, and put his heels to his horse.

“Yes, they might say that,” Stafford called after him. Warren ignored him and galloped to Park Street, where his friends had convened to wait for news. Townsend and Arlington talked together near the fire while August paced back and forth. He could tell by their concerned expressions that Josephine hadn’t been found. Minette sobbed in the corner, too frightened to even fawn over August the way she usually did. Warren comforted her as best he could and summoned Mrs. Everly to take her up to bed.

“No word of Lady Warren?” Arlington asked once Minette was gone.

“None,” he replied. “I’ve been up and down for hours. I don’t know where she can be. No one remembers when they saw her last, so I’ve no idea how long she’s been missing.” He could hear the hysteria in his own voice. If she was trapped somewhere, or hurt, or frightened… He could hardly bear to think about it.

Townsend sighed and rubbed his chin. “You’re certain she’s not curled up in some quiet corner of the house? Say, do you remember how Minette used to wander in her sleep? We used to find her in the strangest places. Up in a tree, or in a cabinet, or sprawled out in the neighbor’s garden.”

“Don’t remind me,” said Warren. “Thank God, she hasn’t done that in years. And I doubt my wife went sleepwalking in the middle of the day.”

“Did the two of you argue?” asked August. “Have a disagreement of some sort?”

“Not recently.” There had only been the tension over the ball, but Josephine had moved past that.

His friends regarded him with sympathy. “We’ll go out and look some more,” said Arlington. “You stay here in case she turns up. If you can, get some rest. For all we know, she’s hiding in some remote corner of your household, not wishing to be found. In the morning, have the servants search again. It’ll be light in a few hours and we can send people door to door, asking if anyone has seen or heard anything suspicious.”

Warren knew Arlington only wanted to help—and that he was probably right—but to wait until morning arrived…

“Minette is frightened,” Townsend added. “Stay here in case she needs you, and see what the new day brings. If the rest of us hear anything, we’ll send for you.”

Warren buried his hands in his hair with a groan. Rest? Wait? But he supposed he had no other choice, except to keep riding the dark, empty streets of London, beset by helplessness and fear.

*** *** ***

At some point, Warren must have fallen asleep on a chaise in the front drawing room. The crisp tap of a servant brought him to wakefulness. Sun streamed in the tall windows. Warren thought to himself, Why am I here? and Why am I still dressed? And Why am I so tired? Then he remembered that Josephine was missing. He shook his head, trying to focus on what the butler was saying.

“Lord Townsend,” the servant repeated. “And Lady Warren.”

He sat upright as Townsend walked into the room. The dark-haired man propelled Josephine forward with an arm about her shoulder; she looked as pale and wretched as Warren felt. Relief overcame any confusion or questions, at least for the moment. He strode over to embrace his wife.

“Thank God. Has any harm come to you? Are you perfectly all right?” He took her from Townsend, inspecting her from head to toe.

“I’m fine,” she said in a tremulous voice.

“My dear girl.” He clasped her close, stroking wisps of hair back from her face. She shivered in his arms, her tears wetting his cheek. He squeezed her hard, then released her and turned to Townsend. “Good Lord, how I worried. Where did you find her?” He turned back to Josephine. “Where on earth have you been?”

When she didn’t answer, Townsend spoke up. “She’s been at my house. I had no idea, I promise you. I’ve sent word to the others that she’s been found.”

Warren rubbed his forehead, staring at her. Josephine began to bawl in earnest, sniffling into her sleeves. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I decided to hide.”

“Hide from what?” he asked.

“She said you were forcing her to attend the ball this evening.” Townsend arched a brow at him. “You monster.”

Warren narrowed his eyes at Josephine. All his worrying, his sleepless night. His alarm and Minette’s fear, and all the hours his friends and servants had spent searching for her. “You went to the Townsends’ house to hide from the ball?” he asked in a very slow and deliberate way.

“Yes, because I don’t want to go.” Her trembling voice held a panicked edge. “I don’t want to be married to you, if I must do these things. I don’t want to be trotted out in front of hundreds of people and forced to act happy for your vaunted career. I want to go live in my cottage. I want to be left alone. I want—”

“You want a spanking,” he said, cutting her off. “And I’ll be happy to give you one when I regain control of my temper.” He beckoned a footman and gestured toward the adjacent doors. “Barnard, will you escort Lady Warren to the smaller parlor and see that she awaits me there?”

He thought she might protest, the foolish girl, but one of his patented glares subdued her, and she allowed the servant to lead her from the room.

His friend, meanwhile, had turned toward the windows, as if he had not just heard this little drama. “I’m sorry,” Townsend said after a moment. “I had no idea she was there until the servants tattled. Aurelia had secreted her in her dressing room. Her maid saw toes peeking out from beneath a suspiciously bunched-up row of gowns.”

“Blast. I never would have thought. Josephine doesn’t even know Aurelia. She’s not yet come to call.”

“No, she hasn’t.”

The two friends looked at each other. Warren muttered a colorful string of oaths. “Minette must have had a hand in this. I’ll kill her.”

“Be calm, man,” said Townsend. ”Minette behaved wrongly, but I won’t let you kill her on my watch. Unless you’re speaking in a purely disciplinary sense.”

“Oh, I am,” he ground out. “That little liar knew exactly where Josephine was all night, while I paced the floor, and she cried and fretted and clutched her curls like London’s most talented actress. All of it, a deception.” He brought his fist down in a crash against the nearby table top. “Damn it, I don’t like being colluded against. Both of them are mad.”

Townsend stayed silent as Warren grasped for calm. A fit of temper wouldn’t change anything. He took a few steps and sank back down onto the chaise. “It’s a hell of a thing when your wife doesn’t want to be married to you.”

“I remember the feeling,” said Townsend. “It’s not a pleasant one.”

Warren knew that Townsend and Aurelia had had a rocky start to their marriage. He wondered if Towns had ever felt this bleak. “I’ve only been trying to help her,” he said. “You know me. I don’t have a sinister bone in my body. I’ve been everything that’s kind.”

He chose to ignore Townsend’s snort of laughter, and the smile he hid behind his hand.

“Perhaps she just needs more time to get used to her new life,” his friend said when he’d composed himself. “More time to get used to being the Countess of Warren.”

“How much time does that take?”

“A bit longer than you gave her to prepare for this ball, I suppose.”

Warren threw out his arms. “It’s a ball, for G

od’s sake, not a damned execution.”

“Not to you. Perhaps it feels so to her. I wasn’t able to draw much conversation from your wife during the ride here, but I gather she’s terrified to face the ton tonight. You’re so concerned with painting a picture of marital bliss that you’ve disregarded your wife’s feelings. Which rather works against the whole marital-bliss effort.”