“Perhaps the dogs…” she began weakly.
“Curse the dogs.”
She fell silent. He faced her with his hands braced on his hips.
“Explain yourself,” he demanded. “Explain why you believed you might disregard my very reasonable request that you not explore on your own.”
“At home, I was accustomed to exploring alone.”
“Your father’s gardens in Reading are neither as extensive nor as wild as Somerton’s forests.”
“That is true, but I…”
She lost her voice at his worsening scowl. It was true that it was not precisely safe to plunge into wild woods without an escort. She might be injured and need help, for all her care to step cautiously.
“I am so sorry,” she said, ready to admit defeat. “It’s true I have disobeyed your wishes, and I should not have, but I’ve always preferred to walk about alone. When your men come with me, they’re noisy and clumsy without meaning to be. A group of people creates too much disturbance and I’ve no chance to observe any animals.”
“Then tell them to be quieter. You’re mistress of this manor, same as I’m the master.”
“I could not scold your servants, sir,” she said, horrified. “I’m too shy.”
“You’re hardly shy. If you can protest animal treatment outside the Exeter Exchange, you can tell a footman to step more lightly.”
By now all the animals had fled this area, due to her husband’s strident voice. She wished she could flee as well. He was very unhappy with her, for good cause.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I am very, very sorry. I didn’t think…”
“You didn’t think I’d find out? Does that make it all right?”
She bowed her head. “No, my lord.”
He made a frustrated sound at her show of penitence. “Back to ‘my lording’ me now that you’re in trouble. Your apologies are very pretty, but they are not enough.”
She watched with her heart in her throat as he stepped to a nearby ash tree and snapped off a slender branch. “If you will not listen to my words,” he said, “perhaps this bit of nature applied to your backside will teach you the error of your ways.”
Jane opened her mouth to plead, to beg him to reconsider punishing her. To promise that this time, next time, every time after now she would obey and take someone with her on her adventures, but she knew it would do her no good. Instead, she stared at the switch in his hand and thought how awful it was going to feel.
“Come along,” he said. “I’ll ride you back.”
He lifted her onto his horse, and she struggled to arrange her skirt and cloak over her knees as he seated himself behind her. His arms came around her to hold her safe. She would have enjoyed the protected feeling of his embrace if he didn’t also have the switch in one hand, the slender punishment implement rising right before her face.
I don’t want this. It’s going to hurt. But she deserved it. How foolish she’d been to bend the rules, knowing what a stickler for obedience her husband was. Other husbands might only rail and rant for a moment and let her off with a warning to do better, but Edward was not that type.
She sat very straight in the saddle as they rode back through the woods toward the manor house, right into the stables, where he had her hold the switch while he tended to his stallion. All the stable men saw her, though they pretended not to. She flushed a thousand shades of red and didn’t know where to look as he marched her back through the courtyard and into the main door of the house. At the door, he took the switch back from her sweating palm.
“Up to your bedroom,” he said, pointing to the stairs.
She climbed with heavy footfalls, fighting tears. He came behind her, and she didn’t have to turn around to know he still wore his dark frown.
Why had she been so stupid? Why?
When she opened the door to her rooms, Matilda took one look at them and made herself scarce. Edward led her through to her bedroom and shut the door behind him. She faced him as he removed his riding coat.
“Take off your cloak, Jane,” he ordered.
She did so, slowly and disconsolately. Maybe if she looked sorry enough, her husband would relent.
He did not relent. He guided her toward the bed and tapped the top of her footboard with the switch. “These beds, yours and mine, are very meaningful to our marriage. They’re the place we lie together, the place we’ll make children. They’re also the place where you’ll pay your toll for poor behavior. Both my footboard and yours are padded on top so you might be punished bending over it when necessary. Do you believe this is one of those times?”
“I… Well…” She stared at the padded, upholstered top. She’d thought it was merely a decorative choice, but no, it was meant for punishment, for spanking or worse. Her very bed—and his—was designed for corporal punishment. “I think I did not behave well.”