Florence’s Stupendous Spinster’s Society Read online

  “I did love you, Elipha,” he hissed in an effort to not gain the attention of the room. “But how were we to survive without money?”

  Elipha didn’t bother to reply to him. “It’s time to go, Florence.”

  “Elipha,” Rakefield stood close. “We must talk.”

  The look Elipha gave him seemed to be full of venom. “We’ve nothing to discuss. You left me, and I wish for you to leave me now.”

  “Elipha.”

  “Go!” Her voice rose.

  Rakefield took a step back, knowing he could say no more inside a place that was known for its gossip.

  Florence looked between the two of them and then helped Elipha head toward the door. Thankfully, they were outside before Elipha broke into tears.

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  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

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  Rollo followed the secretary through the lecture hall and stopped when he came to the space where Mr. Newton Crew was teaching. He stood in front of a group made up of about fifty men and two women. The subject was Greek artifacts. When Florence had told him about her brother, he’d expected a man much younger, but Newton was already gray at the temples, although there was no mistaking the golden eyes. The two were definitely related. Newton was tall, lean-built, and had a voice had caused people to wish to listen, a quality in it that seemed it would be engaging no matter the topic. Rollo could readily see him teaching at Oxford or even Cambridge for that matter, leading a new generation of curators into the world.

  Rollo scanned the crowd until his eyes fell on Emmett, who he noticed to be standing on the side of the room with his arms crossed and a grin on his face. A collection of goods lay on a table by Mr. Crew and Rollo knew those fine pieces to belong to the Earl of Ashwick. It was probably the only reason he was at the lecture, because there wasn’t much about the ancient Greeks that Emmett didn’t already know.

  Rollo made his way over to his friend and Emmett’s eyes widened at seeing him.

  “I’m surprised you’re here,” Emmett whispered. “Had I known you were coming, we could have come together.” It had been Emmett who’d told Rollo where Newton Crew could be found on the night that he and Florence had walked through the Valdeston hidden storage room, letting Rollo know that the man always taught a class at the end of the week. Rollo had waited days.

  Rollo smiled and shook his head. “It was a last-minute decision.” Originally, he’d been prepared to meet Newton at his office, but the lecture hall had its own appeal. He wanted to watch Newton to see what sort of man he was and why Florence hadn’t wanted to introduce them herself. He also wanted to see if he was just as knowledgeable as both Emmett and Florence had made him out to be.

  He was. Rollo found himself more than once intrigued by the lesson of the life of the Ancient Romans and how that influenced their work.

  When the lecture ended, a few of the people in the crowd moved forward to speak with Newton, and Emmett moved closer as well to oversee his collection with so many people standing about. If something went missing, Emmett would hunt the thief down and Rollo didn’t know if Emmett would show him any mercy. The fire the previous year caused him to lose a few items precious to him. Thankfully, most of his collection had been kept at his country estate.

  Rollo followed Emmett over to the professor and once the students moved over to look at the collection, Newton turned his attention toward him and Emmett.

  “Mr. Crew, I would like to introduce my friend, Mr. Rollo Kerry.”

  Newton’s eyes widened as he held out his hand. “King Kerry, in the flesh.” A tightness formed in his face before it vanished, but Rollo had seen it there. He, like the rest of London, had most likely seen the magazine with his face on the cover and perhaps even though Rollo arrogant enough to have encouraged its creation, commissioned it even.

  He had not.

  Rollo shook the man’s hand. “I’ve been told you are one of the best curators in the city. I would appreciate your expertise on a certain item in my possession.”

  Newton’s expression changed to one of intrigue. “Yes, I’ve heard about your father’s collection. I would be glad to look into anything for you. Are you wishing to sell?”

  “No, I simply want information on an item.”

  “Of course,” Newton said. “I’ll see where I could fit your inquiries into my schedule.”

  Emmett excused himself to talk to some of the men who had more questions about his collection, which gave Rollo added privacy from the students about.

  Rollo leaned toward him and lowered his voice. “Actually, Mr. Crew, what I need from you is a very urgent and very personal matter and I was told you were the best.”

  His expression went blank. “Was it Lord Ashwick who told you I was the best?”

  Rollo hesitated only a second before saying, “No, actually. It was your sister.”

  “Yes,” Newton said slowly through narrowed eyes, a look that wasn’t quite hostile, but not friendly either. “I thought so.” There was something in the way he’d said it that set Rollo’s senses on alert. “Where did you meet my sister? At Lord Nolwell’s estate, perhaps?”

  “No, I met her in Scotland, actually.”

  Newton nodded once and a moment later again, as though he were having a discussion in his head. Rollo wondered what the man was thinking and if it was the reason Florence did not wish to introduce him herself. She’d claimed that presenting him to her brother would somehow ruin her reputation in her brother’s eyes, make him believe that they were more than they were… even though in Rollo’s own mind, it was only a matter of time. Every moment spent with Florence was more pleasurable than the last. He’d never had so much fun with a woman, never found himself looking forward to seeing a woman again like he did with Florence. How odd it was that they’d not slept together.

  Finally, Newton shook himself from his thoughts and said, “I’ll be in Bath for a few days, but I’ve some time next week. Come and see me then, dinner perhaps?”

  A week. It seemed like a lifetime from now, but Rollo had waited years for any clue as to where his parents could have gone. Surely, he could wait just a few more days. “Dinner would be fine.”

  He said his goodbyes to Newton and helped Emmett gather his treasures before leaving with him. It was snowing outside, the air thin and brisk when they approached the carriage The two men moved swiftly inside before the carriage was underway.

  “What did he say?” Emmett asked once they were alone.

  “He’ll help, but I’ll have to wait a week before that can happen.”

  Emmett nodded. “Yes, Mr. Crew is a very busy man.”

  “He knew that I knew his sister.” He’d almost been tempted to ask how the man had known of their connection but hadn’t wanted him to read more into the question than what was there.

  “Of course, he knew. Florence is his sister, after all, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, but I doubt she told him about me. She didn’t wish to be the one to introduce us.”

  “And maybe that’s the reason?” Emmett smiled. “Perhaps she’d talked about you so much that she was sure her brother would put two and two together to discover—“

  “That there’s nothing going on between us,” Rollo said with more heat than he wished, revealing just a part of the craving that was burning inside of him. When he’d held her in the storage room, there had been a large part of him that had been tempted to take her on the Persian rugs or Indian table, on the Chinese sitting mats, allowing the eyes from the artwork of some of France’s greatest painters to stare down at them while they withered in lust and heat, burning hotter than the fire that raged in the hearth.

  “You’ve only a few days more before you can do as you wish. From what I’ve heard, Florence and even Elipha have managed to get the girls used to Aaron. Of course, he’ll need all the help he can
get.”

  “He has us,” Rollo said.

  “Yes,” Emmett agreed. “He does.” Then a second later he asked, “Is it only lust?”

  Was it? Rollo wasn’t sure anymore. Even though he’d not seen her in days, Florence had never been far from his mind, if ever. When he closed his eyes, he could see that smile she gave when she was truly pleased. It always tempted him to break his oath and kiss her and see her smile in pleasure. “I don’t know.”

  “And so, it begins.”

  Rollo looked at him. “What do you mean?”

  Emmett smiled knowingly. “You’re obviously next to fall in love.”

  “Love?” Rollo scoffed. “I never said I was in love. Florence and I are simply friends. I care for her. I never meant to imply any more than that.”

  “Maybe you should flip your coin.”

  Rollo had thought about that but recalled what had happened to him the last time he’d flipped. It had led him to Florence and he’d not been specific in his inquiry. He hadn’t asked for someone to play with or someone who would offer him a good time. He’d asked for a woman, believing the coin knew that all he wished for was soft skin and supple curves that he could hold through the night to get him through the winter.

  He’d gotten so much more than he’d bargained for. He’d shared nothing but a kiss with Florence, yet her presence warmed him in a way that defied anything he’d expected. He wanted to say that Florence was the last sort of woman he needed about, especially when he felt as he did. Lost, uncertain about his feelings for his parents.

  But what if he was wrong? What if Florence was exactly what he needed? She’d been the one to start him on the journey to the truth about his kin, a journey he realized he’d delayed for far too long. Because of her, he was facing his fears and with her, he didn’t feel afraid.

  Rollo’s heart rocked hard, slamming back in his chest and he grabbed the door, clinging to it for his life. “Dear God,” he whispered. He struggled to breathe against the pain his chest and closed a hand around its center. What was happening to him?

  “There now, breathe,” Emmett said in a pleased voice. “You’ll be all right. I had a similar reaction when I realized Lorena was the one.”

  Was that it? Her laugh filled his mind, and he recalled the open concern that would fill her whenever their eyes met when he told her something intimate, personal. He’d shared part of himself with her and she, in turn, had done the same. Was Florence the one? If she wasn’t, he wasn’t sure he’d ever want anyone else. He was in love with a woman he’d never slept with. How was that possible?

  Rollo cleared his throat and almost fell off the bench to his knees. “It hurts.”

  “Yes, but it’ll get better. Your body simply needs time to adjust to the number of feelings that are flowing within you.”

  Rollo hadn’t even touched Florence yet. “Dear God,” he whispered. He was not sure he’d survive touching her. He wasn’t sure he’d survive it if he didn’t. He needed to speak to Aaron. He didn’t want to wait another day, sure it wouldn’t make a difference to the children’s wellbeing at this point.

  He was in love.

  And suddenly, the pain began to ease.

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  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

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  Florence paused at the rail of the inner balcony in Aaron’s house at the sound of a voice she recognized. She turned around to stare into the nursery where Elipha was telling the girls stories about their mother and realized just how much happier Elipha seemed whenever she spoke to Mary and Lily. The last few weeks had been good for her, and Florence would not see it ruined. As she’d learned from Jane, she stood up for the defenseless and at the moment, Elipha’s feelings were much too fragile for company.

  She quickly closed the door on them, promising to return momentarily, and then swiftly started for the stairs. She noticed other servants watching her suspiciously. Servants were not supposed to run and yet Florence was running.

  She barely let her toes hit the steps as she started down them, taking them with a speed she never had before, and stopped just inside the foyer only feet from Aaron and his unexpected guest.

  Aaron gave her a soft smile. “Oh, I’m glad you’re here. You can show Lord Rakefield to the sitting room upstairs and have your lady meet him here.” The upstairs sitting room was for family. That he would allow Elipha to make use of it meant he considered her family. This pleased Florence.

  Her eyes moved to Rakefield, took in his expressionless face, and she said, “Actually, my lord, I would appreciate speaking to Lord Rakefield alone. Might we use the sitting room downstairs?” She didn’t want James Rakefield anywhere near Elipha and would take care to ensure that Elipha knew nothing about his visit. How he’d tracked Elipha down to Aaron’s home was easy. Elipha spent all her calling hours here, most likely in an effort to not see Rakefield.

  It appeared the plan had not worked.

  Both men looked surprised and spoke at the same time.

  “Of course.”

  “Actually…”

  Aaron cleared his throat and pointed a hand toward the sitting room. “Take all the time you need.”

  “My lord.” Rakefield looked at him. “If I may, I would like to speak to Lady Elipha, not her lady’s maid. At least, she could tell the lady that I am here.”

  Florence panicked and expected Aaron to take Rakefield’s side. She watched Aaron look between them in confusion and took a step toward the men. “I will hear what it is you wish to say to my lady and then convey your message.” If she liked what she heard and if at all.

  Rakefield frowned.

  Aaron lifted a brow and she noticed a small smile play on his lips before he turned to Rakefield. “You heard her.”

  “My lord.”

  Aaron cut him off with a hand. “You’ll speak to Florence or you may leave. I opened my doors with the illusion that you were friends with Lady Elipha. It appears I jumped to the conclusion much too swiftly. If Florence says you can see her then you can.”

  Rakefield pressed his lips together and without looking at Florence, marched off to the sitting room.

  Florence went to Aaron. “Thank you, my lord.”

  He grinned slightly and lowered his voice. “There’s no need to apologize. The only reason I didn’t immediately take your side was that I didn’t wish to get you in trouble, but I’ve seen that expression on your face before, the determined look. You do it when you’re trying to protect someone. Elipha is lucky to have you.”

  Florence felt her cheeks become inflamed at his praise. “Thank you, my lord.”

  He touched her shoulder. “Florence, my name is Aaron and there’s no need to thank me. We protect our own.” Aaron. He was giving her permission to use his first name? And she realized then that he’d said her first name three times, which was the first occasion that he’d done so at all. She had no idea who the ‘we’ were he was referring to but didn’t have time to ask. She had words she wished to share with Rakefield and wished to do so now. She excused herself from Aaron.

  She walked into the sitting room and closed the doors behind her before turning to face a fuming Rakefield. Anger made him less attractive.

  “You’ve no right to stop me from seeing Elipha.”

  “I have every right.” Florence’s words cracked in the room, wiping the anger from Rakefield’s face completely. Good, because she had plenty to say and hoped he heard her clearly. “You have no idea what Elipha has gone through these last few months. She gave birth to a baby, a baby you swore you would care for and a baby I swear she loved, though now she pretends otherwise. She was ready to rid herself of the infant when you left.”

  Rakefield flinched.

  Florence went on, knowing she was breaking her lady’s confidence but believing it to be necessary, hoping that this man would leave her lad
y alone so that Elipha could heal. “You should have been there on the night she gave birth, heard her screams and tears, but instead it was I who was there.”

  “Because you’re her lady’s maid,” he said slowly, weakly.

  “No, because I love her.” Florence pointed to herself. “I may always be nothing more than a servant to Elipha, but we’ve been through many a test together. I’ve watched her hopes die and bloom again when you proposed.” Florence felt tears burning in the back of her throat and tried speaking over them but found it hard. “I watched those dreams die again when you left.”

  Rakefield’s gaze fell away, and he placed his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry.”

  He was sorry.

  It didn’t make Florence feel any better, and she was sure it wouldn’t make Elipha any better either. Even knowing how Elipha was, her tendency to think of herself first and how some she never thought of the cruelty in her statements before they left her lips, Florence would still protect her. She remembered how Elipha and Rakefield’s affection had started from purely sexual before growing into love. She’d not let it happen again.

  “You should leave,” Florence said.

  He looked up, surprised. “You’re sending me away?”

  “You had months to apologize, but Elipha’s baby is gone. Have you come to cause her more grief?”

  The horror that filled his eyes almost gave her pause. “I thought you said she had the baby.”

  “She did,” Florence told him. “But the babe is in Scotland at an orphanage.”

  Rakefield shook his head and looked away before looking at Florence again. “Let me speak to her. I know that if we wished it, we could get past this together.”

  “Good day, Lord Rakefield.” And she hoped her expression said she was not in any mood to bend.