His Lordship's Little Bride (Little History Series Book 4)

by Ava Sinclair

  “No,” he said, when she demanded to see them. “Your parents have given me leave to break the news, as I told them you will see me as the ultimate parental authority in your life from this moment on, Amelia. Now, take a good look around your room, for it is the last time you’ll set eyes on it. You’ll take nothing from here with you. All that you require will be supplied at Darmley Hall.”

  “You’re mad if you think I’ll agree to this,” she said, shaking her head. “And I won’t go!”

  “I suspected as much,” he said and turned toward the door. “Dr. Meacham…”

  The family doctor came in, and Amelia felt a chill when the usually friendly physician did not meet her gaze. Instead, he handed Lord Darmley a white cloth.

  “This is sufficient to do the job?” the nobleman asked.

  The doctor nodded.

  Amelia tried to flee, but Garrett Darmley was on her in two strides. His arm around her waist was strong as a vise. She screamed, and as soon as she did she felt the cloth cover her nose and mouth. The pungent, sweet smell of ether overwhelmed her, and then the world as she knew it grew dim before her eyes. The last thing she heard before blackness enveloped her was her captor’s voice, which had gone from stern to gentle.

  “Don’t be afraid, my little pet. Papa’s here.”

  Chapter Four: Her First Spanking

  She really was exquisite.

  Garrett looked down at Amelia, whose long lashes had just started to flutter against her pale cheeks. The first thing he’d done once he’d gotten her into the carriage was unpin her hair. She’d been oblivious in sleep as those soft raven waves had tumbled down her back. He’d gently fisted a handful of it as he’d cradled her head against his shoulder. Any doubt he’d had about whether he’d done the right thing had vanished as he pondered how perfectly she fit in his lap, her soft womanly curves a delicious contrast to her childlike size.

  It still felt right, seeing her in the special bed he’d had made just for her—the headboard ornately carved with storybook characters. Soon she’d awake to find herself in a special kind of nursery at Darmley Hall.

  He had already braced himself for her indignation and outrage, and was determined to maintain the firmness he’d displayed in confronting her. Amelia was every bit as willful as he’d suspected she’d be. But he now knew that her anger was pushed up by a wellspring of hurt caused by selfish parents. He was determined to give her the childhood she never had, the childhood she deserved—a never-ending childhood rich in equal doses of guidance and love.

  As she moaned in her restless sleep, he wondered how Lord and Lady Chesterfield could be so cruel as to consign such a spirited young beauty to a life with the dourly pessimistic atmosphere of Foxcroft Manor.

  After meeting with both her parents, he could almost understand Amelia’s desperation to thwart their plans. They were motivated primarily by selfishness and want of connection. Neither inquired as to what kind of home Lord Darmley would offer their daughter. Neither had pressed Garrett for details when he informed them of his conditions—there would be no public engagement, no public nuptials. He was, he reminded them, marrying beneath him and was looking for unique qualities in a wife and had deemed Amelia suitable. They did not press him for details on that score, either. He scowled now thinking about it; he’d seen men ask more questions before selling a horse than this family did before giving up their eldest daughter.

  He’d told them she would be prepared for marriage at his home, not hers. No banns would be read, and only a small notice would be published in the papers. He would not hide the marriage, but neither would he broadcast it. Lord Darmley strongly urged the Chesterfields not to promote the new marital connection to their own benefit; he would quietly invite the family to dine with him and Amelia once they were wed.

  “We’re going to Darmley Hall?” Her sisters, who had been eavesdropping, began to dance around the room at the news, and Garrett had found it difficult to hide his distaste as their mother had instantly joined them in a discussion of what fine dresses they should wear when the time came.

  To his credit, Lord Chesterfield seemed embarrassed by the display and even offered what may have passed for an apology by explaining what the Darmleys already knew; despite their place in society, the Chesterfields were struggling financially. To feel accepted by their betters—even under such curious circumstances—was cause for excitement.

  It was at that moment that Garrett had decided to retrieve Amelia himself. She would have no way of knowing that his decision was based in pity. He had no desire to watch her callous, self-serving parents inform her they were still planning to use her to advance themselves. It seemed kinder to personally inform her of his plan and then to have her borne out, sleeping and unaware of her parents’ gloating expressions.

  Now Amelia’s eyes were fluttering open. Garrett reached for a rag soaking in a bowl of water by the bedside and wrung it out before gently placing it on the young woman’s forehead. At the touch of the cool cloth, her eyes opened completely. She looked momentarily confused, then afraid as she obviously recalled the earlier events. Snatching the rag from her forehead, she sat up and moved back until she was against the headboard. Garrett said nothing. He simply watched as she surveyed her surroundings with dawning awareness.

  The room had once been his nursery. Now it would be hers. He’d had new pink and cream curtains hung to match the cream walls. Tall shelves held dolls, books, and toys he’d had Holloway purchase in London. A large rocking chair sat by the window overlooking one of the ponds.

  “What is this place?” Amelia asked. The words were whispered, as if she were speaking to herself.

  “Your new room in your new home.” Garrett picked up the washcloth and put it back in the basin. “Welcome to Darmley Hall, Amelia.”

  Amelia turned her gaze to Garrett in an almost reluctant manner.

  “You drugged me,” she said, her tone accusatory.

  “Yes. You’d have been doubly distressed otherwise. It was my intention to have you awaken in a different world—one free of worries beyond adapting to your new life.”

  Amelia regarded him. “I remember now. You told me you were taking me away. To marry…” Her voice trailed away as she looked around the room once more. “But that I’d live as a child.” She shook her head. “But that can’t be so. It isn’t right. It isn’t proper.” Tears filled her eyes. “It isn’t how things are done.”

  “It is how they will be done here, Amelia.” Garrett kept his tone gentle but firm. “I am in need of a wife, and you are in need of the kind of oversight and succor your feather-brained parents obviously never gave you. This union will suit both our needs.”

  Amelia sprang from the bed at this and stood facing him from the other side, her fists balled at her sides.

  “How can you say such a thing? You know nothing of me or my family!”

  “So you deny that your parents are thoughtless, selfish people?” His voice softened. “Isn’t that why you gave your virginity to a stranger? In a desperate bid to escape the fate your parents had chosen for you?”

  Tears spilled from Amelia’s eyes to run down her heart-shaped face. “And a lot of good it did me,” she said. “I’ve gone from one sorry state to another.”

  “You consider this a sorry state?”

  Amelia laughed through her tears. “You’ve moved me into a nursery!” Her tears turned to anger as she continued. “But if you think I’ll simply submit to your… unnatural whims, you’re wrong. I defied my parents, and I will defy you, Lord Darmley. If it’s an obedient little girl you seek, you’d best put me out, because I will not ever be what you want!”

  “Do you think so, little Amelia?”

  “I’m not little! Don’t call me little!”

  “It’s true, you’re not little,” he said, walking to the other side of the bed. Amelia backed away as he advanced. “Not in form, at least. You’re most certainly a full woman with a body made to enjoy a man’s touch. But within I sense
an innocence of one who secretly seeks to be trained, nurtured, and cultivated.”

  “Enjoy a man’s touch?” Amelia gave a shrill laugh. “You’re well aware that I’ve already experienced one, and it was nothing but rough hands and a sharp pain before it was over. Do not seek to deceive me. There’s nothing in a man’s touch to be desired.”

  Garrett shook his head. “You poor, foolish girl. What you experienced was not a man’s touch, but the fumblings of an unschooled boy. You’ll only know passion from the man who masters you.” He advanced on her again. “I will be that man.”

  “No!” Amelia snatched a book from a small table near the bed and hurled it at him, forcing Garrett to duck.

  His expression was a mask of grim resolve as he reached Amelia before she could throw anything else. He felt her clawing at the hand he’d closed around her wrist, heard her curse him in the most unladylike manner as he pulled her across the room to the window seat.

  She was easy enough to throw over his lap, and the sensation of her warm body stretched across his thighs was pleasant enough. But his mind was on one simple thing now—introducing her to what he suspected was the first bare-bottom correction of her life.

  “What are you doing? How dare you!” Amelia’s hand shot back as she attempted to stop Garrett from pulling up the hem of her dress to expose the filmy undergarment covering her bottom. “Stop!”

  But Garrett ignored her as he jerked at the fabric until the waistband slipped from underneath the corset and then lower still. When Amelia’s bottom was completely bare, he readjusted his grip around her waist, trapped her kicking legs with his own.

  He took a moment to eye his target with appreciation. Her bottom was plump and round, with two charming dimples atop each cheek. The cleft was fine and deep, and while he could not see between her legs, he imagined her pussy to be just as delectable. She was already crying, although more from anger and outrage than hurt.

  That was about to change.

  “You are to be my wife, like it or not,” he said. “That means you will be obedient to my will and respectful of my station as your husband and guardian. In this house, disobedience to authority is met with a hard spanking. This is a consequence that applies to everyone from servants to members of the household. This will be your first lesson.”

  The statement was followed by the crack of his hand and a yowl from the pretty miscreant over his lap. Had Garrett felt he had the time to savor this first spanking of his ward, he’d have stopped to watch the red imprint of his hand blossom across her fair nates. But this was about sending a message, and he spanked firmly and consistently as Amelia wailed and her pert, plump bottom reddened rapidly beneath his punishing palm.

  “Oh, please, sir!” she cried, rocking back and forth to the extent she could over his thighs. “Please stop! It hurts!”

  “Are you ready to be a good little girl?”

  When she didn’t immediately answer, he tipped Amelia forward and began alternating crisp spanks to the underside of each cheek, eliciting a fresh wellspring of tears. The soft expanse of skin of that velvety crease between buttock and thigh was soon as red as that of her upper buttocks. Only when she wilted, limp and defeated, over his lap did Lord Darmley cease his chastisement.

  A beautiful mess greeted him as he turned her over to sit in his lap. The dark hair was plastered to her face by tears. Her eyes and nose were puffy and red from crying. Her little rosebud of a mouth was opened in an almost infantile bawl.

  She was, he decided, the prettiest little thing he’d ever seen, for only a true beauty could be so lovely when she cried.

  “There, there,” he said, drawing her into his arms. “It’s all over. Papa has you.”

  “I-I-I want to go home!” Amelia half sobbed, half coughed the words, her tone wet and wretched with sobs.

  “I know,” he said, dropping a kiss on her head with the gentle acknowledgment. “But home isn’t just a house, Amelia. It’s where you are wanted, and even though I know it’s hard to understand at the moment with your bottom burning, you will soon understand that you are very much wanted by me, and that I will do everything to make you the happiest little girl on earth.”

  For a moment, Garrett thought it was his imagination that some of the tension drained from the little bundle in his arms. But soon he realized that she’d softened, whether it was from resignation or the comfort of his words or both he did not know. What he did know was that the spanking had been necessary, for both of them, and marked the first step toward the transformation he had in store.

  Chapter Five: Lady of the House

  Amelia knew from the moment she’d gone over Garrett Darmley’s lap that life as she knew it had changed forever. Afterwards she’d been so emotionally exhausted she’d slept through the night. Now as she awoke face down on her child’s bed in a pink and cream room designed for someone much younger, she sought to make some sense of her situation.

  She’d never been spanked in her life. Her parents’ style of oversight had been a sort of benign neglect. Always mindful of their strained budget, they’d employed young, inexperienced nannies who functioned more like companions than minders. Subsequently, Amelia and her sisters grew up used to getting their own way, with Amelia being the most stubborn of the lot.

  Her parents had hoped that her entry into society would cool her rebellious streak, but when she grew even more disagreeable, they simply shipped her off to various relatives. She spent springs with her aunt in Hampstead, where she fought off boredom by painting and eavesdropping on servants. It was there she overheard two maids comparing notes on their previous night’s carnal escapades, and the pleasure they’d derived. She particularly remembered one maid’s breathless description of how her randy young husband had fingered her pussy. Amelia had blushed. She had no notion of what a ‘pussy’ was, but the girl made the whole thing sound decadent and delightfully forbidden. And somehow she knew that the place throbbing between her legs as she listened was the ‘pussy’ these girls spoke of.

  At the home of another aunt in London, she’d been allowed to attend several balls, both in the city and some distance away at the home of a stuffy lord whose name she’d forgotten. There she’d captured the eye of more than one handsome member of the gentry. But her aunt had always interfered whenever Amelia was close to delighting in conversation with these attractive young men.

  At home she’d complained, and on the last of these occasions her mother had told her why she’d not been allowed to socialize to the full extent: Hamish Foxcroft was expected to ask for her hand, and Amelia was expected to accept.

  Of course, she’d put paid to that plan by bedding the young gardener with full knowledge that they’d be caught. The success of her ruse had been tainted by the disappointment in the act itself. But as she lay on the bed now with her bottom throbbing and tears drying on her face, her mind hearkened back to the words of the man who’d vowed to be her master in all things.

  He was so forthright in his intentions to wed and bed her, but could a man who caused her such pain give her pleasure? She sniffled pathetically. Before this day she’d been so certain of her own boldness. Now she felt defeated and overwhelmed and humiliated beyond measure.

  He’d seen her bare bottom! Amelia’s face flamed at the memory. Even the silly gardener had not seen her naked; she’d made sure to only lift her skirts to dispense with the virginity she was supposed to give Foxcroft. Lord Darmley had seen her bottom—the expanse of it. Even now she could still hear the slaps of his hand against her bare flesh, recall how her bottom had heated and heated past the point of endurance.

  Garrett Darmley was so strong, and in his grip she’d been so helpless. She paused and took a deep breath as she realized with sudden shame that her pussy was throbbing—not fiercely, but softly, achingly. She’d not felt the sensation since she’d eavesdropped on the maids. She squeezed her legs together, but that only made the sensation worse, and her shame became acute as she realized that the more she thought of he
r spanking, of his control, the more intense the throbbing became.

  She decided she was simply confused and overtired, for there was no rational reason that a lady—and despite what she’d done she was still a lady—should feel pleasure in her nether regions upon such reflections. When the door opened, she was pleased for the interruption of the maid who entered. The small blond woman in the crisp black and white uniform was the first person she’d seen since Lord Darmley had left her alone to—as he put it—“reflect upon her attitude.”

  Amelia watched as the maid walked over to stoke the blaze in the fireplace. The servant was obviously well-trained, as she showed no reaction to seeing a grown woman being housed in such a childish room.

  Amelia sat up gingerly on the edge of the bed and then rose to her feet.

  “You, girl. What is your name?”

  The maid looked back and then stood and turned. “I’m called Mary, miss,” she said, dropping to a short curtsey.

  “Mary,” Amelia said. “Do you find this unusual?”

  The maid looked uncomfortable. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, miss,” she said, dropping her gaze.

  “Don’t play daft,” Amelia spat. “Is it commonplace for a woman of refinement to be brought to Darmley Hall and ensconced in the nursery?”

  “It’s not my place to say, miss,” the maid said.

  “She’s quite right.” Garrett Darmley’s voice caused Amelia to start, as she’d not heard him reenter the room. “Even if a Darmley servant did think something unusual, they are trained in the art of discretion.” He turned to the little maid. “That will be all, Mary.”

  “Yes, m’lord.” The maid curtseyed again and left the room.

  Amelia felt herself all but wither under Garrett’s scowl.