Royal Discipline (10 page)

While she took in the mean surroundings, he shut and locked the door, and pocketed the key. He looked at her through the bars. She was crying too hard to speak.

“I suggest you rest,” he said. “And, of course, think about exactly what has brought you to this low point of your life. I’m sure you will never wish to experience such a punishment again.”

“No, Your Grace,” she said with especially deep feeling. “I don’t ever want this to happen again.”

Violet sank to the cage floor, trying to accustom herself to the thick shaft in her bottom. The stinging oil made her clench and shift nearly constantly, which in turn made her remember that she was impaled on the shaft, and was still being punished. She had cried so much she could barely cry anymore.

She wiped away her tears and tried to find a comfortable position on the pallet. Lying on her back was out of the question due to the cane and whip welts, and lying on her stomach made her feel too exposed without a back to her gown. At last she curled up on her side, squirming and wiggling her bottom, and trying to get warm.

She did not know how to feel, aside from pained. She felt sort of numb, and sort of confused. She felt humbled, which was a terrible thing. How happy the duke would be, to know he had finally succeeded in humbling her, if only for a while.

Or perhaps he would not be happy. He had not doled out a gleeful punishment, but gone about it in a depressingly businesslike manner, as if he’d grown as tired of this ordeal as her. Somehow, the idea frightened her, that he might give up. Never mind that she had just risked her life to escape him. She wanted him to believe she was still a salvageable case. Perhaps he did not believe that anymore, and that was why he seemed so sad.

She turned over on the pallet, groaning as the rough wool scratched her tender welts. She wished she was at home in her silken, fragrant bed. She wished it so desperately that she could feel it, but then her bottom would clench and the shaft would remind her that she was in the Duke of Thornton’s cage. Then she would think,
maybe I need to be in his cage. For a little while, at least.

She thought of his face in the woods, haggard in torchlight, telling her
Don’t move
. She thought of the lightning illuminating the wolf’s predatory stare, and the way he’d clutched her close afterward. She remembered the gentle way he’d laid her in his bed. The duke and the wolf and the storm all muddled together in her thoughts, until she fell into an exhausted sleep.

She awoke with a start at the sound of a key in the lock. Jeannie held up a candle and peered into the cage.

“I’ve come with some dinner, miss,” she said, “and salve for your backside, if you need it. And I’m guessing you need it.”

Violet blinked and tried to sit up, and cringed as the shaft shifted within her. The ginger’s burn had somewhat dissipated, but it stretched her just as much as before.

“I’m going to leave the door open when I come inside,” said the maid. “Do you promise you won’t try to escape?”

“My escaping days are over,” Violet assured her. “I honestly don’t want to move.”

“But you should eat something. It’s not a full dinner, I suppose because you’re in disgrace.” The maid cast a disapproving glance around the cage, but set about arranging the tray in front of Violet as she levered herself gingerly to a sitting position.

There was not much, just a bit of dried fruit and bread, cold meat, and fresh water, but it was plenty for Violet in her agitated state. When she finished eating, the maid bid her to lie down on her stomach, and held the candle above her buttocks and legs. After a moment, she gave a low whistle.

“He did a much worse job on you. I’m ever so sorry, miss.”

With that sympathetic assessment, she put the candle back on the floor and took up the jar of salve.

Violet looked back over her shoulder in confusion. “Aren’t you...” She gawked at the maid’s good-natured smile. “Aren’t you the least bit angry with me? You know, for what happened to you?”

“Oh, miss.” She shrugged, and gently dabbed the fragrant salve over the worst of her welts. “I deserved some punishment, I suppose.”

“But I was the one who got you in trouble. I was the one who tried to run away.”

She thought a moment before she spoke again. “I was angry, yes, and a bit shocked that you would try such a scheme. You lied to me about feeling ill, and quite a talented actress you were. But then I thought, maybe, in your position, I might have tried the same thing. I know the master is awfully hard on you sometimes.”

Violet winced as she applied salve to an especially sensitive welt. “Yes, he is.”

“Ooh, I’m sorry, miss,” said Jeannie. “None of these are bleeding, but you’re a pile of bruises, you are. I can’t imagine what he was thinking, just like I can’t imagine what you were thinking, but I try to be kind in my judgment of people. I try to take the perspective of others, and consider how they’re feeling. I suppose that shaft in your arse feels awful.”

Violet hid her face. “Yes, it does. It feels very...humbling.”

Jeannie made a soft sound. “I’m so sorry, miss, that you’re being made to go through this. I don’t think I could be so strong. But I suppose when you are a...well, I’m not supposed to say it. But you are a princess, miss, a
Royal Highness
, and I think you’ve been ever so brave through all of this. A princess through and through.”

Violet snorted. “I haven’t been brave. I’ve been stubborn. You see where it’s gotten me. He says I ought to learn my lessons, but somehow I never do.”

“I don’t think His Grace means to be cruel. I think he means to help you, but he’s very strict. And very fair. When a servant breaks the rules, he disciplines them in a just and civilized manner. It’s important to us, miss. Every one of the servants peeked at my welts after the caning, because they believe poor duty should be punished. They thought it very fair for what happened.”

Violet did not think it very fair, but she kept her mouth shut.

“How did you do it, Jeannie?” she asked instead.

“Do what?”

“How did you stay so still and quiet during that caning? I took a caning after you, and believe me, I sobbed like a baby.”

Jeannie laughed. “Well, I imagine he caned you a little harder. But it’s out of respect, too. I earned the consequences, and he gave me a fair punishment. It’s like a contract, in some way. If I did not think it fair, I might have cried a bit more.”

Violet digested this explanation and realized that was exactly what the duke wanted from her. Respect, cooperation. Submission. The acceptance that she had earned her various consequences, and was obliged to endure them. Unfortunately, this bore no resemblance to her usual grudging attitude.

“My father says this is my last chance,” said Violet. “That if His Grace cannot change me...”

Jeannie’s hands went still. “Then what?”

“I don’t know. Something bad will happen.” Violet turned to her, feeling thoroughly depressed. “No one will agree to marry me. That’s what will happen. Or if they do, they’ll leave me within the first year.”

Jeannie stared at her in shock. “Oh, no, miss. I can’t imagine it. You’re ever so intelligent, and beautiful, and k—”

The maid’s voice cut off sheepishly. Violet could see her blushing even in the dimly lit room. “You were going to say kind, weren’t you?” she asked. “But it isn’t true. I’m not a kind person.”

Jeannie replaced the lid on the salve. “You could be.”

“The duke says I must change and become a better person. Not just for marriage, but for the future of my kingdom. I suppose if I don’t, it will mean the end of our family’s royal dynasty.”

“What is that?” asked Jeannie shyly. “What is a ‘dynasty’?”

“It is a...history,” said Violet after a moment. “The people in a family, and all the things that they’ve done.”

“Oh.” Jeannie watched her a moment, biting her lip. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find an excellent husband, miss, and make a wonderful dynasty with him.”

“I’ve rejected all the princes and kings who wanted to marry me. They despise me now.”

“Maybe they’ll give you another chance, now that you’re changing into a better person.”

Violet gazed at the dark-haired maid, wondering if it was true. Were the duke’s methods working after all, despite her stubborn resistance?

“But I shouldn’t babble on,” said Jeannie quickly. “I was only to check on you, and put salve on your backside, and bring you your dinner. Servants oughtn’t to talk to their superiors in a familiar way. I’m sorry, miss. Please forgive me.”

“Are you leaving?” asked Violet in a panic. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not alone,” the maid assured her. “The duke has two footmen standing at the door, listening in case you need assistance. I warrant he’ll have two more stationed there all night. Don’t fret, miss. Even though I think it’s a bit heavy-handed, the master making you sleep in this cage.” She said this last part under her breath, but loudly enough for Violet to hear.

She smiled at the maid in weary collusion. “And I suppose he will arrive soon to give me my nightly spanking.” As she said it, she was shocked to realize that she hoped it was true. Not because she wanted to be spanked, but because she wished to see him, which made no sense at all, because she didn’t like Thornton. He was a horrible, brutal man.

But when it seemed around the time for him to come, she sat up in the cage and waited, straining to hear his footsteps in the corridor. When he appeared at the door, her stomach fluttered with a weird sort of pleasure, and kept on fluttering as he approached the cage in his elegant evening clothes.

“I don’t suppose you are excited to see me,” he said. “But routines must be adhered to.”

She felt unaccountably shy. “Yes, Your Grace.”

First he took her to her room, so she might clean up and be relieved of the shaft in her bottom. She was permitted to change into a shift and perform her evening ablutions, and then he took her by the hand and escorted her back to the discipline parlor. Violet chose not to complain or resist when he led her toward the chaise. He sat down upon it and patted his knee.

“Come then. It’s time for your nightly spanking.”

She let out a breath and lay across his lap, which was a great act of courage, considering the state of her bottom and thighs. He brushed her shift up and out of the way, and then paused for a moment.

“You know why we do this, Violet?” he asked. “Even on a night like tonight?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Explain it to me.”

His hand rested on her sore, sensitive bottom, one finger moving slowly along a tender welt. “It teaches me to submit,” she said.

“Yes.”

“And in some way...” she went on, without really meaning to, “I suppose it helps...it helps me to...trust and...and respect you more.”

His tracing finger went still. “I hope it does,” he said after a moment. “Even on a night like tonight.”

There was a sadness in his words, a sadness in everything that had happened the past day. She had broken his trust and nearly caused a disaster. As he began to spank her, the sadness overtook her too, and she began to cry. She was crying for the pain, because, oh yes, it hurt.

But she was also crying because she felt deeply unhappy. It was as if the ground under her feet was falling away, and she had nowhere left to stamp her foot. She had nowhere to stand tall. Her life, her title, her royalty began to feel like an elaborate sham. Her maid was more regal and brave than she was, and this duke was more regal too, with his stringent rules and adherence to discipline. He had devoted his life to order and discipline, and what had she done with her life? Nothing.

Sobs poured out of her, more heartfelt and aching than any sobs she had voiced before. She could not have articulated any of this, and the duke did not ask. In fact, he took no note of her sorrowful weeping as he spanked her bottom. The pain was so intense as to feel dulled. It was as if her body had finally become numbed just as her soul tore open. She wiped at her tears and kept her toes on the floor the way she’d been taught, and when the spanking finally ended, she hardly felt any relief.

The duke stood her up and made her look at him. She could not stop crying as she gazed into his patient blue eyes. He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to brush away some of her tears, but more streamed down her cheeks, so he simply handed it to her. “You may keep it for the night.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she murmured, mopping at her eyes. She shivered in her shift, even though the servants kept the room comfortably warm with a well-tended fire. She wished she could stay with him, or that he would want to stay with her, but he clearly didn’t. He led her back to the cage and she slunk inside, and hunched into a ball in the back corner. She lifted his handkerchief over her face to hide her sobbing. The fine linen smelled of him.

She heard the cage’s lock scrape closed, and raised her eyes. He looked in at her from outside the bars. “I perceive you’re feeling a great deal of remorse this evening.”

She nodded, for she could not speak.

“Sometimes being aware of how we feel is the first step toward beginning to feel better.”

With those gentle words, he turned and left her alone in the silent and shadowy room. She would have liked him to hold her. She wondered what it would have felt like. She wondered why she wanted it, when the cruel, unbending Duke of Thornton had only ever brought her tears.