Rival Desires (Properly Spanked Legacy 1)

“It would be rude to keep our visitors waiting,” she said.

His only answer was a frustrated sigh as she went for her dress and stockings, and wrapped them about her waist to hide her naked, cane-marked bottom as she left.

Chapter Eleven

Visitors

Ophelia shifted in her wing chair, her bottom still sore from last night’s “erotic punishment.” Worse, her husband kept catching her eye amidst the company’s merry conversations. She suspected he enjoyed watching her discomfort from across the drawing room, where he sat with his friends. That was the sort of perverse person he was.

Their guests kept the tone light at the after-dinner gathering, and she tried to fit in, playing the contented wife as far as she was able.

Which wasn’t very far.

Oh, she knew enough to play a gracious hostess. She’d learned it from her mother, in between embroidery and music lessons. She directed the seating at dinner and conferred with the cook on a pleasing menu, and had the servants make up comfortable rooms when it seemed their guests might be staying for a few days.

It frustrated Wescott, but what did it matter if they had visitors? Their honeymoon had been over before it began.

She was also capable of making polite conversation with her husband’s parents, who were not haughty at all, despite their ducal titles and wealth. His mother spoke kindly to her, asking how she liked Wescott Abbey. What she meant was, how do you like being married to my son? Ophelia had answered that it was a lovely place, not mentioning that she’d barely roamed beyond her own suite of rooms, at least inside the house.

“Ophelia, you look so far away.”

Elizabeth’s voice at her shoulder startled her from her darkening thoughts. Wescott’s youngest sister was sixteen, only a couple years younger than her, but she was so innocent, bright, and pure that Ophelia barely knew what to say to her. The ebony-haired young woman had played the piano when they first retired after dinner, and encouraged Ophelia to sing. Instead, she’d sat by the fire, blushing and refusing to share her talent. I still cannot sing, she’d lied. I’m sorry. The fire…

“I’m not so far away,” she said, smiling at Elizabeth. “Just thinking of your skill at the piano. You must practice a great deal.”

“I don’t practice as much as I should. August is better, and you ought to hear his father play. Do you remember Lord Barrymore from the wedding? He looks exactly like August, but for a few strands of silver in his hair.”

“Indeed, I remember meeting Lord Barrymore, as well as his wife. You are all very close,” Ophelia observed.

“Family friends.” Elizabeth rolled her green eyes, so like to her brother’s. “Which is well enough until you must go to this party or that because Mama’s friends are planning it, or dance with this or that son at a ball because you haven’t enough names on your dance card. That didn’t happen to me,” she added. “I’m not old enough for balls yet, not really, but Mama allowed me to attend a few given by the Warrens, as long as I didn’t dance.”

“I haven’t been to many balls.” Ophelia’s own foray into society had been so brief, and so fraught with worry about her reputation, that she hadn’t been able to enjoy much dancing, flirtation, and courtship. “I was studying music in Vienna for the last several years.”

“How interesting, that you lived in Vienna. I’ve never been there. I haven’t done a great deal at all, although I will when I’m older. At least I hope so.”

She made a small frown, and Ophelia thought again how very innocent she was. The girl would have less opportunity to do things in the future, if she married. Even a duke’s daughter would find her world shrunk down to a respectable, confining box within society.

“Will you tell me what it was like at your music school?” she asked. “Did you have daily lessons? Were any of your teachers famous? Did you sing in many operas? How often did you perform?”

Ophelia smiled at Elizabeth’s curiosity and glanced about the room, saw that Wescott’s parents and his other sister had taken up a game of cards with Lord Marlow, and that her husband was deep in conversation with Lord Augustine. “I did have daily lessons, and we performed quite a lot as part of our studies. We were graded on our performances, even ranked against one another. I suppose some of my teachers were famous. At times, great masters would spend a few days in our classes to instruct and inspire us.”

“And were you inspired?”

“Some of the time.”

“Do you like being married to my brother?”

Elizabeth’s abrupt change of topic took her aback. She could be very direct, her light eyes piercing beneath her deep black hair.

“Of…of course I like being married to Wescott. He is a very…good husband.”