Kensington Manor

Edward felt uncharacteristically flustered as he watched two footmen hang a painting in his bride-to-be’s bedchamber. He ran a hand through his hair and swept his gaze around the room, taking in the feminine décor, as well as a large dollhouse, a bookshelf, two massive armoires with flowers painted on them, and a spacious window seat that had a view of the well-tended gardens.

It was a bedchamber fit for a little wife, the kind of young lady a gentleman such as himself might procure from Talcott House—a bride who would also be his cherished little girl.

Would Miss Smith find this room satisfactory? Logically, he knew the room was perfect. But he wanted her to find the room more than satisfying. He wanted her to love it and feel at home here at Kensington Manor. At home with him.

He nodded his approval as the footmen stepped back to survey the placement of the painting, which depicted the English countryside featuring windswept green hills and a patch of forest, with the focal point of the art piece being a field of daisies. He’d come across the painting while out in town making last minute preparations for the arrival of his bride. Since Miss Smith’s given name was Daisy, he hoped she appreciated his efforts at making her room as unique to her as could possibly be done at the last minute.

For a gentleman who never wished to be caught unprepared, the past week had been both hideously uncomfortable and delightfully exhilarating. Who had ever heard of a man leaving to marry one woman and coming home without a bride but with a head full of ungentlemanly thoughts of another young lady? He shook his head ruefully. He still could scarce get his mind around it. Edward was not one to believe in fate or luck—he believed a hardworking gentleman made his own luck and determined the path of his life with every well-thought out, or not well-thought out, decision—but it had felt much like fate had intervened when Miss Daisy Smith had fallen through a weak spot in the ceiling above and crashed into his life. He’d helped the young lady to her feet, and then one look into her soulful brown eyes and she’d stolen his heart.

He had never wanted something so badly in his whole life as he wanted the little dark-haired beauty. Her blush as she stared at him, wide-eyed, had heated his blood as his mind took a rather ungentlemanly turn. Following the events of his first visit to Talcott House, he had called on her several days in a row before proposing marriage, and now in less than an hour Edward would depart for Talcott House to marry her. A quick courtship suited him, particularly given that he had decided to seek an arranged marriage of sorts with a little lady from Talcott House in the first place, rather than search for a bride in the marriage market of London.

He had no desire to attend a series of fancy balls and social events, while looking for a submissive woman who suited him, especially when the eyes of the ton would be on him the entire time. Some of them would be judging, and others would be filled with pity. He preferred neither.

Dark memories suddenly swept in, clouding the edges of his consciousness, and he fought to push them all away. But it wasn’t easy. Often when the darkness descended, he had no choice but to wallow in it until it passed on its own accord. A vision of his late sister flashed in his mind, and his chest tightened with familiar grief. She’d died in a terrible accident over two years ago, but sometimes it felt like yesterday.

His hands curled into fists and he pressed his eyes shut, haunted by an accident which should have been preventable. If only his sister had listened to him. If only she’d been more biddable. But during her first season, she had run roughshod over the female companion he’d hired for her, escaping the older lady’s notice with ease during social occasions, running off into mischief, having made friends with the most unladylike of her peers. Edward blamed himself too, for he should have been firmer with his sister and insisted she comport herself with proper manners, but he’d been so focused on running his estate and all its holdings after the death of their parents that he had often turned a blind eye to Lady Gwen’s antics.

Though he hadn’t been in attendance at the ball held at Bolton Manor, where the accident had occurred, he sometimes heard her screams and the pounding of horses’ hooves on the drive as an out of control carriage barreled toward her. The imagined noises of the accident visited him in nightmares and even throughout the waking hours, often unbidden as he went about his daily activities. He had spent the last two years trying to move on and forget, but he frequently wondered if it was possible. Guilt, grief, and memories weighed him down on more days than he would care to admit.

But despite tragedy, life must continue, he knew this as well as anyone. He had people depending on him to properly manage the holdings of his family’s estate, and he would not shirk his duties and let others suffer because of his family’s misfortune. In that vein of thought, he needed a wife—an especially obedient one to be sure—and eventually, an heir. He imagined the coming years with Daisy and starting a family with her and his mood lifted substantially, so much so, an uncharacteristic smile touched his lips.

He had found himself doing that more as of late—smiling—and he had his bride-to-be to thank for his improved disposition. She radiated kindness and light and all things good, it was almost impossible to feel morose in her sweet company.

Staring at the painting, he again hoped she liked her bedchamber and all the contents within. Regretfully, he hadn’t had time to add more individual details to her room, but he supposed it would be fit for any little lady. The room, as well as the wardrobe, had been designed with his formerly betrothed, Hyacinth, in mind, though the only pointed indication of it would be the wardrobe he’d had commissioned for the girl who’d been love-struck by Lord Grayson. Miss Wickersham had sent him Hyacinth’s measurements, but looking at the gowns now he thought Daisy was probably a bit taller and fuller in the bosom than her friend. But truth be told, he had hardly glanced at Hyacinth after she crashed through the ceiling, his gaze had been solely focused on Daisy, so perhaps he was wrong. However, if the gowns weren’t a perfect fit, as soon as could be arranged, Edward would have the dresses altered for Daisy and regardless of whether or not they fit, he would also commission some new ones in shades which would complement her dark hair and eyes.

He wanted to shower Daisy with nice things and give her all the comforts he imagined she had lacked growing up, though she had yet to disclose much of her childhood to him, always changing the subject when he asked. The most he’d gotten out of her was that she’d lived in the north country until coming to Talcott House.

Miss Wickersham also remained rather tight lipped about Daisy’s past when pressed, other than to offer some vagueness about a misfortunate childhood. He had no idea if Daisy had lived on the streets or had worked as a servant, but he wished to know more about his little bride. He hoped once they were married he would earn her trust enough for her to confide in him. He ignored a voice in his head whispering that perhaps he was rushing into this marriage too fast, if he didn’t know anything more about her past than the region she’d grown up in. For all he knew, she could have been a pickpocket or a thief.

But no, she seemed far too innocent and sweet to have been a criminal. There was a glint of mischief in her eyes sometimes which worried him a bit, and the fact remained she had been misbehaving when she had joined her friends in spying on the goings-on in Miss Wickersham’s study on the day they all fell through the ceiling, however, he was confident it would not be difficult to keep her in line.

With proper guidance, he would ensure she behaved herself, and he resolved to be firm with her from the start. There would be no spying on others or eavesdropping from her anymore. Such uncouth behavior would result in a trip over his knee for a well-deserved spanking on her bare bottom.

At the thought of disciplining his little bride, his pulse raced and his blood heated. He would not enjoy hurting her, but the prospect of taking her in hand—as was his right as her husband—promised to be a heady experience, even for a man who typically preferred order to chaos.

He could picture the first time he would punish her very clearly in his mind. She would be trembling and repentant, a pretty blush covering her entire face, as she pleaded for him to please let her off with a warning. He would command her to lift her skirts and place herself over his lap, and he would waste no time in parting the slit of her drawers wide to reveal her bare little bottom.

His groin tightened and he turned toward the window, despite the fact the footmen had already departed the room. The door remained open and he had no wish for any of his staff to see him in such a condition. Once he regained his senses, he strode out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

He headed downstairs to inquire if the carriage was ready, anxious to leave London for Talcott House, which was situated in a small town in the country. Fortunately, the drive was a short one, two hours at most, and while impatient to get there, he very much anticipated the ride back to Kensington Manor. While he’d called on Daisy several times, he had not yet been entirely alone with the pretty young lady, not counting the brief spell they’d spent in the great room of Talcott House after the collapse of the ceiling. Miss Wickersham or one of the other caregivers at Talcott House always accompanied them on their walks around the vast gardens which surrounded the country home.

Pleased to find the carriage readied, Edward departed Kensington Manor as the morning sun broke across the landscape of London, peeking through the spaces between houses and shops. It was a beautiful day, and he couldn’t wait to return home with his little bride.