Mischief and Secrets
Mischief and Secrets
Starla Kaye
ISBN 978-1-914301-09-4
Lady Rose’s Secret
Chapter One
Yardley Estate
Berkshire, England
April 1817
Lady Georgina Rose Desmond’s day was taking a turn for the worse. Her life had become complicated four months ago and each new day got more out of control. Many people believed her meek and weak because of her diminutive size. Not so. She considered herself tiny but mighty. It felt like she’d battled through all her two and twenty years and she would keep on battling. Even with this latest disaster she sensed coming.
She shouldn’t be in here. Her housemaid duties didn’t include the drawing room. The maid whose duty was to clean in here wasn’t feeling well today. She hadn’t wanted Fanny to get in more trouble than she already was, so she’d taken some initiative and helped. Mrs. Sternly, the housekeeper, hadn’t asked Rose to do this, which could prove to be a problem later. But she would get her own chores completed.
It was unfortunate that she had a knack for being a tad clumsy, something that annoyed Mrs. Sternly, leading to many lectures and some unpleasant discipline a few times during the three months she’d worked here in secret as a housemaid. This time it wasn’t just clumsiness that plagued her. She’d been fighting a sneezing fit while using the dusty rag. She should have taken it outside and given it a good shaking. Instead, she’d forged ahead with the dusting to get it done quickly and struggled since because of her poor decision.
She glanced around the spacious room. There were several seating areas consisting of velvet settees, handsomely carved and upholstered chairs, and small tables holding exquisite vases of various sizes. So far, she’d had no accidents. Only one superb, hefty vase remained to dust and she would finish this room. Then she could go back to her assigned chores of taking care of the bedrooms and hallways.
Her nose twitched again when she lifted the rag over the marble-topped table. No, no, no! Her hand shook as it drew closer to the vase. No, no, no!
She tried wiggling her nose against the urge to sneeze. Her eyes burned from the battle.
“What are you doing in here?” Mrs. Sternly barked from the doorway. “Are you thinking of stealing His Grace’s treasured vase? Just as you attempted to steal the silver candlestick from his bedchamber last week?”
Surprised, heart pounding as she looked across the room, Rose’s hand hit the side of the vase. A final tiny cloud of dust rose from the rag and tortured her nose again.
Her foe won. She sneezed, closing her eyes for a hairsbreadth of a second. Her hand jerked and sent the wobbling vase off the table before she could attempt to stop it.
“Oh, no!”
The crash of expensive china hitting the wood floor resonated around the elegant room and seemed to echo throughout the entire house. At least to Rose’s horrified ears. But it wasn’t the shattered vase that upset her, it was the unfair accusation.
Heat rising in her cheeks, she sputtered, “I did not steal that candlestick!” The very idea of her stealing anything was ludicrous. Her gaze shifted to what appeared to be a thousand pieces of porcelain near her feet. Cleaning it up would be a trial. “Nor did I intend to steal this vase.”
Mrs. Sternly snorted, her thin lips pressed tight. The fifty-something, contrary woman hadn’t accepted Rose’s explanation for why she’d had the candlestick in her apron pocket last week. She’d had a good reason, but the judgmental woman had deemed her a liar. And “liars” and “potential thieves” received harsh punishment. After the tawsing Rose had received, she’d been quite sore as she’d finished her chores. The next day too. It seemed she’d been judged a liar and a thief again.
“You are an impudent one.” Mrs. Sternly declared it, as if stating a deplorable fact. “I do not tolerate such attitude in this household, nor lying.” She sucked in a deep breath, her buxom form blowing up to stretch the bodice of her gray work dress to its limit. “I do not tolerate disobedience either. You have assigned duties. You do not work in unassigned areas.”
“I did not disobey,” Rose countered, stopping at the housekeeper’s narrowed eyes. “I-I…” She gave up her defense, knowing she had overstepped what they allowed.
At the other woman’s smirk, Rose wanted to try defending herself again, but her nose twitched in warning. She scrunched it and held her breath, hoping to fend off another sneeze. She couldn’t stop it and it came out in a most unladylike manner, earning another disapproving glower from the housekeeper.
“This is your second breakage in a week. Unacceptable. And costly.” Mrs. Sternly had reached her limit of tolerance for anything dealing with Rose. “You will take yourself to His Grace’s library. Immediately.”
Although another session with the housekeeper’s tawse was something to dread, Rose feared the duke’s treatment could be far worse. So far, she had had no interactions with him besides passing him in the hallway one time. Since she’d come here in disguise to get to know him before making an ultimate decision that would change both of their lives, she didn’t want to see him now.
“Must we bother His Grace with this?” She swallowed her pride and pressed, “Could we not just go to your office again?” She didn’t voice the rest of her thought, that Mrs. Sternly perform whatever discipline she felt necessary.
The stout woman shifted in the doorway and pointed a pudgy finger to the hallway. “You will do as I say.” Their gazes met. “Unless you would like a few lashes of the tawse after whatever His Grace does.”
Rose wanted to protest all of it, protect her poor bottom. If she ended her farce… But the time for admitting her secret wasn’t right. She needed to know more about the man known for intimidating others by just narrowing his devilish black eyes. And his portrait in the gallery reinforced the image of a dark and brooding man. Add to that, his reputation in London society was enough to frighten off most people, most women. She wasn’t like most women. She observed, analyzed, and made her own judgments. In her opinion, rumors and gossip could not be trusted. Her gut told her there was more to the Duke of Berkshire than he shared, or that others noted.
She stopped her musings and continued her charade, even if it meant facing the grim side of her employer. The man she’d never met but had agreed to marry. By her stipulations, not his. Again, her instincts told her they needed each other. He just didn’t know that yet.
With a curt nod of acceptance, she walked with a nervous stomach from the room. The enormous manor house felt cold, unfriendly. From the second she’d arrived at Yardley Estate, she’d sensed this had never been a house of happiness. The walls had never echoed with laughter. As difficult as her life had been with her gruff father, there had been times of warmth and joy in their house. Rare times. When her mother was alive. The changes there after her death in yet another failed childbirth were part of why Rose had left and concocted this plan, one that proved unpleasant at times such as this.
Head high, she marched in resignation through the house ahead of Mrs. Sternly. Other than the rigid and grumpy housekeeper, the other staff members got along well. It had surprised them when she’d showed up on the doorstep one breezy, frigid February afternoon asking to work here. In her determined way, she’d taken a chance. The butler had met her at the massive front doors. He’d taken in her weary face, faded and dirty dress peeking out of the ragged wool coat, and the worn satchel she’d carried. His confused frown had changed into a warm smile, and he’d led her straight to Mrs. Sternly. Ignoring her irritated look, he’d informed her His Grace had told him he had been seeking another housemaid. Turner had been her first friend here. This house and those who lived here needed her. She knew it soul deep.
Why was she thinking about that now when she would soon experience the Duke of Berkshire’s wrath? Even with what she faced, and intending to keep her secret, she looked forward to seeing him in person. Since they’d never met, he wouldn’t recognize her. The woman to whom he’d had his solicitor deliver an offer of a rather complicated marriage of convenience. A dozen pages of his terms, his requirements of her, and what he would provide for her in exchange. Utter nonsense, in her opinion. Yet from what a few of her trusted friends had told her about past dealings with him, she’d suspected those pages of legal talk hid a guarded heart. A wounded one, like hers. And that was why she’d signed the papers, then added her own twist. She would discover the truth behind the man before she married him on her terms.
***
Miles Yardley wasn’t in the best of moods. He’d spent several hours that morning there in his library, trying to make sense of some reports he’d received from his London solicitor. The man had hired an investigator on his behalf to track down the missing Lady Georgina Desmond. She had given her agreement to his marriage offer over four months ago. And then she had sent him word that she would see him sometime this fall. Sometime? Unacceptable.
He ground his teeth in annoyance, still unable to believe her daring. She intended to spend the summer with an elderly widowed aunt in Scotland. An aunt who didn’t exist, so he’d learned. She’d lied and disappeared. He’d heard via his solicitor and London gossip that neither her disagreeable father, the Earl of Desmond, nor her friends knew where she’d gone.
He sat back in his desk chair and it gave a soft creak. He closed his eyes. A headache pounded at his temple. His life had never been easy. This was just another frustration to add to everything else that weighed on him as a prominent duke with large landholdings. He didn’t want to get married, but it was necessary. For his estate to carry on, his lineage must carry on. He needed at least an heir. A spare would be good too. He had no use for a wife otherwise. The women in his household worked quietly, caused him no grief. Except for one scullery maid who was no longer here. Besides these women he barely knew but lived with, women were a bother.
His jaw tightened, as he remembered the last woman he’d proposed to. She’d not taken one second to think about his powerful position and what he could offer her. She’d refused, her look telling him he was crazy to think any woman would want him. At one time he’d had many ladies desiring him. Before the Battle of Waterloo. Before having the left side of his face sliced, leaving him with a long, thin scar that repelled women. Not that he had a problem finding a willing mistress when he desired one. He was a passionate lover, and his lovers appreciated his generous gifts. Finding a wife had proven to be a trial he couldn’t endure.
Miles blew out a frustrated breath and sat straighter, stacking together the reports he’d spread out. He needed an heir, and he was getting older, two and thirty. Through his connections, he’d heard about Lady Georgina Desmond and her problem with her father, who he had never met. The Earl of Desmond had long been a pompous ass with few friends among the ton. After the death of his first wife, he’d sought and found a much younger second wife. The greedy woman wanted Georgina out of her house. So, her father planned to force his only daughter—only child—to marry an ancient earl by some means of blackmail. Except she’d refused to cooperate and had moved in with a friend in London.
Soon after learning about her, Miles had seen her from a distance at a London ball he’d heard she would be attending. Petite and spirited had been the impression he’d gotten. Far different from him. She had danced and laughed with many a dashing rake that night. Yet she had allowed each only one dance. And she’d not appeared interested in any of them. The one time she’d swirled by him without even glancing in his direction, he’d seen something she tried to keep hidden in her surprising violet eyes. A hint of sadness. It had touched him. He hadn’t been able to forget it or her. In that instant, he’d desired her with a fierceness he’d never experienced before.
Which led him to this idea that his solicitor thought was insane. Crazy or not, he saw it as the answer they both needed. He needed a respectable wife his peers would accept to give him an heir and nothing more. She needed rid of her father’s threat so she could live the life she wanted. If she gave him a child, Miles would let her lead whatever life she wanted. As long as…
They would sort all of that out.
“Bloody hell!” He growled and pounded his fist on the desktop, scattering the papers again. She’d given her agreement. He had her signature on the complicated document in his desk drawer. She’d given her word and she needed to stand by it. When he promised something, he stood by it.
Where the bloody hell was she?
Chapter Two
And there she stood in the doorway of his library. Not the lively, youthful beauty with pale blonde hair done up in long ringlets that had brushed her bare shoulders. The woman who had caught the approving eye of every man there at the ball with her trim form and plump breasts displayed in the striking pink gown. The one with enticing violet eyes that he hadn’t been able to forget. But this woman in the light gray work dress and long brown apron, hair tucked under a white mob cap, was Lady Georgina Desmond.
She stood next to his very glum-looking housekeeper. A housekeeper who had become suspicious of this maid. Or so he’d overheard Turner, his butler, and Hathaway, his valet, talking about a couple of days ago. It appeared the older woman, who had been part of the household staff for over twenty years, had good instincts.
Instead of confronting the woman he’d been searching for, he waited for an explanation.
Mrs. Sternly took hold of Georgina’s arm, firmly enough he suspected would leave bruises, and thrust her into the bookshelf-lined room. He frowned at that but forced himself to remain quiet as she stumbled but didn’t fall. Irritation creased her brow and she mumbled something under her breath in displeasure. He found her attitude intriguing and amusing, though he would not let either of them know it.
“Your Grace, it is your troublesome new housemaid again. Rose. She deserves punishment, and this time it should be by you.”
His mind was awash with confusion. Turner had informed him a while back that he’d had Mrs. Sternly hire a new housemaid. He hadn’t recalled needing another staff member, but let the matter go. The expense was a mere trifle. Rose? If he remembered right, she had signed the agreement Georgina Rose Holton, Lady Desmond. Housemaid? In disguise? What was her game?
Miles kept all his muddled thoughts inside and controlled his expression. “You have punished her before?” How did he feel about that? He knew Mrs. Sternly lived up to her name and managed his female household staff with strict rules. She believed in a wrongdoer paying consequences. He’d not seen or heard of abuses, so he didn’t get involved. Still, this was his future wife.
“Not overly much, Your Grace,” Mrs. Sternly conceded. “Just when necessary.”
Spots of color blossomed on Rose’s fair cheeks and she appeared sheepish. He sensed she wanted to speak, but she remained silent. How had she been disciplined? When? What had she done?
“This is one of those ‘necessary’ times. And you believe whatever she did was bad enough to warrant that I handle the discipline. Am I correct?” It wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with one of the maids. There had been the contrary scullery maid that he’d had to give a caning to more than once before firing her.
“I do, Your Grace.”
Rose’s tempting pink lips pressed together, and her nostrils flared. She wanted to protest yet didn’t. She darted a glance at him and then down at her feet. What was she up to? Playing at being a housemaid in his house, enduring punishment by his less-than-tolerant housekeeper. For whatever reason she was doing this, she appeared determined to keep her charade going. He’d had no one challenge him before, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He’d admired her striving for independence from her father. But how would such daring on her part work in their marriage?
“Rose has only been here three months and she has already broken numerous items. The girl is clumsy, careless.” Mrs. Sternly shot Rose a disgusted look. “She lies, too. Tried to steal one of the silver candlesticks from your bedchamber last week. Claimed she didn’t. But it was in her pocket.”
Did she just growl? Even if he’d been mistaken about that, those violet eyes sparked with indignation.
So, she’d been here three of the months he’d had people searching for her. Right in his own house. Unbelievable. He’d heard about some argument over a candlestick in his room, but had thought nothing of it since it was still there. He needed to pay more attention to what happened in his household. And to who worked here.
“What has she done this time?” He studied the woman who couldn’t have been much over five feet. A good wind would blow her away. She might be diminutive, but she held herself regally, her small chin jutting up. A slip in her intended disguise of a housemaid who should cringe in distress at being brought before her employer.
Mrs. Sternly puffed up in displeasure and blurted, “That exquisite Chinese vase in the drawing room. The one everyone knows only I dust. She broke it. She should not have been working there.”
She faced Rose and shook her head. “I have told her many times to only do the chores assigned to her. Even those chores she struggles to perform.”
The vase had been one of his father’s most prized possessions. If any of the staff even got close to it, his father had lectured them. As long as he’d known, only Mrs. Sternly could dust it. When he’d been eight, his father had caught him about to touch one of the intricate designs one day. He’d gone to bed with a very sore bottom after a blistering lecture too. He hated that vase. Good riddance to it!
Still, she had destroyed a priceless item. Word would spread throughout the house of what had happened, especially if she wasn’t supposed to even be in the room. Clear disobedience to orders. All would expect him to handle this. He had to do something memorable. It didn’t matter that she was his intended bride. Only he was aware of that matter.
Reluctant but resigned, Miles reached into the bottom desk drawer where his father had kept the strap used far too often on him. He pulled out the twenty-inch long piece of heavy cowhide. He saw a surprising mix of regret and approval in Mrs. Sternly’s eyes, and she headed for the door.
“I will leave you to it, then, Your Grace.” She closed the thick double wooden doors as she left the room.
When he focused on Rose, the color had leeched from her face. Her beautiful eyes widened. He saw her shallow breaths as she stared at the hard piece of leather. He’d known that awful sense of dread. Why didn’t she admit her trickery and stop him from punishing her? But that pert chin of hers thrust up again. Determination to not reveal her secret. If she was so set on deceiving him, she could endure his wrath then. Because now he was angry.
“You will come here at once.”
“It was an accident,” she protested at last. Her eyes flashed with irritation.
She’d had her chance to end this and had chosen not to. He nodded toward the desk. “Even so, you were not supposed to be in there.”
She worried her lower lip. “I decided to help a friend who was not feeling well today.”
Her sympathy for someone else touched him, but he had to stand by the staff rules. “Did she ask you to do her work?”
Her shoulders slumped and she heaved a sigh. “No. I just—”
“You have assigned duties, correct? Are they all done for the day? You had so much free time that you did more than asked?” He watched the way she worried her lips again. The desire to put his mouth to hers, to take her in his arms shocked him.
“No, Your Grace, I still have more of my own duties to perform.” Her admission jerked him from his inappropriate thoughts. She met him eye to eye. “I will get them done, have no worry.”
She looked straight at him. She had to see the long scar on the side of his face. He savored her not appearing repulsed. And he almost forgot the entire discipline matter. Almost went to her to pull her into his embrace, admit that he knew her secret.
Her secret. Her intention to keep it renewed his displeasure.
“You will do your chores, yes.” He motioned her forward, holding up the strap. “After I have disciplined you.”
It took her several seconds to approach the desk, her feet seeming to drag with reluctance. She regarded him with concerned eyes, yet she didn’t protest again. Independent and daring. Submissive to an acceptable extent, too. They would get along well in marriage, even if he planned it only to be long enough for her to give him an heir. Then he would either give her whatever she needed to leave and go her own way, without his child, or she could stay in her own wing of this house and lead her own life.
“Turn around and raise your garments. Then bend over the desk.” He moved to stand behind her and smelled the sweat from her work, the hint of dust. She would understand that he intended to thrash her bare bottom. Would she do as he asked? Or would she now resist? He held his breath, waiting.
She hesitated, then tugged up the long day dress, petticoat, and chemise, all well-worn garments, and he wondered where she had gotten them. With some awkwardness, she held them up to lean over the desk. Tucking the wad of fabric under her stomach, she braced herself on her forearms.
He stared at the creamy buttocks that would soon be striped with his lashes. His body hardened and wanted to do something far different with her. His palms grew moist and he nearly dropped the strap. The urge to take her was fierce. He’d gone too long without a willing woman.
“Your Grace?” she whispered, yanking his thoughts back to the reason they were here.
“Ease your feet apart,” he ordered, his voice gruff. As she did and her woman’s place was exposed, he swallowed hard, heart pounding. He needed to get this done, or else he would lose control of his desire and take her hard and fast, right here, right now.
***
Rose felt her face flame in disgrace, and she lowered her head to the desktop. Her father had punished her over the years, a last time before she’d left in the middle of the night. They’d argued about his insistence that she marry the elderly Earl of Ravenshead. He’d punished her for her stubborn refusal, believing a thrashing would change her mind. He’d been so wrong. She hoped never to see the wretch again, or his new bride, Lady Caroline. The self-centered, crafty woman had even watched the thrashing, encouraged it. She doubted either of them really cared that she’d not wed the ancient earl. They’d gotten her out of their home, and that was what they’d wanted.
“I would rather not have had our first meeting be this way,” the Duke of Berkshire said, drawing her back to the unpleasant present. This was the imposing duke, the master of the household. Not the man she’d agreed to marry.
But she’d sensed something hidden in his statement. She couldn’t figure out what, but he sounded more frustrated than simply disciplining one of his staff. “Perhaps we can discuss the situation instead of…”
She heard him blow out a deep breath and wondered even more about his attitude. Why wasn’t he just getting the task done? Why did he appear hesitant?
He moved to her side and placed a big hand in the middle of her back to hold her in place. Still, he didn’t answer right away. “Mrs. Sternly was right to bring you to me. Accident or not, you disobeyed orders and destroyed a priceless vase.”
“I meant no harm, Your Grace. I wanted to help a friend.” She couldn’t deny what she had done. Her tendency to be headstrong rarely worked. This was proof of that.
“Helping someone is commendable.” He laid the cold leather against her bare bottom. “But there are rules in this household. Word will get around about what you did. My dealing with this serious of an infraction is expected.”
Rose understood that and respected his position. She’d done the misdeed and had to pay for her bad decision. At least, her poor bottom would pay. “Get on with this then.” The sooner he did the awful thing, the sooner she could start recovering. The rest of the day would be difficult.
Instead of lifting the strap for a hard strike, he smoothed it slowly across both sensitive buttocks. Then again. The second time he did it, his fingers brushed her skin. She felt a peculiar tingling between her legs. “What… what are you doing?” she gasped.
“Hmmm,” he mumbled, as if he wasn’t aware of what he’d been doing. “Sorry.” He lifted the strap and brought it down in a sizzling strike.
She jerked forward, hissing. Why had he teased her in almost gentleness? Why had he apologized? This all seemed so—
His hand pushed down on her back again and three more rapid strikes landed.
“Aeeiii,” she gritted out, arching into the desk away from the strap.
“A dozen, I believe. Would you like to count them?” Again, he smoothed the heavy leather over her buttocks.
While pain laced her tender bottom, odd quivers again began in her woman’s place. She didn’t understand the reaction. He was disciplining her, but there was something else happening between them. Something fluttered in her stomach, and she whimpered in bewilderment. Finally, she answered his question. “N-no. I would rather not count them.”
“What?” He sounded puzzled and then raised the strap. “Right. The thrashing.”
Had he forgotten what he was doing? How very odd. Had his voice sounded husky?
“Four stripes,” he said and brushed a finger over them, as if to confirm his statement.
Instead of hurting at his touch, she trembled, her breaths shaky. So very confusing. “Your Grace,” she whispered. Was she pleading for him to touch her again? Or urging him to finish this discipline session? She really didn’t know.
His hand pulled away and he cleared his throat. “That leaves eight more, La… Rose.”
Why had he stumbled over her name? Surely he didn’t know her true identity? The thought disappeared as he got down to serious business. She couldn’t lie still, wriggled in misery, kicked out, and nearly bit her lip in two trying to keep from crying out.
The final strike proved her downfall. She cried out her agony, “Aaaaaa!”
“Do not make me do this again,” he growled, tossing the strap to the floor. “You will obey from now on. Understand?”
Her bottom was on fire. Tears streamed down her heated face and she felt truly chastised. “I will… try, Your… Grace,” she vowed on a sob.
His anger of a second before gone, he carefully pulled her to her feet. Hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. “I did not like doing that.”
She flinched as the garments fell into place over her throbbing bottom. Her hands flew back to cover the sting and she glanced up at him to see if he wouldn’t allow it. Her father never approved of rubbing away the pain. Not that it really helped. But the duke’s dark eyes weren’t filled with disapproval. He watched her intently, his gaze heated. His broad chest, covered by a fine white shirt and blue waistcoat, expanded in a deep, shuddering breath. Then he reached out and thumbed away her tears.
“Your Grace?” she asked, baffled by his tender actions.
He blinked at her question and his expression turned unreadable. Stepping away, he ordered, “Back to your duties, Rose.” He emphasized her name in a way that troubled her. “Go. Now.”
Starla Kaye
ISBN 978-1-914301-09-4
Lady Rose’s Secret
Chapter One
Yardley Estate
Berkshire, England
April 1817
Lady Georgina Rose Desmond’s day was taking a turn for the worse. Her life had become complicated four months ago and each new day got more out of control. Many people believed her meek and weak because of her diminutive size. Not so. She considered herself tiny but mighty. It felt like she’d battled through all her two and twenty years and she would keep on battling. Even with this latest disaster she sensed coming.
She shouldn’t be in here. Her housemaid duties didn’t include the drawing room. The maid whose duty was to clean in here wasn’t feeling well today. She hadn’t wanted Fanny to get in more trouble than she already was, so she’d taken some initiative and helped. Mrs. Sternly, the housekeeper, hadn’t asked Rose to do this, which could prove to be a problem later. But she would get her own chores completed.
It was unfortunate that she had a knack for being a tad clumsy, something that annoyed Mrs. Sternly, leading to many lectures and some unpleasant discipline a few times during the three months she’d worked here in secret as a housemaid. This time it wasn’t just clumsiness that plagued her. She’d been fighting a sneezing fit while using the dusty rag. She should have taken it outside and given it a good shaking. Instead, she’d forged ahead with the dusting to get it done quickly and struggled since because of her poor decision.
She glanced around the spacious room. There were several seating areas consisting of velvet settees, handsomely carved and upholstered chairs, and small tables holding exquisite vases of various sizes. So far, she’d had no accidents. Only one superb, hefty vase remained to dust and she would finish this room. Then she could go back to her assigned chores of taking care of the bedrooms and hallways.
Her nose twitched again when she lifted the rag over the marble-topped table. No, no, no! Her hand shook as it drew closer to the vase. No, no, no!
She tried wiggling her nose against the urge to sneeze. Her eyes burned from the battle.
“What are you doing in here?” Mrs. Sternly barked from the doorway. “Are you thinking of stealing His Grace’s treasured vase? Just as you attempted to steal the silver candlestick from his bedchamber last week?”
Surprised, heart pounding as she looked across the room, Rose’s hand hit the side of the vase. A final tiny cloud of dust rose from the rag and tortured her nose again.
Her foe won. She sneezed, closing her eyes for a hairsbreadth of a second. Her hand jerked and sent the wobbling vase off the table before she could attempt to stop it.
“Oh, no!”
The crash of expensive china hitting the wood floor resonated around the elegant room and seemed to echo throughout the entire house. At least to Rose’s horrified ears. But it wasn’t the shattered vase that upset her, it was the unfair accusation.
Heat rising in her cheeks, she sputtered, “I did not steal that candlestick!” The very idea of her stealing anything was ludicrous. Her gaze shifted to what appeared to be a thousand pieces of porcelain near her feet. Cleaning it up would be a trial. “Nor did I intend to steal this vase.”
Mrs. Sternly snorted, her thin lips pressed tight. The fifty-something, contrary woman hadn’t accepted Rose’s explanation for why she’d had the candlestick in her apron pocket last week. She’d had a good reason, but the judgmental woman had deemed her a liar. And “liars” and “potential thieves” received harsh punishment. After the tawsing Rose had received, she’d been quite sore as she’d finished her chores. The next day too. It seemed she’d been judged a liar and a thief again.
“You are an impudent one.” Mrs. Sternly declared it, as if stating a deplorable fact. “I do not tolerate such attitude in this household, nor lying.” She sucked in a deep breath, her buxom form blowing up to stretch the bodice of her gray work dress to its limit. “I do not tolerate disobedience either. You have assigned duties. You do not work in unassigned areas.”
“I did not disobey,” Rose countered, stopping at the housekeeper’s narrowed eyes. “I-I…” She gave up her defense, knowing she had overstepped what they allowed.
At the other woman’s smirk, Rose wanted to try defending herself again, but her nose twitched in warning. She scrunched it and held her breath, hoping to fend off another sneeze. She couldn’t stop it and it came out in a most unladylike manner, earning another disapproving glower from the housekeeper.
“This is your second breakage in a week. Unacceptable. And costly.” Mrs. Sternly had reached her limit of tolerance for anything dealing with Rose. “You will take yourself to His Grace’s library. Immediately.”
Although another session with the housekeeper’s tawse was something to dread, Rose feared the duke’s treatment could be far worse. So far, she had had no interactions with him besides passing him in the hallway one time. Since she’d come here in disguise to get to know him before making an ultimate decision that would change both of their lives, she didn’t want to see him now.
“Must we bother His Grace with this?” She swallowed her pride and pressed, “Could we not just go to your office again?” She didn’t voice the rest of her thought, that Mrs. Sternly perform whatever discipline she felt necessary.
The stout woman shifted in the doorway and pointed a pudgy finger to the hallway. “You will do as I say.” Their gazes met. “Unless you would like a few lashes of the tawse after whatever His Grace does.”
Rose wanted to protest all of it, protect her poor bottom. If she ended her farce… But the time for admitting her secret wasn’t right. She needed to know more about the man known for intimidating others by just narrowing his devilish black eyes. And his portrait in the gallery reinforced the image of a dark and brooding man. Add to that, his reputation in London society was enough to frighten off most people, most women. She wasn’t like most women. She observed, analyzed, and made her own judgments. In her opinion, rumors and gossip could not be trusted. Her gut told her there was more to the Duke of Berkshire than he shared, or that others noted.
She stopped her musings and continued her charade, even if it meant facing the grim side of her employer. The man she’d never met but had agreed to marry. By her stipulations, not his. Again, her instincts told her they needed each other. He just didn’t know that yet.
With a curt nod of acceptance, she walked with a nervous stomach from the room. The enormous manor house felt cold, unfriendly. From the second she’d arrived at Yardley Estate, she’d sensed this had never been a house of happiness. The walls had never echoed with laughter. As difficult as her life had been with her gruff father, there had been times of warmth and joy in their house. Rare times. When her mother was alive. The changes there after her death in yet another failed childbirth were part of why Rose had left and concocted this plan, one that proved unpleasant at times such as this.
Head high, she marched in resignation through the house ahead of Mrs. Sternly. Other than the rigid and grumpy housekeeper, the other staff members got along well. It had surprised them when she’d showed up on the doorstep one breezy, frigid February afternoon asking to work here. In her determined way, she’d taken a chance. The butler had met her at the massive front doors. He’d taken in her weary face, faded and dirty dress peeking out of the ragged wool coat, and the worn satchel she’d carried. His confused frown had changed into a warm smile, and he’d led her straight to Mrs. Sternly. Ignoring her irritated look, he’d informed her His Grace had told him he had been seeking another housemaid. Turner had been her first friend here. This house and those who lived here needed her. She knew it soul deep.
Why was she thinking about that now when she would soon experience the Duke of Berkshire’s wrath? Even with what she faced, and intending to keep her secret, she looked forward to seeing him in person. Since they’d never met, he wouldn’t recognize her. The woman to whom he’d had his solicitor deliver an offer of a rather complicated marriage of convenience. A dozen pages of his terms, his requirements of her, and what he would provide for her in exchange. Utter nonsense, in her opinion. Yet from what a few of her trusted friends had told her about past dealings with him, she’d suspected those pages of legal talk hid a guarded heart. A wounded one, like hers. And that was why she’d signed the papers, then added her own twist. She would discover the truth behind the man before she married him on her terms.
***
Miles Yardley wasn’t in the best of moods. He’d spent several hours that morning there in his library, trying to make sense of some reports he’d received from his London solicitor. The man had hired an investigator on his behalf to track down the missing Lady Georgina Desmond. She had given her agreement to his marriage offer over four months ago. And then she had sent him word that she would see him sometime this fall. Sometime? Unacceptable.
He ground his teeth in annoyance, still unable to believe her daring. She intended to spend the summer with an elderly widowed aunt in Scotland. An aunt who didn’t exist, so he’d learned. She’d lied and disappeared. He’d heard via his solicitor and London gossip that neither her disagreeable father, the Earl of Desmond, nor her friends knew where she’d gone.
He sat back in his desk chair and it gave a soft creak. He closed his eyes. A headache pounded at his temple. His life had never been easy. This was just another frustration to add to everything else that weighed on him as a prominent duke with large landholdings. He didn’t want to get married, but it was necessary. For his estate to carry on, his lineage must carry on. He needed at least an heir. A spare would be good too. He had no use for a wife otherwise. The women in his household worked quietly, caused him no grief. Except for one scullery maid who was no longer here. Besides these women he barely knew but lived with, women were a bother.
His jaw tightened, as he remembered the last woman he’d proposed to. She’d not taken one second to think about his powerful position and what he could offer her. She’d refused, her look telling him he was crazy to think any woman would want him. At one time he’d had many ladies desiring him. Before the Battle of Waterloo. Before having the left side of his face sliced, leaving him with a long, thin scar that repelled women. Not that he had a problem finding a willing mistress when he desired one. He was a passionate lover, and his lovers appreciated his generous gifts. Finding a wife had proven to be a trial he couldn’t endure.
Miles blew out a frustrated breath and sat straighter, stacking together the reports he’d spread out. He needed an heir, and he was getting older, two and thirty. Through his connections, he’d heard about Lady Georgina Desmond and her problem with her father, who he had never met. The Earl of Desmond had long been a pompous ass with few friends among the ton. After the death of his first wife, he’d sought and found a much younger second wife. The greedy woman wanted Georgina out of her house. So, her father planned to force his only daughter—only child—to marry an ancient earl by some means of blackmail. Except she’d refused to cooperate and had moved in with a friend in London.
Soon after learning about her, Miles had seen her from a distance at a London ball he’d heard she would be attending. Petite and spirited had been the impression he’d gotten. Far different from him. She had danced and laughed with many a dashing rake that night. Yet she had allowed each only one dance. And she’d not appeared interested in any of them. The one time she’d swirled by him without even glancing in his direction, he’d seen something she tried to keep hidden in her surprising violet eyes. A hint of sadness. It had touched him. He hadn’t been able to forget it or her. In that instant, he’d desired her with a fierceness he’d never experienced before.
Which led him to this idea that his solicitor thought was insane. Crazy or not, he saw it as the answer they both needed. He needed a respectable wife his peers would accept to give him an heir and nothing more. She needed rid of her father’s threat so she could live the life she wanted. If she gave him a child, Miles would let her lead whatever life she wanted. As long as…
They would sort all of that out.
“Bloody hell!” He growled and pounded his fist on the desktop, scattering the papers again. She’d given her agreement. He had her signature on the complicated document in his desk drawer. She’d given her word and she needed to stand by it. When he promised something, he stood by it.
Where the bloody hell was she?
Chapter Two
And there she stood in the doorway of his library. Not the lively, youthful beauty with pale blonde hair done up in long ringlets that had brushed her bare shoulders. The woman who had caught the approving eye of every man there at the ball with her trim form and plump breasts displayed in the striking pink gown. The one with enticing violet eyes that he hadn’t been able to forget. But this woman in the light gray work dress and long brown apron, hair tucked under a white mob cap, was Lady Georgina Desmond.
She stood next to his very glum-looking housekeeper. A housekeeper who had become suspicious of this maid. Or so he’d overheard Turner, his butler, and Hathaway, his valet, talking about a couple of days ago. It appeared the older woman, who had been part of the household staff for over twenty years, had good instincts.
Instead of confronting the woman he’d been searching for, he waited for an explanation.
Mrs. Sternly took hold of Georgina’s arm, firmly enough he suspected would leave bruises, and thrust her into the bookshelf-lined room. He frowned at that but forced himself to remain quiet as she stumbled but didn’t fall. Irritation creased her brow and she mumbled something under her breath in displeasure. He found her attitude intriguing and amusing, though he would not let either of them know it.
“Your Grace, it is your troublesome new housemaid again. Rose. She deserves punishment, and this time it should be by you.”
His mind was awash with confusion. Turner had informed him a while back that he’d had Mrs. Sternly hire a new housemaid. He hadn’t recalled needing another staff member, but let the matter go. The expense was a mere trifle. Rose? If he remembered right, she had signed the agreement Georgina Rose Holton, Lady Desmond. Housemaid? In disguise? What was her game?
Miles kept all his muddled thoughts inside and controlled his expression. “You have punished her before?” How did he feel about that? He knew Mrs. Sternly lived up to her name and managed his female household staff with strict rules. She believed in a wrongdoer paying consequences. He’d not seen or heard of abuses, so he didn’t get involved. Still, this was his future wife.
“Not overly much, Your Grace,” Mrs. Sternly conceded. “Just when necessary.”
Spots of color blossomed on Rose’s fair cheeks and she appeared sheepish. He sensed she wanted to speak, but she remained silent. How had she been disciplined? When? What had she done?
“This is one of those ‘necessary’ times. And you believe whatever she did was bad enough to warrant that I handle the discipline. Am I correct?” It wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with one of the maids. There had been the contrary scullery maid that he’d had to give a caning to more than once before firing her.
“I do, Your Grace.”
Rose’s tempting pink lips pressed together, and her nostrils flared. She wanted to protest yet didn’t. She darted a glance at him and then down at her feet. What was she up to? Playing at being a housemaid in his house, enduring punishment by his less-than-tolerant housekeeper. For whatever reason she was doing this, she appeared determined to keep her charade going. He’d had no one challenge him before, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He’d admired her striving for independence from her father. But how would such daring on her part work in their marriage?
“Rose has only been here three months and she has already broken numerous items. The girl is clumsy, careless.” Mrs. Sternly shot Rose a disgusted look. “She lies, too. Tried to steal one of the silver candlesticks from your bedchamber last week. Claimed she didn’t. But it was in her pocket.”
Did she just growl? Even if he’d been mistaken about that, those violet eyes sparked with indignation.
So, she’d been here three of the months he’d had people searching for her. Right in his own house. Unbelievable. He’d heard about some argument over a candlestick in his room, but had thought nothing of it since it was still there. He needed to pay more attention to what happened in his household. And to who worked here.
“What has she done this time?” He studied the woman who couldn’t have been much over five feet. A good wind would blow her away. She might be diminutive, but she held herself regally, her small chin jutting up. A slip in her intended disguise of a housemaid who should cringe in distress at being brought before her employer.
Mrs. Sternly puffed up in displeasure and blurted, “That exquisite Chinese vase in the drawing room. The one everyone knows only I dust. She broke it. She should not have been working there.”
She faced Rose and shook her head. “I have told her many times to only do the chores assigned to her. Even those chores she struggles to perform.”
The vase had been one of his father’s most prized possessions. If any of the staff even got close to it, his father had lectured them. As long as he’d known, only Mrs. Sternly could dust it. When he’d been eight, his father had caught him about to touch one of the intricate designs one day. He’d gone to bed with a very sore bottom after a blistering lecture too. He hated that vase. Good riddance to it!
Still, she had destroyed a priceless item. Word would spread throughout the house of what had happened, especially if she wasn’t supposed to even be in the room. Clear disobedience to orders. All would expect him to handle this. He had to do something memorable. It didn’t matter that she was his intended bride. Only he was aware of that matter.
Reluctant but resigned, Miles reached into the bottom desk drawer where his father had kept the strap used far too often on him. He pulled out the twenty-inch long piece of heavy cowhide. He saw a surprising mix of regret and approval in Mrs. Sternly’s eyes, and she headed for the door.
“I will leave you to it, then, Your Grace.” She closed the thick double wooden doors as she left the room.
When he focused on Rose, the color had leeched from her face. Her beautiful eyes widened. He saw her shallow breaths as she stared at the hard piece of leather. He’d known that awful sense of dread. Why didn’t she admit her trickery and stop him from punishing her? But that pert chin of hers thrust up again. Determination to not reveal her secret. If she was so set on deceiving him, she could endure his wrath then. Because now he was angry.
“You will come here at once.”
“It was an accident,” she protested at last. Her eyes flashed with irritation.
She’d had her chance to end this and had chosen not to. He nodded toward the desk. “Even so, you were not supposed to be in there.”
She worried her lower lip. “I decided to help a friend who was not feeling well today.”
Her sympathy for someone else touched him, but he had to stand by the staff rules. “Did she ask you to do her work?”
Her shoulders slumped and she heaved a sigh. “No. I just—”
“You have assigned duties, correct? Are they all done for the day? You had so much free time that you did more than asked?” He watched the way she worried her lips again. The desire to put his mouth to hers, to take her in his arms shocked him.
“No, Your Grace, I still have more of my own duties to perform.” Her admission jerked him from his inappropriate thoughts. She met him eye to eye. “I will get them done, have no worry.”
She looked straight at him. She had to see the long scar on the side of his face. He savored her not appearing repulsed. And he almost forgot the entire discipline matter. Almost went to her to pull her into his embrace, admit that he knew her secret.
Her secret. Her intention to keep it renewed his displeasure.
“You will do your chores, yes.” He motioned her forward, holding up the strap. “After I have disciplined you.”
It took her several seconds to approach the desk, her feet seeming to drag with reluctance. She regarded him with concerned eyes, yet she didn’t protest again. Independent and daring. Submissive to an acceptable extent, too. They would get along well in marriage, even if he planned it only to be long enough for her to give him an heir. Then he would either give her whatever she needed to leave and go her own way, without his child, or she could stay in her own wing of this house and lead her own life.
“Turn around and raise your garments. Then bend over the desk.” He moved to stand behind her and smelled the sweat from her work, the hint of dust. She would understand that he intended to thrash her bare bottom. Would she do as he asked? Or would she now resist? He held his breath, waiting.
She hesitated, then tugged up the long day dress, petticoat, and chemise, all well-worn garments, and he wondered where she had gotten them. With some awkwardness, she held them up to lean over the desk. Tucking the wad of fabric under her stomach, she braced herself on her forearms.
He stared at the creamy buttocks that would soon be striped with his lashes. His body hardened and wanted to do something far different with her. His palms grew moist and he nearly dropped the strap. The urge to take her was fierce. He’d gone too long without a willing woman.
“Your Grace?” she whispered, yanking his thoughts back to the reason they were here.
“Ease your feet apart,” he ordered, his voice gruff. As she did and her woman’s place was exposed, he swallowed hard, heart pounding. He needed to get this done, or else he would lose control of his desire and take her hard and fast, right here, right now.
***
Rose felt her face flame in disgrace, and she lowered her head to the desktop. Her father had punished her over the years, a last time before she’d left in the middle of the night. They’d argued about his insistence that she marry the elderly Earl of Ravenshead. He’d punished her for her stubborn refusal, believing a thrashing would change her mind. He’d been so wrong. She hoped never to see the wretch again, or his new bride, Lady Caroline. The self-centered, crafty woman had even watched the thrashing, encouraged it. She doubted either of them really cared that she’d not wed the ancient earl. They’d gotten her out of their home, and that was what they’d wanted.
“I would rather not have had our first meeting be this way,” the Duke of Berkshire said, drawing her back to the unpleasant present. This was the imposing duke, the master of the household. Not the man she’d agreed to marry.
But she’d sensed something hidden in his statement. She couldn’t figure out what, but he sounded more frustrated than simply disciplining one of his staff. “Perhaps we can discuss the situation instead of…”
She heard him blow out a deep breath and wondered even more about his attitude. Why wasn’t he just getting the task done? Why did he appear hesitant?
He moved to her side and placed a big hand in the middle of her back to hold her in place. Still, he didn’t answer right away. “Mrs. Sternly was right to bring you to me. Accident or not, you disobeyed orders and destroyed a priceless vase.”
“I meant no harm, Your Grace. I wanted to help a friend.” She couldn’t deny what she had done. Her tendency to be headstrong rarely worked. This was proof of that.
“Helping someone is commendable.” He laid the cold leather against her bare bottom. “But there are rules in this household. Word will get around about what you did. My dealing with this serious of an infraction is expected.”
Rose understood that and respected his position. She’d done the misdeed and had to pay for her bad decision. At least, her poor bottom would pay. “Get on with this then.” The sooner he did the awful thing, the sooner she could start recovering. The rest of the day would be difficult.
Instead of lifting the strap for a hard strike, he smoothed it slowly across both sensitive buttocks. Then again. The second time he did it, his fingers brushed her skin. She felt a peculiar tingling between her legs. “What… what are you doing?” she gasped.
“Hmmm,” he mumbled, as if he wasn’t aware of what he’d been doing. “Sorry.” He lifted the strap and brought it down in a sizzling strike.
She jerked forward, hissing. Why had he teased her in almost gentleness? Why had he apologized? This all seemed so—
His hand pushed down on her back again and three more rapid strikes landed.
“Aeeiii,” she gritted out, arching into the desk away from the strap.
“A dozen, I believe. Would you like to count them?” Again, he smoothed the heavy leather over her buttocks.
While pain laced her tender bottom, odd quivers again began in her woman’s place. She didn’t understand the reaction. He was disciplining her, but there was something else happening between them. Something fluttered in her stomach, and she whimpered in bewilderment. Finally, she answered his question. “N-no. I would rather not count them.”
“What?” He sounded puzzled and then raised the strap. “Right. The thrashing.”
Had he forgotten what he was doing? How very odd. Had his voice sounded husky?
“Four stripes,” he said and brushed a finger over them, as if to confirm his statement.
Instead of hurting at his touch, she trembled, her breaths shaky. So very confusing. “Your Grace,” she whispered. Was she pleading for him to touch her again? Or urging him to finish this discipline session? She really didn’t know.
His hand pulled away and he cleared his throat. “That leaves eight more, La… Rose.”
Why had he stumbled over her name? Surely he didn’t know her true identity? The thought disappeared as he got down to serious business. She couldn’t lie still, wriggled in misery, kicked out, and nearly bit her lip in two trying to keep from crying out.
The final strike proved her downfall. She cried out her agony, “Aaaaaa!”
“Do not make me do this again,” he growled, tossing the strap to the floor. “You will obey from now on. Understand?”
Her bottom was on fire. Tears streamed down her heated face and she felt truly chastised. “I will… try, Your… Grace,” she vowed on a sob.
His anger of a second before gone, he carefully pulled her to her feet. Hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. “I did not like doing that.”
She flinched as the garments fell into place over her throbbing bottom. Her hands flew back to cover the sting and she glanced up at him to see if he wouldn’t allow it. Her father never approved of rubbing away the pain. Not that it really helped. But the duke’s dark eyes weren’t filled with disapproval. He watched her intently, his gaze heated. His broad chest, covered by a fine white shirt and blue waistcoat, expanded in a deep, shuddering breath. Then he reached out and thumbed away her tears.
“Your Grace?” she asked, baffled by his tender actions.
He blinked at her question and his expression turned unreadable. Stepping away, he ordered, “Back to your duties, Rose.” He emphasized her name in a way that troubled her. “Go. Now.”
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