by Golden Angel
Cordelia's lips quirked. There had been a time or two when she'd wanted to spill a drink on some of the women who approached Philip. The difference between her and Cynthia was she would never have the courage to do such a thing. Truly, it was amazing Cynthia could manage such outrageous acts without condemnation from the ton, but Cordelia had already learned the Earl and Countess of Spencer had a reputation for being Originals, and everyone seemed to accept it. It was a rare week when one or the other of them didn't appear in the gossip columns.
"Perhaps Lady March will take heed of the lesson and stop flirting with other women's husbands from now on," Grace said, fanning herself as she scanned the floor. Her gaze lit on her own husband, who was talking with a group of gentlemen, and she smiled. Cordelia took that to mean the Earl wasn't the only married man Lady March had pursued. She made a mental note to keep the lady far away from Philip, if at all possible.
Not that Cordelia truly thought he was losing interest in her, but he didn't need temptation either. And unlike Eleanor and Grace's husbands, he hadn't made any mention of love, so she didn't have that to hold him to her either. It was no wonder just the thought of Lady March approaching him made her feel a bit sick inside. She had no desire to test her husband to see what happened; she was happy right now and she wanted to remain that way.
"Oh look! There they are!"
Cordelia was so caught up in her own thoughts that, for a moment, she thought Eleanor meant Philip and Lady March, and her stomach lurched uncomfortably. That was swiftly followed by a feeling of relief as she looked to where Eleanor and Grace's attention had focused and saw Philip leading - practically dragging - a sullen-looking Gabrielle around the edge of the ballroom, heading towards them. Stalking behind them, Felix had a face like a thundercloud as he glared at the back of Gabrielle's head.
Oh dear... that did not bode well.
"Please excuse me," she murmured to Eleanor and Grace as Philip caught his eye and nodded towards the entrance of the ballroom. "I believe I have a megrim and will be retiring for the evening."
Both ladies immediately nodded their understanding; that was the explanation they would give if anyone asked why Lord and Lady Dunbury's party had quit the ball early. Cordelia felt a moment of sheer gratitude that she now had so many friends she could rely on. Before, she would have only trusted Marjorie to assist her in such a situation; now she felt no qualms about relying on Eleanor and Grace, and she knew if Irene or Cynthia were there, it would have been the same with them.
Cordelia met Philip and Gabrielle at the door, Felix still trailing behind as if he were some sort of rear guard. The fury in his eyes took her back a bit - he looked even angrier than Philip!
One look at Gabrielle told Cordelia that the young woman was smoldering. All three of them seemed to be holding on to their tempers by sheer force of will, knowing an outburst in public would be the worst thing possible. Gabrielle's eyes flashed like sparking emeralds as she glared at Cordelia over her shoulder while Philip hurried them out the front door. The carriage was already pulling up.
"Thank you," Philip said to a waiting footman. "Please tell the Duke of Manchester that I cannot continue my discussion with him as we have retired for the evening."
The footman bowed and left, allowing Philip to bundle Gabrielle into the carriage before following himself. Felix helped Cordelia up the step and then paused, as if considering whether or not to come in himself.
Leaning forward, Philip gave his friend a nod. Since he was sitting next to Gabrielle, as if he didn't trust her to even sit across from him, it allowed Cordelia to see his face perfectly clearly in the moonlight and the lights still blazing from the house. "Thank you for your assistance, Felix."
It was a clear dismissal and, she thought Felix might protest, but then he just sighed and nodded. "Have a good evening, Cordelia. Philip."
He shut the door firmly. Gabrielle immediately went stiff, her full lips thinning in insult at being left out of Felix's benediction. Although no one else was there to see Felix deliver her the cut direct, the intention was quite obvious. Cordelia winced, knowing that being ignored, being treated as invisible, was probably more hurtful to Gabrielle than anything else Felix could have done. She probably would have preferred it if he'd been outright insulting; at least then it would have been attention.
"That - that-" Gabrielle sputtered as the carriage began to move.
"Quiet," Philip ordered, his voice tight with fury. "I don't want to hear a word from you. Not. One. Word."
"What happened?" Cordelia asked, feeling strangely left out, not to mention anxious over what could have the normally even-tempered Felix in such high dudgeon.
"Gabrielle decided to risk her virtue and reputation on a money-grubbing merchant," Philip said baldly, ignoring Gabrielle's outraged gasp. "She's lucky it was Felix who interrupted them, or she'd be engaged to a complete bounder right now."
"Lucky?!" Gabrielle screeched. "He hit Mr. Pressen! He'll probably never talk to me again!"
"Good. If you aren't even calling the man by his Christian name, you had no business kissing him."
"Mr. Pressen?" Cordelia asked, aghast, her hand going to her throat as her face paled.
"Yes, Mr. Pressen," Gabrielle jeered, immediately going for the jugular. "The one I told you about."
"I never-!"
"That's five, Gabrielle, added to the count of twenty I was already going to give you. I sincerely doubt that, whatever you told your stepmother, it included your plans for this evening. I told you to be quiet. Every word you speak from this point forward will add to your punishment." Even in the dark of the carriage, Cordelia could feel Philip's eyes piercing her, but he hadn't responded to Gabrielle's attempt to shift blame in a manner either lady expected.
Gabrielle's mouth opened and then snapped shut as she let out a huff of air.
Keeping her own mouth shut required a bit of effort for Cordelia as well. She wanted to defend herself, because Gabrielle certainly hadn't said anything about meeting Mr. Pressen. But then, Cordelia hadn't questioned her very closely either, despite the secretive way Gabrielle had acted. Some part of her hadn't wanted to know. She'd been in her own little, happy bubble, flush with Philip's attention, and she hadn't wanted to lose that. So she'd brushed any misgivings about Gabrielle under the rug, and this was the result. She'd failed her stepdaughter, disappointed her husband, and gotten herself into trouble.
Again.
******
The silent carriage ride gave Philip some time to get a grip on his emotions. He was furious with Gabrielle. Felix had found her first and delivered a flush hit to Pressen's jaw before dragging Gabrielle from the room, protesting all the way. Although, incongruously, she'd also seemed relieved to see Philip when they'd come upon him. Only for a moment, and then she'd covered it up by being sullen and glaring at Felix while he'd given a terse description of finding her with the other man.
The girl should have been counting her blessings that it was Felix who found her and not someone else. Philip didn't know much about this Mr. Pressen, he hadn't stood out from Gabrielle's suitors that Philip had realized, although he also knew he'd been very much distracted by Cordelia in the past few weeks. Apparently, he should have been paying closer attention to investigating those of Gabrielle’s suitors whose reputations he didn't already know.
He was also hurt that Cordelia had obviously been keeping something from him. He didn't know what Gabrielle might have told her, although he was sure it wasn't a full disclosure like Gabrielle had implied, but he didn't want his ward to know she'd scored a direct hit with that one comment. Especially so soon after the discussion he and Cordelia had had.
Not giving either lady a chance to change her dress, Philip took both of them to his study, seating his pale-faced wife in his chair while he stood beside her. Gabrielle stood nervously next to the chair she already knew she would be bending over for punishment, her gaze averted, not wanting to look at it or him. She was already subdued, he was pl
eased to see; it was a vast improvement over haughty defiance.
"Gabrielle. Look at me." Her eyes came up and caught his automatically, looking dull and sullen. "Do you understand what could have happened tonight if anyone other than Felix had caught you? Did you want to marry your Mr. Pressen?"
"I'd marry anyone who would take me out of this house," she snapped back, some of her usual defiance making an appearance.
"What if he refused? He's already shown himself to be dishonorable, arranging an intimate meeting with you rather than coming to speak with me. It's obvious he was more interested in what he could get from you without marriage, and while I could have forced the issue, he might have run. Then you'd be ruined, and no one would marry you. You'd be in this house for the rest of your life."
That apparently hadn't occurred to her. Her eyes went wide and then narrowed. "Someone else would have married me. We were only kissing."
"It doesn't matter what you were actually doing, it matters what people would have thought you were doing. You'd have been ruined if someone else had found you alone in the room with him, even if you weren't touching. The fact that you were kissing only exacerbates the matter."
"That's stupid."
"So was your duplicity," he said coldly. While he recognized it wasn't exactly fair that a young woman could be ruined without actually losing her virtue, that didn't change how such a scene would be viewed by Society at large. "A fortune hunter might be willing to overlook such a scandal, but I can guarantee you wouldn't enjoy living under his roof any more than you do living under mine. Now, I believe you have a count of twenty-five? Bend over the chair and lift up your skirts."
"No! This isn't fair! I didn't-"
"Now, Gabrielle."
Tears sparked in her eyes, her lower lip pouting out. She looked at Cordelia, back at him and then turned and bent over the chair, practically flopping down as inelegantly as possible.
"Your skirts, Gabrielle."
Another huffing noise, but she reached back and pulled them up. Opening the lower drawer in his desk, Philip pulled out his tawse. The long strip of leather had two tails, each a foot and a half long, and it was well-worn. It was the same tawse that had been used on him by his father when a lesson was particularly needed. He knew it would create a deep ache that would stay with her for the next few days, without leaving any marks beyond a very red bottom. The color might linger a bit too.
"Twenty for sneaking off tonight and risking your reputation," he said firmly, moving around to her side, facing Cordelia. His wife had paled even more, if that were possible, upon seeing the tawse. She was probably picturing having it applied to her bottom. Unfortunately for her, he had a different punishment in mind for her transgressions. "Five for speaking after you were told to be silent and for attempting to distract from your wrongdoing by implicating your stepmother."
SNAP! THWAP!
Gabrielle screamed and kicked as Philip laid down blow after blow on her upturned bottom. At one point, she moved her hands to cover the chastened cheeks, which were so brightly red that it was visible through her thin drawers. Philip managed to pull back the blow, so that he didn't snap the tawse against her fingers and actually injure her, but he warned her if she tried that again, he'd tie her down. Like the last time, she managed to keep her hands up by her face, fingers digging into the leather seat of the chair, after that.
When he was done with all twenty-five, which he had to admit she took admirably well, she lay over the chair arm, sobbing. Placing the tawse down on the desk, he helped her up and pulled her into a hug, patting her back, and telling her that she'd done very well taking her punishment and he hoped she'd learned her lesson. Cordelia, who had been gripping the arms of her chair nearly as hard as Gabrielle had been hers, looked torn between jealousy at seeing Gabrielle in his arms and relief that he was being so kind to the sobbing, young woman.
Once her tears had calmed, although not died down entirely, Philip summoned one of the maids to escort Gabrielle back to her room, instructing the maid to bring some soothing tea and a few biscuits to her. She was going to be in for a rough night of it, as he seriously doubted lying down on anything but her stomach would be comfortable.
That taken care of, he turned back to where his wife was sitting in her chair. She shrunk in on herself a bit, as if to hide herself from his gaze, knowing she was probably in trouble.
******
"What did Gabrielle tell you about Mr. Pressen?"
"Not very much," Cordelia said quietly as her husband loomed over her, anxiety churning in her stomach. "A few days ago I went into her room to speak with her and she was writing a letter to him. I asked to see it, but all she had written was our schedule for the week, there was nothing about arranging a rendezvous." She looked up at him pleadingly. His face remained blankly stern.
"Did you ask to see it again before she actually sent it?"
Cordelia's face fell as she shook her head.
"Did you question her intentions towards Mr. Pressen?"
"Yes, she said she just wanted to get to know him better, that you and the other gentlemen who have been chaperoning her and Arabella have intimidated him and she asked..."
Her husband's countenance darkened as her voice trailed off. "She asked what?"
Dropping her gaze down to her lap, where her fingers were twisting the overlay of her skirt, Cordelia felt a surge of shame and regret. "She asked me not to tell you," she said softly.
Unable to look at him, she felt the beginning of tears burn her eyes as Philip felt silent and then let out a heartfelt, hurt sigh.
"Are you ever going to choose me over Gabrielle, Cordelia?" There was a rawness to his tone, a vulnerability, that Cordelia had never heard before. Her chest clenched tight around her heart, hating the fact that she'd done that to him. That she'd made her confident, self-assured husband sound insecure.
Her head snapped up to meet his sober, hazel eyes. "Of course! I didn't mean... I was just..." Her shoulders hunched in again as she finally owned up to the emotion that had driven her. "I was being selfish. I had so much of your attention, and I didn't want to give any of it up... I truly didn't see the harm in her letter, but I didn't want to look more closely at any of it because... I didn't want you to start paying more attention to her again and less to me."
Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she lowered her gaze again. Philip sighed again, but this time the sound wasn't nearly so heart-wrenching. His fingers brushed over the back of her neck, caressing, and she felt relief surge through her. He didn't hate her. He wouldn't touch her so gently if he hated her.
"I can understand the impulse, sweetheart, but you can't keep doing this. As much as I would like my attention completely focused on you as well, right now we have a responsibility to Gabrielle, and I cannot neglect that. I need you to help me, not keep information from me."
"You say you want help and a partnership, but you keep me out of things too," Cordelia said, rallying a bit now that she didn't feel so glum at his disappointment. She'd felt a bit resentful tonight at being kept so firmly out of things, especially after they'd discovered Gabrielle had snuck off to meet a man. "I'm her stepmother, but you never let me chaperone her, and you never discuss her suitors with me. Felix had to tell me about the fortune hunters after her, you didn't. I still wouldn't know why you wanted her to keep away from Fenworth if it wasn't for Felix."
******
Philip scowled and then his mouth quirked to the side. Despite the fact that he was still a bit exasperated with Cordelia, he had to admit that she was correct. When he talked about shared responsibility for Gabrielle, it was because he wanted Cordelia to share her burden with him. He wanted to shoulder it for her.
"I wanted you to enjoy the balls," he said, sliding the back of his hand over her cheek. "I don't want you to have to spend your time watching over Gabrielle. The social whirl is nothing new to me, but it is to you."
"I could still help," Cordelia said stubbornly. His lips quirked
again. He rather enjoyed having her arguing with him about this. At the beginning of their marriage, he was sure she wouldn't have dared. She would have just accepted whatever lead he wanted to take. Philip took it as a compliment to himself that she had blossomed in such a manner since being married to him. "I want to. Yes, I enjoy the balls and the dancing, but I do want to be a partner to you, a real one. We could watch her together, at least."
"Very well," he said, his heart swelling as he looked down into her amber eyes, which at this moment seemed fathoms deep. "From now on I will share more with you as well. But you still need to be punished for not communicating with me. You should have brought this up before if you wanted to be more involved, rather than having us both push our responsibilities off to the side. You should have at least mentioned Mr. Pressen to me so that I could investigate him on my own and let the others know about him. By hiding knowledge of him, at Gabrielle's request, you undermined my authority and gave her implicit permission to do as she wished. That we've already spoken about this... well I feel that I need to punish you more severely than before."
A little shudder went through her, but she nodded her head, obviously already repentant. She was going to be even more so shortly.
"Stand up," he said, gently but firmly. "I want you bent over the arm of this chair, with your skirts up. I assume you're not wearing drawers?"
"No," she confirmed softly, blushing. His cock stirred at the response. As she stood, she bit her lip, looking down at the chair and giving him a beseeching look. "Over the chair? Can't I..." Her blush deepened, and Philip felt a touch of satisfaction that she obviously preferred being over his lap. Unfortunately, that wouldn't be possible this evening. In order for a birching to be most effective, he would need plenty of room to swing the birch stick.
"Over the chair, sweetheart," he said firmly. "I want to be sure the lesson sticks this time. Have you ever been birched?"
"Birched?" she asked faintly, standing awkwardly next to the chair arm. "No..."
