to be trifled with as his fists became involved more often than not.
“Spencer.” Mr. Spencer stepped in front of her, all but demanding Culpepper’s attention. “Stone Spencer.”
Culpepper blinked rapidly and then sniffed.
“I wasn’t stealing him. For the record. Archie followed me.” Tabetha peeked around Mr. Spencer’s large frame.
“Archimedes, if you please.” The duke stepped forward, but Mr. Spencer effectively blocked him from reaching Tabetha.
“You’ll keep quiet about all of this,” her rescuer stated confidently. “When you arrive back in London.”
“Too late for that, my dear fellow,” Culpepper answered.
Tabetha listened warily even as she tried to extract Archimedes’ claws from her shoulder, fully intending to return the cat to his rightful owner.
The puss clung to her for dear life. Dear God, had he already removed a layer of her skin?
“Not at all,” Mr. Spencer disagreed softly. “Simply keep quiet about this unfortunate excursion and her family will provide an explanation for her sojourn from society.” The cat dug into her deeper and let out a loud meow, causing Mr. Stone to glance back at her in annoyance. “Are you going to give the man his cat?”
Tabetha shook her head and winced. Archie was having none of this. “He doesn’t want to go,” she ground out through clenched teeth.
Culpepper shook his head as though speaking to a small child. “My dear Mr…. Spinner, did you say? My people in London are quite aware of my arrangement with Lady Tabetha. And there are some who are expecting payment upon my return. I’m afraid I can do nothing to halt their wagging tongues. It is the way of society. Now, would you kindly hand over both my betrothed and my cat?”
“That’s Mr. Spencer, and you can instruct them that they misunderstood.” Stone Spencer’s feet were planted shoulder-distance apart now, his arms folded across his chest.
“Now, why would I do that?” Menace threaded the duke’s voice even as two of Culpepper’s servants moved forward, flanking their employer.
Throughout the long drive, Tabetha had merely considered the men traveling with them to be rather sturdy-looking outriders, but at that moment, they more likely resembled henchmen.
Mr. Spencer dropped his hands to his side, and Tabetha’s gaze transfixed on his fingers. He flexed them, made a fist, and then flexed them again. The antagonism hovering in the air alarmed Tabetha more than a little. Even the cat seemed to notice it, tucking his face into the crook of her neck.
This situation had indeed escalated rather quickly.
“Because if you do,” Tabetha inserted herself into the conversation. “I’ll return your cat to you. But not until we’re back in London and not until I see that you are willing to act with discretion.”
Mr. Spencer took a moment to glance back at her a second time, an incredulous scowl darkening his features. She widened her eyes at him in a meaningful way, doing her best to convince him to go along with her plan.
Furthermore, Archimedes did not want to go with the duke.
“I have a buyer in London waiting for that animal.”
“Then I suggest you listen to the lady,” Mr. Spencer replied, nonplussed.
Tabetha suppressed the urge to bounce up and down in an inappropriate victory dance. Stone Spencer was actually going along with her plan! It was about time he acknowledged that she wasn’t an empty-headed debutante and this way, she could possibly still find some duke who’d be willing to marry her.
“You must be joking,” Culpepper said.
“We can handle all of this civilly. It’s up to you. Protect her reputation and you get your cat back.”
Tabetha counted the cluster of servants standing by. She and Mr. Spencer were quite outnumbered, more than two to one. Or precisely two to one if she counted the cat.
“This is ridiculous. You think you can bargain with me? Not only will you hand over the cat but the lady as well.”
“I’m afraid neither of those two scenarios is going to happen.” Behind his back, Mr. Spencer pointed to the horse.
Insistently.
“Should I get on the horse?” she whispered, uncertain what he wanted.
In answer, he pointed even more… pointedly. And she barely comprehended a hissed answer. “Yessssss.”
“Oh, but you are wrong.” Culpepper moved at the same time she did and in that moment, his thugs leapt at Mr. Spencer.
Get on the horse. Get on the horse. But how? She’d only ever ridden side-saddle, as any proper English lady did. And that was without a hairless cat clinging to her and without an angry duke coming after her menacingly.