She averted her face when his gaze burned into hers, far too close for comfort.
She was utterly helpless, sitting sideways in front of him.
Mr. Spencer urged the horse forward and growled, “I’m thirsty as hell, hungry, tired, and haven’t washed in four days.” The horse obeyed him perfectly, walking slowly in the direction of the blacksmith’s. “The last thing I’m willing to do right now is stand in the middle of the road arguing with you.”
She inhaled once, and then a second time, more deeply. How was it that unwashed even, this man’s aroma didn’t put her off as Culpepper’s had begun to?
She was angry with Mr. Spencer for manhandling her, but she was also finding it difficult to breathe, what with her entire person essentially surrounded by his… maleness. She leaned closer and took a stronger whiff, reluctantly savoring his scent. It was earthy, spicy, like leather, wood, and musky male rolled into something that by all rights, should be unpleasant at best. Rather than be repelled by it, she wanted to memorize it so she could summon it again when she was alone.
Ridiculous!
His arms wrapped around her to hold the reins. Unwilling to stare at his profile, she dropped her gaze and studied his hands. They were strong and sure; he likely hadn’t had his nails buffed in his entire life. Every time he flicked the leather strap, corded muscles worked beneath his tanned skin.
A man’s hands, she realized in an instant, revealed a great deal about him.
“Never in my life have I met anyone as spoiled, impudent, reckless, and inconsiderate as you have been these past few weeks.”
Tabetha grimaced. Because, well, perhaps she had been at least some of those things. Her debut had been a whirlwind, and she’d had such grand expectations. And now…
“Westerley is on his way to Herefordshire. Likely a dozen men are out searching for you. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“You’re acting just like my brother,” she grumbled.
“Ha! Your brother’s far more lenient with you than I would have been.”
Tabetha shifted uncomfortably, clutching not only the cat but her small valise, but then slid the slightest amount backward and his arm pulled her closer to his chest, keeping her from toppling onto the ground.
Of all her brother’s friends, none of them would ever be so uncouth, so disrespectful to a lady, or so obstinate. But she hated to imagine that Westerley had left London, forced to abandon his new wife in order to go searching for her. Stinging pricked the back of her eyes, and she blinked it away, setting her jaw. Right now she could not dwell on what her brother was going to say to her the next time she saw him. Or her mother. Or Felicity and Bethany.
Especially not with Culpepper’s carriage coming into sight, along with a handful of gentlemen standing near the road, looking imposed upon and annoyed. Culpepper’s tall thin form was noticeably amongst them.
Chapter 5
A Minor Skirmish
“Couldn’t you just ride past without stopping?” Tabetha knew she was asking in vain. Because Culpepper and his minions had already noticed them. Feeling hysterical for an instant, she wondered what they would do if Mr. Spencer urged his horse into a canter with nothing more than a tip of the hat and a casual, “Good day?”
Would Culpepper chase after her then?
“Let’s deal with this like adults? Shall we?” Mr. Spencer mocked, his chest rumbling beside her.
“Does Culpepper look angry to you?”
“He doesn’t look pleased.”
Unfortunately, her companion was right on that count. She doubted she’d seen so much emotion from the duke in all the time she’d known him. His eyes were narrowed into slashing squints, and his lips pinched so tightly together that they all but disappeared.
“Did you get lost, Lady Tabetha?” the duke called to her as Mr. Spencer pulled them to a halt.
“I—” She bit her lip. “Er—”
“It appears, Culpepper, that your betrothed has had a change of heart.” Mr. Spencer swung himself off the horse and then turned to assist her and Archimedes and her valise to the ground.
“Do I know you?” The duke focused his resentment on Mr. Spencer for barely a moment before dismissing him and pinning his beady gaze on her.
Not on her. On her shoulder. “Were you intending to steal my cat?”
The man beside her tensed visibly. Her brother had mentioned on more than one occasion that although Stone Spencer got along pretty well with most everyone, his temper wasn’t