He looked at Alexander incredulously, but he was only faced with a placid expression in response.
“If you do not treasure her,” he warned, “another man will. Is that what you want, Wutherton?”
“Of course not. She is my wife, and she will act accordingly.”
“And how, pray tell, do you plan to be in response?”
His friend left him at that moment and went to his carriage. Spence remained still for a moment, wishing that he had not chosen a friend as wise as he was. Had Alexander been immature, he would have encouraged him to do as he wanted, and they could have pretended that it was for the best, but now he had been told that he was wrong, which meant he had to change.
And yet, he knew perfectly well that he could not.
He turned back to the house, remembering that he had asked his wife to join him for dinner. He had not planned to, but he had to lay his claim somehow. He did not know why he was as jealous as he had been, for she washiswife, but he needed to remind his friend of that.
Or, perhaps, he wished to remindher.
CHAPTER 5
“What are you reading?”
When Spencer returned, Anna was reading her book once more. She had been mortified at being seen when she was, for the scene she had reached was certainly not for polite company. She had wondered, at times, if it was even allowed to be sold at all.
When the two gentlemen had entered, she had just reached a most scandalous part where the hero was desperately grasping at a married lady’s corset, trying to unlace it. Her husband, meanwhile, was on the run after having killed another man whom he believed she was seeing. It was most detailed, every moment written splendidly, and she was so lost in it that she almost did not notice them arrive.
Her blush, she supposed, would not have been taken well.
“It is nothing,” she replied, slotting a ribbon inside and closing the book entirely.
“Something for your club?” he asked. “I do not intend to pry, but I am interested to know what you discussed.”
“I am surprised that you could not hear us from your study. My friends are certainly good speakers.”
“I could hear their voices, but not any words. Besides, my friend and I were having a conversation of our own.”
“Oh? What did you discuss?”
His eyes widened briefly, as though he had said something he should not have, and then he cleared his throat.
“Perhaps it is best that we keep our activities separated, after all,” he said simply.
“Very well,” she replied.
There was a brief but heavy silence. In spite of herself, Anna thought back to her chapter; fingertips on lace, skirts sliding up thighs, heavy exhalations. It was salacious, and if thetonknew that she took such pleasure in it, she would have been an outcast, but that was what made it all the more wonderful.
“You are doing it again,” he said roughly.
“What do you mean?”
“That!” he continued, pointing at her face. “You are blushing as though you were doing something I should not have seen.”
“Well, I can assure you that I was not.”
“So you did not feel anything for His Grace?”
As soon as he said it, he slammed his mouth shut. Anna, meanwhile, felt hers fall open. Her husband, the one who did not care what she did for a year, was now standing before her with jealousy in his eyes.
“He is an appealing man,” she replied. “I will not lie to you, for it is something you would see through effortlessly. He also seems to be a kind man, and in spite of the rumors, he was rather pleasant.”
“I see.”
