His fingers dropped to her jawline, stroking it with his thumb. She felt her knees weaken, but she held herself upright. She could not allow herself to forget her anger. It had been the only thing that kept her going at times.
And yet, as his hand traveled further down, tracing a line down her neck and across her shoulders, she could not help but shudder. She had never been touched before, not like that, and in spite of her resistance, she knew what she truly wanted.
“Ifthisis what you have been missing,” he said in a low voice, his fingers running through her hair, “I can help you.”
“It is not,” she protested, but she knew it was a lie.
It was precisely what she had been craving, and within ten minutes of his arrival, he was offering to give it to her. She wondered if it was his way of asking for her forgiveness, but she refused to be that easily won over.
“Then why are you gasping like that?” he asked, his fingertip running along the boning on the top of her corset.
The darkest, most foolish part of her wanted him to tear it off, but if she were honest, she would have been satisfied with a mere kiss. He had beautiful lips; even in her anger, she could see that, and she wanted to feel them against her own. He had been a terrible husband, but he made her feel so wicked that it was almost possible to forgive it.
She pouted, hoping that he would accept her signal, but the moment she did, his eyes fell to her lips, and he smirked at her.
“I thought as much,” he laughed darkly. “Unfortunately, it appears that I have a prior commitment.”
“You are leaving again?”
“On the contrary. It would seem that we have guests downstairs, and I ought to tell them that I have returned from the dead.”
CHAPTER 4
“The Wuthering Duke has returned!”
Spencer’s greatest friend, Alexander Kendall, was most pleased to see him again, and Spencer was happier than he expected to see his friend in return. A fellow duke, Alexander, understood the pressure that he was under more than anyone else Spencer knew, and that made it easier to trust him than the others in society.
Alexander had also known a scandal of his own, which gave them something to bond over.
“I cannot believe what my wife did,” he sighed, pouring two glasses of brandy. “I had not intended to return yet.”
“But you must admit, it was a beautiful party last night. Besides, your story was brilliant. There shall be few repercussions from all of this, believe me.”
Spencer gritted his teeth as he took a drink. It was true; his reasoning for his sudden return had been good enough to quell any rumors, but that did not mean that he could so easily forgive his wife.
It was also entirely possible that the rumors would continue. For the moment, they all understood that Anna had truly believed he had been killed, but that would only last so long before questions were asked, and it all started again.
“Well, let us hope that nobody in the North claims to have seen me,” he sighed. “My dramatic tale in Africa is difficult to believe as it is, what with my miraculous recovery from a mysterious illness, without my presence elsewhere being heard of.”
“You should write the story down one day, I rather think. The passion in it was unbearable. Sending a letter in the midst of your sickness to explain that you were going to die, only to have lived after all and come back for your love, it is something ladies would positively swoon for.”
“It had to be believable. I cannot help that I am a brilliant actor.”
“You could have fooled even me. Come now, Wutherton. I know that you enjoy writing, so why not make it into a book? It would make a small fortune, especially given your standing.”
“Do not remind me of books. It is enough that I am currently hosting that dreadful club of hers.”
“They are harmless. Opinionated, yes, but they are only reading.”
While true, Spencer did not like that he had to hide away in his study with his friend while his wife had free rein of the drawing room as she hosted her club. He could have left his study if he wanted to, of course, but he had only had one conversation with Anna and did not have the stomach to meet her strange friends.
From what he heard at the party the night before, they were not good influences on her, which made sense to him. With the exception of one, they were bluestocking spinsters who hated men and practically everything that they did. It was no wonder that his wife did not respect him in the way he wanted her to. In any way at all, most probably.
“Her father told me that she was accomplished and demure,” Spencer huffed. “That is not what I see at all.”
“I see no fault with her. She is passionate, which is certainly not a flaw. She also seems well-read, and she can plan an excellent soiree. All traits of a good duchess, do you not agree?”
“Of course, but they are not traits I saw in her before. The lady I married was quiet, accepting of the fact that I would be absent. She was not this reckless woman who would go to such extremes just to summon me home again.”
