by Lyndon, Sue
Daisy stared at the fortune teller and gasped. “But, how can we find happiness together if our relationship will be difficult at first? Are-are you certain we both have lessons to learn? It already feels like we’re in love—I mean, almost—and he’s been nothing but a gentleman when he’s come to call upon me at Talcott House.” In particular, the word acceptance echoed in Daisy’s head and caused her another pang of worry. Did that mean what she thought it meant? She couldn’t imagine any circumstance in which she might tell Lord Kensington of her true origins and her tainted family history. Such knowledge would likely make a gentleman as distinguished as himself cringe. She opened her mouth to ask the fortune teller if indeed Lord Kensington would discover this truth about her, but then she promptly pressed her lips tightly together. This bit of information, she really did not wish to know ahead of her wedding.
Lady Miselda smiled and reached across the table to pat Daisy’s hand. “My child, every trial you endure will be well worth it in the end, for you will have a husband who loves and adores you beyond all measure, a husband whom you will love with your whole heart. There is a reason Lord Kensington did not marry your friend that day.”
“What-what reason is that?”
“It’s quite simple, my child,” she said, patting Daisy’s hand again. “You and Lord Kensington are soul mates.”
The bells of the local church chimed the hour, causing Daisy’s stomach to flip. Time had gotten away from her. She jumped up and nearly toppled the table between them. “Thank you for talking with me, but I must go now. Oh dear, I am going to be late for breakfast and Miss Wickersham will be most unhappy if she catches me.”
“Even on your wedding day?”
“Miss Wickersham’s discipline never takes a holiday,” she said and rushed from the tent.
Chapter 4
Kensington Manor
Edward felt uncharacteristically flustered as he watched two footmen hang a painting in his bride-to-be’s bedchamber. He ran a hand through his hair and swept his gaze around the room, taking in the feminine décor, as well as a large dollhouse, a bookshelf, two massive armoires with flowers painted on them, and a spacious window seat that had a view of the well-tended gardens.
It was a bedchamber fit for a little wife, the kind of young lady a gentleman such as himself might procure from Talcott House—a bride who would also be his cherished little girl.
Would Miss Smith find this room satisfactory? Logically, he knew the room was perfect. But he wanted her to find the room more than satisfying. He wanted her to love it and feel at home here at Kensington Manor. At home with him.
He nodded his approval as the footmen stepped back to survey the placement of the painting, which depicted the English countryside featuring windswept green hills and a patch of forest, with the focal point of the art piece being a field of daisies. He’d come across the painting while out in town making last minute preparations for the arrival of his bride. Since Miss Smith’s given name was Daisy, he hoped she appreciated his efforts at making her room as unique to her as could possibly be done at the last minute.
For a gentleman who never wished to be caught unprepared, the past week had been both hideously uncomfortable and delightfully exhilarating. Who had ever heard of a man leaving to marry one woman and coming home without a bride but with a head full of ungentlemanly thoughts of another young lady? He shook his head ruefully. He still could scarce get his mind around it. Edward was not one to believe in fate or luck—he believed a hardworking gentleman made his own luck and determined the path of his life with every well-thought out, or not well-thought out, decision—but it had felt much like fate had intervened when Miss Daisy Smith had fallen through a weak spot in the ceiling above and crashed into his life. He’d helped the young lady to her feet, and then one look into her soulful brown eyes and she’d stolen his heart.
He had never wanted something so badly in his whole life as he wanted the little dark-haired beauty. Her blush as she stared at him, wide-eyed, had heated his blood as his mind took a rather ungentlemanly turn. Following the events of his first visit to Talcott House, he had called on her several days in a row before proposing marriage, and now in less than an hour Edward would depart for Talcott House to marry her. A quick courtship suited him, particularly given that he had decided to seek an arranged marriage of sorts with a little lady from Talcott House in the first place, rather than search for a bride in the marriage market of London.
He had no desire to attend a series of fancy balls and social events, while looking for a submissive woman who suited him, especially when the eyes of the ton would be on him the entire time. Some of them would be judging, and others would be filled with pity. He preferred neither.
Dark memories suddenly swept in, clouding the edges of his consciousness, and he fought to push them all away. But it wasn’t easy. Often when the darkness descended, he had no choice but to wallow in it until it passed on its own accord. A vision of his late sister flashed in his mind, and his chest tightened with familiar grief. She’d died in a terrible accident over two years ago, but sometimes it felt like yesterday.
His hands curled into fists and he pressed his eyes shut, haunted by an accident which should have been preventable. If only his sister had listened to him. If only she’d been more biddable. But during her first season, she had run roughshod over the female companion he’d hired for her, escaping the older lady’s notice with ease during social occasions, running off into mischief, having made friends with the most unladylike of her peers. Edward blamed himself too, for he should have been firmer with his sister and insisted she comport herself with proper manners, but he’d been so focused on running his estate and all its holdings after the death of their parents that he had often turned a blind eye to Lady Gwen’s antics.
Though he hadn’t been in attendance at the ball held at Bolton Manor, where the accident had occurred, he sometimes heard her screams and the pounding of horses’ hooves on the drive as an out of control carriage barreled toward her. The imagined noises of the accident visited him in nightmares and even throughout the waking hours, often unbidden as he went about his daily activities. He had spent the last two years trying to move on and forget, but he frequently wondered if it was possible. Guilt, grief, and memories weighed him down on more days than he would care to admit.
But despite tragedy, life must continue, he knew this as well as anyone. He had people depending on him to properly manage the holdings of his family’s estate, and he would not shirk his duties and let others suffer because of his family’s misfortune. In that vein of thought, he needed a wife—an especially obedient one to be sure—and eventually, an heir. He imagined the coming years with Daisy and starting a family with her and his mood lifted substantially, so much so, an uncharacteristic smile touched his lips.
He had found himself doing that more as of late—smiling—and he had his bride-to-be to thank for his improved disposition. She radiated kindness and light and all things good, it was almost impossible to feel morose in her sweet company.
Staring at the painting, he again hoped she liked her bedchamber and all the contents within. Regretfully, he hadn’t had time to add more individual details to her room, but he supposed it would be fit for any little lady. The room, as well as the wardrobe, had been designed with his formerly betrothed, Hyacinth, in mind, though the only pointed indication of it would be the wardrobe he’d had commissioned for the girl who’d been love-struck by Lord Grayson. Miss Wickersham had sent him Hyacinth’s measurements, but looking at the gowns now he thought Daisy was probably a bit taller and fuller in the bosom than her friend. But truth be told, he had hardly glanced at Hyacinth after she crashed through the ceiling, his gaze had been solely focused on Daisy, so perhaps he was wrong. However, if the gowns weren’t a perfect fit, as soon as could be arranged, Edward would have the dresses altered for Daisy and regardless of whether or not they fit, he would also commission some new ones in shades which would complement her dark ha
ir and eyes.
He wanted to shower Daisy with nice things and give her all the comforts he imagined she had lacked growing up, though she had yet to disclose much of her childhood to him, always changing the subject when he asked. The most he’d gotten out of her was that she’d lived in the north country until coming to Talcott House.
Miss Wickersham also remained rather tight lipped about Daisy’s past when pressed, other than to offer some vagueness about a misfortunate childhood. He had no idea if Daisy had lived on the streets or had worked as a servant, but he wished to know more about his little bride. He hoped once they were married he would earn her trust enough for her to confide in him. He ignored a voice in his head whispering that perhaps he was rushing into this marriage too fast, if he didn’t know anything more about her past than the region she’d grown up in. For all he knew, she could have been a pickpocket or a thief.
But no, she seemed far too innocent and sweet to have been a criminal. There was a glint of mischief in her eyes sometimes which worried him a bit, and the fact remained she had been misbehaving when she had joined her friends in spying on the goings-on in Miss Wickersham’s study on the day they all fell through the ceiling, however, he was confident it would not be difficult to keep her in line.
With proper guidance, he would ensure she behaved herself, and he resolved to be firm with her from the start. There would be no spying on others or eavesdropping from her anymore. Such uncouth behavior would result in a trip over his knee for a well-deserved spanking on her bare bottom.
At the thought of disciplining his little bride, his pulse raced and his blood heated. He would not enjoy hurting her, but the prospect of taking her in hand—as was his right as her husband—promised to be a heady experience, even for a man who typically preferred order to chaos.
He could picture the first time he would punish her very clearly in his mind. She would be trembling and repentant, a pretty blush covering her entire face, as she pleaded for him to please let her off with a warning. He would command her to lift her skirts and place herself over his lap, and he would waste no time in parting the slit of her drawers wide to reveal her bare little bottom.
His groin tightened and he turned toward the window, despite the fact the footmen had already departed the room. The door remained open and he had no wish for any of his staff to see him in such a condition. Once he regained his senses, he strode out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
He headed downstairs to inquire if the carriage was ready, anxious to leave London for Talcott House, which was situated in a small town in the country. Fortunately, the drive was a short one, two hours at most, and while impatient to get there, he very much anticipated the ride back to Kensington Manor. While he’d called on Daisy several times, he had not yet been entirely alone with the pretty young lady, not counting the brief spell they’d spent in the great room of Talcott House after the collapse of the ceiling. Miss Wickersham or one of the other caregivers at Talcott House always accompanied them on their walks around the vast gardens which surrounded the country home.
Pleased to find the carriage readied, Edward departed Kensington Manor as the morning sun broke across the landscape of London, peeking through the spaces between houses and shops. It was a beautiful day, and he couldn’t wait to return home with his little bride.
Chapter 5
“Where have you been?” Rosie greeted Daisy with a firm squeeze on her arm and a wild look in her eye as Daisy slid into a seat next to her friend at the breakfast table and began filling her plate with food. Her early morning visit with Lady Miselda, as well as running all the way back to Talcott House, had roused her appetite.
After swallowing a piece of toast with jam and washing it down with a hearty swig of tea, Daisy leaned close to Rosie. “I saw a fortune teller.”
“No!” Rosie’s fork clattered against her plate. “You did not. How could you? Not only are you to be wed in a matter of hours, but you know Miss Wickersham expressly told all of us we were not to go anywhere near the fair.”
“The fair? Did you say you went to the fair?” Lettie, who had recently moved into the bedchamber which Rosie and Daisy shared, leaned in eagerly. “Oh, Daisy, please tell me about it.”
Daisy eyed the girl suspiciously. Lettie was not new to Talcott House, but until she had moved into their shared room, Daisy had not had much interaction with her. Generally speaking, Daisy liked everyone on sight, but when Rosie had suggested to Miss Wickersham that Lettie and Lily move into the room to take the places vacated by Cammie and Cynny when they married, Daisy had felt a twinge of sadness. She had been looking forward to having Rosie all to herself and so when her friend rushed to fill the empty spaces in their room, it hurt Daisy’s heart a bit to think perhaps her friend wished to spend time with others instead of her.
It was not Lettie’s fault, and she had been very diligent in helping with the remaking of a hand-me-down wedding dress for Daisy. The marriage had been arranged on short notice and there had not been time for an entire dress to be made from scratch.
Thinking of the hours Lettie had spent embroidering an intricate design on the skirt of her gown, Daisy relented and included her in the secret. “I have never seen anything so amazing. Due to the early hour, most of the vendors were not open yet, but I did meet a most extraordinary woman named Lady Miselda and she told my fortune.”
“Ohhh. What did she say?” Lettie asked, eyes bright.
“You did what?” Rosie asked, eyes narrowed.
Daisy decided she liked Lettie just fine and directed her words to her while ignoring Rosie. “She was most hospitable. We had tea and I told her all about how I am to be married today.”
“Oh! What did she look like?”
“She was Romani, exotic with the most remarkable dark eyes. She had a colorful tent filled with interesting objects. I wish I had had time to look at everything. She wore a beautiful scarf wrapped around her head and large golden earrings and her arms were covered in bracelets that jingled and jangled when she moved her hands.”
“I wish you had taken me with you,” Lettie said.
“Next time, I will.”
“What are you talking about, Daisy? You are leaving us today,” Rosie stated as though she could hardly believe her friend had forgotten such a significant detail.
Momentarily stunned, Daisy paused and allowed the import of Rosie’s comment to sink in. Leaving. Her last day at Talcott House. Although she knew the information, it had somehow not hit home with her until then. “Oh, Rosie,” she said, wrapping her arms around her friend, “what will I do without you?”
Rosie patted her arm and said, “I am sure you will find plenty of ways to get into trouble, you can rely upon it.”
“Yes, but I will not have to worry about Miss Wickersham and the naughty chair,” Daisy said, her countenance lightening at the thought.
“I have heard papas sometimes have naughty chairs,” Lettie said. “Do you think it is true?”
Rosie and Daisy both looked at her, askance. “No, of course not. Why would a papa need a naughty chair?” Daisy said, feeling quite the expert on the topic since she was soon to have a papa. “Papas are supposed to love and care for their little girls, not punish them.”
“Oh, believe me, if there is a papa who will need a naughty chair, it will be Lord Kensington.” The three girls fell silent as the familiar voice of Miss Wickersham wafted over their table. “Daisy,” she said, giving the bride-to-be a pointed look, “I have been trying to find you all morning. Do you think there is an unlimited amount of time for shilly-shallying on the morning of your wedding? Wherever have you been?”
Fear skittered through Daisy’s body, particularly across the globes of her bottom as she opened her mouth and fumbled for an answer to Miss Wickersham’s question. “I-I...um…”
“Never mind an answer, girl. We have things to do.” Miss Wickersham took hold of Daisy’s arm and lifted her from her seat, then kept a firm grip and spirited her from th
e breakfast room.
“B-but, I have not finished my meal,” Daisy lamented.
“Then you ought to have gotten here sooner,” was Miss Wickersham’s less than sympathetic reply.
“Yes, ma’am,” Daisy mumbled.
When they arrived in the hallway leading to the older girls’ bedchambers, Miss Wickersham finally paused and gave Daisy a thorough look. “Good heavens, you have mud all over the hem of your skirt. You did not put on a soiled dress this morning, did you?”
A pit of dread formed in Daisy’s stomach as she glanced downward. Mud. Soaked into the hem of her dress and splattered several inches up her skirt. Her boots were covered in it as well. It was a wonder she had not tracked any along the hallway.
Daisy continued to stare, working to come up with an explanation which would result in the least insult to her backside. Her bottom cheeks clenched in anticipation of punishment, and she had to force herself not to reach back and cup her behind as she often did when she found herself on the receiving end of one of Miss Wickersham’s scolding stares.
“The most talkative girl in the history of Talcott House and now suddenly you have nothing to say when I ask why you have mud on your skirts. I am going to assume it is because you do not have an explanation which does not involve some infraction of the rules, am I correct, Daisy?”
Daisy’s silence continued.
“I am well aware that you are to be wed in a short time, young lady. But do not for an instant think I will relinquish my obligation to ensure you follow the rules as you are still my charge until the vows are said. Now,” she gripped Daisy’s chin between her fingers and tipped her face upward, “explain yourself.”
* * *
“Did your new friend, the fortune teller, happen to predict the fact that you would spend the last moments before your wedding getting a bare bottom spanking?”