Queen of my Hart - Emily Royal Page 0,40
roared.
She screamed and covered her breasts with her arms.
“H-husband!” she cried. “I didn’t think you’d arrive today.”
“That much is obvious,” he said. “Get out of the water at once! I’ll not have you parading around like a bloody slattern. I ought to have you horsewhipped for this!”
The groom stood still.
“Ralph, take the girl back. I’ll deal with my wife,” Dexter said. “Quickly!” he added when the young man hesitated. “The sooner you’re gone, the better.”
His wife shivered.
“Is that your dress over there?” He pointed toward the garment on the rock.
She nodded.
“Then, for goodness sake, take those wet clothes off and put the fucking thing on!” He gestured with his cane, and she shrank back, her eyes widening in fear.
Ye gods, did she think he was going to hit her? He lowered his arm and softened his voice. “Do as I say, please, Margaret.”
She stepped out of the water and approached the dress.
“Well?” he demanded, “what are you waiting for?”
“Shall I remove my undergarments while you watch?” she asked.
Good lord no—that was not a good idea, not when that groom looked like he was about to spend at any moment.
It was a small spark of defiance and spirit, but it flickered out as he moved toward her.
“Use the blankets,” he said. “For pity’s sake, cover yourself up! Ralph, see to it that the rest of the mess is cleared up. But for now, we need to get my wife home before she catches a chill.”
“Are…are we in trouble?” the maid asked.
“Yes,” Dexter said through his teeth. “You’re in a lot of trouble. What the devil do you think you were doing?”
“I saw no harm in it,” his wife said.
“That’s not helping your case, Margaret.”
“It was my idea!” the maid cried.
“And what possessed you to encourage your mistress to behave like a slut?” Dexter demanded.
“I-I thought it would make her happy. She needed cheering up.”
The reply pricked at his conscience. But whatever the reason, there was no excuse for such behavior. What would the servants think of their mistress if she carried on like this? Not to mention Alderley.
That spiteful man was coming tomorrow, together with his snob of a daughter. They’d tear Margaret to pieces. She must learn—quickly—that it was not acceptable to mingle with the servants.
And given how little time he had to teach her before Alderley’s arrival, she’d have to learn the hard way.
***
As soon as they reached the main house, Meggie’s husband ordered Ralph to take Milly inside. Then he grasped Meggie’s arm and pulled her close.
“Get yourself changed,” he hissed, “then wait in your chamber. I’ll deal with the servant first.”
“What do you mean—deal with her?” she asked, her stomach tightening in fear.
“You can’t expect such a deed to go unpunished.”
“But it wasn’t her fault!” she cried. “I was the one in the water.
“At her suggestion, if I recall her confession correctly.”
“Her confession?” she asked. “Am I on trial?”
“Perhaps,” he replied. “After all, as my wife and mistress of this house, you must abide by certain rules, many of which you broke today.”
Who was he—her jailer? Did he think he could order her about within minutes of returning?
“Pardon me for not knowing all the rules,” she said.
His mouth twitched, almost as if he were going to smile before his lips thinned again.
“My dear,” he said, “a woman of even your level of intelligence should understand that the mistress of the house shouldn’t go swimming naked with the scullery maid! Do not insult my intelligence by feigning ignorance.”
How many insults could he throw at her in a single sentence?
“If I’m the one who broke the rules, punish me instead,” Meggie said. “Milly doesn’t deserve it.”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not so simple.”
“What are you going to do with her?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” he said, “but it should serve as a reminder not to do it again. One or two strokes should suffice.”
Meggie’s blood chilled. “You mean to have her thrashed?”
“Perhaps.”
She grasped his hand. “Please!” she cried. “You cannot! She meant no harm, and it’s not her fault if I didn’t behave as you expect me to. You can’t punish her for that.”
“I can,” he said. “And I will. She should know both her place and yours.”
“No!” she cried. “Dexter, please!”
At her mention of his name, his eyes narrowed, then he looked away.
“I’m sorry, my dear, my mind is made up.”
“Why must you be so cruel?”
“It’s not out of cruelty,” he said, “but of necessity. I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“You’re the mistress