Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

BENEDICT

T he madam bristles closer to us, her shoulders squared as she looks upon the young ladies. "You told me to come fetch you if Miss Augusta Hunt ever tries to enter this establishment."

At her words, Augusta flinches. Next to her, Foxford's wife shoots my fiancée a dirty look. Seems as if my intended never revealed to the others her edict concerning this place. I do have to wonder if that would make any difference to the lot of them.

Flitting around like a grand peacock, Madame Douleur strides around us, making a circle back to the girls. "When Miss Hunt was in attendance without any warning or change in the rules, I figured the other husbands would want to know of such mischief as well. Unless they were all invited, and I was simply not informed?"

"No," Foxford growls out, meeting his wife's arrogant gaze with a scowl of his own.

Next to me, Birchleigh and Blackport stand rigid, their bodies just as hard and unyielding as my own. Out of every possible outcome I could have foreseen for tonight, this was not one of them. Why on earth did I think she could actually be obedient?

A hint of amusement twinkles in Madame Douleur's eyes as she turns to us. With a bow and a small quirk to her lips, she heads toward the door. "I'll leave you gentlemen to your brides. My rooms are available if you have need. But, of course, I will bill you for the trouble."

"Indeed," I sigh. "We would expect nothing less."

Once she leaves, I scan the group, my heart pounding in my chest as I avoid looking at Augusta. Again, she blinks at me with that false innocence I so abhor. She knew exactly what she was doing coming here.

It's not the disobedience so much as the fact that she put her life in danger tonight. All of them did. But right now, I don't give two shits about the other dukes and their wives. They'll be able to impart the enormity of their actions onto them.

Finally, I give up and look at her, noting the slight quiver around her lips. The exasperating wench isn't worried because of her actions. It's because the chit got caught. Anger swirls in me hot and potent. Glancing over at the others, I can tell they're just as wroth as me.

"Please, Portswell-"

I cut her off with a wave of my hand. "I will deal with you, but not in the presence of the others. I need a moment to compose myself."

"Why didn't you tell me you were strictly forbidden," Madam Foxford hisses, scowling at Augusta.

"As if you have blanket permission," Foxford bellows, his words spat out in fury.

Blackport steps forward and shakes his head, reaching out to slide a hand down his wife's arm. "I expect this behavior from Miss Augusta Hunt and the Duchess of Foxford, but you?"

Both women mentioned look at him, their mouths agape, as if we husbands don't speak about matters of disobedience and discipline.

Madam Foxford takes in a deep breath as she plants her hands on her hips. "I'll have you know-"

"You will be silent," Foxford hisses, grabbing his wife by the wrist and yanking her to his side. "I suggest you do not make matters worse by interfering."

"Forgive me, Master," Blackport's wife whimpers, sliding down to the floor.

It's as if the woman doesn't realize she's submitting to him in such an intimate manner in front of all of us.

Foxford's wife jerks her wrist away, walks over to her friend, and helps her back up. "She didn't want to go. So if you plan on punishing her for our misdeeds, I would implore you to reconsider."

Blackport levels a glare at her. "You would be wise to not address me at this moment. I have a mind to forbid her from ever seeing any of you after this."

Foxford jumps in between the two and pushes his wife behind him. "Be reasonable. We are all furious at the moment, but let us not say words in wrath that we cannot take back."

He sighs and steps back, taking his wife with him. "What have you to say about all this?"

She looks down at the ground, her face screwed up in misery. All it does is make my anger burn even hotter. Does Augusta not care what happens to the others? Does she not understand that her actions led to this outcome, not just for her, but for her friends as well?

"Forgive me, Master," she wails, the warble in her voice tugging at my stone-cold heart. "I chose to come. No one forced me. Please, do not punish them for my mistakes."

Birchleigh steps forward and clears his throat, finally choosing to speak. "Have no fear of that. They will all atone for their own actions as I'm sure you will for yours."

"Speak for yourself," I growl, snarling at Augusta. "I plan to lay each and every wrongdoing at my future wife's feet. You may take that into consideration while dealing with your own wives, and you might not. The choice will be yours."

"It's not all her fault," Foxford's wife cries out. "It was my suggestion."

"Teresa!" Augusta chides, striding over to her friend. "Please do not make yourself a sacrifice."

"Oh, she's already that," Foxford grumbles, crossing his arms. "Unfortunately, it has a ring of truth about it."

I level my stare at Augusta. "I will have the truth. Did Foxford's wife start the charge?"

My stubborn minx screws her lips shut, refusing to utter a word in defense. Part of me applauds her bravery and loyalty, the other part just keeps tally of how absolutely daft she's being.

"Yes," Foxford's wife finally pipes up. "I was the one who made the suggestion."

"And the others simply followed?" Birchleigh inquires. "Or did someone else have a hand in gaining access to this place?" His wife hangs her head and remains silent.

"That crime is at my feet as well. If anyone is to be punished tonight, it is to be me."

"Have no doubt of that, dear wife," Foxford chuckles without a trace of humor in his voice.

With a sigh, I run my hand down my face. "Do none of you understand the enormity of what happened here tonight?"

Again, Foxford's wife champions for the rest of them. "We merely wished to give Augusta a proper education to prepare her for tomorrow."

"And you did not think that would be her husband's job? Do you really think you could show her better than him?"

She narrows her eyes at him for a moment before giving him a saccharine smile. "Why, my dear husband. I merely wished her to understand matters far more succinctly than I did on my wedding night. You lot were not supposed to be here. Besides, you all have wives save Norhaven, Whiteport, and Redleigh. How is it you are here on such an evening? Should not Augusta be scandalized that her betrothed be engaged with another? Should we not be enraged to find you here as well?"

The women latch onto her argument and cry out as well, their speeches of propriety and wounded pride intermingling until I cannot tell one word from the other.

"Wife," Foxford snarls as I and the others step forward, our words on top of each other's.

The only men who hang back are the ones without a bride in this equation. Lucky bastards. Finally, unable to think in the din around me, I put my fingers to my lips and whistle.

At once, all commotion stops as they all look at me. "I suggest we each take our women separately and deal with this situation before it becomes even more out of hand than it already is. I refuse to have this night turn into a spectacle for others to glean information from or gawk at."

The men instantly sober, thoughts of the potential blackmailers back in the forefront of our thoughts. At the end of the day, that's what truly matters. "I suggest you take your wives home to keep any chatter to a minimum. I will see to Miss Hunt here and then take her home."

Silence descends between us for a moment, only punctuated with soft sniffles from Blackport's wife. Of all the ladies here, I blame her the least. It's clear she's repentant of what little she's done. The other four stand there as if they have done nothing wrong.

Even Augusta looks at me with a haughty eye, as if Teresa's words put her sin above mine. Not that I have actually done anything wrong this evening.

"Who is to take Miss Cynthia Campbell in hand seeing as she has no husband?" Whiteport muses, running his fingers along his lip as he stares at the girl in question. "I would suggest leaving it to her father, but then that would bring only shame and forced marriage into the equation."

It might be my imagination, but for a moment, Miss Campbell looks almost hopeful as she glances over at Norhaven. But then, that's ridiculous. Granted, I thought marrying Augusta was off the table as well, so stranger things have certainly happened.

"I do not wish her family to be burdened with this," Norhaven grinds out. "If there is no way else to make her see the error of her ways, then I will step in as a family friend to deliver a most needed punishment."

"You wouldn't!" She cries, her eyes twinkling as her lips twitch just a touch.

Norhaven looks away, but not before I see the blaze of lust in his eyes. "Our family is close to yours, and so my brother or I should take up the mantle as disciplinarian. Seeing as I am closer to you than he is, I feel it is my obligation and duty to show you the error of your ways. That is, if there is no other way."

Whiteport sighs and shakes his head. "I can see no other recourse at the moment that will not reveal her presence here. But then, I'm already addled with drink and prefer to become more so. Redleigh and I shall leave you all to the women as we attempt to finish this night in peace."

For the briefest of moments, the hard lines of Norhaven's body ease when his brother hands over responsibility of her. Certainly not my imagination indeed. Their relationship, whatever it may be, is out of my hands, and I refuse to play matchmaker. After being trapped myself, I do not wish to aid someone trapping another.

One by one, they file out, the women protesting… All save Blackport's bride. If only I'd had the same fortune. But then, I'd certainly break one as delicate as her. Augusta is in no such danger. At least, that's what I hope.

Fury, fear, lust, and longing all coalesce into one ugly sensation as it twists my body from the inside out. Underneath it all is an emotion I never thought possible—hurt.

I want to break her, shatter her, make her see reason. I wish nothing more than to actually be able to bend her to my will and make her understand the enormity of her actions. But even now, I note the arrogance in her stance, the challenge in her eyes

"How dare you directly disobey one of the few orders I've given you?" I quietly seethe, striding over to her. "How dare you take my leniency and throw it back into my face? "More importantly, how dare you endanger the one thing I've come to care about?"

Her lips quiver as she tips her head up, doing her best to remain haughty. "Your precious honor and dignity?"

"You, blast it all."

"Me?" The shocked tone in her voice takes me aback.

"How will I make you understand when you are so determined to come at me with cross purposes? This isn't completely about blind obedience or not, but deep down, I thought you'd eventually submit to me, willingly taking my mantle of dominance. But I see that's not the case."

For a moment she actually looks remorseful, but it could be her trying to worm her way out of the punishment I plan to deliver.

"I can submit," she hedges, looking down at the floor.

"No," I grind out. "You only want me for my rough touch and domineering ways. It's a thrill to you and nothing more."

With a sigh, I run my hand over the back of my neck and rub away the gathering tension. I thought I found my soulmate in this minx, but I fear I've saddled myself to someone who will never have any chance of actually loving me the way I need to be loved.