CHAPTER 6
Spencer did not expect to feel guilt at what he had done, but looking at his wife as her face was illuminated by the firelight, he began to wonder if he should have.
He regretted not claiming her on their wedding night. He could not pretend that he did not find her ravishing, and the temptation was overwhelming, and that was precisely why he had to maintain a coldness toward her. He could not allow his lustful thoughts of her lying bare beneath him to cloud his judgment.
Even if they were the most incredible thoughts.
He had expected, as he traveled there, to find the estate in complete disrepair. He thought that she would have ruined everything, and though he had thought about it, he had been unable to do anything about it. Seeing that she had been perfectly fine alone gave him a sense of pride in her, if anything. He had chosen the perfect wife for his needs, and that was all that mattered.
“I have been coping,” she replied at last, stepping backward to remove her face from his hand. “And I have done it well, but I will not pretend to be pleased, nor happy that I have had to. I should not have been left alone the way I was.”
“And look, you have done well. You did not need me here, and I would wager that you do not need me now.”
“How much would you be willing to bet?” she muttered, before setting her look upon him again. “Regardless, you disappeared without an explanation. You will not tell me the truth even now, and so I shall have to make my assumptions and have the matter end there.”
She rose to her feet, abandoning her meal too, and left the dining room. Spencer followed after her, placing a hand on her waist without thinking and steering her back into the drawing room.
“Do not walk away from me,” he said firmly. “I do not like it.”
“Then I suppose we both have a dislike of the same thing,” she retorted. “You cannot force me to think of your reasons and then wonder why I am wrong.”
“Well, you are. There is no mistress. You have my word about that.”
“Your word, as it stands, means very little to me.”
”Is that any way to speak to a duke?” he asked. “You need not see me as a husband, for that is what I wanted this marriage to be, but you ought to respect me for who I am.”
“And you should remember what you did, and act accordingly.”
She was fascinating. Even men were known to cower when he used his position in an argument, but she did not seem to care at all. If anything, it angered her further, which he had to admit was what he wanted. To see that composed face flush and brighten, to see her dark eyes flare. She would not disrespect him in his home, even if she thought she had the right to.
“Anna, as a duchess, you must-”
“Stop telling me what Imustdo!” she snapped. “You have come here aftermonths, and you have seen that I have not completely fallen apart. You can see that I am more than capable of doing what you clearly cannot. That is why you are upset, is it not?”
“I am not upset.”
“You are. You cannot stand that the household is running as it should, and that I have things the way I like, and that even your own friend would agree with me that you were wrong. You did not expect any of it, did you?”
“Perhaps not, but that does not mean I am unhappy about it. I am thrilled that you, in your words, have coped alone.”
“And I should not have had to! I should have a husband who wants to be by my side, even if he does not love me. I am not wrong to say that you have not been a good husband to me.”
He could not even disagree. He had not been a good husband, but it felt like an unfair judgment given that he had never once claimed to be one. He had made his will known to her, and he had not changed his mind about it. It was a marriage on paper, one that he respected, and he expected his wife to do the same.
Even if he admitted, she had not agreed to it.
“Then it is just as well that I do not plan to stay long. Soon enough, you will be free to continue living as you like, with your club and your friends and your estates.”
“Why?” she implored. “What did I do? WhatamI to make you flee this way?”
Spencer clenched his jaw, biting back harsh words. He had been enjoying the pleasant conversation, and he hated that it had gone sour the way that it had. He wanted to enjoy his time with her, as short as he planned for it to be, for he did not intend to return for a long time after.
That was when his eyes fell on her book.
It was pretty, leather-bound, and blue with intricate tooling down the spine. He had never seen it before, nor had he heard ofthe title, and so he made his way to it, picking it up and studying the cover.
“Please put that down,” she whispered. “Do not read it.”
