The Spencer Sisters Forbidden Loves and Broken Hearts

by Christine Donovan

  Bemused, Mary pulled her hands back, stood from the chair, and without meeting his eyes, turned and blindly shuffled out of the room. Once in the hallway, she slid to the ground and cried into her hands, hoping nobody heard her. Especially Robert. She didn’t want him to feel bad for breaking her heart. It wasn’t his fault they lived in different social circles. Not his fault he’d been born a bastard.

  WHEN ROBERT HAD RECEIVED a missive from Spencer requesting a Bow Street Runner travel to Hastings to keep his sisters and aunt safe during their travels, he’d temporarily resigned his post as the head of the Bow Street Runners. He didn’t trust anyone else when it came to Mary’s safekeeping. As soon as he was well enough he would travel back to London and resume his post. It didn’t matter what his heart wanted, his mind would have to prevail when it came to Mary. She could never be his and if he prolonged his stay here, it would only make her more miserable. Something he refused to do.

  Her sobs reached his ears from beyond the closed door, shattering his already battered body and heart. What he wouldn’t give for their circumstances to be different. If she’d been born to a country gentleman, or a vicar, their union would be plausible. However, she was the granddaughter of a countess. Her cousin an earl. So far from his station in life it was laughable. He couldn’t bring himself to laugh though. His lungs ached as did the rest of him. As soon as he recovered he would travel back to London. His services wouldn’t be needed anymore as Mr. Spencer would be arriving to escort his sisters and aunt back to London. Nor could he picture himself spending a fortnight in the same house as Mary and not approaching to her.

  Burying himself in his job had worked for years to dull the pain of his mother’s loss. After his mother’s death, he’d lived on the streets of St. Giles. He could’ve taken to thievery, instead he fought against it. What little coin he earned when returning someone’s wallet, watch, or reticule or other thing of value, kept him fed and clothed. At the age of ten and five a runner took him under his care. At ten and eight he became a full-fledged runner and head of the respected agency at the age of twenty-five. During those years between ten and five and ten and eight he’d worked hard to lose his gutter speech and speak like a gently bred gentleman. Hence how he blended in well with polite society. If one wanted to work for them, one had to speak and act like them. Which he tried.

  His work had helped him recover from his mother’s death and his past. It would now have to suffice in easing his burden from loving Mary. Even though he had money and investments, working for members of the ton was lucrative, he still lived in a one room boarding house in St. Giles. To be honest, it was one of the very few boarding houses in good repair. Even so Mary would turn and run in horror if she saw his place. Run and not stop until she arrived at Spencer House on Park Street.

  He never understood until now why he lived in the sewers of London. Punishment. He punished himself for what happened to his mother. If she never gave birth to him she would still be alive. Still living in a respected section of London. Married to the viscount. For that he punished himself. As long as he lived in the gutters, he would belong in the gutters.

  Perhaps if he moved to Cheapside, an upper middle class and respected area of London. He had the means to rent a small house in that area consisting mostly of lawyers, bankers, and businessmen. His heart jumped inside his chest. If he did have a respected address, would Mr. Spencer consider him for Mary? If he showed him his bank accounts and investments proving he could provide for her and any children they had, would he consider Mary for him? Hope soared inside him, and he made a mental list of all the things he needed to accomplish when back in London. For the first time in forever, his future didn’t look bleak.

  Chapter Five

  At breakfast the following day in a bright yellow morning room, Elizabeth found Mary and Amesbury chatting. As she went to pick up a plate on the sideboard, large hands gently brushed hers aside.

  “Allow me,” Amesbury spoke softly.

  “Thank you.”

  Not wanting to meet his eyes, she stared at the plate as he filled it with coddled eggs, ham, bacon, and a pastry that made her tummy growl. After he placed her plate on the table beside Mary, he waved off the footman and helped her sit himself. He bent low and whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry for last night. I was an idiot.”

  His warm breath tickled her ear and sent heat cascading down her face, neck, and across her chest. Thankfully she sat next to Mary otherwise her sister would undoubtedly comment on her flushed skin.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  After he returned to his seat, picked up his cloth napkin, and dropped it on his lap, he smiled. “I hope your chambers are acceptable to you both and you rested well.”

  Mary had just taken a sip of her chocolate and almost choked which Elizabeth though odd. “Why yes. I fell asleep almost instantly. The excitement of the day caught up with me. Speaking of yesterday, how is Mr. Smythe?”

  “He is remarkably well this morning,” Amesbury replied with relief as he cut his ham. I visited him before I came to breakfast. He was actually sitting up, taking broth the cook prepared for him. And I must say I’m thrilled he doesn’t want any more laudanum. He hates how it makes him feel. I had the housekeeper throw it away. Vile stuff, laudanum.”

  “But what if he needs it at night to help him sleep,” Mary asked, quite concerned.

  “I’m doing as he wishes.”

  Elizabeth didn’t understand Amesbury’s objection of laudanum. Indeed, it must have helped him with his pain after he broke his back in the carriage accident. Perhaps that was why. It brought back memories of his own recovery. She prayed Mr. Smythe didn’t come down with an infection. They would need the medicine then. She supposed the good doctor could give them more.

  “Was the physician in to see him this morning,” Mary asked, trying hard to hide her concern but failing, in Elizabeth’s eyes anyway.

  “Yes. He declared him strong and remarkably healthy, considering the circumstances. Mr. Smythe appeared, although weak from blood loss, ready to get out of bed.” He took a bite of ham, chewed and swallowed. “It’s Smythe who wants to get out of bed and back to London as soon as possible. The doctor insists he has bed rest for several more days. I wish the doctor good luck.”

  “Why is he so anxious to return to London?” Elizabeth asked for Mary who had reached for her hand beneath the table when hearing about his return to London. “I thought he planned to spend the fortnight here and ride back with us?”

  “Perhaps something has come up and he’s needed back in London.”

  “Did he receive a missive?” Mary asked, her voice cracking with emotion.

  Amesbury frowned. “Not that I’m aware. Perhaps he feels he let your brother down and prefers to leave before he and Miranda arrive.”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth chimed in, “that must be it. Although Spencer would think him a hero for saving us.”

  Just then Violet entered the morning room, looking lovely, but tired, in a seafoam green muslin day dress and matching turban. “That is right. He is a hero. More than once to me. I would be dead if not for him.”

  “Oh Auntie Violet,” Elizabeth said, “yesterday’s events must have brought back your abduction. How are you faring?”

  She patted her turban. “Better than I thought, all things considered. I’m just very thankful neither of you girls were hurt. You have so many years ahead of you.” When Violet turned her back and busied herself filling her plate, the subject closed. Elizabeth didn’t want to keep bringing up the events with her now dead third husband, Mr. Henry Baker. Or yesterday’s events if Violet didn’t want to discuss them.

  As to Mr. Smythe wanting to leave, it would break Mary’s heart. Spencer would never be disappointed with him. He did what he’d been hired to do. He took bullets for them. Could’ve died for them. Pray, thank God, he didn’t. Mary dropped her napkin beside her unfinished plate and stood abruptly.

  “I do believe I feel a headache coming on. I’m
going to retire to my room.” Mary’s voice waivered as though she fought back tears.

  “Mary seems upset,” Amesbury said over the delicate china cup he held, no doubt holding strong coffee. Elizabeth didn’t know how anyone could drink the vile tasting stuff. It was all the rage in England though. She’d stick to her tea and chocolate. “Is there something I don’t know about?” he added.

  She did not want to share Mary’s confidences with Amesbury. How he would react, she didn’t have any indication. As much as she believed she knew him, there was so much more to the man than she ever thought possible. And she had a feeling he hid so much more. “My sister does suffer from migraines. Yesterday’s events probably kept her up last night no matter if she said she slept well.”

  “I hope the poor dear feels better,” Violet said as a footman helped her take her seat in Mary’s vacated one. “I used to suffer from migraines. Didn’t leave my bed for days at a time. Thank goodness I outgrew them.”

  “Oh, Miss Violet,” Amesbury said with a mischievous grin, “how can you have outgrown something. You are still in your prime.”

  “I thank you Lord Amesbury.” She smiled. “I’m not much older than you, but sadly our society thinks differently about men and women’s ages. You are still in your prime while I have one foot in the grave. It’s highly ridiculous. I’m not so old I wouldn’t mind snaring myself a forth husband.” She laughed, breaking the awkwardness of her last sentence.

  It made Elizabeth and Amesbury lock amused eyes. Had Violet been sincere in wanting a forth husband? Hadn’t she been through enough burying the first two sadly, then gladly the third, who found himself buried in a pauper’s grave. Even that was too good for the man. She also knew Violet was forty years old. She believed Amesbury to be five and thirty. Violet still had her youthful figure as she’d never given birth. Not that she knew of. Her thick dark hair had some gray streaked through it. Her face was still beautiful with very few age lines. Elizabeth hoped there was an older gentleman who would appreciate her loveliness.

  Not any time soon though. People no doubt still gossiped about her and Miranda’s ordeal with that rat of a husband and abductor. Perhaps when next Season came around.

  “Have you anything planned for this day, Amesbury? The sun is shining and no doubt it’s warm outside,” Elizabeth asked, hoping for a little time out of doors to boost her mood.

  “I thought perhaps we could take a ride and I could show you, Mary, and Violet the estate’s extensive property.”

  “Not me, dear Amesbury, I don’t ride,” Violet said apologetically.

  “Well perhaps you and Mary could accompany me?”

  “I don’t believe Mary will be up to riding with her feeling under the weather,” Violet said.

  “Will you allow Elizabeth to ride with me?”

  “That will be acceptable. That is if she wishes too?”

  Elizabeth answered trying to ignore the excitement humming inside her. “Why I would love to see the grounds of Cliff House. It is so much quieter here than at Bridgeton Manor in Dover. Lately it’s become such a hustle and bustle port with inns and drinking establishments popping up everywhere in town. My cousin’s house is situated on many aches, we aren’t near the town, but still. We used to be allowed to ride to town with just our maid for companionship, but not anymore. Too many unsavory people lurking about.”

  “You won’t find that here. My estate is quite isolated although Hastings is becoming more and more populated. I’m glad the house is situated far back from the coast you can’t even see the water from here. When my father purchased this place when I was around five, I recall he and my mother joking about why in the world the place was called Cliff House when it didn’t overlook the cliffs. I can’t recall what they said, but they never changed the name, nor will I.

  “It is a lovely name. Before we leave, I will see how Mary is fairing.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “Will half ten be fine.”

  Amesbury nodded. “Perfect. I will meet you out front with our mounts.”

  MARY SELDOM GOT ANGRY. Most everyday occurrences were not worth it. But this? This man thinking he would leave before he healed, and most likely without so much as a by your leave, irked her anger. Headache. She hadn’t lied about the pain in her head, it came upon her so suddenly when she found out about Robert.

  Oh, she knew what he said to her last evening. That there would, could never be, anything between them. However, she disagreed. Her family wasn’t so high and mighty they didn’t take into account someone’s self-worth as a person over title and money. Besides, if it came down to money, she had a dowry. No idea how much, but her family was wealthy so it must be plentiful. And honestly, if she did marry Robert, her family would never disown her, leaving her destitute. Her grandmother would never allow it. She loved her too much. By now she stood outside his room hoping to take control of her anger. Most men didn’t take kindly to being berated by a woman. She imagined Robert was no different.

  Stopping to take several soothing breaths, she wrapped her knuckles lightly against his door and held her breath while she waited.

  “Come in.”

  Before she opened the door she closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart. She knew it would be disastrous if she was found in a bachelor’s room, but she’d tempted fate already and besides what was the worst that could happen? Spencer would force Robert to marry her. She would sing out with joy! Then something else she’d never thought of plagued her mind. Spencer could make her marry someone else. Someone in their social circle. It didn’t actually have to be Robert. It had been known to happen. A young lady of the ton found with someone not quite up to snuff, so her family paid someone socially acceptable to marry her instead. She shuttered, how awful.

  If Mary wanted to save her heart from excruciating pain, she had to be honest with Robert about her feelings. She could no longer think of him as Mr. Smythe. To her he was Robert. Hopefully her Robert.

  The idea of expressing her feelings to him, actually saying the words love, frightened her to the core. Would he laugh at her? Ridicule her for falling in love with a commoner. Actually worse than a commoner—a bastard? She shivered. To her it didn’t matter what his lineage was. Nothing would ever change her feelings for him.

  Finally experiencing a hint of bravery, she opened the door and quietly slipped inside only to be frozen to the floor when her eyes locked with Robert’s intense ones as he stood fully dressed beside his bed with his arm in a sling. She shivered and hugged her waist.

  “Are you cold, Miss Spencer?”

  He looked and sounded stronger than he had last evening. Although she couldn’t believe he would leave until another day or two passed—hopefully heeding the physician’s instructions. “No.”

  “He tilted his head.”

  “Well, perhaps a bit. Would you like me to stoke the fire?”

  “No. I’m hot as hades.” He blanched. “Pardon.”

  As her feet ate up the distance between them, she said, “You do not have to watch your language with me. My brother doesn’t while in the privacy of our home, to my grandmother and mother’s dismay. Or more my grandmother, my mother hardly ever concerns herself with the affairs of her children.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Mary blushed hot, which eased her chilled body. “No. I’m sorry. After what you told me about your mother, I should not complain as mine still lives.”

  “Don’t be. I came to terms with the circumstances of my birth and the death of my mother many years ago. Nothing comes from obsessing about one’s past. It doesn’t change facts.”

  Mary didn’t believe him. Indeed, he may have come to terms with his lot in life, but the melancholy expression on his face admitted he still wished his mother lived and his life had been different.

  “Lord Amesbury told me the physician visited you this morning.”

  “Yes. He thinks I need to stay in this bed for several more days.” He shrugged his good shoulder. “He doesn’t know anyt
hing about me. I’ll be ready to ride back to London tomorrow. The bleeding has stopped and no infection has set in.”

  She tried to hide her disappointment at his desire to leave so soon after arriving. “Robert.” She moved closer to his side, and against etiquette’s rules, took his free hand in hers. The skin to skin contact startled her. “Why are you in such a hurry to leave? I thought you were staying for a fortnight to escort us back to London.”

  “Your brother can take my place. My services are no longer required, but they are needed back in London.”

  “Robert...” She pulled her hands away and knotted them together in front of her. Closing her eyes for courage she whispered, “Robert...I...I wish you would stay.” Her slippers became the focus of her attention. Because if she looked at Robert, she might embarrass herself and cry. “I have feelings for you. Strong feelings. Perhaps even love.” She exhaled and fought a sense of vertigo as the room spun around her.

  “Miss Spencer...”

  “Please call me Mary.”

  “Very well, Mary. We have been over this before. Last night in fact. To save both of us heartache and pain for what will never be, please for the love of God, leave me be.” He made a sound like a tortured animal. “I can’t do this. My feelings for you grow more each day. I don’t know if I can control them or myself if you keep insinuating yourself in my presence.”

  “Oh.” She tried not to take offense from his words which were a flurry of contradictions.

  “Please accept my apologies. I’ve hurt your feelings. I can see it on your face and in your eyes.”

  Her fingers went to stop her tears from leaking out of her eyes. “I’ll leave you to your solitude. I’ll not bother you again. I’m terribly sorry to have forced my person on you.” As she pivoted around a hand shot out and curled around her upper arm.