Taming Lady Lydia

by Felicity Brandon

  Thomas twists his head left to the large window which dominates the length of the hallway. “I should say there is no need,” he surmises. “You look lovely, and anyway, I do not want to give you reasons to be tardy today, do I? Unless of course, you desire to be taken over my knee in front of our hosts?”

  I flush in an instant, my mind capturing the image he describes in my head. I imagine the look on Lord William’s face, and the sheer ignominy I would feel in the circumstances. “No, My Lord!” I whimper, looking to him for mercy.

  He chuckles gently. “Come on, then,” he says, arranging a lock of my hair which has come loose. “Let me take you to the drawing room.”

  Chapter Twenty-One: Convention

  Tea in the drawing room becomes lunch in the dining room, and soon enough the afternoon at Cranningford Hall is well under way. Thus far both Lord and Lady Pembroke have been nothing but splendid hosts, showering us with refreshments and attention, although I still struggle to feel comfortable in their company. Something about the look in Lord William’s eye makes me feel as though he is mentally undressing me, whilst the shine in his wife’s smiles seems somewhat superficial.

  It is late afternoon when, after taking a walk in the warm autumnal sunshine, Lord William suggests that he and Thomas should go shooting.

  “Is it not rather late in the day for that, William?” asks Thomas sceptically.

  “No matter!” replies his cousin dismissively. “We can take the rifles out, and stretch the hounds’ legs—see what we find?”

  My eyes flit between the two of them, and back to Lady Helena, a sudden panic filling me at the thought of being left to make small talk with her for the rest of the afternoon. I hear Thomas sigh as he gives in to William’s pressure. “Perhaps, but just for an hour,” he concurs. “The sun will be looking to set by then, and I do not want to leave Lydia alone for too long.”

  My cheeks flame reflexively at the sound of my name on his lips, and I cannot help to risk a glance in his direction.

  “Do not fret about Lady Lydia!” Helena’s voice gushes from his right. “I will take good care of her until you return.”

  Thomas eyes me for a moment, and I want to tell him not to go and leave me at the whim of this woman. Of course I say nothing, hoping that my eyes will instead convey my feeling on the subject. However, there is little debate on the matter and soon enough, Lords Markham and Pembroke take their leave, making their way to find the appropriate weaponry. I watch Thomas leave as the anxiety within me begins to stir.

  All at once, Lady Helena is upon me, linking arms with me as she jostles us back toward the house. “Come now, Lydia,” she giggles, her voice almost playful. “With the gentlemen away, you and I can get to know one another a little better, no?”

  I glance left to see her expressive face, and feign a smile as she leads me back inside. Within me however, I have the oddest feeling that Lady Pembroke is a serpent getting ready to strike. Ordering yet more refreshments, Lady Helena leads me into what looks like a music room; a large stately looking space dominated by the grand piano near its centre.

  “Do you play, Lydia?” she asks me excitedly. “Oh, say that you do!”

  I inhale, wishing already that His Lordship would return. “I do, My Lady,” I answer.

  “Oh, please call me Helena,” she insists, guiding me toward the small stool which accompanies the instrument. “Will you play for me—just a few pieces? I do so enjoy the sound, yet swear I never can get a tune from the thing myself!”

  I smile at her story, imaging her wringing her long fingers over the ivory keys. “Of course,” I reply, taking a seat as she suggests.

  She settles herself in a pink velvet dressed chair away to my left, and I ready myself, shifting awkwardly on the stool as I am once again reminded of my earlier punishment. Finally satisfied with my position, my fingers caress the keys, and I play for Lady Pembroke, needing neither a score nor an audience to lose myself in the notes after a time. It is the entrance of Mannington with the drinks Lady Helena had requested which finally draws me from my music.

  “Isn’t she marvellous, Mannington?” enthuses Helena, as he serves her.

  “Absolutely, My Lady,” says the butler, turning toward the piano in appreciation.

  I colour at the compliment, the keys suddenly falling silent.

  “Join me, Lydia,” coos Her Ladyship, gesturing toward a green seat to her right. I sigh, not really wishing to leave the sanctuary of the instrument, yet comply as requested, rising and making my way to where she indicates. Mannington pours me a long drink, and then departs, leaving me alone with Lady Helena.

  She turns to me as soon as the door closes. “So, my dear, what do you think of Cranningford Hall?”

  My eyes absorb the grandeur of the room around me. “It is splendid, My Lady,” I answer. “Thank you again for hosting us.”

  She smiles, seizing her opportunity to speak freely. “Of course,” she says. “William and I have known Thomas for a long time, and we were surprised, yet thrilled when he wrote to tell us about you.”

  I look to her, her face lit by the colossal window to her rear. “It has been a change for both His Lordship and for myself,” I answer.

  “Indeed,” she replies. “Yet please do not feel that you need be diplomatic around me, dear Lydia.” She laughs at her own cloaked joviality. “It was not so many years ago that I was your age, and I think I can well understand your feelings on the matter?”

  My feelings? Her words both pique my curiosity and irritate me. I press my fingers into my lap, thinking about which words I should choose so as not to offend my guardian’s friends. “I am not sure that I know what you mean, My Lady,” I finally reply.

  She beams, the smile lighting up her attractive face. “Oh, come now, Lydia,” she says, flinging her arms to the side dramatically. “Let us be truthful, you and I. You are young, beautiful, and eligible. Let us not forget that since the untimely passing of your father, your future husband also stands to inherit all of the earl’s purported wealth.” I feel my muscles tighten as her direct speech continues. “Entering this arena is Thomas, also eligible, and rather rich in his own right. Surely you can see what I mean by this?”

  I exhale abruptly, growing tired of her indirect implications. “No, Madam,” I reply, as demurely as I can muster. “Lord Markham has kindly agreed to be my guardian, and there has been no other consideration…”

  She rises from her chair, wondering toward the window at the rear of the room. Her laugh, shrill and insincere, passes through me like the winter wind. “Let me be frank, Lydia. You may wish to conceal your true feelings from the rest of the world, and in some ways I can understand why, but you cannot conceal them from me. Your eyes betray your affection, and your youthful looks betray your need.”

  I gasp incredulously, turning to look at Lady Helena as she stalks gracefully back toward the piano. “My Lady, I know not what you mean!”

  “So be it,” she sighs, coming to rest by the instrument. “Play it this way if you so wish, but permit me to say this.”

  I brace myself, wondering what her final remarks may be on this deeply personal subject.

  “If I know Thomas Markham—and believe me, I do—then you will not have long to wait.”

  “Wait, My Lady?” I ask, trying to quell the rising waves of indignation in me. How dare this stranger probe me about such a private matter!

  “Yes,” she laughs, moving toward me. “For a proposal, Lydia! I have never seen Thomas behave the way he does around you. His usual manner toward a lady is cavalier indifference, yet it seems that you have made quite the impression upon him…”

  I flinch at the reference to other ladies, and yet there is no denying the way my heart flutters at her other insinuation. Can it really be true? Does Thomas harbour such feelings toward me? Giggling at my response, she moves next to me, standing over where I am seated.

  “Do not deny it, Lydia,” she chuckles. “Ther
e really seems no point. Assuming you can keep him happy, then the two of you really do seem well-suited.”

  My eyes dart to her, surprised. I feel my face flushing as I consider her words. I swear I mean to refute her accusations—to tell her that there is certainly no intention to marry on either of our parts. Yet when I look into her eyes, I see she already assumes the truth, and perhaps she even knows more than that. “How do you mean happy, Lady Helena?” I ask her hesitantly.

  For some reason this really makes her laugh, and she takes a moment to compose herself. “Oh, sweet Lydia!” she says, brushing my bare shoulder with her gloved hand. “You must know by now that Thomas—much like my William—is a highly demanding gentleman? He will require a certain kind of behaviour in a wife?”

  There’s an edge to her tone which makes me clench the summit at my thighs. Can she really know of Lord Markham’s deepest desires, and if so, how does she know?

  “Obedience, you mean?” I answer, startled.

  “Obedience, yes,” she muses. “And yet more than that. Thomas will want to govern you, Lydia, and have his wicked way as he sees fit. And if he hasn’t already, then I am certain he will want to turn you over his knee for a sound spanking now and again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Revelations

  I can barely believe the words as they reach my ears, and yet I know the red-faced shame I portray will be conveying the truth to Lady Helena in an easy-to-read demonstration.

  “Oh!” she exclaims, her eyes alight with delight. “I see he has already done so?”

  I rise from my seat dramatically, unable to hear any more from my hostess. “My Lady, please!” I implore her. “I cannot speak of such things; it is not proper for us to do so!”

  She smiles, unsurprised at my response. “No matter, my dear,” she says, moving toward me and slipping a gloved hand across my shoulders. “I think you and I both know the truth, so we need say no more about it.”

  At that moment the door to the music room opens, and Thomas appears in the entrance. Seeing my flushed complexion, and my inexplicably close proximity to Lady Helena, he looks perplexed, but says nothing as he approaches. Behind him, Lord William also enters, moving to join his wife, who saunters from my side.

  “Ladies!” cries Lord William, opening his arms in a sweeping gesture. “What have you two been doing to entertain yourselves in our absence?”

  I glance at Thomas, my belly full of anxiety. For some reason I feel as though I have been caught doing something naughty, even though it is not me who was behaving inappropriately. I know he will be able to gauge my feelings the moment he looks into my eyes.

  “Lady Lydia has been playing for me, William!” squeals Lady Helena from across the room. “Honestly, you must play again, my dear, after dinner perhaps?”

  I glance down at my slippers, wishing to remain cordial, but really not wanting to commit to an after-dinner performance.

  “I would love to hear you, Lydia,” says Lord William. “If you are happy to perform?”

  Sensing my hesitancy, it is Thomas who answers for me. “Let us wait and see how we feel after supper,” he says politely.

  “Indeed,” replies Lord William, guiding his wife from the room. “For now I suggest we prepare for dinner, and meet again at, shall we say, eight o’clock?”

  “Of course, and thank you,” answers Thomas, who also gestures for me to lead the way out of the music room.

  We move back into the incredible entrance hall, both couples parting way at the bottom of the stairs, and slowly Thomas and I make our way up to our rooms.

  He guides me in silence to the length of corridor on which both of our rooms await us. We walk the majority of it side by side, both apparently lost in our own thoughts, until it is his voice which breaks the quiet. “May I come in and speak with you?” he asks.

  I look to him, his face serious, and wonder what his intentions are. “Of course, My Lord,” I answer, my voice breathless from the unease whipping through me.

  The October light fades through the window as he joins me inside, closing the door behind him. I inhale deeply, feeling the pressure of the silence in the room. “How was the shooting, My Lord?” I enquire, suppressing the disquiet I am feeling.

  Turning from the window, I see him watching me, as tall and imposing as ever. There’s a small smile on his lips as he answers.

  “Do you really want to know about the game we shot?” he asks, taking a minute step forward. “Or would you prefer to tell me about what transpired between you and Lady Helena.”

  I drop my head, for some reason feeling guilty again about the exchange. “My Lord, I…” I hesitate, raising my head to see him closing the distance between us. He waits by the edge of the giant four-poster, choosing to sit, perhaps to quell my rising unease. “It was the most peculiar discussion.”

  He nods, apparently understanding. “Mmmm,” he agrees. “I can well conceive it. I have known Her Ladyship for many a year, and I know she can be unconventional.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” I concur. “Based upon this experience, it would seem that she loathes convention entirely!” He cocks his head to the side at my words, but says nothing, waiting for me to continue. “Lady Helena enquired about us, My Lord,” I say, finally.

  “Us?” he replies, as if unsure, “you and I?”

  I nod, inexplicably colouring again at his calm intensity. “Yes, Thomas.”

  His head shoots up immediately at the sound of his name. “And, what did Lady Helena want to know?”

  “She was implying things about our… relationship,” I answer him, unsure of how I should explain myself.

  He stands again, clearly irritated as he strides past me to the window.

  “My Lord, I swear, I did nothing to solicit or heighten her interest!” I implore him, all of a sudden filled with concern about where his own thoughts might be leading.

  He spins to look at me, the remaining light illuminating his face beautifully. “I am sure, Lydia,” he says reassuringly. “You have no need to be concerned—I am not cross with you.”

  Relief rushes through me at his words, and I move toward him slowly.

  “Tell me what she said to you,” he says, his tone still clipped.

  “She talked of marriage, Thomas,” I answer, stunned at my own unabashed honesty. “And also, she told me you would seek to govern me, and…”

  I risk a glance upward at his eyes, seeing his dark brow rise at my message. “And, Lydia?” he probes.

  “And spank me…” I say, in little more than a whisper.

  A strange expression crosses his face, and I cannot tell if it is resignation or disappointment.

  “I am sorry, My Lord,” I say, sounding desperate.

  He takes one stride forward and meets me in the middle of the room. His right arm pulls me into an embrace and holds me against his body. Even at this moment I relish the feel of his hard and authoritative body. “Are you telling me the truth, Lydia?” he breathes into my hair.

  “Yes, Thomas!” I insist, raising my head to meet his eye. “I swear to you that I am!”

  He presses his hot lips onto my forehead, calming me. “Then you have nothing to be sorry for,” he whispers.

  “I know,” I reply, inhaling the intoxicating scent of him once again. “Yet I cannot help but feel I have let you down. I should have tried harder to protest, to refute her claims.”

  He chuckles from over me and pulls me closer. “You are easy to read, Lydia,” he says. “Helena would have known the truth at any rate.”

  I draw back a little and regard him. “Is it true?” I ask him. “Do you wish to govern me?” I stumble over the last words, almost incapable of spitting them out.

  He smiles, a dark and delicious look spreading over his handsome face. “Lydia,” he breathes. I gaze up into those deep green eyes, so foreboding, and yet so utterly tempting. “There are a great many things I would like for us. But whatever transpires, it will be our priva
te business, and nobody else’s.”

  I nod breathlessly into his chest. “Yes,” I agree, “but please, Thomas. I should like to know more. I would like to understand.”

  He takes a small step backward, shifting position so that both of his large palms come to cup my face. “Oh, Lydia,” he begins. “We have known one another such a short time, perhaps bringing you here with me was a mistake?”

  My insides twist at his assertion. “No,” I cry out. “It was not, My Lord!”

  Smiling, he releases his left hand from my face, and his right hand rises to gently hold my warmed cheek. “Helena was always going to be troublesome. I should have foreseen this,” he replies.

  “Please,” I continue. “Thomas, tell me more about her; about the Pembrokes. I think then perhaps I will understand.”

  He pulls his timepiece from its chain in his jacket pocket and assesses it. “There is limited time, Lydia, but I can give you a brief telling of the tale. Let us sit…”

  He gestures toward the bed, and we make our way there, sitting beneath the two wooden posts at the end of the bed. “William and I have been friends since we were boys. We have always enjoyed each other’s company, and he and I share a rather avant-garde attitude toward life.”

  I reason that I know what he is trying to tell me, and yet I want to take this opportunity and be sure of the things I think I know about my guardian. “Avant-garde, My Lord?” I ask, seeking clarification on the point.

  He smiles, pulling his lips into a smirk as he answers. “Unconventional, Lydia.”

  “Oh,” I say, “like Lady Helena?”

  He laughs, gently reaching for my hand. “Exactly,” he confirms. “Once our similar tastes were established, we took every opportunity to indulge our whims. We have both hosted parties at our residences, but undoubtedly the most raucous of those have happened here, at Cranningford.”

  I flinch at his words, feeling my breath quicken as I try to decipher them. “What transpired at the parties?” I ask, feeling a fool for even needing to enquire.