Page 11 of To Tame a Wicked Widow

She inwardly groaned as Penelope turned and batted her lashes at the obnoxious man. “I couldn’t agree more, Sir Horace. Some ladies require a much firmer hand to guide them than others.”

“Are you saying I need to be spanked?” said Madeline sweetly. “There are numerous establishments that cater for that, marriage is not required.”

Penelope wheezed in a breath. “Madeline.”

“I say,” said Sir Horace, stepping back. “You shouldn’t know about that sort of thing, let alone speak about it.”

Madeline tilted her head. “But I do know about it, sir. Do you? Or perhaps the harsher kiss of the birch or flogger is more your preference?”

The dandy went purple. “Impertinence! You are altogether far too free with your opinions, my lady. I regret I will not be offering, no matter how fetching your face and figure.”

“Let me assure you, sir, the regret is entirely yours. But in the spirit of cordiality, I could give you a letter of introduction to Mrs. Berkley in Soho Square. If it’s birching you seek, there is none better in London.”

Sir Horace made a choking sound and nearly sprinted away.

“What are you doing?” hissed Penelope, clamping her bony fingers around Madeline’s elbow. “He is a baronet! With a charming townhouse in London, ten thousand a year, and his late mother’s rubies!”

“I don’t care about rubies,” said Madeline irritably. “Nor do I want a sickly-looking husband who reeks of perfume and sweat, and wears more lace than I do.”

“How wicked and selfish you are. We barely make ends meet on the money you send us. The least you can do is marry a wealthy man so we can live as we should. Otherwise we may all have to move in with you.”

Barely quelling a horrified scream, Madeline took a calming breath. “I’m surprised you haven’t suggested Lord Dare.”

“What? He’s only three-and-twenty. And heathenish. A proper English lord would never allow his skin to darken so, nor spend so much time with foreigners. Besides, if Mr. Smyth’s friends are correct, Dare doesn’t have a feather to fly with.”

Startled, Madeline folded her arms and glared. “My brother should spend less time with gossips, and more on finding gainful employment. Perhaps a trade…”

Penelope swooned. A cry went up from several nearby young ladies, loud enough to interrupt the string quartet. Every head turned, including, unfortunately, her mother, Faith, and Winifred, and the trio raced over.

“Madeline! What did you do?” asked her mother, as she knelt down to wave a vial of hartshorn under Penelope’s nose.

“What did you say?” demanded Winifred.

“Just wait until Lord Dare hears of this,” added Faith smugly. “Shaming your own family as well as ours!”

“Hears of what?” said a deep and wonderfully familiar voice.

Her heart lifting at the unexpected boon, Madeline turned to Ethan. “Good afternoon, my lord.”

Penelope sat up, miraculously recovered. “Do not be playing ladylike now, Madeline Upcott. You chased away your sixth possible suitor and have positively ruined the Sainsbury’s musicale.”

“Well,” said Ethan coldly. “If that is the way of it, then the privilege of attending must be revoked. I will escort Lady Upcott home and ensure she is repentant for her actions.”

Torn between laughter and fierce arousal, Madeline kept her head bowed lest anyone see her true feelings. The opportunity to leave this wretched affair early was delightful enough, but the threat of discipline… What would Ethan do to her? Might it involve the dildo they hadn’t had time to try? Even the thought made her nipples taut, and pussy dampen. “Please…no…” she mumbled, trying her very best to sound mournful. “I’ll behave.”

“Too late,” crowed Faith. “Dare’s mind is made up. And I’m sure we don’t need to remind his lordship what sparing the rod achieves.”

“Worry not, cousin,” said Ethan. “There is no chance of that. Come along, Lady Upcott.”

On that deliciously promising note she was discreetly hauled from the drawing room, and minutes later, they were ensconced in Ethan’s carriage.

“So,” he said thoughtfully, his gaze unreadable. “Exactly how wicked were you?”

She rolled her eyes. “On our scale, or theirs?”

“Actions have consequences, madam,” he replied, his tone hardening.

Oh God.