“How is your letter coming?” her husband asked. She could hear the teasing beneath his tone.
“I am nearly finished.” She looked down at the rather scattered niceties she’d composed so far.
“I would like to read it before you post it, as usual.”
She lost herself a moment in the dark depths of his gaze. “If you wish. But, as usual, I have not written anything negative about you.”
His smiled widened. “A difficult task indeed.”
She laughed at his teasing expression. Had she ever laughed so much in her life? She was coming to appreciate his dry, often ridiculous humor and enjoy his many jokes.
“Well, there are certain matters I cannot discuss with them,” she said, attempting her own joke. “And those would be the matters where I could righteously complain of your faults.”
He rewarded her with a great burst of mirth. The sound rang from the high ceilings and she grinned so wide she covered her mouth in a wave of shyness. She didn’t know if he really found her jokes funny, or only laughed at them because she’d grown brave enough to make the clumsy attempts.
He looked back at his papers and she bent back over her letter, checking it to be sure she hadn’t said anything remiss about Lord Townsend. From the start he had forbidden her to send any letters without his permission, and without them being read first by him. She supposed it was because she had threatened to tell her father and brother what a monster he was, but she’d never do that now.
After composing a few more lines of daughterly news and affection, Aurelia put the last flourishing touches to her signature, then sanded the paper dry.
He looked up as she approached him with the letter, and opened his arms.
She allowed herself to be drawn into his lap. They used to spend this time after dinner in their separate places, in entirely different areas of the house. She used to hide away from him like the mouse everyone assumed her to be, but she enjoyed this better, being close to him. She leaned back against his chest and nestled her head beneath his chin. He assisted in arranging her skirts, murmuring in a gentlemanly fashion about the prettiness of her gown, and then held up the letter before him.
“Let me see.” He made a great show of squinting at her handwriting, although she knew it to be perfectly neat and ladylike. “Dear Mama and Papa...” He squeezed her lightly. “An estimable beginning.”
She giggled at his silliness. “It is a very standard beginning, I believe.”
He read on in his deep, rumbling voice. “I was delighted to receive your letter. Everything continues lovely in Berkshire. You would be impressed indeed with Somerton. There are fields and beautiful gardens turning all the colors of autumn, and a great stately home with windows to the loveliest views. You must come and visit when you may. Good lord,” he muttered. “Let us hope they stay too busy.”
“But I would like to see them!”
“So you may return to being their prim, miserable daughter, after all the strides we’ve made? I think not.” He kissed her on the nose, an innocuously tender gesture after the anger in his voice. “You may invite them, of course. But if they come, I’ll find some way to be in London on business.”
“What if they come for weeks?” she asked.
“Then I’ll jump off the north tower,” he said with a sigh. “What else have you written in this pinnacle of a letter? Townsend is well. He stays busy with his duties and takes time to spend with me as well. He is congenial and courteous in all things.” He snorted. “What a bounder, Aurelia. You do not mention here that I spank you nightly, sometimes until you cry.”
“I can add it as a post-script,” she said, pretending to take the letter.
He made a quelling sound and lifted it out of reach. When she resettled against him, he resumed where he had left off. “Kind and patient in all things. Blah blah blah. We had pheasant for dinner last night. It was delicious. Townsend’s cock came with us from London.”
“Cook,” she corrected him.
“Oh, I thought things were finally getting interesting.” He pointed to the word in question. “That looks very much like a c.”
“It is an o,” she said firmly.
He rolled his eyes. “Townsend’s cook came with us from London. It wasn’t a very long ride from his city home, only a day’s journey. His traveling carriage is much like papa’s finest rig, only done in ivory rather than pale blue. I believe the seats are also not quite as wide. This is gripping stuff, my darling. Your parents will love this letter. But why do you only talk about my cook and my carriage,” he asked, peering down at her, “and say nothing about me?”
She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. His mouth curved in a smile.
“Give my love to Brendan and Georgina, and be assured...” He paused, his gaze lingering on the page. “Be assured that I am eminently happy here with Townsend. He has proved a respectable sort of husband with a great facility for kindness. He makes me smile every day.” He looked down at her with a glint of something indefinable in his eyes. A muscle ticked in his firm, strong jaw, and his hand moved a little where it rested on her back.
“Will it do?” she asked, feeling shy.
He looked back at the letter. “Well, I think it very poor that there is no mention whatsoever of the grasshopper, or its churlish attempt at escape, or our valiant struggle to recapture it unharmed. But such subversive activities might well send Duchess Lansing into a swoon, or cause her to come charging over here to rescue you, so perhaps you are a good daughter for omitting that tale.”
He lifted her from his lap, and she followed him over to his desk, where he folded the letter and sealed it by imprinting the Townsend crest in wax.
“Very prettily written, my love. Mama and Papa will be in ecstasies when they receive it.” He placed it on the pile with his other correspondence. “Perhaps as a reward, we’ll postpone tonight’s spanking and begin with some fun.” He sat back in the upholstered leather desk chair and pulled her closer. “Let’s practice what you’ve been learning. Kneel down.”
“Here?” She glanced toward the open door.
“Yes, here. No one will enter unless I summon them.”
Aurelia feared she gave him a very ungracious look as she sank to her knees before him.
“No. Stop.” He lifted her up again. “You know that was not fetchingly done. Whether or not you agree with my directions, you must obey me in a respectful way. How should you look? How should you reply when I direct you?”
She bit her lip. “I should say, ‘As you wish, my lord.’”
“With more docility, if you please, or you will have that spanking first after all.”
“As you wish, my lord,” she attempted again, with more sweet submissiveness in her tone.
He nodded, and she reached to unbutton the flap of his breeches. She had become somewhat more comfortable around his large, thick rod. Somewhat.
In truth, her husband lay with her every day, sometimes more than once a day, and they did this too now—every day. She might have complained about so much oral copulation if she didn’t fear what type of copulation he intended to teach her next. He alluded to it, toying occasionally with her bottom hole, making descriptive promises that sounded more like threats. She hoped if she kept him satisfied enough in this way he might postpone or forget completely about the other things he wanted to do to her.
But another part of her knew that would never happen.
She freed the evidence of his virility and dutifully caressed it with her mouth and lips. Grunts and sighs accompanied softly spoken instructions to lick this or pay more attention to that, or suck harder, or pump him faster. Sometimes he held her head and controlled her movements, but other times he was very still and left her on her own to try to please him.
She wondered how long he would take this night, and whether she’d be able to bring him to completion. The last couple times she had, even though it had taken an interminable amount of time, and then he’d spent inside her mouth, which had appalled her. But when he warned her that she must not spit it out, but swallow it down, she had done so because of the sharp insistence in his voice.
He brushed fingers through her hair, gave a soft moan, then called out, “Landon.”
Aurelia froze. Why was he calling one of the footmen? His fingers traced down to cup the back of her neck, preventing her from drawing back the way she wished.
“He won’t be able to see you,” he said beneath his breath. “Continue, please.”
Aurelia felt that she would choke. He held her trapped, his rod nearly to the back of her throat, forcing her to breathe through her nose. But if she choked, surely the servant would hear that. She moved her tongue a little and swallowed, and as she hoped, he loosened his grip.
“Will you deliver this note to the kitchen,” she heard him say, “and have the requested items brought back here at once?”
He cannot see me here crouched under the desk, she thought over and over, to keep the panic at bay. But she thought the servant must sense she was there, because her heart beat so loudly. Townsend’s fingers massaged her neck, urging her to continue what she was supposed to be doing.
And she did, because she had become so very depraved indeed.