Lord Kensington's carriage rolled up the now familiar drive to Talcott House. He glanced out the window at the imposing building which contained his betrothed. The sun suddenly seemed to shine brighter and the sky appeared a more vibrant shade of blue than usual as an intoxicating sense of anticipation reverberated through him. Even the flowers in the gardens surrounding the house looked more colorful than he thought possible. It was as if he was seeing the true beauty of the world for the first time ever, and pleasure washed through him because he had a certain little dark-haired young miss to thank for opening his eyes, as well as his heart.

In the week since his first visit to the stately manor where Miss Wickersham housed and educated her young ladies, Edward had made several trips to call upon Daisy, his soon-to-be bride, and each trip had been more enjoyable than the last as he found himself falling for the girl’s sweet charms. Now he could not imagine himself marrying anyone but her, and a sense of possessiveness for the little beauty heated his blood.

Then, without warning, his stomach knotted up a tiny amount as he remembered his first trip to this location, before the sun had shone so brightly and the flowers had looked so colorful. He had arrived in anticipation of wedding Hyacinth and had left empty-handed, so to speak, though with the promise of the opportunity to court and now wed the beguiling Miss Daisy Smith.

He supposed it would not be unusual for a house full of women—he had seen no man, certainly no man in a leadership role anywhere about the building or the entire enterprise—for there to be chaos on a regular basis. However, he hoped today's wedding would happen without a hitch. And then he smiled to himself at the pun, another indication of the way which his little Daisy had broken through the darkness which had sucked away his sense of humor in recent years.

He gazed up at the house as he stepped from the carriage. He knew which window belonged to the bedchamber which Daisy shared with her friend Rosie, whom he had met on his first visit to Talcott House as she had been amongst the clatter and clamor of those falling from the ceiling. His mother had often told him that treasure came from heaven and she would have gotten a chuckle out of the story of his soon-to-be bride who had fallen at his feet, literally.

It was a different sensation for Edward from the time when he had arrived with intentions of marrying Hyacinth, a young lady unknown to him. Edward was appreciative that after Hyacinth married another and despite the headmistress of the house preferring to make all of the arrangements for young ladies herself, she had still allowed him some particular liberties due to the unusual circumstances and hadn’t expressly prevented him from calling upon Daisy—though Miss Wickersham had done a fair amount of grumbling under her breath each time Edward had come knocking.

Of course, he had not taken any specific liberties with the girl herself—though her sweet demeanor and maidenly body had left him sorely tempted—but he had been favored with some loosening of the rules of the household. Though he had not mentioned the handsome sum which he had donated to Talcott House in honor of his pending marriage to Hyacinth, and of course, as Miss Wickersham had made clear, the young ladies were not for sale, it would be the height of uncouth behavior for Miss Wickersham to keep the money without providing him the opportunity to wed another of her wards.

Ironically, he had chosen a bride from Talcott House in order to avoid the formalities of a proper courtship. But he realized while spending time with Daisy that he enjoyed the opportunity to get to know her very much. What he had truly been avoiding was the crush and the noise and the crowds and the hubbub of the London season. Even now, on a warm evening when the windows were open and he heard the merrymakers in their carriages heading to and from social engagements, it formed a knot in his stomach. He gave himself a mental shake. This was not the day for those unpleasant thoughts. Today he would wed and bed the charming Miss Daisy Smith.

Shown into the drawing room of Talcott House, as he waited for his bride a bit of melancholy washed over him. He wished his beloved sister could be with him on this day. He wondered what she might have thought of his sweet Daisy. Of course, had it not been for Lady Gwen’s unfortunate demise, he would likely never have found out about the little ladies of Talcott House because he would have followed the expected path of marrying a bride of his own station from a proper London family.

Quite a bit of clatter and commotion sounded from above stairs and he could hear footsteps moving swiftly on the second floor of Talcott House. He eyed the ceiling with a bit of suspicion. After the last time, he had good reason to be concerned. He made a mental note to ask his steward to find a proper engineer to send over to check on the building. He would hate for anyone to become injured. Over the course of his time visiting Daisy, he had had the opportunity to meet a few of the other ladies. In addition to Miss Wickersham, he had met Garland. An older girl, and though she too had a flower name, Garland was hardly the freshest blossom in the bouquet. However, she took her duties as a caretaker seriously and he respected her for being conscientious.

There had also been Miss Rosie as well as Miss Violet, also known as Lettie, and Miss Lily. Though he found them each attractive, charming and overall well-behaved, and sometimes a little mischievous, he truthfully only had eyes for his sweet Daisy. An uncomfortable stirring in his trousers arose as he thought about taking her little form against his own, carefully removing the layers of her clothing and revealing the treasure of her body to him. Only to him.

A flutter of anticipation moved through him and though he felt a mite silly at such youthful anticipation, he was simply glad to be able to feel any emotion other than sadness.

He had been overwhelmed with grief and guilt over the death of his sister. But Daisy had helped him to see a light in the darkness. He recalled with much fondness how in the aftermath of the collapse of both the ceiling and his prior betrothal, she had done her best to cheer him up as they sat next to one another in the great room. She had made him smile and laugh during a time when most men would be morose or angry, or both. It had been as if she’d thrust open the thick dark curtains that had obscured his capacity to feel joy for so long and welcomed a rare beautiful morning, allowing the sun to spill inside for the first time in ages. The curtains were still wide open, the warm sunlight still beaming down upon him, and now he looked forward with great anticipation to what married life would hold for them.

If only she would hurry up and come downstairs.

He glanced at the clock on the mantle and noted the time—half past the hour upon which they were to have been wed. He also noted the absence of the vicar. He hoped the man of the cloth was en route or perhaps seated in another part of the household.

Growing impatient, he walked to the doorway and stepped into the hall. Then he glanced to the top of the stairs. His heart slammed to a halt. There, at the head of the grand staircase, he saw his beautiful bride in her wedding regalia. She glanced up and caught his gaze and gave him a shy smile. His heart leapt within his chest and he stood mesmerized as his little bride approached.

* * *

Daisy stood at the top of the staircase and gazed down upon her husband-to-be. An excited flutter moved through her tummy and the warmth which she had felt while Nurse Lister and Miss Wickersham had taught her about climaxes began anew.

She recalled the shudders which had gone through her body as she collapsed over the footboard of her bed and though she looked forward to experiencing a climax again, particularly with her new husband, she hoped it would not happen from simply gazing upon Lord Kensington. How embarrassing would it be for her to have another quivering climax right there in front of everyone, including the vicar?

Her examination by Nurse Lister had barely finished when Rosie, Lettie and Lily had rushed into the room. In fact, her chemise had still been pushed up over her hips and she’d speedily moved to cover herself, though she suspected Rosie had seen everything, including Daisy’s private parts and had a fair idea of what had happened to the bride-to-be.

“What did Miss Wickersham have to say about your trip to the fair?” Rosie had asked with a knowing smirk.

Daisy, thoroughly relaxed after her climax, had not even cared.

Nurse Lister and Miss Wickersham had hastily vacated the room so Daisy's friends could assist her in donning her wedding attire. Once in the dress, Lettie, who as it turned out possessed exceptional skills as a seamstress, had moved around her tugging and pulling on the bodice and making some quick stitches here and there to make sure the hand-me-down gown fit her just right.

Daisy had not shared much about her past with anyone at Talcott House. Her lack of sharing did not necessarily raise any suspicion as each of the girls received a new flower name when she arrived and it was Miss Wickersham's policy for the past to remain in the past, and as a result each of her charges got a fresh start when they became one of her little ladies. Daisy, like the other girls in Miss Wickersham’s care, had scant reason to look upon the past with fondness, making that edict one of the easiest of Miss Wickersham’s rules to follow.

However, her wedding day brought back memories of her mother. She had once asked her mother about her wedding to Daisy's father, though that conversation had occurred long before she discovered her mother’s late husband hadn’t actually fathered her. But Daisy supposed that detail didn’t matter as much as her mother’s response. Her mother had gotten a faraway look in her eyes. “We were very much in love,” Daisy’s mother had said. “The weather was perfect and as soon as we walked out of the church a swarm of butterflies appeared and circled round us. I was sure it was a sign of good luck.”

“But then my father went off to war and never came home,” Daisy had said, finishing off the tale of the short marriage.

“Yes,” her mother had said, using her hand to stroke some errant strands of hair back into place on Daisy’s braids. “But I am sure someday you will marry a handsome gentleman who is rich and has a large home. And you will be the most beautiful bride. He will never want to leave your side,” her mother had said and Daisy could still recall the loving look in her eye.

She wished her mother was there with her now to see the exceptionally handsome man who was to be her husband. Of course, if her mother was still alive, Daisy would have never ended up at Talcott House, and who knows who she might have married under different circumstances. As the daughter of a young widow who had worked as a governess, it was unlikely she would have ever married a man of Lord Kensington’s stature. In retrospect, Daisy had a much better understanding of her mother's life in recent years than she had at the time when her mother was alive. But she could not fault her mother for wanting to fill her head with the stuff of fairy stories.

Daisy’s reverie had been interrupted by Rosie who assisted her with securing the veil to her head. Lily gathered up flowers which had been picked in the garden to be used for her bridal bouquet. Though she did not have a mother or a father, she thanked God for the intervention of Miss Wickersham in her life. She hated to think what might have happened to her otherwise.

And now she was to be a bride and spend the rest of her life with Lord Kensington who would be her papa.

“Daisy, you have quite the calm expression on your face,” Rosie had said. “Are you not anxious about your wedding?” Daisy looked at her friend and tried to focus. She was still feeling the after-effects of the climax she had experienced at the hands of Nurse Lister.

“I am surprisingly relaxed,” Daisy had said, still enjoying the languid feeling.

Lily had come close and whispered, “What happened during your exam? I know Nurse Lister gives all of the brides-to-be a special examination, but none of them will ever tell me what happened.”

With her newfound wisdom, Daisy had gazed upon her friends feeling that she was just maybe a touch above them in worldliness with her recent experiences. “It is not something I can describe to you,” she had said. “It is something you must take part in for yourself. I am sure a papa will be found for you very soon and then you will be able to have your own examination,” she had said with a coy smile. Daisy had gotten a bit of enjoyment out of behaving somewhat mysteriously about the whole thing. In actuality, she honestly had no idea what had happened to her or how to describe it, at least not how to describe it without blushing a deep shade of red.

Finally, Daisy met her bridegroom at the foot of the stairs.

He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and her breath caught in her throat. “You are a beautiful bride, my Daisy. I knew you would be.” Her heart thundered in her chest and everything and everyone else faded from her vision as her entire world focused on the man who was about to become her husband.

The vicar was located and the wedding was completed without incident. The newlyweds were about to enter the Kensington family carriage but as they did Daisy turned to the gathered ladies of Talcott House and tossed her handmade bouquet to them. There was a mad rush for the bundle of flowers. Lettie and Lily emerged from the scrum, each gripping a part of the prized flowers, but Garland also had a hand in the cluster. Before she could see the end result of the tussle, Daisy’s husband pulled her away from the window and tucked her into the seat next to him.

* * *

As Edward sat next to his bride, his happiness filled the interior of the carriage. He gazed down at her and she seemed suddenly shy. He hoped she was not frightened, for he hated the idea of anything causing her distress.

“You look very pretty today, Daisy,” he said.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said, glancing up at him from beneath her lashes.

He waggled a finger in front of her and said, “From now on, when we are alone together you are to call me Papa.”

A blush formed across her cheeks and she replied, “Yes, Papa.”

A possessive thrill ran through him hearing her say the words. His heart raced each time he looked at her and the full realization that she was his, all his, forever and ever, sunk in. Her ripe young body was his for the taking, and though he intended to take and take and take, he also intended to give twice as much, for she deserved it. She was the beat of his heart, the desire of his loins, his other half, his soul mate. His treasure fallen from heaven.

The lyrical turn his thoughts had taken caught him by surprise. Edward was not a man for flights of fancy, though he did recall how when he was younger he and his sister used to spend hours and hours making up stories to entertain each other. So perhaps the flights of fancy were not so far out of his range, though the whimsical part of himself had long been buried. Even before the tragedy of his sister’s death, boarding school and the expectations of being the sole heir to the Kensington line had left no room for whimsy.

But today, he was a bridegroom and he intended to enjoy all the pleasures to which a newlywed man was entitled.

“You are usually much more talkative, my sweet Daisy,” he said tenderly as he gazed down at her, his heart tight with affection for his little bride. “You seem rather shocked. Has something happened?”

She clasped her hands in her lap and stared at them before looking up at him. “I have never been married before, my lord...um… Papa. I am a bit anxious to be a good bride and a pleasing wife to you.”

He took both her hands in his and gave them an affectionate squeeze. “I have no doubt you will be a very pleasing bride for me, little one. Just as I intend to be a dutiful and attentive husband to you.”

“Thank you, Papa,” she said, though she still did not gaze at him.

“Please look at me, Daisy,” he said, wracking his brain to figure out precisely the right thing to say to allay her lingering fears. Finally, she raised her eyes to meet his. “We are married now. Bound by God and law to one another forever. You have no reason to fear me or anyone or anything else. I’m your papa. Please trust me.”

He felt some of the tension leave her hands. “I am nervous about when we experience the sweet rapture of our joined love,” she said.

He tilted his head and studied her for a moment and repeated her words. “I do not believe I have ever heard that phrase before. Can you tell me how you became familiar with it? And what does it mean to you?”

“Well, I thought I knew what it meant. I read it in one of Miss Wickersham's romance novels.” She gasped and covered her mouth with both hands and looked up at him with wide eyes before she lowered her hands and said quietly, “Please do not tell anyone, but I used to sneak Miss Wickersham's novels and read them. She would be most disappointed.”

“And what would Miss Wickersham do if she was disappointed in you?” He had witnessed Miss Wickersham wielding a ruler during the confrontation over Hyacinth and had a fair idea of why the headmistress kept such an implement at the ready. But he wanted to hear his little bride say the words.

“Oh, Miss Wickersham has all sorts of methods she uses if she is disappointed or if we break the rules,” Daisy said, and he knew she was being purposely vague.

“Now, young lady,” he said, giving her a stern look, “I believe you have more information to share with me and I will not tolerate your obfuscation.”

“Abfew...what?”

“The word is obfuscation. It means to hide or shade the truth. Anything less than absolute honesty from you is unacceptable. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do,” she said, squirming in her seat as a fresh blush stole across her entire face. She paused for a moment and he waited to see if she would comply without further prodding and was gratified when she continued to explain. “Miss Wickersham has a wide range of punishments which she uses. She’s a fan of spanking, sometimes on the bare. Sometimes with a ruler and sometimes with her palm, depending on what you have done. And whether she has had breakfast. She can be particularly cranky before she gets her breakfast. Believe me, you do not want to get on her bad side before she has had her morning meal. Then there is the naughty chair. There are actually several naughty chairs throughout Talcott House. One of them is in Miss Wickersham’s study. Another in the dining room and one in the school room. Whenever someone misbehaves they might be ordered to sit in the naughty chair, facing the corner. The worst is to have to sit in the naughty chair in the dining room in front of everyone, and then you do not get to finish your meal either.”

Edward paused to take in all this information. Suddenly his bride had become very talkative. They still had not fully addressed her concerns about—what was that ridiculous phrase she used, the sweet rapture of our joined love—but he believed it best to stick with subjects where she felt comfortable enough to talk. There would be ample time once they arrived at Kensington Manor to discuss raptures.

“And when was the last time you earned a punishment from Miss Wickersham?” he asked.

A pained expression crossed his little bride’s face. “Well...this morning,” she said, her voice subdued as she again squirmed in her seat.

“We were married at eleven,” he said. “What on Earth happened before I arrived at Talcott House that caused you to be punished?”