Papa’s Joy

by Sue Lyndon

  Anger and fear and desperation flashed in her eyes as she held his stare. “Upon her deathbed, my mother told me the truth about who my real father was. The lord of the house was my father, and she had once been his mistress. He had moved her into his home, directly under his wife’s nose, to be the governess for their child. The lady of the house was no fool, however, and she eventually realized the truth. I had started to suspect he was my father before my mother’s confession, but with her confirmation of my suspicions the lady’s awful treatment of me and my mother over the years suddenly made sense. I am a bastard!” she cried, her entire body trembling.

  He tried to console her, but she would not have it. She pressed her hands between their bodies, not wishing for him to hold her, though all Edward wanted to do in this moment was hold her forever and promise that he still loved her, he still wanted her. He cared not that she had been born an illegitimate child. If he had cared for such things, he would not have sought out a bride from Talcott House, where all of the girls in residence had had difficult childhoods. But even Edward could not have predicted the next words that flew out of her mouth.

  “I am Lord Hamilton’s bastard daughter!”

  Chapter 21

  The dark truth hung between them.

  As soon as she’d spilled the last secret she’d been holding onto—that Lord Hamilton was her father—she had pushed away from Papa. He was staring at her now, his expression betraying his shock. She could not bear to look at him any longer, so turned her back on him and felt like a stranger amongst all the nice things he had bought for her in the closet. Surely she no longer belonged here. She was surrounded by pretty gowns, elegant hats, and dressers filled with stockings, chemises and undergarments of the finest quality. She eyed her meager trunk and the second-hand clothing she had been trying to shove back into it, to take with her on her way to...where did she intend to go? Back to Talcott House? Tears clouded in her vision at the thought of leaving.

  Papa still hadn’t replied, and she supposed he must be horrified to learn she was the result of an adulterous affair between her mother and Lord Hamilton. With shaking hands, she bent down to retrieve one of her old threadbare chemises and drop it into the open trunk, then she felt somewhat silly for taking the time to pack her things. She ought to just fly past Papa—could she even call him that anymore?—and run as far away from Kensington Manor as her legs could carry her. Perhaps she could find Cammie or even Cynny. She knew their addresses, as both had written her while she was still at Talcott House. They were both married to wealthy lords, and she wondered if they could help her secure safe travel back to Talcott House.

  But how could she continue to rise every morning from this day forward, knowing what she had left behind? Her legs felt heavy, as if her feet were trying to root themselves to the floor.

  Papa. She could scarcely breathe as she considered life without him. Oh, she would miss him until her dying breath, and she would treasure the memories of her time with him as his little wife, despite how short the time had been. She could not blame him for wanting her gone. He was an important lord who no doubt cared about his reputation. What use did he have for a plain looking bastard girl? All the insecurities she’d harbored before Papa had made her feel beautiful and loved flooded back into her psyche, making her heart ache with despair.

  She had to get out of here before Papa revealed his disappointment. Had to run away and never look back. She didn’t want her last memory of him to be words of rejection.

  Turning, she made to slip around him and out of the closet, keeping her head down so as not to see his expression, whether he was angry or sad. She couldn’t bear to glimpse either of those emotions in his eyes for it used to be her mission to cheer her papa up—to bring him joy as Lady Miselda had claimed he needed in his life. She was most certainly not bringing him joy in this moment.

  But before she could escape the closet, Papa lunged at her, pushing her against the wall and pressing his mouth to hers. He held her head in place as he captured her lips in a fierce kiss that made her head spin. Her heart pounded and she tried to figure out what was happening. Papa was kissing her, of course, but what sort of kiss was it? Her stomach flipped. What if it was a good-bye kiss?

  When he finally broke away, he placed his hands on her shoulders and kept his face level with hers, staring her directly in the eye as they both panted breathlessly. His grip on her tightened and he pressed his center against her, crowding her against the wall. She could not have escaped if she fought with all her might. He made a deep growl low in his throat that rumbled through the space of the closet, and she felt the telltale hardness of his erect manhood pressing against her.

  “You are mine, Daisy. My sweet little girl. My naughty bride. Mine.” He spoke in a severe tone she’d never heard him use before. It was both frightening and wonderful. “You are not going anywhere. I care not who your parents were. You could be the devil’s daughter and I would not care. I would still love you. I do still love you. I still want you as my wife and my little girl, and I will never, ever let you go.”

  It took a few seconds for Daisy to grasp the meaning of his words. She had been so certain her papa was going to reject her and send her away, that she had been expecting the worst, even with the kiss. But he claimed to still love her and want her. Could it be true?

  She drew a quick breath and peered into the recesses of his dark beautiful gaze, only to glimpse nothing but utter honesty reflecting in his eyes.

  A spark of hope flickered in her chest.

  “Papa, I…”

  He backed away from the wall, grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder in one swift move. She gasped for breath as she tried to become used to the upside down world, even as a smile spread over her face.

  He still wants me. He still loves me.

  He’s still my papa and I’m still his little girl.

  Papa carried her through her bedchamber and into his masculine one, where he unceremoniously tossed her on his bed. Before she could attempt to sit up, he was on top of her, straddling her as he tore at her nightgown. He shredded it off her and tossed the torn garment to the floor.

  A quiver of excitement swept through her, even as her heart rejoiced and her spirits danced.

  She had never known such sheer relief and happiness.

  She had told Papa that one, horrible dark secret she had always promised herself not to tell anyone, the secret Mama said she must never reveal to anyone, but he hadn't turned his back on her. Instead, it appeared he was about to show her just how much he still wanted her.

  He shrugged off his jacket and covered her mouth with his once more, making her breathless all over again with the force of his passion. In between a series of long, fevered kisses, he managed to remove the rest of his clothing—neckcloth, shirt, trousers, and underclothes, tossing the garments to the floor in a haphazard fashion.

  His warm skin pressed against hers, his hardened cock pushing between her thighs. She opened her legs, inviting him inside, every fiber of her being aching to be claimed by her papa.

  He grasped her chin in his fingers and pierced her with a stern look as the tip of his engorged manhood rested at the apex of her slick cunny. “Don’t you ever lie to me again, little girl. And don’t you ever, ever doubt my love for you, or I will give you a thrashing the likes of which you have never seen. Promise me.”

  “I promise, Papa,” she said as tears of happiness filled her eyes. “I promise, and I am sorry for all the lies I told.” She took a deep breath. “I suppose I’m in trouble for all that deception.”

  His nostrils flared and he gave a light chuckle. “You’re in deep trouble, young lady,” he said, suddenly stern again, “and this is your punishment.”

  Then he rammed his cock forward to the hilt, filling her up in one harsh drive. Before she had time to catch her breath, he withdrew slightly and slammed back into her.

  Suddenly, she understood.

  Papa’s rough lovemaking was pleasure and pai
n, punishment and forgiveness, all in one beautiful act of unrestrained passion.

  He captured her wrists in one hand and lifted her arms above her head, not missing a beat as he continued his brutal claiming. She lifted her legs slightly and parted them wider, allowing him to take her deeper, and deeper still.

  The headboard banged against the wall and the sounds of flesh slapping flesh filled the bedchamber. As Papa claimed her over and over, he held her gaze, not blinking as he thrust in and out.

  “I love you, little girl,” he growled. “And you are mine.”

  He captured her lips again, and she tasted the saltiness of her tears in the kiss. She couldn’t stop crying, the tears of relief and joy slowly sliding down her face. She had finally laid her soul bare to him, and he had accepted her, all of her.

  “I love you, too, Papa,” she replied once she caught her breath enough to speak.

  She relished every harsh thrust he gave her, took each plunge of his cock in her cunny, grateful for both the twinges of pain and the rushes of pleasure.

  As she cried out her release, she felt Papa tense as his own rapture approached. He tightened his grip on her wrists and gave a fierce growl, filling her up with his seed. Her heart was pounding and she had never felt more blissfully dazed in her entire life. She peered up at Papa, smiling as he released her wrists and gathered her against his chest. He placed kisses on her forehead and she laced her arms around his waist, feeling safer than she ever had before.

  With Papa on her side, nothing could ever hurt her. The worries about the Hamiltons faded. She didn’t know how that particular situation would resolve itself, but she knew Papa would help her as best he could. He wouldn’t dream of putting her in an uncomfortable position for the sake of social politeness.

  She sighed, marveling at how much lighter she felt in the aftermath of her confession.

  The truth, and most of all—Papa’s love—had finally set her free.

  * * *

  Seated in the large plush chair in the corner of his bedchamber, Edward cradled Daisy in his arms and could not stop placing kisses on her forehead. He would stroke her hair, caress her cheek, and then kiss her yet again. She sighed contentedly with each token of his affection and snuggled deeper into his embrace.

  “Papa?”

  “Yes, my love?”

  “I-I know I have already said it, but I feel I must tell you again how terribly regretful I am for having lied to you.”

  He captured her gaze in his and cupped the side of her face, rubbing his thumb over the watermarks of her dried tears. “I have forgiven you, my sweet. You needn’t keep apologizing for what has already been dealt with. You confessed and expressed your remorse, I punished you and I forgave you.”

  She flushed a deep shade of pink, looking so adorable that he could not resist placing another kiss to her forehead. “I am most sore between my legs, Papa,” she admitted. “That was an...unusual punishment, I must confess, but I feel better now and...closer to you as well, Papa.”

  “I gave you the punishment you needed.” He paused, because that wasn’t quite the full truth. “I gave you the punishment we both needed,” he finally added. After learning about her mother’s passing and her horrible treatment at Lady Hamilton’s hands, he could not have in good conscience taken a strap to her or even spanked her, despite the many falsehoods she had told while trying to safeguard her secret. As she relaxed further in his arms and emitted a pleasurable sigh, he knew he had made the right choice.

  He had been rough with her, downright forceful even, but she had needed to experience the full intensity of his passion and his love for her.

  Because a papa’s love knows no bounds.

  Epilogue

  As Edward made the short walk from his home to that of Lord Hamilton, he could not help but ponder the changes in his life in the relatively short amount of time since he had gone off to Talcott House intending to return with Hyacinth as his wife. Frankly, he had lost track of the days, but he knew it could not have been more than a month, perhaps six weeks, since he first encountered his sweet Daisy. Had he not been on the street where others could observe him, he would have guffawed heartily. As it was, he pressed his finger to his upper lip, giving off the impression of suppressing a sneeze, should anyone care to notice.

  Yes, life had gone from dour and dreary to a veritable carnival of fortune tellers, games of hide and seek, and secrets. And the list did not even include the carnal pleasures. All of it was due to one impish, adorable, endearing and sometimes scandalizing woman—his beloved Daisy. He would have no other.

  Before ascending the stairs to the entry of Hamilton Manor, he took a deep breath and said a silent prayer. There was one final matter to resolve and he hoped he had not been wrong in his decision.

  He handed his gloves and hat to the butler and waited in the foyer for Lord Hamilton to receive him. In the years since his parents’ death, Lord Hamilton had proven to be a loyal friend to Edward, giving him advice and counsel on the proper management of an estate. Not that Edward’s father had left him completely in the dark about such things, but no one had expected the former Earl of Sterling to pass away at such a young age.

  A bout of nerves assailed Edward but he tamped them down, assuring himself of the wisdom of his mission. He would do anything—slay dragons, endure torture, cut off a limb—to secure the happiness of his sweet Daisy. A mere discussion with a gentleman was a pittance in comparison.

  The butler escorted him to Lord Hamilton’s study and the older man rose to greet him. “Edward, I am pleased to see you, though I admit I did not expect a visit from a bridegroom so soon after taking a wife. You are not here for advice on marital relations, I assume? I was sorry you could not attend our garden party, but being young and in love, I can understand why you might not wish to spend an afternoon with a group of stuffy old people such as myself.” Edward was taken aback by the bawdy implications of his host’s words, but Lord Hamilton’s jovial manner quickly put him at ease.

  Given the bracket-faced shrew who was Lord Hamilton’s wife, Edward was often surprised at the man’s good spirits.

  “No, thank you, my lord, that will not be necessary. I have come on a matter of business.”

  “Business, you say?” Lord Hamilton resumed his seat and invited Edward to do the same. “It must be quite a proposition if you have torn yourself away from your bride to come here and speak to me of it. Please,” he gestured with his hand, “do tell.”

  Edward took a deep breath. He had played the following piece of conversation over in his mind repeatedly and now hoped it would accomplish his desired outcome.

  “I have come to make an offer of employment to Vickers and thought I ought to discuss it with you first. I should hate for you to believe I had gone behind your back to lure away a valuable servant.”

  “Vickers? My steward? And what of your own steward, Chauncy? Has he left your employ?”

  “No, Chauncy is still very much in my employ. However, it has come to my attention that Vickers did an extraordinary kindness for my bride a few years ago. It was as a direct result of this kindness which led to my wife being taken to Talcott House, which is how we came to be wed. She has only recently told me of the incident and I wish to reward him for his actions and I should also be pleased to have a man of such character on my staff.”

  Lord Hamilton sat back in his seat and studied Edward, his hands steepled in front of him. “There is more to this story, is there not? Before I give my blessing for you to attempt to sway a dedicated and important member of my household to leave, I trust you will enlighten me as to this heroic deed.”

  Perhaps he was being a coward for not coming right out and explaining the situation to Lord Hamilton, but he feared the shock might have an adverse effect on the man, and so he had chosen a less direct method.

  “Several years ago,” Edward began, “my wife was evicted from her home and Vickers was instructed to transport her to the workhouse.”

  Lord Ham
ilton’s brow furrowed. “Was he in my employ at the time? I do not recall evicting any of my tenants, and I would never give an order for a young woman to be sent off to the workhouse. Please, explain yourself.”

  “The order was given by Lady Hamilton, my lord.”

  At the mention of his wife’s name, a scowl covered his face. “I ought to have known. I made a grave error in marrying that woman. I had hoped to be able to live amicably with her until Lady Millicent leaves home. However, recently I have given serious thought to sending her off to the country. Alone.”

  “With all due respect to your lordship, you have borne up well under your matrimonial burden. No one would think less of you if you were to, shall we say, desire some distance from your wife.”

  “I ought to have taken a switch to her years ago. But, I was overwrought with guilt...” His voice trailed off and Edward assumed he had stopped himself from revealing his relationship with Daisy’s mother. Lord Hamilton shook his head. “Please, continue your story. I am sure my wife shall not come out of this well.”

  “Instead of taking the girl to the workhouse, Vickers disobeyed Lady Hamilton and drove this young woman, who at the time was a poor orphaned child, to Talcott House and left her in the care of Miss Wickersham and that is where she remained until our marriage.”

  He paused while Lord Hamilton digested that information.

  “An orphan, you say?” Lord Hamilton had gone pale.

  “Yes,” Edward said, “I believe her mother was a governess.”

  Lord Hamilton fell back in his chair as though struck by a mighty blow. “Charlotte…” he whispered in a daze. “She told me she was dead. I searched and searched…”

  Edward went to the sideboard and poured them each a drink, handing a glass to Lord Hamilton he said, “She is under the impression you are her father.”

  “Yes, I am,” he said after a pause. He smiled ruefully. “That is the first time I have ever acknowledged her as my child.” The drink seemed to revive his lordship and suddenly he stood. “She is alive you say? And you have married her?”