The Disciplinarian

By Leigh Court

As Victorian England's notorious Disciplinarian, Jared Ashworth has never failed to transform a difficult wife into a dutiful spouse, but headstrong Clarissa Babcock presents a unique challenge. Her husband wants an heir, and he demands Jared warm up his frigid wife or Babcock will take matters into his own hands.

Jared knows this means life or death for Clarissa, but as he instructs her in the ways of passion, her beauty, spirit and uninhibited responses make Jared hunger to keep her all for himself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leigh Court
• Release date: Dec 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005124830

Leigh Court

Award-winning author Leigh Court has been writing since age eleven, starting with wild adventure stories for her elementary school newsletter, growing up to be a television news journalist whose assignments took her on real life adventures.After traveling most of the world, she segued into the more normal job of public relations, but she's never stopped writing. She now writes romantic fiction because she wants her readers to be able to escape into a story guaranteed to have a happy ending!You can connect with Leigh by email at [e-mail], through her blog at http://fierceromance.blogspot.com or on Twitter at @LeighCourt3 or on Facebook, Goodreads or Pinterest!

Book preview

The Disciplinarian

by

Leigh Court

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

The Disciplinarian

Copyright © 2020 by Leigh Court

Second E-Book Edition

Cover by Charmaine Ross

Formatting by coversbykaren.com

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

Chapter One

Clarissa, I’m sending you to The Disciplinarian.

From the doorway of the sitting room in their London townhouse, Clarissa Babcock stared in surprise at her husband. The Disciplinarian? Surely Charles couldn’t be talking about the notorious legend who was said to turn difficult wives into dutiful spouses using whatever means necessary. No, not possible. Charles was reading the paper, so she must simply have misheard him from among the voluminous pages of newsprint. I’m sorry, Charles. What did you say?

He put down the paper. I said I’m sending you to The Disciplinarian.

Clarissa’s mouth parted in shock. This couldn’t be true. If anyone was the difficult partner in their marriage, it was Charles. She took a step into the room. Charles—

Good, he interrupted. I see you’re dressed.

Clarissa glanced distractedly at her serviceable grey carriage gown and reached up to finger the brim of her peacock-feathered hat.

Of course I’m dressed. For our trip to the country, she said, then hesitated as a note of uncertainty crept into her voice. The Smithson’s house party. You said to be ready to leave by ten.

There is no house party. That was simply a ruse to make sure you’d be ready to travel this morning. You may very well be going somewhere in the country, but I myself will be spending the weekend here in town. With my mistress.

Charles!

He stood and crossed to the window, parting the curtain an inch to look out onto the street. He obviously saw something there beyond the glass, because he nodded in approval. "In point of fact, I don’t know exactly where you’re going, Clarissa. Nor do I care, so long as you come back biddable."

Biddable? Clarissa swallowed hard. Theirs had always been a difficult marriage. It had been arranged by her father, who’d traded Clarissa’s substantial dowry in return for Charles’s minor title, and who never tired of reminding Clarissa that she had married up.

Unfortunately, Clarissa didn’t discover until after her wedding vows that Charles was a hard, dictatorial man with a quick temper. Over the last two years, his bullying ways had turned her from a young girl who had innocently expected to find love in marriage, into a woman who’d learned that wedding vows did not necessarily guarantee a happy-ever-after. But this? This was too much. Charles, please be serious. You can’t mean—

Enough! He turned from the window, and there was a dangerous look on his face as he strode purposely across the room to her. You see? This is exactly the reason. Your obstinacy. Your intractability. I am your husband, and you will do as I say! Come with me. He gripped her hard by the upper arm and began to drag her toward the sitting room door.

Fear now bloomed riotously in Clarissa’s stomach. It took all her courage—and all her strength—to dig in her heels. Wait, please, let’s discuss this—

Charles abruptly let go of her arm, drew back his hand and slapped her across the face. It was the first time in their marriage that he had actually struck her, and Clarissa was so stunned that before she realized it, Charles had succeeded in dragging her out of the room, across the townhouse foyer, past their gaping butler, Hawkins, and down the front steps toward a waiting coach.

Despite her panic, Clarissa tried her best to hold her head up high as Charles resolutely forced her forward. He had never been able to break her spirit, despite his verbal—and now his physical—abuse. She wouldn’t let his malice break her now.

He may have crushed her girlish dreams, but no one could take her pride away from her.

As they descended the steps of the townhouse to the street, Clarissa saw a coat of arms gracing the side of a shiny black carriage and a man standing next to it. Surely this couldn’t be the mysterious Disciplinarian. Not only was he taking no pains to hide his identity—a crest of two swords entwined by a single white rose was in plain view—but he was also an obvious gentleman. In fact, Clarissa realized dimly that he was the handsomest man she had ever seen. Tall, black haired and blue-eyed, he was elegantly dressed in a dark blue morning coat, paisley waistcoat, black trousers and polished black boots.

And he seemed to be frowning at Charles’s rough treatment of her. She began to breathe a little easier, but her relief was short lived.

Clarissa, Charles said acidly, drawing her to an abrupt halt and indicating the handsome stranger. Allow me to introduce you to The Disciplinarian.

The Disciplinarian.

Jared Ashworth saw Clarissa Babcock’s reaction reflected in her huge eyes as she stared at him. He saw her shock, then her fear, then her rage. But he was used to all those reactions, and it was easy to keep his own face carefully blank, because he knew by the time he was through with her he would see yet another look in her eyes.

Gratitude.

Get into his carriage, Clarissa, Babcock ordered.

She gasped and her gaze swung around to her husband. Charles, please—

Get in the carriage, woman! Babcock roared, forcibly dragging her toward Jared’s waiting coach. She was struggling outright now, her eyes frantically searching for something, someone, even a passer-by who might help her. Jared was disgusted by Charles Babcock’s use of brute force, but he knew that even though people might stop to stare at this little drama, not one of them would come to Clarissa’s aid, since Charles Babcock had every right to treat his wife as he saw fit.

It was, unfortunately, the way of things.

Jared’s team of horses stamped and nickered nervously in their harnesses, sensing Clarissa’s fear as her husband shoved her up the carriage steps. How long will this take? Babcock demanded of him.

The four days we discussed, Jared answered calmly. She will be sent back to you when she’s ready.

Just send her back biddable, he growled. I want a proper wife. I’ve had enough of her recalcitrance.

That obviously was too much for the woman in the carriage. Her cheeks flamed with anger. You hit me and you’re surprised that I’m recalcitrant?

Enough, Babcock roared at her. You have the gall to defy me even now, when you see where your defiance has led you? Stubborn, willful woman. Obstinate chit!

His complexion turned an unhealthy shade of red as he jerked his head toward Jared and took three strides away from the carriage. Jared followed him, out of earshot of the woman in the coach.

I’ve changed my mind, Babcock growled.

Jared’s eyebrow shot up in surprise. He’d never had a client back out of a case before. You no longer want me to instruct her?

Babcock’s voice dropped to a dangerous hiss. Oh, I want you to instruct her all right, he said. I want you to teach her one particular lesson. Cold as ice she is, the frigid bitch. Two years of marriage and still no children. A man shouldn’t have to work so hard to get an heir on his own wife!

It took all Jared’s control to cover his shock as he shook his head. "That’s impossible. I don’t sexually instruct—"

You do now. Charles Babcock grabbed him by the lapels of his morning coat. "Either you warm her up so that I can plant my seed and be done with my duty, or I just may kill her with my own hands and find another, more agreeable wife. Is that understood?"

Jared stared at the dangerous look in Babcock’s eye. He meant what he’d said. Clarissa Babcock’s life was literally in Jared’s hands. He couldn’t possibly leave her to the mercy of her husband’s anger. Take your hands off me, sir, Jared said coldly.

Babcock gave him a final shake before abruptly releasing him. I’ll be spending the weekend with my mistress in town. At least there I know I’ll have a warm reception. You have four days. I’ll expect her home on Tuesday.

Chapter Two

Jared climbed into his carriage, dropped heavily onto the padded bench seat, and slammed the coach door. He was furious. Furious at Charles Babcock’s outrageous demand, furious at himself for not outright refusing it, and furious at the woman seated across from him for putting him in this difficult position.

He knocked hard on the carriage roof and the driver started off.

Jared needed to think.

Charles Babcock was a brute of a man, and probably worse as a husband, but Jared had dealt with boorish husbands countless times before. So why hadn’t he patently refused Babcock’s shocking order to warm up his wife?

Jared knew full well why he hadn’t. He’d seen that look in a man’s eye once before. Jared’s own sister had been beaten to death by her husband in a domestic rage. He couldn’t have left Clarissa to suffer the same possible fate.

How in blazes was he going to deal with this new twist to his already scandalous profession?

Where are we going? Clarissa demanded.

Jared heard the edge of fear in her voice. Worry had replaced the fury that had been on her face a moment ago. But he was in no mood to assuage her fear; he was just as worried over how he was going to deal with this impossible situation. You know I can’t tell you that.

She looked frantically out the window, studying the passing scenery. I can clearly see we’re on the south road, headed in the direction of Kent.

She was clever, this one. No one knew the true identity of The Disciplinarian. He’d worked very hard these last three years to keep it that way. The crest on his carriage assisted with his guise of The Disciplinarian, and his clients were always picked up at their homes, so no one knew where he practiced his particular lessons.

He leaned over and silently pulled the shades down over both carriage windows. And now you see nothing.

She lunged suddenly for the lever on the carriage door, but Jared didn’t even bother to react. The far one she found solidly locked, and the door handle next to him he knew she wouldn’t dare try for.

She looked at him and swallowed hard. Are you truly The Disciplinarian?

He studied her for a moment.