Florence’s Stupendous Spinster’s Society Read online

  "They stole our beds and tried to force our hands," Lorena said, her eyes blazing. "If we let them control us now, they'll think they control us forever. We will inform them of our decision together."

  Alice smiled. "It will look as though it were your idea."

  Genie clapped. "Glorious idea."

  Sophia laughed and went over to hug Lorena. It was a good strategy. "You're right. We'll all wed at week's end and tell the men nothing until then."

  With everyone in agreement, Sophia said, "We should toast to our future."

  "Yes, where's the gin?" Alice stood.

  Sophia went to her trunks to search for their drink of choice. She'd been the one to introduce it to the group and since then it had become a ritual to have a sip at every meeting. When she found the bottle, there was not enough left for everyone to enjoy. "I'll go down to the parlor to see what I can find." She stood and went to get her wrap.

  Genie grabbed hers as well. "I'll go with you. We must stay in pairs." That was the rule. None of them went anywhere alone for fear of being trapped by one of the men, implemented after Genie's rendezvous with Francis.

  They both left the room and quickly moved down the hall, grinning and giggling softly at their plan. Genie held a lamp and lowered its flame so that they could only see a few feet before them. They moved quickly down the stairs, finding the first floor to be dark and cold. Sophia walked into the parlor and Genie brightened the flame once they arrived. A lone decanter of brandy sat on the sideboard.

  Sophia walked over and checked the rest of the cabinets but found nothing. She stood again and picked up the amber liquid. "Do you believe this will do?"

  She jumped when the light went out, and the room was plunged into darkness. "Genie, what happened?" She listened in the darkness but heard nothing. Her heart raced, and she felt for the sideboard before putting the decanter down just as she heard the door close, the eerie squeal of the hinges. Then she started to move across the room, keeping her back pressed against the wall.

  She heard someone take a heavy breath and pressed her lips together to hide the shriek that almost escaped her. She knew exactly who was in the room with her, and the thought put an equal amount of fear and excitement in her blood.

  She heard when his hands reached the decanter, which was now on the other side of the room.

  Morris chuckled. "I can smell your scent." He inhaled deeply before letting it out. "Frankincense."

  She smiled as her body began to warm. Morris was not only the Duke of Cort but also an expert hunter who'd taught her how to use a rifle only weeks ago. If she didn't reach the door quickly, she knew it only a matter of time before he caught her. The thought of being captured stirred her blood, yet still she remained quiet and stuck to the wall. She thought no other prey in the world grew had heated at the thought of being claimed by the Duke of Cort. He'd already captured her heart and body. The only thing left was to brand her; Duchess of Cort.

  She inched closer to the door and felt her foot touch the legs of a wingback chair. She moved around it slowly while she listened for signs of Morris. Energy pounded through her veins, her skin tickled with the excitement.

  "You know I'll catch you."

  She looked in the direction his voice had come from, but he sounded far away. She took a chance. "Where's Genie?"

  "Francis has her." He was still far, perhaps by the decanter.

  "How did you know I left the room?"

  "I've tracked your every move," he murmured seductively.

  "I'm not a doe," she told him.

  "No, I think of you as a fox, clever and beautiful. Everything you do is beautiful." His voice softened enough that she could hear the deep emotions.

  Oh, he was good. She loved when Morris played the perfect duke, but when he dropped his mask and revealed his emotions to her it took all her strength not to bend to his will. She also enjoyed being called clever and was glad he didn't see her as a helpless doe but a smart opponent, perhaps an equal.

  She moved another inch closer to the door. "I believe this fox would rather remain where it is."

  "I'd rather lay you on a bed," he growled. "Come here."

  She jumped. He was closer. She wanted to go to him, but instead she backed away toward the door. She felt something flutter by her face, gasped, and ran to the door. Her foot caught on something and she tumbled to the floor, breaking her fall on her hands. She yelped as he grabbed her, turning her over.

  "Are you hurt?" he asked.

  She blinked and smiled in the dark. He was a hunter, but he would never wish her harm. "Only my pride aches." Her intimate parts ached as well, but she was sure he'd soon discover that for himself. She felt moisture build, readying for him. It was as if her body knew when to respond whenever he was about. "I'm not hurt."

  He chuckled and placed his body squarely over her own. "Good, then let's finish this."

  She struggled to right herself, anxiety and need building up in her. She wanted him, but she'd made a promise. She couldn't give in. "I won't give in."

  "We shall see." He grabbed her wrists and held them over her head. His body held her down. His heart beat against her breast, his already growing erection pressed where she wished him most. She let out a moan and wished it had been full of protest, but instead it urged him on.

  She had a single moment to recognize defeat before he captured her mouth, kissing her hard. She struggled in his hold but only to get closer. Their tongues mated, and his body pressed more firmly against her most intimate place. He made a savage sound that caused her to shiver before releasing her hands and moving his down her body. He grabbed her skirt and pushed it up. She lifted, helping him along the way. "You're mine, Sophia. Marry me, don't marry me, I'll never let you go."

  Her heart ached again, yearning for him. Yes, she was. She was his and then a moment later he was inside her, showing her just how very much she belonged to him and forcing her to beg and agree to anything and everything before pleasure built and erupted.

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  CHAPTER EIGHT

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  Florence held back a yawn as Elipha paced in her room. Then she turned back to her mending to ensure she didn’t stab herself. She'd not slept as well as she'd have liked to. The basement had been colder than she'd been prepared for and eventually, she'd found herself slipping into the library to sleep in a chair, but one noise after another had disturbed her. She'd jumped at everything, fearing to be discovered or, worse than that, discovered by Rollo.

  One particular noise had struck her that was impossible to ignore. There had been grunting and moaning coming from the room next to hers, their passion uninhibited and wild. Heat had touched her cheeks, and she’d been shamed to find her thoughts turning to Rollo and the kiss he’d given her. It would have been so simple to allow him to take what he wished. No other man had made her feel that way, that consumed by need, warm and dizzy.

  “There are only six bachelors left.” Elipha walked over to where Florence sat in the corner and took the chair opposite her. She placed her hands at her temples, weariness forming lines on her face. “Which one is for me?”

  Florence smiled and shook her head. Elipha was a very captivating lady, but Florence didn’t think the presence of the Men of Nashwood was the sign from the heavens Elipha thought it to be. Her ladyship had just given birth, and Coira, the midwife, had told her she needed time to physically heal. Florence thought mentally healing would be good for her as well. Time was what her ladyship needed, but Elipha had never been a patient person, always running from one thing to the next. Florence would hate to see her heart broken yet again.

  Elipha dropped her hands. “Let’s go through the bachelors, shall we?”

  Florence jumped and pressed her stabbed finger to her side. “What?”

  Elipha tilted her head and stared at her awkwardl
y. “Their names, Florence. Let’s go through each one until I find the perfect match for me.”

  Florence looked at her finger and then returned to her work, though with a shaking hand. “The Marquess of Edvoy.”

  Elipha smiled, no doubt picturing the man’s dark good looks, but then she frowned. “I heard a rumor that he’d been married once when he was young. His child died. I’d rather not deal with such a matter.”

  Florence’s heart staggered at the news. She’d not seen anything printed about Lord Hugh Vance’s first wife but to hear that he’d lost a child as well? It was easy to think of Helsby again and those darling girls. “There’s Lord Aaron Walsh, the Earl of Jeanshire.”

  Elipha nodded. “Oh, yes, that reminds me, he wished to meet with you after breakfast to discuss Lily and Mary.”

  Florence took a shallow breath and turned her eyes back to the stockings, fearing what went on in Elipha’s mind. If she was planning to use those darling girls in an effort to gain the earl, Florence wasn’t sure she could allow it.

  Elipha sighed heavily. “I don’t think I’m ready to be anyone’s mama. Let’s move on. Who’s next?”

  Florence sighed with relief and hesitated before saying, “Mr. Rollo Kerry.”

  “King Kerry,” Elipha said with admiration. “Elipha Kerry. It’s a fine name, don’t you think?”

  Florence jumped when she stabbed herself again and this time there was blood. She put down the mending and stuck her finger in her mouth.

  Elipha stood and paced, her light blue skirts swaying with her every step. “I don’t know anything about him except that his parents left and never returned. They’d gone on some holiday somewhere, but I can’t remember. What do you know of him?”

  “Nothing,” Florence said quickly. She didn’t want Elipha to know what she and Rollo had done the night before or the promise he’d left her with before she’d ran away. She did think about telling Elipha about where Rollo’s father had grown up. Reminding her that his blood wasn’t pure would set Elipha’s eyes on a different target for sure, but for some reason, the thought alone felt like a betrayal. What Rollo told her would remain between them. Hopefully last night was the only moment they’d share.

  Elipha sighed. “Surely, you read something in the papers. Isn’t he your favorite member?”

  Florence’s eyes widened. She’d told Elipha that months ago after reading Sophia’s latest article. The paper had been delivered from London to Scotland and was the only time she and Elipha ever spoke as though friends. She couldn’t believe that Elipha remembered the comment, which had been forced from her lips. “You remember?”

  “Well, of course, I do,” Elipha scoffed. “And I thought it admirable that your favorite would be gentry.” She laughed. “It’s as if you knew better than to even dream about a titled man.”

  Florence lowered her eyes and rolled them where her lady couldn’t see and couldn’t stop the next words that left her lips. “Mr. Kerry is handsome, smart, and wealthy in his own right. Giving such a gentleman a title would be superfluous.”

  There was silence after her comment.

  Then Elipha laughed. “Oh, all right. You may dream of your Mr. Kerry so long as you know that dreaming is all you will ever have. As you have said, Mr. Kerry is the perfect suitor and will marry a woman who is his equal.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Florence picked up the stocking as Elipha went to the door. She looked up at the clock and saw it was time for breakfast.

  “I’ll not need you today,” Elipha told her. “Lady Lorena has invited me to spend time with her friends.” She smiled. “Perhaps you were right to mention the women. They may be just the key to gaining one of the men’s hearts.” She closed the door behind her.

  Florence frowned. She’d not mentioned Lady Lorena and the others so that Elipha could use them just to get closer to the men. She also didn’t understand what had prompted her outburst about Mr. Kerry. She had no business defending the scoundrel. He’d not gained her permission before setting his mouth on hers.

  When she felt the needle meet her skin again, she set the stocking down and declared herself done. For the next hour, she busied herself getting Elipha’s evening dress ready and placed more wood into the fire before she was done. Then she went downstairs toward the library to meet Lord Jeanshire.

  When she reached the library, she was stunned to find that the meeting would not only involve the marquess, but all the men.

  They took up different corners in the small space and most of the chairs. She was struck with the thought of Mount Olympus again, sure that this was what it was like to gaze at the deities of Rome, but then she remembered that they were not gods but simply men of flesh and blood.

  She avoided Rollo’s eyes and jumped when one of the men closed the door behind her. She curtseyed to them all and looked straight ahead at Lord Jeanshire.

  He looked so self-composed as he stood by the fire, his eyes hard as though he were holding back a storm of emotions. Just like the others, he was a man of good height, but his form seemed to hold more muscle, all of it hidden under the dark suit. His blond hair didn’t want to hold a curl, but it was cut in a very charming way that left a lock over his forehead, the only thing that softened his appearance.

  “Thank you for coming, Florence. I’m sure you’ve not met everyone in this room, but I count these men as my brothers. That is why they are here.”

  She looked around at the men in the room and then at Jeanshire, wondering why he’d felt the need to explain himself. She was only a lady’s maid.

  He held his hand and motioned for her to take the seat in the middle of the room.

  “Thank you, but if it would not offend, I’d rather stand.” She didn’t wish to feel cornered. Years in the East End had taught her to keep caution. She remained by the door.

  Aaron Welsh’s lips twitched as though he could read her mind and the first glimmer of warmth she’d seen in him filled his blue eyes. He nodded. “Very well.”

  That one small smile calmed her. “How may I be of service?”

  He turned the chair he’d offered her around and sat facing her. “As you know, the girls will be arriving in a matter of days. I wish to know everything about them before they do.”

  “I don’t know the girls as well as their mother or father would,” she told him frankly. “But I do know them a little. What is it that you wish to know?”

  “Their ages for starters.”

  Florence had to think for a moment. “Lily is six, and Mary is five.”

  “They’re too young for boarding school,” Morris said.

  Aaron made a noise in agreement.

  Florence frowned as anger curled in her belly at the thought of Aaron sending the girls away just after their father died. She tightened her fists but forced her anger down. This was the worst situation to let her emotions show. These men could ruin her reputation, get her sacked from her current position, and make it so she could never find work in the city again, leaving her with few choices.

  But she couldn’t help but think about Elipha’s baby. She could only gain reassurance from that situation when she thought of the Turnbulls. They would love the boy, maybe more than Elipha ever could.

  “The thought of boarding school angers you.”

  She recognized that voice and turned to look at Rollo, finding his black eyes to be watching her closely. She released her hands and masked her face. “It is not my place to speak on the matter, sir.”

  “But it is,” Aaron said. “You know them better than us. What do you think they’d prefer?”

  She looked down and laced her fingers in front of her. “I—”

  “Look at me.”

  She looked up at Aaron the moment the command left his lips.

  “Now speak.” His eyes seemed honest as though he truly cared for the girls’ well-being.

  She prayed he did. “Those girls lost their mother to illness less than two years ago and now they’ve lost their father. I wouldn’t know about
their preferences and seeing as they are six and five, I don’t believe they know what is best for them, but I feel boarding school a cruel choice.”

  “Every man in this room went to boarding school,” Hugh told her. “We attended Eton.”

  “You were not five and six when you attended Eton, my lord,” she told him. She also wished to say they’d probably not just lost their parents either, though she didn’t know that for sure. “Those girls need affection. They need someone who will make them their sole priority. They don't need to be pushed into a place where they will be handed from one instructor to another.” She dared to look around the room and saw emotion in the eyes of the men, though they were hard to read.

  Rollo asked. “If you had the means, would you send your children to boarding school?”

  “Not so young, no.” She opened her mouth to say more but quickly shut it.

  “Speak,” Aaron said.

  She shook her head. “It was nothing, my lord.” Her emotions were high, and she was no longer thinking clearly. The last few months had been trying on her, more trying than anything else.

  “Tell us what you wished to say,” Morris said. The duke stood in the far corner of the room, his arms crossed and blue-green eyes focused. “I wish to hear your thoughts, no matter how harsh they are.”

  Florence blinked and looked away before she spoke, not daring to meet anyone’s eyes. “It’s simply that… I understand that children of Society are born out of tradition and to further lines, but children need love, and money is no substitute for it.” Florence had been loved. Her mother had raised her in spite of circumstances, raised her even when her grandmother had told her many a time how inconvenient a child was, especially when the father came and went as he pleased. Florence knew the value of love and knew it had no price. She had no idea what it felt like to be wealthy but knew in her heart she’d not trade it for the love of her mother and even the occasional attention her father gave whenever he was there. She also loved her brother and sister, who both shared a father with her and each had different mothers of their own. Her family was not conventional, but she loved them all.