Chapter 17
Spencer understood that his wife did not want to confront her father, but that did not mean that he felt the same way.
He knew that there were bad fathers, and that the man was no exception, but there was an anger settled in his body that he would dare be so disrespectful to her. She was his wife, and nobody would speak unkindly either to or about her, even her father.
“Is there a problem?” he asked the man once Anna had left.
“Ah, Your Grace,” the gentleman beamed, as if they were in agreement. “You must have heard the commotion, too. There was an injustice during the auction, and this man will not force the winner to take the object back.”
“That tends to happen when one wins fairly.”
The man flushed red, his hands balled into fists again.
“But that did not happen! I was not heard, and that is no fault of mine. It should take place again.”
“I see,” he replied, trying to conceal a smile, “and who won the item? I may be able to convince them of what happened.”
“Ah, well… I did not notice.”
“How convenient.”
He chuckled, turning to the servant who was trying in vain to calm him.
“You may go,” he explained. “It is best that I handle this.”
The servant bowed, thanking him and quickly leaving. He was undoubtedly grateful for what Spencer had done, as was Anna’s father, who seemed to believe that he was going to be assisted.
“Did you see what happened?” he asked. “How are you going to help me?”
“Because I know who won your item. I would be able to ask her about it, too, though I do not believe she would be willing to hand it over.”
“She?”
“Indeed,” he nodded, his face darkening. “You see, it is my wife that you are accusing of taking the pianoforte. Now, you and I both know that you made no attempt to win it, and you are only doing this because it was she who won.”
“Anna? But she would not… she hates these auctions.”
“And yet she won. Now, I believe it is for the best that you do not make a scene in front of all of these people. It would not reflect well upon you to admonish your daughter for besting you.”
Lord Pemberton was a proud man, Spencer could see it in his eyes. The mere thought of his daughter winning in a competition against him was enough to enrage him, and though it caused Spencer to wonder just why that was, he also felt a sense of satisfaction. After all, he had protected his wife.
“Your Grace, I–”
“You will be a gracious loser,” he warned. “And I will not have to wonder if my wife feels guilty about a success again. Do you understand?”
Lord Pemberton nodded silently, walking away. Spencer watched him go with a wry smile, then wondered where Anna had gone.
With the matter settled, he could go to her and explain that all was well. Perhaps, he considered, he could even ask her just why he seemed to dislike her so much. She was impulsive and willful, yes, but could her father not see the fire and the stubbornness she hid?
Glass in hand, he made his way through the building until he reached a balcony. It would be secluded, he realized, and the perfect place for her to take some air as she planned. He went to the door, but as he reached it, the voices stopped him in his tracks.
“Please, My Lord, I do not want any of this.”
“Oh, but you do. We have all heard about your pastimes, and I am certain that you would be more than happy for me to entertain you just as those other men did.”
Spencer felt his grip on his glass tighten, his jaw setting. Someone was out there with Anna, and she was in danger. He threw the doors open to see a man pressing Anna against the balcony rail, her face white and her eyes wide in shock.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
“Your Grace!” the man said in mock surprise. “I did not mean for you to see us in this way.”
“Take your hands off of her at once.”
He did so, but Spencer had to use every bit of his restraint to hold himself back.
He had never felt such anger as he did when he saw Anna so afraid.
Even after she was released, she was cowering, terrified of what had happened.
She knew the rumors as well as he did: that she was a wanton, and she saw many men in his absence.
“She is yours again,” the man smirked. “You know where to find me when you want something new, your Grace,” he added to Anna.
“She will not be coming to look for you. My wife would never stoop to your level, no matter how much you might want her to.”
“She already has, many times. She has enjoyed almost every man here, including that friend of yours.”
Spencer smashed his glass against the wall, and it shattered. Shards flew across the floor and into his hand, but he did not notice. He took two steps towards the man, and it was enough to take his smirk away entirely.
The man cowered, but Spencer felt no satisfaction in that. All that he cared about was his wife and her knowing that she was safe with him.
“You have never once laid a hand on my wife,” he said, taking the man by the collar.
“Nobody has. She would never allow it, which is precisely why I heard her telling you to stop. Now, if you go now and keep this to yourself, I will not have to take this any further. Should you cause us any further issues, however, it is more than my glass that will be broken.”
As he said it, he glanced down at the man's nose, causing him to flinch.
Spencer dropped him, and he ran away. At last, he felt the sharp pain in his palm, but he ignored it.
It did not matter that he was hurt, not when Anna was so visibly shaken.
When he looked back at her, however, he realized that her expression had gone from fear to anger.
“Why did you do that?” she asked.
“What do you mean? I was helping you. One might have thought you would be grateful.”
“I am, but– after all of the lectures you have given me, I would have thought you would be better at handling matters such as that.”
“It was settled, was it not?”
“You threatened him!”
“And what else was I supposed to do? After what he tried to do to you, can you blame me for being furious?”
“I– I know that it was not what you expected to see. I assure you, he was lying, and I was honest with you. I have never… I have never done anything with another man.”
He took her in his arms, pressing her to his chest. She was clearly not calm yet after all that had happened, and she was out of sorts, and so though he wanted to promise her that he believed her, he did not want her to say anything further.
They remained still for a moment, and he waited for her breathing to steady. When he was happy that she had settled, he pulled away, wincing as his hand returned to his side.
“What is it?” she asked, taking his hand in hers.
“I cut my hand on that glass. There is no need to worry, for it is not deep.”
“All the same, you ought to listen to your own instruction. You know that our reputation is important to guard at the moment.”
“Yes, our reputation matters, but you matter more. I will not have you threatened, nor will I allow men to speak to and about you as if you are lesser than them. It will not happen.”
She smiled, thanking him and trying to walk past him, but he took her wrist suddenly.
“I mean it,” he pressed. “I cannot allow you to feel as though you do not matter when you do. You may not think that you matter to me, but you are wrong.”
Even as he said it, he knew it was a mistake.
He could not allow himself to make her believe he had no intention of leaving, but he could not help himself.
Even if he had to leave, it did not mean that he did not care about her.
It was not that he disliked her, but that he had no other choice.
There was no changing what had to be done, and he had to tell her as much.
And yet, when she looked at him with such hope in her eyes, he could not bring himself to ruin it.
Suddenly, she reached up and kissed him.
What she lacked in practice, she more than made up for with enthusiasm.
He wondered just how many times she had read a scene and imagined him kissing her, and the thought of it made him hungry for more.
He did not know if it was appropriate, given where they were and what had happened, but she did not give him the time to think on it.
With one hand entwined in his hair, her other drifted to his waist, pulling helplessly at his clothing in an attempt to slide under the fabric.
There was a desperation in it that he had liked when they had kissed before.
It was what he had always craved: being wanted more than anything else in the world.
He allowed her to continue for a moment more, savoring the feeling of her eagerness, before taking off his coat.
His waistcoat followed, and then he began to undo his shirt. She had seen his bare chest before, but she responded just as she had done the first time, with a feverishness that he had never known.
“We may be seen,” she gasped as he kissed her neck. “Perhaps we should–”
“If you want to stop, I will,” he promised, “but given what I said to that man, nobody will be coming this way for a long time.”
She did not argue any further, melting into him completely.
There was a part of Spencer that wished she had refused, because he did not know just how far he was willing to go with her, but a far greater part of him was thrilled that she wished to continue.
There was so much that he wanted to do with her, and his reasoning was sound.
They were alone, and it was most unlikely that anyone would come their way. It was all he needed to convince himself that he could take it further without consequence.
Especially when she was looking at him as pleadingly as she was.
He took a heavy plant pot from beside the door and blocked the entrance to be certain that they would be safe, and then took her in his arms again. He laid her out on the ground, placing his coat under her head so that she was comfortable.
“Spencer,” she whispered, “what are you–”
He slid the fabric of her skirts over her ankles, slowly dragging it over her calves as he bent over her and kissed her neck again. He craved the way she inhaled each time sharply, and as her dress was pulled over her knees, he pulled away from her again, grinning wickedly.
“Try to keep quiet,” he instructed. “I have blocked the door, but if they hear you, there is nothing I can do.”
It was risking their livelihoods, but it was worth the risk. He could no longer hold back. From the way her eyes had dilated to dark pools of need, he knew she felt the same way.
He began at her calves, planting gentle kisses up them as he moved upward. She moved without thinking, writhing beneath him in a way that made him wonder if he would be able to control himself.
He reached her thighs, brushing the delicate skin on the back of her knees with his fingers.
“Please don't stop,” she begged in a hushed tone. “Keep going. Please.”
He chuckled at her sudden loss of intelligent thought. He had no intention of stopping, but given that she sounded so exquisite when she begged, he wanted her to continue a while longer.
And so, he moved back up, his hands sliding around her back. She arched up into him, whimpering as she unlaced her corset and discarded it to one side. She shivered in the light breeze, and he covered her breasts with his hand, cupping them.
“Oh God,” she said softly, “Spencer, please.”
“Is this what you want?” he asked, his hand resting on her waist.
She shook her head firmly, her eyes not leaving his.
“What about this?” he suggested, tracing lines over her stomach.
“More,” she insisted, shaking her head again.
With a grin, he put his hand up her skirt again, daring to touch her most sensitive place.
He did not need to ask her again. The look on her face as he began to stroke her was all he needed to know that that was what she was asking him for.
“Next time,” he explained, “I want you to tell me exactly what you want. I know you know about all of this. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she replied gently, her eyes closed, and her head tilted back, exposing her delicious neck again.
He circled his thumb, delighting in the way she writhed beneath him. Suddenly, her hand flew to cover her mouth, her brow furrowing.
“Will you be able to keep quiet?" he asked.
“I can try,” she assured him. “Why? What are you going to do to me?”
“What do you want me to do? I told you to use your words, dear.”
Her cheeks were scarlet, and she was clearly reluctant to say such inappropriate things, yet she was desperate to do so.
“Your mouth,” she gasped as he stroked her. “I want– I want you to use your mouth.”
He was more than happy to oblige. He returned his lips to her thighs and continued making his way upward until his tongue reached her mound. Once again, she covered her mouth, biting down on her fingers as he deftly flicked over where she was most sensitive.
She tasted sweet, and he took pleasure in knowing that she was enjoying him. There was so much that he wanted to do with her, and none of it should have been done in such a public place, but that made it all the more exciting to him.
Her hand flew to his shoulder.
“Stop,” she said quickly. “You have to.”
“We will not be noticed,” he said, continuing.
“We will if I scream the way I was about to,” she explained. “Come, we ought to… I should return the favor at least.”
He sighed, not wanting it to end but knowing it had to.
He pulled back, quickly wiping his chin and pulling her to her feet.
He replaced her corset, wishing he had been able to discard it entirely, and adjusted her gown so that she appeared untouched.
Her hair was tousled, but there was little that he could do about that.
He fixed his own disheveled appearance, and they made their way back.
They managed to reach the carriage unseen, at least.
“I meant what I said,” she whispered as they rode home.
“I know you did, but we have more than enough time for that.”
She leaned against him, satisfied with the response, but Spencer could not help but wonder if it was true.