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He cradled her cheek, brushing his thumb beneath her lashes. They fluttered, and she gave a low hum, a ghost of a smile lingering on her lips.

He wanted to kiss her again.

Heavens, he wanted her more than words could express, but he had to focus on ensuring that Charlotte was safe.

Nathaniel would not have come if she wasn’t in danger, but he also wouldn’t have left her—even with the other men stationed at the cottage—if he thought her life was in absolute peril.

He understood that Spencer would want Charlotte closer now if she was being watched, where he himself could keep an eye on her.

“Eleanor,” Spencer spoke again, his voice tight.

“You… you trusted me, back when we first met.

Not only with your story and truth, but also with the hope of saving Charlotte.

While I do not know if I am ready to share quite as much, I find myself ready to open up.

The flowers in your gardens—flowers of rebirth—I would like to embody them as well.

“I have a lot of shadows in my past, many reasons why I was gone from London for so long. One day, I will share them with you. I will learn to let you in, as you have let me in. I am a haunted man, and that is something I cannot hide from you for much longer, but I believe you are a bright light against those haunting shadows. I believe you can help me chase them away.”

“Just like you chase away my own shadows,” Eleanor answered quietly.

She turned her face into his hand, kissing his palm lightly. Spencer sat with the new feeling in his stomach, the way he had not planned for her nor the way she was making him feel. He had not planned for how terrifying it was, how overwhelming and all-consuming.

“Tonight, you will meet my aunt properly and reunite with my sister, but after that, I want to take you somewhere beautiful. Somewhere you can forget about everything that has happened.”

Eleanor nodded, and the smile on her face only grew. There was such tenderness in her eyes that Spencer could not help but pull away.

He was learning. His wife was patient, but he could learn.

He could learn to call something home , for as he gazed at her, he thought that a home did not have to be a set of walls. It didn’t have to be a building. Perhaps it could be a wild-haired, wide-eyed woman who had burst into his life unexpectedly.

But Spencer was not yet brave enough to admit such a thing, even in the silent recesses of his mind, so he shut down the thought and looked back up toward the storm that brewed over the countryside.

“Do you think the storm will hit before we get to the cottage?” Eleanor asked, after a beat.

His eyes keenly assessed the proximity of the clouds and the depth of their color. “I believe so, but we are not too far away now. Let us hope we do not get caught in the rain.”

They did, in fact, get caught in the rain, as the heavens opened when they were a mere ten minutes from the cottage. But the sound of Eleanor’s laughter as she dashed through the downpour was worth getting soaked through.

He paused for a moment as she hurried to the front porch, unable to tear his gaze away from her. He listened to her laughter dancing through the storm, realizing that she had the power to send him to his knees far more than any gust of wind.

“Are you not coming?” she shouted, squinting through the sheets of rain.

Spencer blinked, realizing he merely stood in the middle of it, watching her. He nodded, hurrying to her side.

As soon as he stepped onto the porch, the door opened, revealing his aunt’s surprised face.

“Spencer!” she cried, her mouth splitting into a wide smile. “Heavens, what a night to travel. Come in, come in!”

He didn’t miss how her eyes locked on his wife, eager and excited, as if she had simply waited for a moment to meet Eleanor properly.

Once they were inside, his aunt began barking orders for towels to be retrieved. A stack was brought in, and a maid offered a thicker towel for Eleanor’s hair.

“You are soaked!” Katherine tutted. “Whatever has brought you down for such a spontaneous visit?”

Spencer was too busy gazing at Eleanor’s golden waves, the tan her skin still retained, the droplets trickling down her neck, and he was only interrupted by a clearing of a throat.

He realized he had not answered his aunt. But then another voice cut in.

“Well, I must say that you two seem far closer than when I last saw you.” Charlotte stood in the doorway to the parlor, a mischievous grin on her face.

She moved closer, opening her arms wide to embrace Eleanor, not caring about her soaked dress.

“Married life seems to be treating you well, Eleanor.”

At that, Eleanor flushed.

Spencer told himself it was the exertion of running to the cottage.

“Indeed. Your brother is the most attentive of husbands.”

“Heavens, are you certain it is him?” Katherine laughed.

Spencer scowled. “It is lovely to see both of you too,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “May we dry off before we return to London?”

“You are leaving so soon?” Charlotte asked, surprised. “Why have you come here, then?”

“To retrieve you,” he answered simply, careful not to mention a stalker. “Your…” He paused.

Mentioning Lord Follet’s name would be the easiest way to get his sister to leave without argument, but it would be the hardest to explain when he got her home and then stopped her from seeing him.

“Your brother misses you,” Eleanor chimed in.

Spencer was caught off-guard, and wary , for she had not proven to be the best liar in the world.

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, so Eleanor pressed on. “It was my suggestion to retrieve you. I miss you dearly—more than he does, perhaps.”

She gave a light laugh, knowing her friend would acknowledge that, but it only made Spencer feel guiltier.

“Indeed,” he agreed quickly.

“Well, you must not rush off so soon,” Katherine insisted. “I will have you both installed in the guest room, and you will stay the night.”

“Aunt Katherine, there is no need?—”

“Oh, I believe there is.” Her grin sharpened. “I barely see you, after all, and I have yet to properly meet your wife. Do not deprive your aunt of such indulgences.”

“I agree,” Charlotte piped up. “I do not want to travel in the storm. We will wait until tomorrow. In the meantime, you should change. Eleanor, I have a dress you can change into. Aunt Katherine, do you still have some of Uncle George’s clothes?”

Spencer scrunched up his face at the prospect of wearing his late uncle’s clothing. “I can make do,” he said quickly.

Charlotte laughed, and Eleanor looked between them, confused. “What is wrong with your uncle’s clothes?”

“They are colorful,” Charlotte sniggered. “So, of course, my oh-so-moody brother will not wear anything of the sort.”

“I have my tastes,” Spencer grumbled, relaxing now that he could see her laughing, not haunted the way he was, safe in her ignorance. “There is no fault in that.”

“Come now.” Katherine ushered them out. “Dinner will be ready shortly. We will meet you in the dining room. Do not be late, Spencer.”

She fixed him with a long look that he pretended not to see as he guided Eleanor down the hallway.

The old cottage was a quaint thing, scarcely big enough for the notoriety his uncle had enjoyed as the late Viscount Montagu. But for his aunt, who preferred to live there full-time rather than in her townhouse, it was sufficient.

He knew it would be the safest place for Charlotte, which was why he had sent her here, even though his aunt had originally traveled from the Montagu estate for the wedding.

He had only needed to make a quick suggestion, and his aunt had been thrilled to have company in the cottage.

Now, he headed to the guest room, stiff in his wet clothes, and before he could stop himself, his hands went to Eleanor’s waist as he pushed her into the room and shut the door behind them. He pressed her front to the wall immediately.

His mouth traced a hot line down the back of her neck, coaxing a gasp from her.

“You must allow me to peel your sodden clothes off you, wife,” he murmured, his fingers already teasing the laces at the back of her dress.

Eleanor turned her head, a smile lingering on her lips as she hummed. “It would be a shame to sit in them for too long. I do not want to catch my death.”

“Allow me to warm you up, then.”

“And do allow me to interrupt.”

He started, pulling away quickly as Charlotte barged into the room with a fresh gown for Eleanor and a stack of clothes for him.

He scowled at her, but she only smiled smugly. “As Aunt Katherine said, do not be late for dinner. Besides, you did know I was coming back. It is not my fault?—”

“ Leave , Charlotte,” he growled, already turning back to Eleanor as the door clicked shut.

But she was already squirming out of his grip.

“She is right.” She laughed. “After all, we are guests. It would be rude to get distracted by one another.”

“We hardly have the chance to do so,” he muttered, but then began stripping off.

Annoyed and frustrated, Spencer took off his wet tailcoat and stalked to the tub in the adjacent bathroom, dropping it in. When he looked up at the creak of floorboards, he found Eleanor’s eyes trailing over his wet shirt.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He smirked.

She still blushed as if she was not used to staring so openly, but she didn’t look away.

Spencer took it as an encouragement to approach her.

He took one of her hands and placed it on his chest, breathing evenly.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, her eyes rising to his.

Nerves still flickered across her expression, as if she didn’t know what she was allowed to do, but he only leaned down to brush a kiss over her mouth lightly before stepping back.

“I will change in here,” he told her.

He ached to see more of her body as much as he ached to undress her, but with his family waiting downstairs, he didn’t want to rush it.

“You change in the bedroom and knock when you are ready.”

More nerves flitted across Eleanor’s face, and she bit her lower lip. “Was I—” She broke off, pulling away. “Perhaps I was too eager.”

He caught her quickly, wanting to assuage her doubts.

“No, not at all.” He pulled her closer, his fingers tugging at the fastenings of her dress.

“It is only that I do not want to be rushed when I take you, Eleanor. I want to savor every inch I bare. I do not want to miss a single detail because I have been rushed.”

He met her gaze for a moment, long enough for the flicker of worry to dissipate, and then he stepped back, nodding at her once.

Her blush was pretty and stubborn, not fading even as she seemed to struggle with her words.

“You… you must stop saying such disarming things,” she mumbled finally, turning back to enter the main bedroom.

Spencer laughed quietly as she left, and they finished changing for dinner.