Genie’s Scandalous Spinster’s Society Read online

  Genie’s Scandalous Spinster’s Society

  The Spinster’s Society

  Charlotte Stone

  A Regency Romance Book

  Contents

  Copyright

  Find Out More

  Personal word from Charlotte Stone

  Dedication

  About The Author

  Prologue

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  Chapter One

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  Chapter Two

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  Chapter Three

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  Chapter Four

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  Chapter Five

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  Chapter Six

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  Chapter Seven

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  Chapter Eight

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  Chapter Nine

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  Chapter Ten

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  Chapter Eleven

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  Chapter Twelve

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  Chapter Thirteen

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  Chapter Fourteen

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  Chapter Fifteen

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  Chapter Sixteen

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  Chapter Seventeen

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  Chapter Eighteen

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  Chapter Nineteen

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  Chapter Twenty

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  Chapter Twenty-one

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  Chapter Twenty-two

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  Chapter Twenty-three

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  Chapter Twenty-four

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  Chapter Twenty-five

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  Chapter Twenty-six

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  Chapter Twenty-seven

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  Chapter Twenty-eight

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  Chapter Twenty-nine

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  Chapter Thirty

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  Chapter Thirty-one

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  Chapter Thirty-two

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  Chapter Thirty-three

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  Chapter Thirty-four

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  Chapter Thirty-five

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  Epilogue

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  Preview of Next Book

  READING LIST . Also By

  Find Out More

  Publishers Notes

  Copyright © 2017 by

  Charlotte Stone

  All Rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  PERSONAL WORD

  FROM CHARLOTTE STONE

  * * *

  Dear lovely readers,

  The characters of my writings are women who have a strong mind of their own, women who know what they want to pursue in life. It is their tenacity to finding true love that drives them to overcome the challenges which they may face while waiting for the man of their dreams.

  Will such tenacity of their believing bring them true love in spite of the societal-standing challenges one will face in an era such as that of Regency.

  Read on to find out the answers!

  Thank you once again for your strong support in my writing journey!

  Much Love,

  * * *

  DEDICATION

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  “A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.”

  Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

  Specially Dedicated to you, my Dear Reader!

  It is with a heart of gratitude that I wrote this message of dedication to you.

  Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share with you my writings.

  I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

  It is support like yours that keep authors like us going and striving to write even better novels for you!

  Have you checked out my other historical romance book series?

  Click the link below to get started

  *** Amazon US ***

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  Got something to share?

  I would want to hear from you!

  So please do get in touch with me:

  https://www.facebook.com/charlottestonebooks

  [email protected]

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  * * *

  In a near cynical world which we are currently living in, Charlotte finds comfort in the readings of Regency Romance writings, one of her favourite would be Laura Kinsale’s Flowers from the storm where the female character loves and saves the male lead character who is a stroke victim. It was such writings which inspired her to be an author herself.

  In Charlotte’s writings, the characters are able to see beyond the imperfections of each other and to accept and love one another, just the way one is.

  Isn’t this true of our inner self? To be able to find someone who is able to see the beauty in us, in spite of all imperfections we might have.

  Isn’t this true of what love really should be? Ever accepting, ever loving, ever seeking.

  May you find love and acceptance in Charlotte’s writings.

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  PROLOGUE

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  October 1807

  Oxford, England

  Lord Francis Cullip looked up from his book as someone fell into the wingback chair next to his. In the dim light of the tavern, he looked at the young man, who started to rummage through his bag on the hunt for something. The young man pulled a book from the confines of the satchel and began to read, positioning himself much like Francis, with a leg over the arm of the chair. Francis guessed the boy to be in his first year at Oxford, making him only one year younger than Francis’ twenty. The gentleman had dark hair and dark eyes and Francis watched the grin he’d sported just a few moments ago vanish under the weight of the information on the page. He was studying philosophy, a heavy subject. Francis looked at his own adventure book and debated on the merits of studying himself. Then he decided against it.

  Francis looked around Nashwood, his preferred tavern, and took note of how many people were in the room. He’d barely noticed that the building was full. The only seats that remained were the nine surrounding him. Well, eight now.

  He turned to the young man, wondered if he should say something, and decided he would. “Hello.”

  The other gentleman gave a quick smile. “Good evening.” He slowly went back to his book.

  “What’s your name?” Francis asked, knowing very well he was interrupting.

  “John.” John didn’t look up from his book.

  Francis nodded slowly, waiting a moment for his own question to be returned. When it wasn’t, he went on as if it had been. “Well, I’m Francis Cullip.”

  John nodded absently.

  Francis waited.

  Slowly, the book was lowered, and John stared at him, eyes wide. “You’re Francis Cullip?” The surprise and admiration bloomed quickly on his face. “The school’s equestrian?”

  Francis grinned. “I am.”

  John straightened with excitement. “You beat Cambridge last year.”

  Franci
s placed an elbow on the chair arm closest to John and balanced his head on his fist. “I know.”

  “Are you going to beat them this year?”

  “I plan to.”

  John nodded and looked around the tavern as reality dawned. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? One of the Nashwood men?”

  Francis said nothing but the truth of the matter was obvious. Before them were eight empty chairs, and though the room was full of fellow students, some standing in groups and others lining the walls, no one had dared to sit by Francis, except for John, because this section of the den was reserved for Francis and his friends, the Men of Nashwood.

  Embarrassment turned John’s face red. “I didn’t know.”

  Francis smiled. “You’re new. I realize that.”

  John looked over to the wall behind them and studied the names that had been carved into the exposed wood. The weight of his mistake hit him like a slap in the face.

  An explosion of noise caused them to both turn as nine young dapper gentlemen walked into the tavern and headed boisterously in their direction. Their joy died at the sight of John.

  Julius Hext lifted a brow. “You’re in my chair.”

  “Of course.” John scrambled from the chair and started to bow at every man present. “So sorry, my lords.” He looked at a few of the others, who weren’t lords, the gentry of the group. “Gentlemen.” He bowed even lower. Then he grabbed his bag and scurried across the room to stand with the others, who’d known better than to sit in the reserved section of the tavern.

  John made it to the other side of the room and was greeted by laughs.

  Francis shook his head.

  Julius dropped into his chair and frowned. “It feels like a First Year has been sitting in my chair.”

  Francis laughed. “You were a First Year just two years ago.”

  “Still.” Julius adjusted himself in the chair and narrowed his eyes as Francis. “I can’t believe you let someone sit in my chair.”

  Francis rolled his eyes. “I did not. I was in the midst of asking John to move as gently as I could.”

  “If John sat here any longer, his friends would have joined him.”

  Calvin Lockwood grimly looked through his satchel. “Then we’d have to worry about John and his friends stealing the high tables at meals.” It was custom at Oxford for paying students to sit in higher chairs at meals while the commoners sat in the lower seats.

  “You’re overreacting,” Francis said, ready to laugh. “John simply didn’t know better.”

  “Besides, everyone knows Julius’ seat is the most comfortable,” Morris Kidd said, his teal-colored eyes dancing with humor.

  The others laughed.

  Julius glared at him. “You’re only able to jest because it wasn’t your seat that was snatched from beneath you.”

  The conversation went on and Francis’ grin widened, but the opening of the far door caught his attention and he stood. He walked toward the entrance and greeted his father with a handshake and a smile.

  “Father, what are you doing here?”

  The Duke of Valdeston tried to return the smile but it was obvious that he was troubled. “We must speak.”

  Francis nodded, went back for his belongings, and headed out into the night with his father. The air was cool with the sun tucked away, which Francis was more than grateful for after the heated day they’d had. “Are Lorena and Evie here?” he asked.

  Lorena was his younger sister while Evie—or Genie as everyone else called her— was her friend, a young woman with the sweetest heart he’d ever met. Genie’s green eyes came to his mind and the way they would light whenever he walked into a room. She’d visited him last year when she and Lorena had come to see his race. It was his fondest memory of his time at Oxford. He’d awoken to a tulip on his breakfast tray and had immediately known who it had come from. Whenever they were in the city, Genie made sure a flower was placed by his breakfast. She’d been in love with him for years and though Francis had yet to tell her, he loved her just as much.

  The duke looked over at Francis as they climbed into his waiting carriage. “The women are not here but Lord Buckley is.” The Marquess of Buckley was Genie’s father and one of Francis’ father’s closest friends.

  Francis sat down across from his father and frowned. “What is Lord Buckley doing here?”

  The lamp in the carriage was lit and Francis noticed just how tired his father looked. A horrible feeling settled in Francis’ stomach, one that told him the night would not end in his favor. That had been the case repeatedly whenever his father sought him out to speak to him alone. It was well known amongst the peerage that the Valdeston name was an empty title, thanks to its current duke.

  Francis’ father had lost their fortune in one bad investment after another, to the point that Francis waited for the day that Oxford would remove him from the roster for unpaid fees. It was only his mother Lady Constance Cullip’s inheritance that allowed Francis and his sister the few luxuries they did have. Thanks to the way their wedding contracts had been written years ago, Constance held a portion of money that was solely hers and though Francis’ father could take it if he wished, he’d never touched his wife’s funds. Francis respected his father for that and for many reasons. Though he was not good with his coin, he was an excellent father and was close to both Francis and Lorena.

  But in the last few years, Francis’ father had allowed Francis to see the family’s financial records, simply so that Francis would have no illusions as to what he was inheriting. A name and nothing more.

  “What has happened?” Francis asked.

  The duke held his eyes, his blue a darker shade than Francis’. “I’m in debt, Francis.”

  “Yes, I know.” Francis’ stomach tightened. “But why are you here?”

  His father sighed and finally looked away. “I’m going to prison.”

  Francis leaned back in his seat as the ill feeling grew. “What? Why?”

  His father’s eyes returned to him. “I’m in more debt than you know, and it’s an amount I’ll never be able to pay back in this lifetime.”

  Francis’ heart squeezed inside his chest as he thought about his mother’s reaction if she had to see her husband taken to debtor’s prison. Constance and the duke had been a love match from the very beginning. “Does Mother know?” Then he thought about what Lorena would do. She’d cry, no doubt, and would most likely never marry. Her future would end at the news of their father’s incarceration.

  “Your mother and Lorena don’t know and they don’t need to know if you help me,” Valdeston went on.

  Francis stared at his father as the uneasy feeling grew. The carriage stopped but neither of them moved and no footman appeared at the door. “How do I help?”

  His father crossed his legs at the knee and leaned back on the bench. “Lord Buckley is willing to lend you enough money to pay off most of my debts.”

  “Me?” Francis asked. “Why not you? You’ve been his friend for decades.”

  Valdeston nodded. “It has to be you because you’re young and have more time to see that the money is returned to his house.”

  “Of course.” He’d do anything to keep his father from prison.

  The duke frowned. “I’m so sorry, Francis.”

  He leaned over and touched his father’s shoulder. “It’s all right. I’ll ask the marquess for the money. I won’t let you go to prison.”

  His father covered his hand while his eyes remained locked with his. “Francis, what he will ask from you, the burden you will have to bear, I am truly sorry.” Tears filled his eyes.

  Francis’ heart raced. “It’s all right.” He smiled. “It’s well known that every other Duke of Valdeston has better luck than the one before.”

  His father smiled sadly before tightening his hold on Francis’ hand. A moment passed before he said, “If the debt is too high, don’t accept. Let me pay for what I’ve done.”

  Francis was shaking his head before his fat
her finished. “There’s no debt too high to stop me from saving my family.”

  “Just remember what I’ve said,” his father advised before he tapped the roof.

  The door opened and Francis got out, noticing he was at an inn just outside of Oxford. He turned, expecting his father to follow.

  The duke leaned toward the door. “He’s in a private dining room waiting for you. I’ll wait here and you can come and tell me how it went.”

  Francis nodded and went toward the inn. He was familiar with the building, as it was the one his father used whenever he came to town. Francis went toward the private dining room and slipped inside.