Tears blurring his vision, he stumbled blindly through the hall, descended the stairs, and didn’t feel somewhat in control until he sat behind his desk and began penning notes to both Smythe and William. He became annoyed with himself for having to keep stopping and swiping away his tears. Tears he cried for Miranda. Finally he could see enough to finish penning the letters, and he rang the butler and instructed him to send off the missives immediately. It was the middle of the night, but he didn’t care. They needed to be sent.
Once the notes were en route, he sat with a glass of whiskey, hoping to numb his mind of the horrors it kept picturing. He witnessed Miranda being raped by a faceless man. Was this what she went through every single day of her life since that awful event? Did she relive the violation and degrading ordeal every night when she slept in her dreams?
After two drinks he went to his room. Even though he was afraid to sleep, afraid of the dreams that would visit him, he went and climbed in bed with his wife. She appeared deeply asleep as she didn’t even stir when his weight dipped the bed. Nor when he wrapped an arm beneath her back and pulled her close. All she did was sigh and snuggle deep into his body as if she knew he was there. As if she slept with him every night instead of this being the first. Somehow she knew he wasn’t a danger.
Having her warm, pliant body against his, slowed down his heart and breathing to a normal cadence. Eventually his eyes began to droop until finally they closed for good and he slept.
Somewhere in his subconscious mind he heard whimpering and soft crying. Then something changed and he heard screaming and something shoved against him. Consciousness slammed into him, and he realized Miranda was screaming and pushing against him while repeating the words, “No,” over and over again.
“Easy, my love, it’s me, Spencer. You’re safe. No one can harm you now. It was only a nightmare, not real. I’m here. You are safe. Baker can never hurt you again.”
Her body trembled against his, and he pulled the covers up high. Her skin was cold and damp. “Go back to sleep. I’ll keep your nightmares away.”
He could almost feel her mouth quirk up into a smile. “No one can keep my nightmares away, but you can help. You are helping. Usually, Auntie comes running down the hall to shake me awake when I dream of it. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her all this time. Do you know she is only ten years older than me? More like my older sister than my aunt.”
“When you first mentioned you went to live with your aunt after your parents’ deaths, I pictured a matron of advanced years. If you don’t think she’ll mind me asking, what happened to her first two husbands?”
When her breathing slowed to normal and her body stopped trembling he sighed with relief. “Her first husband was a wealthy vicar. I know what you are thinking, how can a vicar be wealthy? Well, I have no answer to that except he left my aunt quite a bit of money when he died choking on fatty meat.”
“How odd, although not uncommon.”
“Yes, well. Since I never met him I have no opinion of him at all. Her second husband was a wealthy landowner. I believe she loved him deeply. Unfortunately, not two years after their marriage, he somehow managed to fall down their well and drown. It took days for him to be found. My poor aunt was increasing at the time and lost the baby. I met him only once, but he seemed a good man. I don’t know why my aunt married Mr. Baker except to say she was lonely, living in the country, and there aren’t many eligible men there.”
“How heartbreaking to go through two tragedies and end up married to a lying, cheating, degenerate,” he said.
“Yes, indeed.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Do you think you’re ready to sleep now? I’m embarrassed to admit my eyes are drooping.”
She moved her hand to cover his heart and he held his breath. Afraid if he made a sound or moved she’d take it away. She didn’t.
“I’m sleepy. After I experience one of those nightmares, I’m either wound up and afraid to go back to sleep or so physically and mentally drained I fall asleep almost immediately. Tonight, with you here with me, I can sleep. Thank you for talking to me and pulling me out of it.”
“Anytime.” He kissed the top of her head again. “Good night.”
“Good night,” she whispered back.
He covered her hand, the one resting on his chest, with one of his and fell asleep feeling content and happy for the very first time in his entire life.
Chapter Eleven
Not long after breakfast, the butler announced that Mr. Smythe and Bridgeton had arrived. Spencer found them both waiting for him in the gloom of his study. Though the fire blazed in the hearth, it could not combat the dreary rainy day.
“What is so important you had me up tossing and turning all night after receiving your note at the ungodly hour of two?” Bridgeton asked as he leaned forward in his seat, resting his hands on his thighs.
Smythe said nothing, just raised his brows in silent question.
“Smythe, I would like to hire you to find someone. I know I don’t have to tell you what I say stays between the three of us. I don’t want my wife or her aunt to worry that this will get out.”
“For bloody sakes, tell us before I go crazy,” William said, raking his hand through his hair.
“The name of the man I want you to find is a Mr. Henry Baker of Manchester. At least that is where he said he was from. It could be a lie. All I know is he told Miranda’s Aunt Violet, he was from there.”
“What is this man to them?” Smythe asked as he made notes in a small book with a sharpened piece of coal.
Spencer closed his eyes and wished it wasn’t too early to partake in something strong to drink. “He is married to Miranda’s aunt. He lied about having money and began to steal from them. When Mrs. Baker found out she threw him out. He came back that night and attacked Miranda.” He inhaled shakily and leaned back against his chair. Uttering the words out loud somehow made it all the more real.
“Attacked as in how?” This question came from his cousin who barely suppressed his anger.
Spencer’s eyes flicked from his cousin to Smythe, back to William. “He raped her.”
William’s fist came crashing down on the desktop. “The bloody bastard!”
“Can you tell me anything else about this man?” Smythe said, looking none too pleased.
“He was supposed to leave on a ship to America. They don’t know if he did.”
“I’ll get right on it.” Smythe stood up and paused at the door. “What do I do when I find him?”
“Give me his whereabouts and I’ll take it from there.”
“Are you out of your mind,” William bellowed. “You are normally not a violent man, but I can see something unsettling in your eyes. Let Smythe handle it. If he’s still in England, let him personally escort him aboard a ship not to America, but on a penal ship to New South Wales. He deserves to live amongst criminals.”
“Listen to your cousin,” Smythe interjected. “He speaks wisely.”
He wanted to tell Smythe to go to hell, but he knew the man spoke sensibly. “Very well, but keep me abreast of the situation.”
After Smythe left, Spencer faced William and thought the hell with it, he needed a brandy. He held up the decanter, “Care for a drink or two or three?”
“One and then I am going home to hug my wife and daughter.”
Spencer thought back to William’s twelve years of solitude by choice. “Did you ever think during those years of being alone and in mourning, you would ever find yourself married and happy?”
William grinned over the rim of his tumbler. “Never, I thought I would die alone and miserable.”
“Well, I am personally glad you didn’t. I like to think God sent Amelia to you and you to her. Otherwise, you both would have withered and died an early death.”
William chuckled. “Me first, no doubt, as I’m nearly twice her age.”
“Precisely.”
“Before I take my leave, please tell me how
Miranda is? And am I allowed to share this with Amelia?”
“She is traumatized. It happened two months ago. My instincts tell me to hunt the bastard down, string him up and cut out his entrails, then slice off his cock and stuff it in his mouth.”
William cleared his throat. “That bloodthirsty?”
“You have no idea what it was like seeing her panic while we were...” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I believe she is strong and will get over this eventually. Meanwhile, if Baker shows up looking for them before Smythe finds him, Aunt Violet promised to cut off his cock as well. I am not the only bloodthirsty one in the family.”
“Nice imaging. I’m going to have nightmares tonight and fix a metal bowl over my...”
“Amelia will get a good laugh at that.”
“Seriously, what can we do?”
“Nothing for now, but when Smythe finds him, I might need you to lock me up so I don’t go after him.”
William stood. “You can count on me for whatever you need.”
Left alone with his wayward thoughts had Spencer reaching for the decanter again, then pausing and thinking better of it. Miranda didn’t need an inebriated husband on her hands. Instead he rang the bell and ordered his horse to be saddled. He needed a good, fast, long ride to clear his head before he faced his wife. If she saw the turmoil and bloodlust in his eyes it would worry her. Something he never wanted to do.
He wanted his wife happy, without a care in the world besides what gown to wear to the next ball.
***
During afternoon tea with Liz and Mary, Miranda wondered where the rest of the family had gotten off too, including her husband. Yes, she received word he went riding, but that was hours ago. Was he staying away from her because of what happened? Oh dear, her stomach knotted up at the thought.
“What has you frowning so?” Liz asked as she took a nibble of a biscuit that looked positively divine.
Unfortunately, she had no appetite. Delicious looking biscuit or not. “Sorry, I was thinking.” Since she didn’t want to dwell on her troubles, she changed the subject. “So tell me, is there a special man who has caught either of yours eyes?”
Mary blushed and Liz scowled. Oh dear, she’d forgotten about Amesbury so she focused on Mary.
“By the way you are blushing, I think you met someone Mary.”
“Well. There is one gentleman who caught my eye, although I don’t think he knows I’m alive. I never danced with him nor spoke to him. Not once.”
“I’m sorry.” She truly was. Unrequited love was painful. “Do you mind me asking who it is?”
Before she could answer Liz said, “The Marquess of Thorsten.”
“Liz,” Mary huffed. “How did you know? I never told you.”
“Do you think I don’t have eyes? Every time he attends the same function as us you stare at him. It is hard not to notice.”
Mary gasped, covered her mouth with her hand, and cried out, “Oh my God, do you think he noticed?”
“No,” Liz said quickly. “If he did, no doubt he would have approached you, or Spencer.”
“Perhaps when the new Season begins he will come back to town. I have no doubt he is busy with his estates since he’d only inherited the title right before the previous Season.”
“No doubt,” Miranda said, hoping and praying this marquess noticed Mary. She was a rare beauty. Totally the opposite of Liz and Spencer in looks. Mary had milky white, flawless skin, thick wavy blonde hair, and a quiet demeanor. Any man who didn’t notice Mary was blind. She was everything London men supposedly wanted. Quiet, polite, and biddable in a good way. Not like Liz and herself who were outspoken and not at all docile.
Miranda remembered Amesbury, although he didn’t possess his title twelve years ago. She did remember him, Wentworth, and Northborough having the reputation of rakehells. My, had times changed. Two out of three were married and to strong women. Hopefully, Liz would get her man because when Amesbury’s name came up, she looked positively dejected and heartbroken.
How she remembered those feelings well, and she wouldn’t wish them on her worst enemy.
“Is there anything I can do to help you with Amesbury?”
Liz crossed her arms and glared at her. Then she sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you. I’m hurt and angry at him. Everything was fine with us. Progressing nicely.” She paused, glanced around, leaned forward and lowered her voice, even though only the three of them occupied the drawing room at present. “Don’t tell my brother, he held me real close one night and kissed me...using...his tongue.”
“Ewe. That disgusting,” Mary said, making a face.
Miranda responded before Liz could. “It may sound disgusting, but trust me, it is far from it. If you are kissing the right man, that is.”
“It is not disgusting,” Liz huffed. “Someday you will find out on your own. Perhaps your marquess will kiss you and put his tongue inside your mouth.”
“Never.” This time Mary began laughing. “Truly, people kiss with tongues. I had no idea.”
All three of them laughed and Miranda hoped Mary didn’t go and kiss the first gentleman she saw to test the disgusting tongue theory. She also hoped Amesbury came to his senses and called upon Liz soon.
“What is so funny?” Spencer asked as he entered the drawing room, still in his riding clothes, and Miranda could not help but admire his physique in his tight buff breeches and cropped brown riding jacket.
“Nothing,” Liz said with a blush. “We were just discussing women issues.”
“Oh,” Spencer said with a grimace. “Please don’t talk about such things when I’m around.”
To change the subject Miranda asked, “How was your ride?”
“Long.” He sat in a chair facing the three of them resting on the settee. “But I needed to clear my head.”
When Liz and Mary looked at him and spoke at the same time Miranda cringed. “Why?” They both asked.
“Nothing that concerns you two.”
Thank goodness the butler took that moment to announce a visitor. Miranda didn’t want to think about what happened last night or why Spencer needed to clear his head. Even though he professed his love for her and he didn’t want an annulment, she still had reservations. How long would he feel that way if she could not bring herself to perform her wifely duties?
“The Marquess of Amesbury,” the butler announced surprising Miranda, along with Liz, who blushed and Mary who looked as though she would burst out laughing at any moment. This should be interesting, she mused.
“Amesbury.” Spencer stood and shook his hand. “Nice to see you. I’d like to present my wife, Miranda.”
“Miranda, this is the Marquess of Amesbury.”
“It is a pleasure to finally meet the lady who stole Spencer’s heart.” Amesbury bowed.
Miranda smiled. “Such flattery, Amesbury. Please have a seat next to Lady Elizabeth.” She indicated the seat on the settee she just vacated and ignored the scowl Liz sent as she took the chair next to her husband’s.
“So tell me, Amesbury, how long have you known my husband?”
“I’ve known him for years, but not until the past year did he and I become friends. When Bridgeton came to London in pursuit of Lady Amelia, Bridgeton and Spencer pushed themselves into our small circle of friends.”
The sound of her husband’s laughter was music to her ears.
“You must admit that our friendship brought a certain amusement to your otherwise staid group.”
Now Amesbury laughed. Not quite music to her ears, but she was convinced it was to Liz’s. “Amusement, that is putting attempted murder, loss of memory, and Newgate in another light. Although, you can be entertaining at times.”
“You do realize insulting me will not help your chances with my dear sister who is staring daggers at me right now.”
“Spencer!” Liz chastised, her cheeks turning red.
“Please accept my apologies, dear sister. Perhaps a chang
e in topic is warranted. How is the weather Amesbury?”
The five of them laughed. “I see what you mean by entertaining,” Miranda said. “My husband can be quite amusing at times.”
“Not nearly as amusing as Amesbury can be. Or so I have heard.” This was from Mary and all eyes fell on her. “What? Did I say something inappropriate?”
Amesbury looked uncomfortable as he tugged on his cravat, and Miranda felt sorry for him.
“My dear sister,” Liz said looking wide eyed at Mary, “does not know what she is talking about.”
“Yes I do. We were just laughing and talking about Amesbury right before he came.”
Poor Amesbury. Now he looked as though he was unable to breathe, his face had turned beet red. A pity because he was extremely handsome. Not as handsome as her husband, of course.
Liz stood and glared at Mary. “Thanks. That was a big help.” And she left the room without looking at anyone or begging her leave.
Spencer appeared at a loss for words and he looked at Miranda for help.
“I must apologize for Elizabeth. Right before you came she admitted to having an upset stomach. I’m sure she will be right as rain in no time.” Miranda didn’t know what to say to ease Amesbury’s pained and embarrassed look. “Please feel free to call on Elizabeth tomorrow. I’m quite convinced she will be much better.”
“Thank you.”
After Amesbury left Spencer said, “Well, that was awkward. Does someone want to tell me what just happened?
“Right before you joined us,” Mary began, “Liz was telling us about her and Amesbury—”
“Nothing,” Miranda interrupted. “She was telling us—”
Spencer held up his hand, frowned and shook his head. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.
***
Bridgeton found his bride in the library cozied up in a chair with a book in front of the warm hearth. “I found you.” He sank into the matching chair beside her and reached for her hand which she took.
Spencer meets his Lady Love Page 11