Veronica. Nattie JonesЧитать онлайн книгу.
down the hallway until I came to an office. A girl with black hair, possibly the same I had tripped over on the staircase, was bent over the desk, receiving a spanking from Lord Riverchurch.
I had been incorrect: it was not a hand I heard slapping flesh, it was a small paddle of some sort. She cried as if brokenhearted, pleading and begging for mercy and grace. Her dress slipped down, covering the top of one of her cheeks, and he stopped.
He carefully arranged her dress up on her back and out of the way. I suddenly realized I was standing directly in the doorway. I stilled, praying I would not be seen.
He raised the paddle again, then splatted it across her bottom. I tried to feel pity, to feel guilt for getting her in trouble, but the sight of the paddling was engaging. Each stroke of the paddle caused her to cry more heartily, more honestly. Her bottom bloomed red under his attentions, as if burnt by standing too close to a fire. No matter how hard he struck her bottom, she stayed in position, letting him paddle her as he willed.
For a moment, I wished with all my heart to be her.
I moved back into the shadows, gripping the robe at my throat. He turned at my movement, strode over to me.
I panicked. “I knocked her over. It was my fault. Please don't punish her.”
He smiled a little. “Are you offering to take her place?”
Something in my stomach jerked, and I knew that if the Duke had offered such a thing, I would have taken him up on it instantly. I pressed my lips together and looked away, afraid my strange feelings could be seen in my eyes.
“It is not your doing,” he said. “A follower of hers was found sneaking on the grounds tonight. Followers are not allowed.”
It was an impossible rule. If servant girls never had followers, they would never marry and leave service. The ways of the world were often bound with rules so tight it made living impossible unless you broke them. He tapped the paddle impatiently on his hand. I instantly imagined it smacking across my seat.
He gave me a stiff bow. “I am sorry I woke you, Miss Veronica Bridges.”
He took my leave and pulled the door shut, leaving me still standing there in astonishment. I collapsed against the wall feeling hot and feverish. Why was the master of the house taking care of such a matter, and not the butler? Putting my hand to my chest, I tried to control my breathing. Another door opened, and I feared to look.
Georgette rushed to my side.
“Did he wake you? Please, I am so sorry. My husband is not the brute he seems. You look afraid. You have nothing to fear, I promise. You won't tell my brother we were inhospitable, will you?”
I shook my head, let her escort me back to my room. When I was once again settled in bed, I wondered if I would ever cry with such abandon. I wondered if I wanted to cry with such abandon. Would the Duke ever spank me in earnest? A real punishment?
I had enjoyed the feel of his crop across my hand and hoped we would repeat the game.
But now I longed for something else: I longed to be punished so that I did not enjoy it, so that I could not control my tears, so that the pain overwhelmed me and wiped all my thoughts away.
What would that feel like?
And how could I want so badly to not want something I wanted? I lay awake for a long time, my attempts to unravel the riddle futile. I drifted in and out of fuzzy sleep as I imagined the Duke paddling me until I cried just as the maid had. Something in me relaxed at the thought, and I finally fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Chapter 3
In the morning, the Duke sent me a bundle of tulips from the South. The next day brought a note, saying that he had visited my sister and her husband and “everything had been arranged.” And the following day, Georgette introduced me to her dressmaker, and we spent the whole afternoon deciding on fabrics and patterns for my wardrobe.
Aside from the fact that the dresses were going to be made for me, my life did not feel much different from what it had been as a lady's companion.
In fact, I'd thought I'd done something daring, something adventurous by agreeing to the Duke's proposal, and here I was living the same life. Watching Georgette as Countess reminded me that my life, as Duchess, would not be the adventure I sought.
I walked into the garden, wondering if today would bring anything interesting. I closed my eyes, and I imagined the Duke holding my fingers, exposing my palm to his crop.
The memory stirred a longing, a yearning in me. I turned my face to the sun, eyes closed, trying to absorb the heat of the sunlight into my skin.
A deep, rumbling voice addressed me. “Miss Veronica Bridge, will you take a turn with me about the garden?”
I grinned at the sound of his voice, opened my eyes to see his hat. “Your Grace!”
He laughed and offered his arm.
“Your brother assumed he would marry us.”
“You have arranged everything,” I said, and I was surprised that my voice was cold.
“You have no parents,” he said stiffly, looking as uncomfortable as I'd ever seen him.
We walked in uncomfortable silence, and I wasn't sure how to return the mood to when we were glad to see each other.
I tried laughing. “If this is an indication of our future disagreements, we will be a happy couple.”
He stopped us. His eyes held that devilish, teasing look, and I relaxed. “Our future disagreements will end with you bare-bottomed and over my knee.”
I looked at his hand. It hung at his side, large and wide and genteel. “And if you're in the wrong?” I asked.
He grinned. “You'll still end up with a sore bottom.”
I stepped away from him. “That doesn't seem fair!”
He laughed, but I didn't think it so funny. I finally asked, “Surely not a real punishment, Your Grace?” I blushed.
“That depends.” His eyes studied my face. “But there will be real punishments, Veronica. I do not think you will enjoy them.”
His words made something in my belly flutter, but they also made me angry at the same time. “So you will be a cruel Master?”
“There is kindness in discipline. I will be strict with you, but is it not what you want?”
It was everything I dreamed of, but it was also a lot of trust to grant someone. How easy it would be for him to be cruel, and then I would be stuck with him for the rest of my life. I knew many women would have found the money worth any amount of cruelty, but I had never expected to live richly.
“I want to know why you proposed to me.”
The path turned around a large bush, and I was delighted to see a few crocuses poking up. They would die soon, frozen when a snatch of winter returned to interrupt spring, but the splash of purple and white promised summer would come soon.
“You know why already.”
“I only know partly why.” We were getting out of sight of the cottage, so I turned back toward the house.
He grabbed my arm. He managed to make his grip soft and yet keep me from moving forward. “You push.”
“It is my right to know.” Feeling impatient, I tried to walk away from him, to punish his stalling. He did not let me.
“Veronica, I-”
His use of my given name annoyed me. Once was daring and sweet, twice was insulting. “We are not married yet, Your Grace.”
Something flashed in his eyes, and I knew I succeeded in pushing him into anger. I felt sorry, then, but it was too late to take it back.
“I