The irony of her situation was not lost on Cynny. A little slip of paper with a letter on it from Cammie was found easily, and unintentionally, while the gold watch that she had hidden in what she thought was plain sight was yet to be found. For over one week she had been waiting for someone to discover Papa’s watch, which she had placed behind the leg of a couch in the drawing room assuming it would be retrieved quickly. Papa would believe it had been misplaced. He would be happy to have it back, she would be relieved to no longer have the worry of it, and Papa would be none the wiser. He could continue on blissfully believing The Weasels were a figment of her vivid imagination.

But no. Apparently the good people of Grayson House did not have the proclivity for nosiness and concealing things that prevailed at Talcott House. Daisy would have ferreted out that watch before the sun had set the day it was hidden. Perhaps that was one of the many differences between those who had lived in refined homes, even as servants, and those who had scraped and thieved for their existence like Cynny had.

The letter had been found and she was in the naughty chair, her tummy knotted up wondering what would happen to her when Papa returned. It was probably not such a great mystery, given his propensity for butt plugs and spankings.

Papa had gone to show the letter to Cammie’s papa. Oh, the knot in her stomach got bigger. She did not imagine that Cammie’s papa would take any more kindly to the letter than her papa had. Did Cammie’s papa know about butt plugs? For Cammie’s sake, she hoped he did not.

Yes, she had to admit the butt plug aroused her in a most embarrassing way, as did taking her papa’s cock into her back hole, but that still did not make it any less humiliating to have to bend over and hold her bottom cheeks apart while Papa massaged the salve into her little pucker, stroking his fingers in and out of her tight hole. He said it was to help her get ready for the plug or his cock, but she often heard his breathing get heavier while he did it, so she was not so sure Papa was only thinking of her comfort at those times.

Her comfort. Misery washed over her in a wave. Sitting in the naughty chair was likely to be the most comfort she would experience for quite some time. Even after Papa’s punishment ended, she knew the sting would linger in her backside for a long time. It reminded her of the time when she had to sleep on her tummy after Miss Wickersham put that awful piece of ginger root in her hiney hole.

Despite her worries over her pending discipline, Cynny could not help feeling anxious about the watch. While Papa was gone, she could go and move it to some place where it would be found. Leaving the naughty chair was a big no-no, but, she reasoned, she already had a harsh punishment looming on the horizon so what difference would it make if he caught her disobeying his instructions? Besides, she was confident she would be able to make her way to the drawing room, hide the watch in plain sight and get back to the naughty chair before Papa returned.

She had no idea where Cammie lived, but London was a big city and it was not as though Ashton Manor, Cammie’s new home, was right around the corner.

Screwing up her courage, she slipped from the chair and made her way to the door. Opening it slowly so as not to make a noise, she peeked into the hallway. Seeing it was empty, she scurried down the stairs and into the drawing room. The tables were shiny and polished to a high gloss. The maids were thorough, yet none of them had found that watch. She glanced about the room and spied a new hiding place on the mantle. Surely someone would see it there. Heart pounding, she rushed to the couch, knelt down and reached behind the leg where she had placed it.

Nothing.

She laid upon the carpet and swung her arm all around the leg in case the watch had been dislodged, but she did not find it. Shoving her face beneath the couch, she searched desperately for any sign of the golden timepiece. Frantic, she inched her way further down the dark area under the sofa. Oh please, she prayed. I have to find that watch and leave it for someone to find. I promise never to ask for anything else ever again.

Despite her heartfelt pleas, the area beneath the couch was empty.

With a sigh of resignation, she made to work her way backward and out from under the furniture. She had no idea how much time had passed since she entered the room and she dared not be away from the naughty chair a moment longer than necessary. She had just about emerged from beneath the sofa when strong fingers gripped her ankle and gave a firm tug.

Papa had returned.

* * *

Grayson did not know which was more gut wrenching — the fact that Cynny had lied to his face about not having any secrets from him, or the fact that despite his explicit instructions, she had left the naughty chair in order to hide under the couch in the drawing room. Did she also think he was too foolish not to find her? Her diminutive body did make it possible for her to crawl under the furniture, but did she think he would not look for her? Not go to the ends of the earth to find her? Not because of his desire to inflict punishment, but because she was his very heart and soul. He shuddered to imagine his life without her, without her sweet submission and ready passion.

He had believed she felt the same about him, but her deception and disobedience gave him serious pause.

After his visit with Lord Cavendish, whom he found he liked quite well, Grayson had headed back home with the intention of giving Cynny a hearty spanking and a stern lecture about honesty.

When he walked into his library and saw the naughty chair was empty, his heart plunged. Had she run away? Most distressing, she had not trusted him enough to stay and face her punishment. Did she think him a barbarian? Cruel and heartless?

He reached for his pocket watch and cursed. Though it had been several weeks, the decades long habit of checking the hour remained. Regardless, he did not think sufficient time had passed for her to go far. He called for Reynolds, the butler.

“I have not seen Lady Grayson, my lord,” he said, “though I did hear some odd noises coming from the drawing room which I had intended to investigate when you called for me.”

Grayson thanked him and set off on an ungentlemanly trot for the drawing room. Assuming his little scamp of a bride might be up to something, he had opened the door carefully and glanced about the room. At first, he had not seen her or noticed anything amiss, until a closer look at the sofa revealed his wife’s protruding ankles.

He towered above her, hands on hips, a variety of emotions battling within him. He was hurt, angry and disappointed, to say the least. But looking down at his little wife, her eyes wide with surprise, her breath shallow pants and her hair loosened from the braids he had managed to weave that morning, little wisps of her golden tresses glinting in the sunlight. Bloody hell, she was adorable.

Regardless, she had behaved atrociously and it was his duty to enforce the rules of the household.

She had not uttered a sound since he pulled her out from under the couch. He had not spoken either. Apparently they both were at a loss for words.

He took the lead. “I am very disappointed in you, Hyacinth.” It was a simple, honest statement, and he watched as sadness flickered across her face.

“I am sorry, Papa,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Her lips quivered and she blinked back tears. “I-I never meant to disappoint you.”

“Did you not think that disobeying my instructions would disappoint me?”

“Yes, but I planned to be back before … oh…” her voice trailed off.

“So it would not be disappointing for you to disobey me as long as I did not find out? Did we not have a discussion this very morning about secrets and the importance of being honest with each other?”

“Yes.”

“And did you not promise you were not hiding anything else?”

“Yes.”

“Damn it, Hyacinth, have you nothing else to say for yourself, to explain yourself, besides ‘yes’?”

“Papa?” she asked. “M-may I get up from the floor, please?”

“Of course.” He reached down and lifted her to her feet, her small body trembling in his hands. It reminded him of their first carriage ride after their impromptu marriage. “Hyacinth,” he said, taking her hand in his, “are you afraid?”

“A little, P-papa.” She glanced up at him, trepidation in her eyes.

“Do you recall our wedding day, Cynny, when I said you needn’t fear me?”

“Yes, Papa. But I have been very naughty and I know I deserve a stern punishment.”

“Oh, you will be punished, you may rely on it. And it will be painful. But, I would never do anything to cause you serious harm, do you understand the difference, Cynny?”

“Y-yes, Papa. I believe so,” she said, though her voice quivered.

He drew her close to him. “This afternoon is going to be difficult for both of us. I do not enjoy disciplining you, little girl. But I know it is my duty to help you become the best little girl and best wife you can.” A shuddering breath escaped her body and he felt her relax against him.

“I am so very, very sorry, Papa.”

* * *

Cynny had no idea how many messes she could make in one day, but today had to be a record breaker. She wound her arms around Papa’s waist, drawing strength and comfort from him, fighting against the sobs threatening to erupt from the depths of her soul.

After a few moments, Papa pried her arms from his body and set her away from him. “There can be no avoiding it, Hyacinth, so let us commence your punishment the sooner to be done with it.”

She nodded. She hated the idea of punishment, but she also knew that once it was over, the deed would be forgotten, never to be spoken of again. Her papa had taught her that and he had been true to his word.

“We shall need privacy. Let us adjourn to my bedchamber.”

A pit of dread formed in Cynny’s stomach. Much as she tried to remind herself of Papa’s words that she need not fear him, fear engulfed her entire body and she fought against trembling as he took her hand and exited the drawing room.

They walked in silence for several paces when suddenly Reynolds rushed into the hallway, dragging Liza, one of the downstairs housemaids, behind him, a firm grip on her wrist.

“My lord,” the butler said, once he caught his breath, “there is a thief amongst us.”

Cynny gasped and her blood ran cold. This was it. But how had Reynolds discovered her horrible secret? Did Liza know?

“A thief?” Papa said. “I cannot abide thievery.”

A prickle of sheer dread ran down Cynny’s spine. Papa would never forgive her.

The butler tugged on the housemaid’s arm and presented her to Lord Grayson as though she was a pheasant he had just bagged. “I caught her myself,” he said. “Your missing watch clutched in her sticky fingers.” Reynolds held the watch out and Papa took it in his hand, a smile of pleasure on his face as he examined his missing heirloom.

“My lord,” Liza bobbed a curtsy, “‘tis a lie.”

“Red handed, I say. Stealing from a kind employer such as you, my lord. Disgraceful.”

Cynny had never seen Reynolds so animated, he almost had her convinced of Liza’s guilt.

Though, of course, she knew the allegation was without merit.

The four of them stood in the wide hallway outside the drawing room. “Liza,” Papa said and Cynny recognized his stern, no-nonsense voice, “what have you to say for yourself?”

The maid stood firm and looked Papa in the eye. Cynny felt horrible for her. Although Papa had told her it was not proper for her to be friends with the help—that was when he had arranged for Lady Tiffin and Lady Harding to call upon her to welcome her to the neighborhood— Cynny had still taken a liking to the young maid. And well she knew the indignation of a false accusation. Despite her brave front, Cynny could see Liza’s hands tremble. If Papa believed the butler, Liza could be arrested. Fired, at the very least.

Liza had once confided that she sent her wages home as support for her widowed mother and younger sister. Whenever she got an afternoon off, Cook gave her extra food to take to her family. What would happen to them without Liza’s help?

“I ain’t no thief, my lord.” Liza shot a scowl at Reynolds and jutted her chin up. “I found the watch this morning when I was cleaning beneath the couch in the drawing room. I went looking for you to return it, but you were out.”

“You could have left it with me,” the butler chimed in.

“Pfft.” Liza rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows there is a reward for this watch. I meant to turn it in myself to make sure all the money came to me.”

Reynolds looked askance at the implication of her words, but said nothing.

Papa was thoughtful for a moment, then glanced down at Cynny before returning his attention to Liza. “Beneath the couch in the drawing room, you say?”

“Yes, my lord. I saw the sun glint off of it. It was far back, but I was able to crawl underneath the couch and get it.”

“That seems to be a popular past time here at Grayson House.” Papa gave Cynny another pointed look.

“When I found it, I knew it was your missing watch and I went looking for you, my lord, as I knew you would be happy for its return.”

“A likely story, my lord. She has this afternoon off. No doubt she had the watch with her so she could sell it. With all due respect to your generous reward, my lord, but the watch is worth more than that to a jeweler or moneylender.” Reynolds had assumed the role of prosecutor, judge and jury. “Besides,” the butler added, “you almost never use the drawing room, so if she claims to have found it there, how did it get into the room in the first place? It is not as though someone would be foolish enough to steal it and then hide it there.”

Cynny cringed. She had been that foolish. It was not until after she had stashed the watch in the drawing room that she realized it was seldom used. No wonder no one had found the watch.

“You make a good point, Reynolds. Until my marriage, I rarely entered the drawing room and the watch was missing before Lady Grayson and I wed.” Papa looked at Liza expectantly.

“No,” Liza stomped her foot in frustration. “I found it this morning, just as I said. I would never steal from you, Lord Grayson. Everyone knows you are the finest employer in the neighborhood. And the most just.”

“That is all well and good to say.” Papa tucked the watch into the pocket of his coat designated for a timepiece. A pocket meant to keep it safe from thieves. “But I am having a bit of trouble believing your story. The coincidence of you having the watch when you are about to have time off is certainly suspicious.”

Liza’s face fell and panic rose in Cynny. She had kept silent, hoping that Papa would believe Liza’s story, especially since it was the truth, and all would be well—except for the punishment awaiting her. Maybe the return of the watch would soften Papa’s determination, she thought hopefully.

“Sir, I beg of you. You must believe me. Please. I cannot lose this job. My family depends upon it. And without a reference, I will never find another.” There was panic in Liza’s eyes and Cynny felt the pain of it in her heart.

“Another job?” Reynolds said. “You will be at hard labor, not dusting the drawing room.”

Cynny gasped and the color drained from Liza’s face. “No,” the maid said in disbelief.

“Reynolds has been in my employ for many years,” Papa said. “I have no reason to doubt his words.”

Liza turned her gaze to Cynny. “Lady Grayson, surely you believe me.”

Cynny opened her mouth to reply but her mind went blank.

“Please do not play upon my wife’s sympathies, Liza,” Papa said in a firm tone. “That is the sort of thing a guilty person would do. I have decided. I believe you did steal the watch. Reynolds, please send for the constable and take Liza downstairs to await his arrival. I have urgent business to resolve with my wife and cannot be disturbed. Please inform the constable that I will make a written statement and have it delivered tomorrow for use in Liza’s prosecution.”

With a satisfied smile, Reynolds took Liza’s arm and dragged her down the hall, the maid’s pleas of innocence echoing off the walls.

Cynny watched the two servants, her mouth hanging open and pure dread spinning through her. What had she done? She could not allow an innocent person to take the blame for her horrible deed. It would likely lead to the end of her marriage and the thought crushed her, but how could she live with herself knowing she had ruined an innocent life? And not just Liza, but her family.

Any argument in support of the pocket watch randomly going missing in the drawing room would be pointless since Papa said he rarely went in there. How was Cynny to know that before she hid the watch? Based on that, Papa had reached the only logical, though incorrect, conclusion. It was all too horrible.

But, if she said nothing, Papa would never know. She could take her punishment for the letter and for leaving the naughty chair, all would be forgiven and she and Papa would live happily ever after.

She knew Papa’s limits. He could tolerate her naughty behavior, but he hated thieves. He would hate her.

Resolved to keep quiet, she lifted her foot to go with Papa, but her body would not move. She shook all over.

“Cynny,” Papa said, “whatever is the matter with you?”

“Papa,” she said, her voice cracking, “it was me. I-I stole your watch, not Liza. It was supposed to be a wedding present for Lord Kensington, but then I did not marry him and…” her voice trailed off, misery overwhelmed her.