“Where have you been?” Rosie greeted Daisy with a firm squeeze on her arm and a wild look in her eye as Daisy slid into a seat next to her friend at the breakfast table and began filling her plate with food. Her early morning visit with Lady Miselda, as well as running all the way back to Talcott House, had roused her appetite.

After swallowing a piece of toast with jam and washing it down with a hearty swig of tea, Daisy leaned close to Rosie. “I saw a fortune teller.”

“No!” Rosie’s fork clattered against her plate. “You did not. How could you? Not only are you to be wed in a matter of hours, but you know Miss Wickersham expressly told all of us we were not to go anywhere near the fair.”

“The fair? Did you say you went to the fair?” Lettie, who had recently moved into the bedchamber which Rosie and Daisy shared, leaned in eagerly. “Oh, Daisy, please tell me about it.”

Daisy eyed the girl suspiciously. Lettie was not new to Talcott House, but until she had moved into their shared room, Daisy had not had much interaction with her. Generally speaking, Daisy liked everyone on sight, but when Rosie had suggested to Miss Wickersham that Lettie and Lily move into the room to take the places vacated by Cammie and Cynny when they married, Daisy had felt a twinge of sadness. She had been looking forward to having Rosie all to herself and so when her friend rushed to fill the empty spaces in their room, it hurt Daisy’s heart a bit to think perhaps her friend wished to spend time with others instead of her.

It was not Lettie’s fault, and she had been very diligent in helping with the remaking of a hand-me-down wedding dress for Daisy. The marriage had been arranged on short notice and there had not been time for an entire dress to be made from scratch.

Thinking of the hours Lettie had spent embroidering an intricate design on the skirt of her gown, Daisy relented and included her in the secret. “I have never seen anything so amazing. Due to the early hour, most of the vendors were not open yet, but I did meet a most extraordinary woman named Lady Miselda and she told my fortune.”

“Ohhh. What did she say?” Lettie asked, eyes bright.

“You did what?” Rosie asked, eyes narrowed.

Daisy decided she liked Lettie just fine and directed her words to her while ignoring Rosie. “She was most hospitable. We had tea and I told her all about how I am to be married today.”

“Oh! What did she look like?”

“She was Romani, exotic with the most remarkable dark eyes. She had a colorful tent filled with interesting objects. I wish I had had time to look at everything. She wore a beautiful scarf wrapped around her head and large golden earrings and her arms were covered in bracelets that jingled and jangled when she moved her hands.”

“I wish you had taken me with you,” Lettie said.

“Next time, I will.”

“What are you talking about, Daisy? You are leaving us today,” Rosie stated as though she could hardly believe her friend had forgotten such a significant detail.

Momentarily stunned, Daisy paused and allowed the import of Rosie’s comment to sink in. Leaving. Her last day at Talcott House. Although she knew the information, it had somehow not hit home with her until then. “Oh, Rosie,” she said, wrapping her arms around her friend, “what will I do without you?”

Rosie patted her arm and said, “I am sure you will find plenty of ways to get into trouble, you can rely upon it.”

“Yes, but I will not have to worry about Miss Wickersham and the naughty chair,” Daisy said, her countenance lightening at the thought.

“I have heard papas sometimes have naughty chairs,” Lettie said. “Do you think it is true?”

Rosie and Daisy both looked at her, askance. “No, of course not. Why would a papa need a naughty chair?” Daisy said, feeling quite the expert on the topic since she was soon to have a papa. “Papas are supposed to love and care for their little girls, not punish them.”

“Oh, believe me, if there is a papa who will need a naughty chair, it will be Lord Kensington.” The three girls fell silent as the familiar voice of Miss Wickersham wafted over their table. “Daisy,” she said, giving the bride-to-be a pointed look, “I have been trying to find you all morning. Do you think there is an unlimited amount of time for shilly-shallying on the morning of your wedding? Wherever have you been?”

Fear skittered through Daisy’s body, particularly across the globes of her bottom as she opened her mouth and fumbled for an answer to Miss Wickersham’s question. “I-I...um…”

“Never mind an answer, girl. We have things to do.” Miss Wickersham took hold of Daisy’s arm and lifted her from her seat, then kept a firm grip and spirited her from the breakfast room.

“B-but, I have not finished my meal,” Daisy lamented.

“Then you ought to have gotten here sooner,” was Miss Wickersham’s less than sympathetic reply.

“Yes, ma’am,” Daisy mumbled.

When they arrived in the hallway leading to the older girls’ bedchambers, Miss Wickersham finally paused and gave Daisy a thorough look. “Good heavens, you have mud all over the hem of your skirt. You did not put on a soiled dress this morning, did you?”

A pit of dread formed in Daisy’s stomach as she glanced downward. Mud. Soaked into the hem of her dress and splattered several inches up her skirt. Her boots were covered in it as well. It was a wonder she had not tracked any along the hallway.

Daisy continued to stare, working to come up with an explanation which would result in the least insult to her backside. Her bottom cheeks clenched in anticipation of punishment, and she had to force herself not to reach back and cup her behind as she often did when she found herself on the receiving end of one of Miss Wickersham’s scolding stares.

“The most talkative girl in the history of Talcott House and now suddenly you have nothing to say when I ask why you have mud on your skirts. I am going to assume it is because you do not have an explanation which does not involve some infraction of the rules, am I correct, Daisy?”

Daisy’s silence continued.

“I am well aware that you are to be wed in a short time, young lady. But do not for an instant think I will relinquish my obligation to ensure you follow the rules as you are still my charge until the vows are said. Now,” she gripped Daisy’s chin between her fingers and tipped her face upward, “explain yourself.”

* * *

“Did your new friend, the fortune teller, happen to predict the fact that you would spend the last moments before your wedding getting a bare bottom spanking?”

Daisy, having been relieved of the burden of her muddied dress, bent over the footboard of her bed, her chemise bunched up at her waist and her drawers puddled around her ankles, while her own silver handled hairbrush—a gift from her betrothed, no less—was applied to the cheeks of her bottom. “N-no,” she said, regret at her impulsive trip to the fair building with each whap of the brush against her tender flesh.

“I thought not,” Miss Wickersham said with an imperious sniff. “I must say,” the hairbrush splatted against Daisy’s rear twice in rapid succession, “I thought I had instilled better sense in you, Daisy.”

“I-I am s-sorry, Miss Wickersham,” she said, shifting position across the rail of the footboard as it pressed against her hips, jutting her bottom out at what Miss Wickersham deemed an ideal angle for chastisement.

“Sorry for the behavior, or sorry you got caught?”

“I-I am sorry for ev-everything. Oh, please, Miss Wickersham,” Daisy begged, “if you do not stop soon, my bottom will be red and sore for my entire wedding day.”

“And whose fault would that be, I wonder?”

“M-mine,” Daisy answered, mystified by how a day which had started out with such promise and excitement had unraveled so rapidly. All she had done was go for a walk and talk to a nice Romani woman, though she knew better than to say as much to Miss Wickersham. In the past, when Daisy had fantasized about her wedding day, none of her musings had included an embarrassing bare bottom spanking before she donned her wedding dress.

Since meeting Lord Kensington, her romantic flights of fancy now centered around a tall broad-shouldered man with a deep voice that sent tingles throughout her body. It would have been impossible not to daydream about him, he being an incredibly handsome and kindly gentleman, not to mention a wealthy, powerful, and important earl. It was the stuff of fairytales, as far as Daisy was concerned, that she—a simple, plain orphan girl—had attracted the notice of a man like Lord Kensington. After the incident where she fell through the ceiling, Lord Kensington had called upon her at Talcott House three days in a row before proposing.

Miss Wickersham had been rather cross about it since the tradition at Talcott House had been for her to select the papas and the bride did not meet him until their wedding day. The tradition had gone completely cockeyed with Lord Grayson’s assertion that he marry Cynny instead of Miss Wickersham’s selection, Lord Kensington, and was further sent askew by Lord Kensington’s insistence on courting Daisy, though it had been for a particularly short period.

It made Daisy’s head spin.

“It would serve you right for your papa to see the shameful evidence of your bad behavior. Do you intend to do the opposite of what he tells you to do as well? Did I not specifically forbid you to visit the fair? And yet, you snuck out and did as you pleased. What if the workers had kidnapped you and taken you off with them to labor at fairs all around the countryside as a fortune teller or servant girl? What then?”

For a moment Daisy’s spirits perked up. Traveling about, living in a tent and telling fortunes? Oh, could any life be sweeter?

But then she remembered Lord Kensington and his soul-searching brown eyes and the way they looked at her that made her toes curl up in her shoes. When he gazed at her so intently, she didn’t feel like a plain orphan girl. His glances made her feel treasured and special, beautiful even, as if for the first time in a long while she finally meant something to someone.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, recalling the fortune teller’s words of wisdom. Lady Miselda claimed Lord Kensington was her soul mate, and if true, it would be most tragic if they never had the chance to get married. Daisy, thankful nothing awful had happened during her elicit trip to the fair, thought—although she wouldn’t admit it aloud—perhaps Miss Wickersham had good reason for ordering all the girls of Talcott House to stay away from the fair.

“Five more swats, little girl, and then we must get you changed into something decent before your appointment with Nurse Lister. We are already late.”

Appointment? Daisy opened her mouth to ask why she needed to visit the nurse this morning, but her question was cut off by a series of firm smacks to her already tender backside. She gasped and lurched forward against the bed, clenching her bottom cheeks, though Miss Wickersham wielded the hairbrush efficiently, each blow stinging smartly despite Daisy’s attempts to evade the full force of the punishment.

After the final stroke landed, Daisy breathed a sigh of relief and hoped Miss Wickersham left her to change her clothes in peace. She would give anything for a few spare moments to rub her smarting bottom. A knock on the door startled her, and she peered over her shoulder, wondering who it could be. Anyone who’d been walking down the hallway must have heard the telltale sounds of a spanking, and she flushed hot with shame. She supposed by the end of the day, most of the girls of Talcott House would be tittering and whispering to each other about how Daisy had gotten a spanking on her wedding day. At least she wouldn’t be here to endure the humiliating fallout from the gossip. She started to rise to her feet, but a noise of disapproval from Miss Wickersham kept her in place.

“Stay right there while I see who it is, young lady. If it embarrasses you to be seen with a bright red bottom, perhaps you should have behaved yourself better this morning.”

Miss Wickersham strode to the door and opened it a crack, and anxiety surged through Daisy when she heard Nurse Lister’s familiar voice. She still didn’t understand why she needed to see the nurse this morning. She felt fine.

“As you can see,” Miss Wickersham said, opening the door wider, “your little patient got into a bit of trouble this morning. I had wanted to get her changed into some clean clothes before her appointment.”

Nurse Lister entered the room with a black medical bag clutched in her hand. The tall woman closed the door behind her with an ominous click, then whispered back and forth with Miss Wickersham for several minutes. Unable to hear what they were speaking about, Daisy buried her face in the covers, cursing the nurse’s arrival, as well as the fact that she still didn’t have permission to move.

The time for Daisy to start getting ready for her wedding quickly approached. She couldn’t very well remain bent over the bed with her red bottom on display all morning, and with the fortune teller’s words of lessons and soul mates still ringing in her ears, the last thing Daisy needed was a visit from the nurse slowing her down. She hadn’t even had time to ponder the implications of her fortune, other than to take comfort in the promise of finding love and the other half of her soul in Lord Kensington. Perhaps, she told herself, the lessons Lady Miselda had mentioned weren’t as serious as she’d made them sound. Perhaps the fortune teller had a tendency to embellish when she gave advice. Before she could consider this further, Miss Wickersham’s voice reached her.

“Since we are short on time due to your misbehavior, little girl, Nurse Lister will be performing your exam right now in your bedchamber. Remain bent over the bed, Daisy. You are in the perfect position to have your temperature taken.”