Dealing With Discipline

Dealing With
Discipline

Book 2 of the
Domestic Discipline Quartet

By G. Angel

Thank you so much to Queenie and Fifi
who have helped me throughout the writing process of this book and
to all of you who are constantly motivating me to keep
writing.

As always, thank you to my husband for
his love and support.

Published by Golden Angel

Copyright 2013 G. Angel

Thank you for respecting
the hard work of this author.

Chapter 1

St. George's Church was
packed with wedding guests, decorated with pink roses and white
lilies, while the Rector, Viscount Petersham, Lord Hyde and the
Earl of Spencer waited patiently at the altar. Only the occasional
shifting of Viscount Petersham’s weight indicated his nervousness
on his wedding day.  The various ladies of the
ton
in attendance fanned
themselves, whispering to each other as best they could without
being overheard by their men. 

The matrons with unmarried
daughters were disgruntled, although they'd known for months about
the arrangement between the Earl of Harrington and Baron Standish
for their children.  The missish daughters sighed over the
loss of two of the
tons
 most eligible, and handsome, bachelors, as Lord Hyde
had recently been married to Viscount Petersham’s sister. 
They were eyeing Wesley, the Earl of Spencer, with acquisitive
determination.  The more brazen widows and unhappily married
young women eyed Hugh and Edwin with speculation, wondering if they
would remain faithful to their brides and for how long. 
London was already abuzz with the gossip that Lord Hyde seemed to
be nauseatingly devoted to his bride; word of their behavior in
Paris during their honeymoon had followed them home, and the ladies
in London were finding no better luck in their flirtations than the
ladies of Paris had.  Then again, considering the close
relationship between Lord Hyde and his wife's brother, perhaps he
found it wise to cleave unto his wife and no other.

Reformed rakes made the best husbands
of course, but how did anyone know if he was truly reformed? Most
of the women, remembering the rumors of the passionate prowess when
the men were bachelors, thought it wouldn’t hurt to try their
chances with any of the young lords standing at the
altar.

The gentlemen in the crowd
ignored the feminine titters and whispered remarks, their minds on
their various wagers and businesses, and a few with an eye towards
comforting those disappointed ladies of the
ton
who were sighing over the loss
of Harrington's son and Lord Hyde.  Not that either Hugh or
Edwin had been particularly indiscreet or even overly generous with
their affections, but those ladies whose beds they had graced had
been well satisfied and their reputations were such that there had
been plenty more who would have enjoyed their attentions.
 

Standing next to each other, outfitted
in their finest clothing, it was no wonder they set the ladies'
hearts racing.  Hugh was the golden boy, his blonde hair
glinting in the sunlight coming in through the windows, looking
like every woman's idea of the perfect storybook hero. More than
one lady whose bed he had graced had called him an “Adonis,”
further enhancing his reputation.  Standing next to him, and
looking like a dark angel compared to Hugh's lighter features, was
Edwin, Lord Hyde.  They were the extremes; it would have been
easy for any man but Wesley to fade into the background next to
such elegant gentleman.  

Wesley was pure rogue, his roving
hazel eyes filled with amusement and invitation, the waving,
sun-streaked mahogany brown hair tied back into a queue.  His
tanned face and hands stood out starkly against the crisp linen of
his shirt and cravat, making him look all the more dangerous.
 As a recent returnee to London, from exotic India, and newly
come into his title of Earl, he was in obvious need of a wife and
an heir. Obvious, that is, to the calculating matrons and their
daughters, although gossip said there was no sign of him courting
any respectable woman since his return. Surely with the example of
his two closest friends he couldn’t be far from the matrimonial
way, the ladies reasoned.

Lady Hyde sat next to her father and
mother in the front pew, the Earl of Harrington and his wife.
 Strange to think that one day Hugh would be the Earl and, as
Edwin’s wife, she would be a Marchesse.  Unwillingly, her
bright blue eyes flitted to the forbiddingly attractive figure of
her husband standing next to her brother.  Her heart fluttered
every time she looked at him and she hated it. 

When they'd returned from their
honeymoon, she'd had the awful revelation that she'd fallen in love
with her husband.  Awful, because she had never intended to
fall in love and, worse, she had no sign that he returned any such
strong emotions. Oh he cared for her, to be sure... but he always
had, in the way that a young man might care for a friend's little
sister. She had no idea if his feelings had changed or grown from
the affection he’d always held her in.  He did desire her, of
that she was certain.  

Although now that they were
back from their honeymoon, the hinting questions of the other
ladies of the
ton
 had her wondering if that desire would continue once
she provided him with an heir or if it might wane even before that.
 It seemed to her that far too many of the ladies were
interested in her 'health' because they wanted to know when Edwin
might give up his place in her bed and occupy another's.  Far
too many gentlemen of the
ton
 were only faithful for as
long as it took to beget the heir, if even that long, since many
began to stray the moment they managed to get their wife with
child. 

Would Edwin be one of those? Would she
even know if he was? Considering his close friendship with her
brother she was sure that he would be discreet, but her heart ached
at even the idea. She was torn between wanting to have his child
and the fear that the passion between them would end the moment her
monthly courses did. 

Sometimes he looked at her in such a
way that she felt surely he must reciprocate her feelings.
 Yet how could she know for certain? He certainly never said
so and she didn’t have the experience to know if he treated her
like a man in love would, or just a man who was fond of his
bride.  This was exactly why she’d never wanted to fall in
love.

Once they'd returned home
she'd resolved to discover what his feelings towards her might be,
but every attempt had confused her further.  She'd realized
almost immediately that she had absolutely no way to judge whether
or not a man was in love with her.  There were not many love
matches among the
ton
 for her to observe or compare her own marriage with and
the one shining example that she had of love within a marriage were
her mother's feelings for her father.  But even in her wildest
imaginings she couldn't picture Edwin acting like her mother; she'd
never fooled herself into thinking that he was the kind of man who
would shower her with affection, presents and sonnets.  Well,
presents perhaps, he did like to give her things, but all men gave
jewelry and flowers.  In fact, many men gave them in lieu of
apologies. Affection... if that went hand in hand with passion then
he gave her that as well, but men were wont to show passion in the
bedchamber, especially with a new wife.  And Eleanor knew that
she was attractive. 

At first she'd tried to be more
affectionate than usual with him to see how he would respond,
thinking that perhaps a show of her own would spur him into
admitting to some finer feelings.  Instead he'd seemed pleased
by her affections and responded by taking her to bed immediately.
 

Which seemed rather inconclusive since
she wanted to know his emotions and not his
passions. 

That had led to her pouting and doing
her best to give him the cold shoulder, wondering how he would
react and thinking that his response might give her further
insight. 

That had gotten her a
spanking - and not a pleasant one, like on their honeymoon -
although not nearly as harsh as any of the ones she'd received
before the honeymoon either.  It had been more of a reprimand
than a punishment for being disrespectful to him.  Apparently
Edwin did
not
 like to be ignored when he asked her a
question.

Would a man spank the woman he loved?
 

It was humiliating and painful, and
yet it aroused Edwin like nothing else. So if passion was an
indication of feeling then perhaps. But Eleanor wasn’t convinced
that it was. Of course, she couldn’t imagine being intimate with
anyone other than Edwin, but that was because she was in love.
Edwin, of course, had already been intimate with other women before
their marriage – many women, she thought darkly. But he’d never
been in love that she knew of.

Not that she had any experience with
love herself, but she couldn’t think of any other explanation for
the warmth that fluttered through her whenever she saw him, the
constant desire to be in his company, the piercing pain that lanced
through her at the thought of him with another woman or the fact
that she constantly felt herself wanting to bow to his wishes and
give him whatever she desired.

She fought the latter. Not just from
pride but from self-preservation.

If he were to know that she loved him
then he could use that, whether or not he loved her in return.
Exile her to the country, knowing that she would do as he wished in
order to make him happy. The same way her mother had always
followed her father’s edicts. And she couldn’t live with that, she
couldn’t bear the idea of being so ill-used. She wouldn’t allow
herself to be.

If only she could be certain that he
loved her the way she loved him, life would be
wonderful.

“Stop fidgeting,” her mother hissed
under her breath.

Eleanor sighed. “I can’t help it,” she
whispered back. “When does this start?”

“The ceremony should have
started already, but that’s to be expected,” her mother hissed
back. “There are guests still seating themselves in the rear. Now
stop fidgeting and be
silent.
”

Rolling her eyes, Eleanor leaned back
against the pew. Nervous movement was a family trait, one that she
shared with her father but she noticed that her mother wasn’t
scolding him, even though he was twisting around in his seat as if
taking note of who had dared arrived late to his son and heir’s
wedding.

“Sit up straight!” hissed her mother.
The whisper strangled in her throat as she coughed delicately into
her hand, covering it.

Stifling a retort, Eleanor
straightened her spine. She’d always thought that being a married
woman would mean that her parents would no longer try to mold her
into the perfect Society lady. Obviously they hadn’t thought the
same.

*********

“Stop fidgeting,” Edwin whispered
out of the corner of his mouth to Hugh. Behind him he could hear
Wesley chuckle.  Fortunately everyone else was far away enough
that they couldn’t hear anything the men said, although he was sure
that they could all see Hugh had begun shifting impatiently back
and forth on his feet.

“Sod off,” Hugh muttered back.  “You
have no idea what this is like, you didn’t have to wait like this
for Nell.”

No he hadn't. Edwin hadn't had to
wait at all, not for a courtship nor for a long wedding service.
 His beautiful lady wife was easy to find, sitting a mere
fifteen feet from his position besides Hugh.  Dressed in one
of her new gowns from Paris, the soft peach and rose accentuating
the peaches and cream of her skin and the pink of her lips, she
looked much sweeter and more innocent than he knew her to
be. 

In fact, his wife was on the verge of sending
him straight into madness.

Their honeymoon had been blissful,
he thought that they'd managed to come to an accord within their
relationship during their time away.  She had been the sweet
yet spirited, joyful, passionate and wonderfully creative young
woman that he'd known her to be.  But it was as if she'd left
that woman behind on the Continent.  Since their return to
London, Eleanor had blown hot and cold to the point where Edwin
never knew what he would be facing in the morning.