Chapter 10
“Iunderstand, Your Grace, but what do you expect us to do?”
Before going to visit his cousin, Spencer met with his trustees and explained the situation. He was not the sort of man to act without thought, usually, and this predicament would be no exception.
“I am only asking that you be wary,” he explained. “It is fitting that a man who stands to inherit everything would want to be rid of me, and I would argue that you see the unfairness in that.”
Then men looked at him with one unanimous gaze. They were all practically identical: medium build, dark eyes, neatly trimmed hair. It was almost eerie, but Spence could not give that away, not when he needed them to agree with him.
“Be that as it may,” one replied, “it was your father who selected him. We have to believe that he had a good reason for that.”
“And, knowing my father, he did, but I cannot claim to know what it is, and neither can any of you. He is not trustworthy, and I do not want him left with too much power.”
“Your Grace,” he replied gently, “if you know of any reason why he cannot be trusted, you may tell us, but without good reason, we cannot take his role away from him. He would have recourse to find a solicitor, and then he would be left with even more power than he already has.”
Spence had a reason, of course, and a good one, but he did not know whether or not to tell them of it.
If he did, he would be sharing something that Anna had told him in confidence.
If he did not, his trustees would continue to think that Walter was an innocent man and Spencer was jealous of him.
He took a breath, hoping that his wife would not be too furious with him.
It was, after all, partly for her sake that he was there.
“He has made unwanted advances toward my wife,” he explained. “He has told her in no uncertain terms that he is going to do what he can to take my estate from me, and I tend to believe him.”
The men looked at one another for a moment, brows furrowed, and then they turned back to him.
“He has been advocating for your removal,” one said uncertainly.
“While telling my wife and me that he is doing the opposite,” Spencer nodded. “I do not trust him, and knowing that he has ulterior motives, how can you?”
“Because we are placing our faith in your father. You might not like to hear this, but in your absence, we have had to handle matters for you. That has been no small feat, Your Grace.”
“I know, and I am grateful for it. I would not leave if I did not have to. Regardless, I am here now, and I will not be leaving until all of this is settled.”
Again, they looked at one another. They all seemed to know what they were thinking, and Spencer wished he were part of it. He wanted to know what they wanted from him, for there was nothing about the last year that he could change. He was there. Was that not enough?
“You say you are here until this is settled,” one replied. “Is that to say that, once it is, you plan to leave?”
Spencer bit the inside of his cheek.
“Of course not,” he bluffed. “I misspoke, that is all. I will do what I must for my title and for the Wutherton name. You all know that.”
They did not seem convinced, but at last they seemed more assured.
“Very well. We shall speak to your cousin and notify him that he will no longer hold a position here, given the circumstances.”
He thanked them profusely and made his way to his cousin’s estate with the knowledge that he would be punished for what he did.
Spencer had not noticed, but when his wife told him what had happened to her, he was trembling. Not with anger, but with restraint. In spite of the difficulties between them, he knew that Anna was not deserving of being treated the way that his cousin had; nobody was.
He would not allow Walter to use his position as a trustee as leverage, and he would certainly not use it to hurt Anna. Spencer blamed himself, for had he been there, it would not have happened, but there was only so much that he could do.
He had returned, and he would seek justice for her.
“Ah, dear Cousin,” Walter greeted when Spencer entered his drawing room. “Do come in and take a seat. Shall I have a tea prepared?”
“That will not be necessary. I do not intend to stay long.”
Walter laughed softly, leading him to the drawing room. Spencer had been there dozens of times, and it never changed. It was small and decorated minimally, painted in a dark green shade that did not allow much light to come through.
Though he had no intention of lingering, Spencer took a seat on one of the uncomfortable chairs and waited to see if his cousin would apologize, if what had happened was merely because he had overindulged on both occasions.
It was not unlike Walter to drink too much and be influenced by it, and while not an excuse, it could have been a reason.
“I was hoping that you might be accompanied by your wife today,” he said as he poured two drinks. “I shall assume that she has yet to see the error of her ways?”
“She is not going to apologize. I shall not allow her to.”
“That is an error, Your Grace. You ought to know that she has been dishonest with you about what happened.”
“And how do you know what she has told me?”
Walter hesitated, then handed him the glass.
“The two of you are married, are you not? Besides, knowing what she had done, it is inevitable that she would invent something to make you forgive her. Her outburst was not looked on kindly by those in attendance, you know, and without my acknowledgment that you have apologized, you shall continue to be looked down on.”
“And should I tell society what you did first, you will be finished. Believe me, I will not hesitate to do that.”
Walter swirled his brandy before swallowing it all in one drink. Spencer, meanwhile, kept his glass to one side. Unlike his cousin, he did not indulge that early in the day.
“And what precisely has she accused me of?” he asked.
“You know what you did. You propositioned her, and when she refused you, you pushed her further.”
“You do not believe that, surely?” he laughed. “It would seem that you do not know half of what your wife has been doing in your absence. I would be more than happy to enlighten you, if you wish.”
“Please do.”
“Well, she has had a great deal of… shall we say, companions? Not only I, but other gentlemen who wished to spend time with her. She enjoys it, too. She likes the attention, and in your absence, there has been nobody to catch her.”
“That is not true.”
“Oh, but it is. Any member of the ton could tell you. It is an open secret that she flirts with anyone she sees, married or not, and should that develop, then she is all the more satisfied with that.”
Spencer could not help but imagine Anna flirting with another man, and worse, and it made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. He hated the thought of it, and that was only partly because it simply was not who she was.
“You are lying,” he said firmly. “My staff would have told me if that were the case, and they have not.”
“Would they have? I am telling you the truth, and you are unwilling to hear it. I am your cousin, and you are refusing to listen to me. Why would a chambermaid’s opinion be any different?”
Because a chambermaid does not stand to inherit everything I have, he thought, but he did not say it.
“My wife will not be something I will discuss with you. She has been a loyal and dutiful wife in my absence—which I shall remind you is none of your concern—and I will not allow a word to be said against her.”
“But your absence is my concern. As one of your trustees, it is important to me that everything is being run properly. Should it not be, then other arrangements must be made, and a year-long absence with no indication that you planned to return would suggest just that.”
Spencer had to force himself not to lose his temper. He hated that this man was talking to him like he was a child, but what he loathed more than anything was that he was right. It was his own fault that his position was in question, and his fault that he had dragged his wife through it too.
But that did not mean that he had no intention of fighting for it.
“Unfortunately,” Spencer said calmly, “your argument has a fatal flaw. I have spoken with the trustees, and they are in agreement that your position is being used for wrongdoing. You will have your position revoked soon, and that shall leave you with no say in my standing.”
“A nice attempt, but you cannot do that. Your father appointed me, and he made the condition himself. You cannot have me thrown out when it was not your decision in the first place.”
“Yes, my father selected you, but my father is dead, and he has been for a while now.”
“And you have been away for a while. As good as dead, and you can even ask your wife about that.”
His grip on the arm of his chair tightened.
He hated that Walter would not stop talking about his wife when he did not even deserve to breathe the same air as her.
He had frightened Anna, threatened her, and had Spencer not returned, he could have done any number of things to get what he wanted.
It made him angry with himself, but furious with the man who had taken advantage of that.
“I am here now,” he said in a low voice. “I am in charge of what happens, and I have the final say. You might think you are entitled to the same thing, but you are not. The truth, Walter, is that you are not half as powerful as you think that you are, and that shall be your downfall.”
“And what of your downfall?” he asked. “Tell me, is it a boy or a girl?”
“I do not know what you are referring to.”
“Oh, but you do. We both know about the child, and we both know that is where you have been all this time. What I do not know, and what I have great interest in, is whether or not it will be a problem for me?”
“I do not see why any child would be,” he bluffed.
He hoped that his cousin was only guessing about the child, speculating about his absence like everyone else had, but there was a glimmer in the man’s eye. He was certain, and though Spencer could not stomach admitting it to him, he was right.
“You and I both know that you do. You do not have a legitimate heir, so what happens if it is a boy? What happens when the child realizes its connections and seeks you out? A pauper woman’s child would do anything to help their family, and you must owe an awful lot to them.
What happens, I wonder, when they come to London? ”
“There is no child, and nothing of the sort will happen.”
“I am only speaking in concern for my family,” Walter said with mock empathy. “You may not be pleased with me, but I only want the best for you. Word will get out about this eventually, and that is a scandal that nobody can recover from, not even a duke.”
“You may keep your concern. You and I both know that you want my title, and that you cannot stand me any more than I can you. You were never the right choice for your position, which is precisely why the others were in agreement about stripping it from you.”
“No, they want to be rid of me because they are threatened by me. I am right for the role, and that is precisely why your father chose me. If he knew what you were doing, he would be disgusted with you.”
“And yet, he is not here. I am the one in charge, and this is what I want to do. It may not be what you want, but it has nothing to do with you. None of this, the condition, the titles, the estate, is of your concern. The sooner you accept that, the happier you will be.”
He stood to leave. He had hoped for an apology for Anna, but of course, he was not going to offer one.
Walter was convinced that he had been wronged, even if Spencer was unwilling to accept that.
It did not matter, though, for whether he apologized or not, he had received his punishment.
He had hurt Anna and, in turn, had lost his position.
As he reached the door, however, he heard Walter chuckle under his breath.
“If you are content with a wanton, then I will not stop you.”
“What did you say?” he warned, hoping he would retract his statement.
“I said, if you are happy to have a wife that wants every man she sees, then I will not stop you, but I have certainly lost respect for you.”
In an instant, though he believed his wife, jealousy took over. She was his, whether he had made her feel that way or not, and it was not for Walter to decide her character, not when he was so dreadfully wrong about her.
“Stop talking,” he warned.
“Why? Because you do not want to hear the truth? Your wife wants me, and they all want me to take your title from you. You will have to live with that, and I will live with your wife.”
Spencer’s fist connected with Walter’s jaw before he could think.
The smaller man staggered back, tumbling into the side of his settee, gasping.
Blood spattered over the velvet as Walter scrambled to his feet, and Spencer took that as his sign to leave.
Walter was spitting obscenities at him, but he did not listen.
As he returned home, he wondered if he had done the right thing or made a terrible mistake. He did not regret punching the man; he had warned him not to be disrespectful about his wife, and he had continued. What else was a proper husband to do?
If he could ever be considered a proper husband at all.