Lord Belden's Baggage

Alisa hadn't gotten so much as a wink of sleep-various parts of her body that all resided in the same general area wouldn't let her-so she was already awake when Evie appeared, the next morning. "Do you think I might have a tray in my room rather than going down? I'm not feeling very well," she asked in an abnormally subdued tone.

Evie came over to look at her more closely. "Oh, miss, you look like you've had a hard night. I'm so sorry you don't feel well. I'll ask Mrs. Foster for a tray and tell his Lordship that he'll be dining alone this morning, with her Ladyship and Lord Belden both gone."

That tidbit of information caught Alisa's ear. "Lord Belden isn't here?"

"No, miss. He bolted out of here in time to catch the six o'clock train into London. There was some kind of emergency in Spain that he had to see to, so he'll be gone for a while. Left without his breakfast. Landon-his valet-barely had time to pack for him before he was out the door."

Well, then, she could go downstairs, apparently, if she wanted to, although she didn't know how she'd manage to face David if she did. No, she would continue to be the coward he had turned her into and remain up here. She hadn't had occasion to try sitting, but she was none too anxious to do so, either, since merely lying on her back was quite painful, which, conversely, seemed to add to the other throbbing her hedonistic body seemed to want to continue to do. Perhaps, if she continued to claim illness, she could manage to delay having to see anyone until tomorrow morning.

But Alisa felt guilty as everyone in the household, it seemed, was so nice to her and fawned over her, especially David, who was so dear when he tried to act in Charlotte's stead, coming to visit her, later that morning, luckily not noticing how brightly flushed she was at his appearance or perhaps he put it down to a fever.

"She will be beside herself, my girl, that you are unwell while she's not here to mother you. But she'll be home tomorrow." He patted her awkwardly on the arm.

"Thank you for staying with me, but you really don't have to, David. Truly. I'm sure I'll be up and about, tomorrow, and I know you have better things to do than to spend your time with me."

He looked more than somewhat relieved that she was releasing him. "How would it be if I had a tray up here with you for dinner? Do you fancy company, or are you feeling too unwell for that?" "No, of course not! I would enjoy your company immensely!" She smiled, because it was true.

Before he left, Alisa asked him to mention to Daniels, who would then mention to Evie, that she didn't want to be disturbed for a while as she was going to nap.

As soon as he'd left, after making her feel even worse about her charade by being so sweet to her, even tucking her in and asking if he the Lord of the Manor-could do anything for her before pressing a paternal kiss to her forehead and taking his leave, she got out of bed and headed for the full-length mirror in the corner of the room.

She turned around, so she could see the full reflection of her backside, and slowly lifted her nightgown to her waist, gasping at the abominable condition of her behind.

His enormous handprint was stamped-clear as day-all over it, in varying hues of angry red, and some places, where the shades were most furious, it almost leaned over into purple. And there were plenty of those spots. No wonder she'd spent the night on her tummy!

Boldly, bravely, she turned to face the mirror while still holding her gown up, looking at herself there for the first time in her life, wondering if she could see any kind of sign of the curious thing he'd done to her last night, but the only thing she'd noticed-besides the considerable lingering pleasure was that the crotch of her bloomers was damp this morning, when they never had been before. She wondered what that meant, but knew she'd probably never find out the answer. Regardless, Lord Belden certainly could take a page from his father's book on how to treat a lady, Alisa thought, lowering her nightgown and getting into bed to lie on her side, wishing she hadn't run away from him like a coward. But mostly, she wished that she hadn't forgotten the books she'd selected.

She was so bored that it turned out that telling David she was going to take a nap was no lie.

***

When Bram walked through the doors of Belden Manor a mere ten days later, having crammed a month's work into those few days, because he knew he needed to be home to deal with the untenable situation he'd created, the only one there to greet him was Daniels.

"Where is everyone?" he asked the butler as the man took his coat.

"They're at the Davenport's soiree this evening, I believe, milord."

"Oh." That was a bit of a letdown, since he'd cabled ahead and he wasn't that late.

"Lord Littlefield hoped that you might join them there. Your invitation is on the hall table. Landon has your white tie and tails prepared for you upstairs, and the carriage awaits you when you are ready."

He made it just in time for the pudding, excusing himself to the host and hostess profusely, then kissing and hugging his mother and his father after not having seen them for such a long time. He even stopped to kiss Alisa's hand, although she was characteristically reluctant to allow him to take it.

The dessert was beautiful, individual lemon tarts, which was one of his favorites, so he enjoyed the end of the meal, then remained with the men to smoke cigars and drink brandy while the ladies went through to the drawing room.

At the risk of ignoring his host-whom he knew would not begrudge him the chance to catch up with his father-Bram sat down next to him on the couch. "Well, Father, I got the situation in Madrid all straightened out, as I mentioned in my letter, and am none the worse for the wear, and neither are our holdings there, I'm glad to say. Is there any news from home I should know about?"

The older man leaned towards his son. "Well, I believe I can tell you something that you'll be very happy to hear, Bram."

"Oh, and what is that, Father?"

"We have reason to believe that there might soon be an engagement to celebrate."

His face fell, but his father was too excited about his news, so he didn't pay attention and Bram was easily able to cover it up. "Oh? Between?" he asked, dreading the answer. "Between Alisa and Teddy Simsbury."

He did his best not to look alarmed at that bit of news. "Viscount Densmore's son? That greasy little weasel?"

David looked shocked at his son's reaction. "He's very well fixed, they've a nice house in town and a large country estate, not to mention a spotless, ancient title and several properties in both Scotland and Ireland, as you well know. You went to school with him."

Rather than argue with him, Bram changed tactics. "I don't think she'd met him before I left, or I would have known about it. Things have progressed that far in so short a time?"

David nodded. "Alisa hinted that he would have offered for her the first night he met her, but he didn't want to push her."

He ground his teeth together at that. "Is there anything formal between them yet?"

"No, not that I'm aware of. He hasn't come to me, although your mother thinks it's only a matter of time before he does." The old man was nodding away, happy as a clam at the great news he was imparting to his son, knowing it was going to make him ecstatic to no longer have Alisa in the house.

Only that was no longer the way of things with Bram, although there was no way for him to know that.

Rather than panicking, Bram instead patted his father's hand. "This evening, when we get home, I should like to talk to you, if I could."

"Of course, son. May I know what the topic will be?" The older man frowned. "Is all really well in Spain?"

"Yes, Father, it is. The topic is nothing you would expect, and rather, a confession on my part."

On that cryptic note, he went to get himself a drink and spent the rest of the evening watching Alisa out of the corner of his eye. She didn't look any worse for the wear-although it had been a while but he also noted that, to him, she hardly looked as if she was on the edge of wedded bliss.

***

Later that evening, he and his father went into the older man's study, where they had spoken before Alisa's arrival about Bram's dereliction of duty in regards to not having found a suitable wife.

Bram poured himself a neat whiskey. "Can I get you something, Father?" he asked as the old man settled into the big chair behind his desk.

"No, thank you. Sit down, son. You have me on pins and needles with your mysterious mention of a confession."

Bram took the chair in front of his father's desk. "I'm not quite sure how to put this, but I guess the best thing to do is to come right out and say it and beg your forgiveness."

His father had been curious at first, but now, he looked alarmed. "Beg my forgiveness? For what?"

"Well, I-I'm not going to go into detail to save her the embarrassment, and what happened was no one's fault but my own. I want you to understand that, Father. I bear full responsibility for what I did."

His father was white as a sheet. "Whatever have you done, my son? And to whom have you done it?"

After taking a long breath, Bram said, "I was inappropriate in the extreme with Miss Thurgood, so much so that I feel that I have compromised her honor and should, therefore, marry her."

Very little he could have said would have shocked his father more, and it showed on his face. "Bram, are you...are you very sure about this?" David asked in a hushed tone.

The younger man's smile had nothing to do with amusement and everything to do with guilt and regret mixed with a strong desire to repeat his sin, which only made things worse for him. His father watched him swallow hard, then raise his head to meet his eyes. "I am ashamed to admit it, Father, but I most definitely am. I took liberties that I had no right to take. And although it was done while we were alone, you know how nothing in this house is truly private." His father nodded and he went on. "Regardless, my conduct was most ungentlemanly, and even without the specter of possible revelation, I must do the honorable thing. I would have told you this sooner, but I ended up having to go to Spain, and I didn't think that this was the kind of thing I could or should-impart to you in a letter. But I am here now, and I intend to make things right."

His father leaned back in his chair a bit, obviously considering the situation carefully. "Well, I don't know exactly what you did nor do I want to." He held up his hand as if to ward off that possibility. "But it certainly sounds as if this is something where you must do anything you can to restore her honor." That hand ended up rubbing the back of his neck instead. "Although, Alisa seems to have her heart set on Teddy."

Why hearing that bothered him so much, he was completely unwilling to explore. "I can't imagine why she would-the man's a fop, at best, and a buffoonish wastrel, at worst."

"Yes, well, she says that they get along splendidly, and your mother thinks it's a fine match, although—"

"What?" Bram looked back at his father from the credenza where he was making himself a strong drink.

His father was blushing, and he couldn't imagine what it was that he was reluctant to tell him. He'd thought that he was the one with the secret.

"I'm not at all certain I should tell you."

"Father, I just told you something that is a matter of great embarrassment and consternation to me. Why is it that you are so hesitant to do the same with me?"

David sighed. "Well, my son, because the fact of the matter of it is that what I was going to say is also likely to be a matter of considerable embarrassment to you, I think."

Bram's scowl was truly intimidating, even to his father. "Tell me."

He rose then, hobbling around on his cane until he turned and stared out the window, much like his son had, months ago, while he was trying to convince his stubborn, willful child to take a bride.

"You're not very fond of Alisa, Bram." It was an observation, not a question. "I will likely never understand why, because I can't think that she's done anything untoward to you, but then, I don't really need to. It will come as no surprise to you that she is quite aware of your feelings towards her, and I can say with complete truthfulness that those feelings are very much mutual."

For some reason, hearing that said out loud made him angry, although he knew he had no reason to be, considering how he'd treated her on so many levels. Not that it stopped him from asking, "Did she actually say that to you?" "No, not to me." David looked back at Bram. "She said it to your mother, in confidence, when your mother questioned her in private about why she was so eager to marry Teddy. We want her to make a good match, of course, but we certainly wouldn't have pushed her to find one so quickly. Your mother and I want her to be happy-to find a man who meets our standards, yes, but also, one she loves, hopefully, and who is also going to love her and make her happy." He took a big swallow of his drink. "Not everyone is lucky enough to find a love match, as you and mother have."

As Bram was still standing near the credenza, David moved to sit in the chair he'd been in. "True, true. But, apparently, Alisa has made up her mind that, due to your unfriendly attitude towards her, she should marry the first man who offered for her, no matter who that was, in order to, and I believe I might be quoting here, 'get as far away from that discourteous, ungentlemanly, clod of a giant' as she can."

He sighed heavily, pausing for a second, and then said, "I do believe she is referring to you"

"I'm well aware of that fact, Father," came the clipped reply.

"So you also understand that she is in no way interested in marrying you, either. I don't know whether she felt this way before you did whatever it was that you did to her, but that is not really of any concern, at the moment." He fiddled with his cane, feeling just about as awkward as he'd ever felt in his life before he asked, "As I said, I don't want to know the details of what happened between the two of you, but I do feel the need to ask one thing."

Bram looked his father in the eye.

"Is there a chance she might be...with child as a result of your behavior?"

Perversely, he had to fight back a smile. "No, absolutely none."

The older man heaved a very loud sigh of relief. "Well, that, at least, is good to hear."

Bram hated being so devious with his father and beating around the bush. He'd never really had occasion to do that before, and he didn't like doing it now, either. So, he impulsively resolved to tell him at least some of what had happened. "Father, I spanked her. I didn't have my way with her or compromise her innocence, as if that wasn't enough. But she was over my lap, bottom bared, and I thrashed her quite severely."

"Why on earth did you do that?" His father sounded astonished.

"Because the little hellion kicked me!" It sounded weak now, even to his own ears, not that it was going to save him from his fate.

"She kicked you?" He sounded as if it was a physical impossibility. "What did you do to her that prompted her to do that?"

Bram didn't point out the glaring fact that the question made crystal clear-his father was obviously siding with Alisa against him, which, of course, was the right reaction. "We were in the library, and I had gotten some books she was reaching for down from a shelf that was above her head. I happened to glance at the titles, and they were those horrible, tawdry stories I used to read as a child, along with a couple of classics that were still highly questionable, as far as I'm concerned, for any young lady of quality. So, I told her that I wasn't going to give them to her until I had a chance to have Mother-who was away for a few days-take a look at them and decide if it was proper for her to read them."

For some annoying reason, his father looked as if he was going to break into a grin at any moment. "Even though you were allowed to read them, I'm assuming, when you were much younger than she is?"

Bram's eyes narrowed on his father. "I was not then, nor will I ever be, an impressionable young lady."

David couldn't contain his mirth any longer. "No, no, you aren't." But he straightened up quickly when his son showed absolutely no signs of joining him. "You can see my concern, though. And what you've just confessed to me doesn't seem like the start of a very happy marriage, when neither of you can stand the other."

"Is it, then, your considered opinion, Father, that that negates the fact that I have seen her en dishabille?" In exquisite, wild, glorious dishabille, his perverse mind supplied for him. It seemed to Bram that he had been able to think about little else since.

"No, no. I'm not saying that at all, son." He paused for a moment, then said, "Might I suggest that I am not the best arbiter of how we should proceed? That you should say to your mother exactly what you've said to me? Well, perhaps not everything. But surely, she'll know the right thing to do more acutely than either of us. You know how clearly she sees things like this."

Bram was not fond of the idea of having to confess to his mother that he had acted so badly, but he would do whatever was needed to rectify the situation in whatever way would hurt the family the least, up to and including marrying the annoying little pest.

As it turned out, his mother was surprisingly understanding about the whole debacle, while he sat there-barely able to look at her-his face was as bright as a flame the entire time, even though he only revealed the barest of information about what happened. She staunchly agreed with her son that he and Alisa should get married as soon as possible.

Once they determined the correct course of action, the decision was made that Bram and his mother would inform Alisa, with David making arrangements instead of attending what was certainly going to be an awkward meeting, so as to save the girl from any more embarrassment than was absolutely necessary. After all, Bram, himself, had insisted that she bore no fault in what happened whatsoever, except, perhaps, in the folly of losing her temper, which still should not have resulted in what it had for her.