The Officer's Little Rebel (8 page)

“Your papa’s heart is always in the right place,” Miss Quinn said one afternoon as she sat in the parlor brushing Imogen’s long hair. “Everything he does is for your comfort and safety. You don’t want to end up like poor Frozen Charlotte, do you?”

Imogen turned to her nanny. “Who?”

“Why, Frozen Charlotte…” Nanny Quinn reached into the pocket of her apron and withdrew a tiny bisque doll, which she placed in the palm of Imogen’s hand.

“I got her from a friend who works in America as a nanny to a young woman in your situation. They are quite popular there, these little dolls. There’s a story that goes with them about a girl named Charlotte who neglected to listen to her papa when he told her to dress warmly for a sleigh ride. You see, she was quite keen for passersby to see her lovely frock, so she refused her wrap on her way to the ball. But it was to her peril. By the time she arrived, she was quite frozen.”

Imogen’s eyes grew wide. “She died, then?”

“Indeed she did.” Both women turned to hear an unfamiliar male voice. A tall, lean man with a hawkish nose and white blond hair stood in the doorway. “I’m familiar with this tale myself. It’s a cautionary one about the need to obey authority. You should keep that little doll with you at all times, child, and reflect on her should you feel the need to disobey.”

Miss Quinn stood, chuckling. “Mr. Sutton, I presume,” she said.

The man bowed his head cordially. “At your service.”

“Ah, we’ve been expecting you.” Royce joined them now, and the man turned to shake hands with Imogen’s papa, who turned to her with a smile.

“Imogen, this gentleman responded to the ad we placed for a tutor shortly after you arrived. We’ve been corresponding ever since, and he’s impressed both me and your nanny with his credentials. Your lessons shall begin today.”

“So soon?” Imogen frowned.

“Pish,” said the nanny. “You’ve been here a fortnight already. And remember, what your father desires for you is for your own good.”

Imogen looked down at the little bisque doll and smiled as she dropped it into the pocket of her pinafore. “Yes, I suppose. And I am keen to learn my letters.”

“Then you shall begin,” Royce said, then lifted his finger. “But remember, little Imogen, that this man is to be obeyed just as your nanny and I are to be obeyed. You are to listen, to be polite.”

“I don’t expect she will be a problem,” Mr. Sutton said, smiling, and Imogen looked up at him, trying to determine the age of her instructor with his whitish hair but sharp, youthful features. “It would be a shame to use the cane on such a pretty little thing, no?”

Imogen looked at her papa in shock. “You’d let another man cane me?”

“Only in my presence,” he laughed. “And only if you’d warranted it. But I hardly believe that will be the case.”

Imogen nodded. The notion of being corrected by another man filled her with trepidation, but the image in her mind of her papa watching… she shifted a little as her pussy responded to this possibility, and she quickly drove it from her mind.

“I shall be very, very good,” she said.

“Excellent,” Nanny said. “Then I shall leave you to it.”

“As will I,” Royce said, clapping the tutor on the back. “And, of course, Mr. Sutton will dine with us on the days he comes to teach you.”

“You’re too kind,” the tutor said.

“Oh, I insist,” Royce said. “You’re polishing my favorite jewel. It’s the least I can do.”

The two left then and Imogen watched as Mr. Sutton went through the bag he brought. She was delighted when he produced a slate and some chalk, and even more delighted when he handed her the first book she’d ever owned.

“This is a primer,” he said. “You’ll learn your letters and then go on to the foundations of reading. You’ll learn to write your letters, too.”

Next he produced an abacus. “This will help you learn to add and subtract.”

There would be Latin, too, as well as what Mr. Sutton called ‘moral education.’

“It’s rather unusual to meet a young lady in such a house just starting her formal education,” he said.

“I was not raised here,” Imogen said, unsure about how much to offer. “And I did not have the benefit where I came from.”

“Well, you are a lucky girl to find yourself in the care of a man like Major Kingsley. They say he’s a war hero, you know.” Mr. Sutton settled Imogen at a nearby table as he spoke, laying the open book in front of her.

“Yes,” she said. “He doesn’t talk much about it, though. I only know that it must have been quite terrible, the things he saw. He lost a man who’d saved him, a young man named Robert.” She paused. “The major is a good and caring man.”

The tutor smiled kindly. “No doubt that he is. Kindness is such a commodity; my wife and I tell our two daughters that on a daily basis. But enough of this. Let us begin.”

The lesson went smoothly. By the end of it, Imogen had memorized and written five letters of the alphabet to Mr. Sutton’s satisfaction. He made the lesson enjoyable with his patience and offered little jokes to amuse her. At the end of it, he taught her how to cut out a daisy chain of dolls, which delighted her.

Dinner that evening was goose with chestnuts, fall greens, turnips, and trifle. Imogen listened as her papa, Miss Quinn, and Mr. Sutton spoke of the goings-on in London.

“Are you a family man?” Miss Quinn asked after a bit.

“No,” the tutor said. “I’m a bachelor, for now, but I hope to settle down one day if I can find a wife to abide me.”

Imogen, who’d been content to let the others talk, now spoke up.

“A bachelor? Mr. Sutton, you said you have a wife and children.”

The tutor looked at her from across the table and then gave a laugh. “No, dear, I did not.” He began to put a forkful of goose in his mouth when she spoke up again.

“But sir, you did,” Imogen persisted. “You said you have two daughters, and said you teach them the value of kindness.”

The smile faded. “You’re mistaken, young lady.” His tone was less than patient now.

“You likely misheard, dear,” Nanny Quinn said.

“But I did not!” Imogen found herself growing frustrated. It was true that she was not learned, but she was a quick study and had a good memory. While working at the inn, she’d always remembered what the patrons wanted, and hardly ever got their requests wrong.

“Imogen.” Major Kingsley said her name softly, but with an air of authority that got her attention. “If the man says you are mistaken, then you are. It hardly matters, anyway.”

“I suppose not.” Imogen smoothed the napkin in her lap. “I apologize, Mr. Sutton.”

“It’s hardly worth the fuss,” he said. “You absorbed a lot today. And this error is quite excusable, given that it’s not on the books.”

This comment brought laughter from Nanny Quinn and Royce, who quickly steered the conversation on to other topics. Imogen, however, sat staring at her plate, vexed now for reasons she could not quite understand.

“May I be excused?” she asked a moment later, and Nanny Quinn nodded.

Imogen was glad to get away from the table. It was easy to remove herself; living as a child meant that neither Major Kingsley nor the nanny ever forced her to sit longer than it took her to finish her meal. But living as a child also meant that she could sometimes be easily dismissed.

Upstairs, she occupied herself by practicing her letters. Mr. Sutton had allowed her to keep the slate. Afterwards, she sat on the bed and pulled the little alabaster doll from her pocket.

“Poor Frozen Charlotte,” she said, running her finger across the tiny two-inch figure. “You were a very, very bad girl. You should have listened to your papa.” She smiled then, lying on her bed. She wouldn’t make that mistake, especially not now that she had a man giving her a true father’s love. The two weeks she’d been at Stonehaven Manor had been the happiest of Imogen’s life. Everyone was kind to her, even the staff. Mrs. Philbert and Mr. Plum slipped her sweets from the kitchen, and her papa came to her nightly, sometimes to talk, sometimes to cuddle and sweetly tease. She’d asked him when they would be together again as man and woman, and he’d told her it would be soon, when the time was right.

Her heart leapt when she heard the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves in the courtyard, signaling Mr. Sutton’s departure in his trap. Soon Major Kingsley would come to her, but when the door opened, it was only nanny.

“Oh,” she said. “It’s just you.”

“That isn’t very nice,” Miss Quinn said.

Imogen sighed. “I’m sorry. I was just expecting to see papa.”

“And you will,” the nanny said. “But I’m taking you to him. He wants to be present for your cleansing.”

“Cleansing?” Imogen remembered now that her nanny had told her she’d be subjected to the procedure, and vaguely knew what it would entail. But for Major Kingsley to witness such a thing?

“Must he be there?” she groaned.

“Yes, my sweet,” the nanny said. “He is not like some fathers; he wants to be involved in all aspects of your care. Consider yourself fortunate. So many men who keep these arrangements want their little ones presented to them like toys for play. He cares about you, Imogen, and I’ll hear no whinging. Understand?”

“And if I don’t?”

Imogen cried out as Nanny Quinn walked over and took her by the ear. The older woman said nothing as she marched her charge over to the edge of the bed, pushed her over, and flipped up the lacy hem of her skirt.

“Naughty little girl!” she scolded. “First you show cheek at dinner and now here in your chambers? Well, my dear, if you want to show cheek, then you will pay the price.”

“Where did…?” Imogen was about to ask the nanny where she’d gotten the switch she’d produced, but the older woman cut her off.

“Never you mind where I got this,” she said. “Suffice it to say a well-prepared nanny always keeps a bit of birch on hand. Now keep your hands on that bed, young lady!”

Imogen’s heart began to pound as the nanny parted the open seam of her petticoat, exposing her bottom. She wasn’t sure what to expect, and took comfort in the flimsiness of the switch. But that comfort was short-lived when she felt its bite across her bare skin. Imogen screamed as she slumped down to the floor, her hands clasping her stinging nates.

“It feels as if a bee has stung me!” she cried. “It hurts so!”

“As it should!” the nanny said, hauling Imogen up and positioning her back over the bed. This time, the larger woman kept a sturdy hand on her charge’s lower back, landing the switch five times as Imogen kicked and howled.

It was a much more amenable young lady who obediently followed her nanny from the room, sniffling as she occasionally reached back to rub her bottom through the fabric of her skirt. The little lines had puffed into welts that itched and burned.

Nanny Quinn led her to a small room where Major Kingsley was waiting. Imogen had never seen such a room before. It was all white, with a raised bed in the middle. Nanny Quinn explained that it was not a bed, but a table for medical examinations. Imogen wondered what sort of medical exam would require straps to hold the patient, since there were four of them on this one. When she asked, she was told there would be no need for the straps if she was a good girl and took her cleansing properly.

“She’ll need to be stripped naked,” Nanny Quinn said to Major Kingsley. “Would you prefer to do it?”

“Of course.” He smiled down at Imogen, but she could not meet his gaze as he removed her clothing, dreading the moment he noticed the stripes on her bum.

“Someone got a taste of the birch,” he said when he removed her pantalets, and she flushed scarlet.

“Yes, papa.”

“And why?”

“For my cheek at dinner,” she said with a sniffle. “And for not wanting you to be here for the cleansing.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because nanny has said it will make me desperately want to use the chamber pot, and that is a private thing!”

He laughed at this. “And so it shall be,” he said. “But the cleansing itself is a procedure that may be frightening, and what better way to put your mind at ease than by having papa here beside you?”

This made sense, although Imogen felt mortified when she looked over to see Nanny Quinn hoisting a bulging rubber bag onto a metal pole by the table. Affixed to the bag was several feet of coiled tubing with a thick tapered nozzle at the end. Imogen clung tightly to her papa as he moved to help her up to the table while Nanny Quinn lubricated the nozzle with some ointment from a jar.

“She’ll need to be on all fours, with her chest pressed against the mattress and her little bum stuck up in the air,” Miss Quinn said briskly.

Imogen groaned as Royce helped her into position, urging her to part her legs as he did so. The posture caused the skin to stretch across her bottom, bringing an additional sting to the welted stripes left earlier by the nanny’s switch.

She felt lurid, exposed. But underneath it all was the twinge of excitement as she prepared for a new, unfamiliar invasion at the hands of the two people who now controlled her.

“Just a moment’s discomfort, but you’ll feel so much lighter and cleaner after it’s all over,” Miss Quinn was saying. Imogen could feel hands parting her stinging cheeks, feel the nozzle pressing persistently against her puckered bottom hole. She felt its reflexive resistance and heard her papa’s voice urging her to relax. She forced herself to obey, and moaned as the slippery nozzle worked its way past the tight ring of muscle.

“What a good girl you are.” Major Kingsley was rubbing her back reassuringly as Miss Quinn told her she was releasing the medicine from the bag. Seconds later, there was a warm rush of fluid that felt odd, but not uncomfortable, at least not at first. But then the pressure started, and with it a fierce cramping.

“It hurts!” Imogen tried to rise, but Major Kingsley held her in place.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Nanny Quinn said. “You just feel full, is all.”

“It does hurt!” Imogen objected. “And I have to… I have to go!”

“Nonsense. What you feel is the medicine working.” Nanny Quinn slid the nozzle out and a moment later, Imogen felt something larger pressing against her back passage. She gasped as she looked back to see the nurse’s capable hands sliding a smooth, tapered object with a round flanged head into her bottom. The disc protruded from her little rosette, spreading her cheeks slightly.