by Golden Angel
It was before calling hours, but as Benedict was still ranked as a Marquess for now, his prominence did call for a certain amount of privilege; rather than being forced to leave a card, the butler immediately showed him into the library to wait while he went to see if the master of the house was available. Benedict wondered how much of a mark the Baron had put on the house; after all, they were well into the Season. He must have left some mark on the interior of the house, although it wasn’t apparent from the pristine state of the library.
The door creaked open and Benedict turned to look.
“Good morning,” said the man entering, distractedly tugging at his shirt sleeves as if he had dressed in a hurry. Benedict felt a fleeting spurt of guilt for having harried the man from his morning toilette, but not much. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced; to what do I owe the honor of a visit from a Marquess?”
Taking a moment to study the man before him, Benedict didn’t find anything remarkably offensive about him - certainly nothing which would immediately cause a wife to seek out other gentlemen’s favors. The Baron was fit, only a few inches shorter than Benedict so still quite tall, and his attire was fashionable but unremarkable. He had sandy blonde hair that was combed back from a fairly handsome face (at least, handsome as Benedict judged such matters) and warm blue eyes which seemed to reflect the kindness Christina remembered him with. His voice betrayed a small note of worry - after all, it wasn’t every day an unknown Marquess appeared on a Baron’s doorstep with no warning.
“I apologize for the early call,” Benedict said, coming forward to shake the man’s hand. He did not want to begin by antagonizing the Baron; Christina remembered him rather fondly and if he was unaware of his wife’s antics then Benedict was willing to be somewhat forgiving. After today, however, his forbearance would be much harder to come by. “I do not know if you heard, I recently married Lady Christina Rowan, formerly the Marchesse of Stanhope.”
The man’s face softened with something very like pity at Christina’s name, and then veered into concern.
“Is the lady well?”
“She is, however…” Benedict hesitated for just a moment. The Baron of Alvenley seemed like a nice enough chap and it was not a pleasant thing to have to tell a man his wife was misbehaving. “I hope you will excuse my forwardness, but we had a bit of a… an unpleasant encounter last night with the Baroness.”
The Baron’s face hardened, both frustration and resignation evident in his expression. He cursed. Sighed. Looked away from Benedict as though ashamed. Looked to the ceiling of the library. Sighed again. And re-met Benedict’s gaze.
“My most heartfelt apologies,” he said, moving away to go and sit in one of the chairs, gesturing for Benedict to do the same. Obviously, he felt a quick conversation was not in order. Curious about this man, and also his perspective, Benedict was content enough to settle himself down in one of the comfortable leather seats. While he did want to hurry back to his wife, he also wanted to extinguish the headache of the Baroness once and for all. “My wife is… well, to be perfectly honest I don’t entirely understand my wife. She promised to be on good behavior if I brought her with me to London for the short time I had to be here.” He rubbed his forehead, still frowning. “What did she do?”
“Ah… I don’t mean to be indelicate…” Benedict groped for the adequate phrases which would explain the Baroness’ aims without being overly insulting to her husband.
“Do not worry about my being offended,” the Baron said rather dryly. “While I am quite fond of my wife, as much as she allows me to be, I am well aware of her personal failings.”
Since the man seemed altogether sensible, Benedict took him at his word.
“She seems to be going out of her way to provoke my wife,” Benedict said, his mouth twisting in a bit of a grimace. Talking so bluntly, to someone who may be hurt by the revelations he shared, left a nasty taste on his tongue. “They encountered each other by happenstance, at which time she told Christina that her aim was to seduce me away from Christina. Such a goal is impossible, but last night she did her best to make us both very uncomfortable.”
To his surprise, the Baron’s eyes glinted with something like amusement. “Ah, is that why Mathilde returned home with punch all down her dress? I admit, I wouldn’t have thought Lady Sta - that is, Lady Dearborn now isn’t it? - had the gumption.”
“She didn’t,” Benedict said, relieved that the Baron seemed so affable about the entire situation. “A friend of ours did, however. I believe it’s the Countess of Spencer’s preferred manner of deterring flirtatious females.”
“Well, hopefully it did Mathilde some good,” the Baron said. “I haven’t seen her yet this morning, however, so I can’t be sure.” He sighed, the amusement leaving his face and, with it, the energy holding him up. He seemed rather defeated. “I’m sure you are here to request my assistance in controlling my wife, and I wish I could be more so but… may I be quite frank, Dearborn?”
“If you wish it,” Benedict said solemnly. “My Christina remembers you with a great deal of fondness and I assure you I would keep any of your secrets the way you’ve kept hers.”
Alvenley’s mouth curled up on one side, an almost sad smile. “Poor thing. She was so devastated. By that time Mathilde and I had our arrangement. I’d once hoped for a more meaningful marriage but once she’d borne our two sons she desired the more conventional ton marriage. Ours wasn’t a love match to begin with, so I was a bit put out at the time but certainly not stricken by her preference as long as she was discreet.”
“I take it she wasn’t with the late Lord Stanhope?” Benedict asked, now curious as to how an accommodating husband such as Alvenley came to be chasing down Christina’s late husband when the fatal accident occurred.
The man’s mouth twisted with unhappiness. “Mathilde brought him to our home. I was quite furious with her - and with him. Of course, he paid for it, but his death only seemed to depress Mathilde for a short time.” He sighed again, resignation in every line of his body. “Since then I’ve tried everything I can think of to bring her in line. I cut off her spending, she goes to her father to beg for money, and then her parents come to berate me for my hard-heartedness - all the while rendering the tactic useless as they give her everything she asks for. I send her to the countryside, where she creates enough havoc to cause the servants to quit and throws scandalous house parties. The best I’ve been able to do is keep her constantly where I am able to watch over her, but - as you have experienced - she cannot be under my eye all of the time. The only time I’ve ever met with success was Stanhope’s death, by threatening that if the truth around his death became known, I could divorce her for adultery. And I would, if I’d heard a whisper of gossip and she knows it. It was the only thing I could do to protect your wife at the time. I don’t know why Mathilde is so malicious about other ladies and acquisitive when it comes to their husbands; she’s quite agreeable otherwise.”
The man looked so defeated, Benedict felt rather badly for him. He really was in a difficult spot if his wife’s family and friends undercut every action he took to try and curb the Baroness’ bad behavior.
Leaning forward, Benedict rested his forearms on his knees. “Alvenley, you’ve been frank with me and now I shall return the favor. If you do not feel up to my suggestion, you certainly need not feel any obligation but I hope you will keep our conversation in confidence. Have you ever heard of domestic discipline?”
******
Waking up to find her husband was still out was rather disappointing, but did little to damper Christina’s rather dreamy mood. Her bottom was a bit sore, mostly on its tender interior, but, overall, she felt wonderful.
She’d faced down the Baroness, had confessed her love to her husband, and given herself to him completely. While she did not fool herself into thinking life would be perfect from now on, at the moment she certainly had nothing to complain about and really felt rather grand.
When Daphne arrived at tea time, full
of apologies for not being present when the Baroness confronted Christina, she could only laugh and hug her friend, assuring her she was fine. Of course, then Daphne wanted to know what had happened word for word, as all the accounts being relayed by the gossips were purely speculative.
By the time Christina got to the part where Cynthia had smiled prettily while deliberately not even pretending to apologize for spilling her punch, Daphne was in stitches.
“I’m so sorry I missed it!” she said in between fits of giggles. “I would have paid to see that shrew’s expression!”
“She looked ready to explode,” said Christina, giggling as well. Part of her felt badly for her amusement over another’s misery, but another part of her felt the Baroness had gotten her just desserts. After all, if she had not insisted on tormenting Christina, Cynthia would not have poured punch on her. “I must confess, I feel so much better. If she dares approach us again, I shall merely hold up my cup. And if she approaches Benedict on her own, I’m sure I won’t be the only one descending upon her with a full glass!”
“I know I should like my chance!” Daphne exclaimed, a combative light in her eye even as she burst into more laughter, holding up a pretend cup as though she were hoisting a banner aloft.
It was upon this merriness that Mr. Jones knocked on the door and entered, standing stiffly as he announced, “The Countess of Spencer and Mrs. Hood have called, my lady.”
“Lovely!” cried out Daphne. “The heroine of the hour is here!”
The two ladies stood to greet the new arrivals. Cynthia and Gabrielle were both dressed in pink, although Cynthia’s pink was dark enough to border on red and Gabrielle’s was more of a rosy hue. Together, with their dark good looks, they were quite the attractive pair. Daphne was effusive in her greeting, and Cynthia took the excessive praise in stride, although she did seem quite pleased with herself.
“I hope you didn’t get into trouble with the Earl,” Christina said, as they sat down. From what she could tell, Cynthia was sitting just a touch gingerly, which surprised Christina as Spencer had seemed more amused than upset by his wife’s actions.
“No real trouble, he just used the incident as an excuse to spank me, which he was likely going to do anyway. But he prefers to pretend I’ve been naughty sometimes,” Cynthia said cheerfully, making Daphne choke on her tea while Gabrielle snickered.
“Do you deliberately try to shock everyone you find in my drawing room?” Christina asked, highly amused both by Cynthia’s brazenness and Daphne’s sputtering.
Cynthia shrugged, although she looked a little guilty. “You said she knew about the spankings and things.”
“Mine, yes, but I didn’t tell her about anyone else,” Christina chided. “Those are not my secrets to share.”
“Well, I figured if she knew about yours then it couldn’t be too shocking to know about others.”
“To know, no,” Daphne said, her voice still sounding a little choked -Christina was quite sure she was holding back more laughter. “However, I don’t believe I’ve ever discussed such matters in a drawing room during tea before.”
“Oh?” Cynthia cocked her head curiously. “Where do you normally discuss them?”
“Give the woman a few minutes to get to know you a little,” Gabrielle admonished as Daphne choked again, blushing furiously. Christina was fascinated; she’d expected Daphne to shock Cynthia, not the other way round! But her conversations with Daphne about their predilections had always been whispered, in complete privacy, accompanied by half-scandalized giggles as they made their confessions. Cynthia’s particular brand of brazen conversation did take a bit of getting used to. “Not everyone wants to discuss their marital life immediately - or ever.”
“Which is really too bad,” Cynthia said, picking up a biscuit. “I think it would improve conversation immensely among the ton. At least it wouldn’t be boring.”
Sitting up a bit straighter, Daphne looked as though she were trying to pretend to match Cynthia’s casual bluntness, but the color in her cheeks still revealed her embarrassment. “What would you like to know?”
Cynthia’s eyes lit up as Gabrielle leaned forward curiously, obviously completely willing to take advantage of her friend’s nosiness. Christina found herself also curious, wondering if Cynthia might coax extra details from Daphne that would be new to her.
“What’s the most shocking thing you’ve ever done?” Cynthia asked. And then grinned. “I can go first if you like.”
Clearing her throat, Daphne seemed to draw herself up even further, determined to show herself just as bold as Cynthia.
“Anthony and I once had sex with an entire room full of people as an audience.” The haughty tone she used was entirely at odds with the scandalous statement.
Already knowing the Marleys’ penchant for exhibitionism, Christina had heard the general gist of the story, but she did enjoy seeing Gabrielle’s eyes go wide as saucers, bulging in a rather comedic manner, and Cynthia’s hand fly up to her mouth in complete shock. True to Cynthia’s brazen nature, however, her hand only remained in place momentarily before it lowered and she was leaning forward with fascination.
“Were you… were you completely unclothed?” Cynthia asked, her voice a hushed whisper. The wild look Gabrielle gave her friend said she couldn’t believe her audacity in asking - but the look she turned towards Daphne proclaimed her desire to hear the answer. Christina was curious as well - she hadn’t even thought to ask.
Daphne sat even straighter if that were possible, her cheeks now a flaming red blush which was spreading down towards her neck. “Yes.”
“Where did you get the audience from?” Cynthia asked, as always, eager to know more.
“We belong to a… a kind of club,” Daphne said. “It’s very private, but the other club members made up the audience.”
“How does one become a member? Is having sex in front of the audience part of being a member? Do all the members have sex in front of each other?”
The color in Daphne’s face was slowly receding as Cynthia peppered her with questions in a matter-of-factly curious tone. Even though Gabrielle was obviously shocked into silence, there was just something about Cynthia which made it possible to speak of the most scandalous subjects as if they were engaged in perfectly acceptable conversation.
“Are you thinking of joining?” Daphne asked, sounding both amused and a little relieved.
“Not if I have to have sex in front of other people,” Cynthia said frankly. “But I would like to watch.”
This bald statement was too much for Gabrielle, who whooped with laughter and collapsed into a fit of hysterical giggles, setting off the other three women as well. Suddenly all of them were giggling, harder and harder, and no matter how Christina tried to stop, the moment she caught someone else’s gaze, it set her off again.
It was this scene of merriment which her husband returned home to see. The door opened, making all of them shriek and jump, and then start giggling again. Well, blushing and giggling as soon as they all saw Benedict. Gabrielle actually grabbed a pillow and pressed it to her face, as if trying to hide from him, which only made Cynthia laugh even harder.
“Stop!” Christina gasped out, pressing her hand over her aching abdominal muscles. “We have to stop!”
“Don’t stop on my account,” her husband said grinning, one hand still on the doorknob. “I enjoy hearing the sound of laughter echoing through the halls. I’ll leave you to your friends now, love, but I’d like to take you out riding in a few hours.”
Helplessly nodding, Christina waved her hand at him as he grinned and closed the door.
Catching Daphne’s eye again, tears sprang to her own eyes as she dissolved into another fit of giggles.
“Would you stop!”
“I’m not doing anything!”
******
Three hours later, Christina was the perfect picture of tonnish elegance as Benedict steered his phaeton into Hyde Park. No one would have ever guessed that she�
�d spent her afternoon gossiping with friends about scandalous subjects until they were laughing so hard they couldn’t speak any more. He’d been highly amused by the foursome’s unconstrained hilarity when he’d returned home.
Christina wouldn’t give him any of the specific conversation details about what had set them off, only that the Countess of Spencer had - as usual - managed to both scandalize and amuse.
Glancing over at his wife as she nodded to a passing carriage, Benedict felt incredibly puffed up over having her by his side at the fashionable hour in Hyde Park. It was such a small thing, but a highly enjoyable one.
Possibly even more enjoyable today than ever.
Benedict hadn’t told Christina why he’d felt the sudden urge to join the throngs of Society about the park, in large part because he was unsure whether or not it would be worth it. There was every chance the Baron would not make an appearance. However, if he did…
Benedict casually tooled around the pathways, occasionally slowing for conversations with others who were visiting the park. The Dowager-Countess of Spencer, a formidable woman who intimidated even the current Earl and Countess, motioned them over and spent a good five minutes interrogating Christina. His wife bore up well under the questioning, and her ladyship’s haughty lines soon fell into a smile.
Lydia and Arabella were also in attendance, unsurprisingly, although Isaac was nowhere in sight. His sister looked very pretty but quite bored by all the company surrounding their carriage and Benedict decided keeping their distance would be wiser. Otherwise, Arabella might very well insist he and Christina stop for a while, which would not suit Benedict’s plans at all. They acknowledged each other from a distance, and he ignored his sister’s scowl as he urged his horses onward.
“You don’t wish to speak with Lydia and Arabella?” Christina asked in surprise, turning towards him with a curious expression on her face.
“Not today,” he said cheerfully. “Let’s say we move closer to the water, shall we? It’s a lovely view today with the clouds on the water.”