Love for the Spinster
Kasey Stockton
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Kasey Stockton
Cover design by Blue Water Books
First print edition: June 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations for the purpose of a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Next in the Women of Worth Series
Also by Kasey Stockton
About the Author
For Granny, who gave me a love of history,
and Grandma, who gave me a love of reading.
Chapter 1
This was it, the perfect opportunity. I crouched low behind the sofa and eyed my opposition sunning in the window as though he held no cares in the world—which, in truth, he didn’t. His eyes closed lazily and his body slouched against the seat cushions in contented rest, his long tail sliding along the window panes.
Tiptoeing from my hiding place, I gripped the blanket in my fingers, inching closer to the orange tabby. He stilled as though he sensed what was coming. I leapt, closing the blanket around the petulant cat and pulling him from the windowsill in one quick motion. Swiftly closing the edges of the blanket together, I held it at arm’s length to avoid Jasper’s sharp, swiping claws.
Skipping down the ornately carved staircase, I deposited the angry bundle in the drawing room before closing the door quickly behind me. My chest heaved with adrenaline, my back resting against the floral, painted door. Aunt Georgina might have had a penchant for strays when she was alive, but that didn’t mean I had to put up with this one’s cantankerous attitude infiltrating my personal space—even though I could never find it in me to rid the house of him altogether. But regardless, the pink sitting room was exactly that: mine.
My shoulders slouched. How very pompous of me. I was in this home as a guest. Aunt Georgina wasn’t a direct relation of mine, but she was more like family than my real one had been in quite some time. In one sense it was a massive blessing to have been thrown at the mercy of Georgina Stewart, for I would never have obtained independence otherwise. But it did not keep me from carrying a heavy weight of anger toward the man who called himself my father—and neither did it lessen his deceit.
“You’ve a caller, Miss Hurst,” Perkins, the butler said stiffly, his tall build framed by the small hallway. “Lady McGregor. And this came just now.” He held out a tray and I took the letter, my heart springing at the familiar scrawl. The aging steward over my country house, Corden Hall, delivered the most diverting anecdotes among his estate business, and I looked forward to his notes above anything else. They were the bright spot of my mostly placid days.
Blowing a lock of unruly, red hair away from my forehead, I glanced over my shoulder, jumping when Jasper scratched at the door from inside the room.
Clearing my throat, I clasped my hands before me, careful not to crease the letter. “I believe Jasper requires the drawing room at present, Perkins. Perhaps it would be prudent to give him time to cool off. Pray show her into the Pink Room.”
“Very good.” He bowed away, not bothering to hide his irritation. I officially took over as mistress when Aunt Georgina died, but I’d been running the place since she took me on as her companion, so the shift was natural.
Perkins was a newer addition to the household after Aunt Georgina’s last butler retired. Stolen from another matron whom Aunt Georgina had never much liked, Perkins had always been loyal to her, and was never sour. But though he was never rude to me, not precisely, I could tell from the beginning he did not care for me. His blatantly ill treatment of me had not begun until recently. The man was a puzzle, and I had yet to solve precisely what I had done to earn his disfavor.
Lifting my jade green skirts, I climbed the stairs to the Pink Room, reveling in the absence of felines within my sanctuary. The mauve curtains were pulled away from the window, gathered with golden cord and allowing the bright noon sun to pour into the room and warm the space. I tucked the letter in the top drawer of my writing table to be enjoyed later.
Rosalynn swept into the room, her protruding belly not hampering in any way her ability to sashay with the greatest dignity and poise. “Good day, darling,” she purred.
I swallowed a chuckle as she settled herself into the deep plum padded chair, arranging her skirts over her knees and then training her dark brown gaze on me. I found, as I often did in Rosalynn’s presence, that I was certain I was doing something very wrong when she looked at me in such a manner. Logically, I was aware I was not breaking any etiquette or committing a social faux pas, but her piercing gaze had the ability to make me question my every move regardless.
“You are in the family way?” I confirmed, unsure of whether I was meant to know that already or not. It was hard to keep track with Rosalynn.
“Yes, this will make five,” she answered nonchalantly, waving her hand in disregard. She had the bearing of a countess and wore her title in the set of her shoulders and lift of her chin since marrying Lord McGregor. “Or six, if the pattern of twins is to be continued. The children have been begging for a visit from Aunt Freya, but I told them you are far too dull to travel.”
I shrugged. It was perhaps not my favorite thing to travel the length of England simply to stay in Rosalynn’s drafty castle with her brood of noisy children. Boys, all of them.
A catlike smile tipped her lips. “But I told Jack to leave it to me. I would bring you and the children together one way or another.”
Apprehension filtered into my stomach. Rosalynn typically did not make threats she was incapable of upholding. She was the one who instigated The Sisterhood of Deserving Females in our school days and convinced Elsie and me to agree to never marry, thus giving our power over to another man. She could be very persuasive when she felt so inclined.
I was probably the most hesitant at the delicate age of twelve to agree to such a dramatic scheme, yet I was the only one of the three of us who remained unwed. A fact unlikely to ever change.
Brushing aside memories of our past, I delivered a bright smile. “Has Lord McGregor traveled with you to Town?”
“Yes, of course. The whole lot of them came.”
“Then it would seem unnecessary for me to visit you at the castle, anyway.” I offered her an impish grin. “That must have been a lively trip.” She had been blessed with two sets of twins, and they were just over a year apart. I imagined the carriage ride across England with Rosalynn sitting in the very center and her four boys climbing about like cheerful little monkeys. She was poised in the center of it all, naturally.
; Rosalynn cast her gaze up, chuckling. “I assure you I cannot endure it again any time soon. We shall be here for quite some time.”
“And the baby?”
Her hand moved to her rounded midsection, as though subconsciously checking her child. Her dark eyes glazed over and she spoke softly. “There are plenty of fine doctors in London.”
Perkins held the door open while the maid carried in the tea service and set it on the table before me. She scurried back out the door and it closed behind her with a thunk.
I began preparing the tea and passed a steaming cup to Rosalynn.
“How are the cats?” she prodded, eyeing me from over the top of her tea cup, her dark eyebrow raised in question.
I speared her with a wry look. “Everywhere.”
“You do know,” she began slowly, “you are not required to keep them any longer. Now that Georgina…”
The room fell quiet and I picked up a slice of shortbread, taking a bite and chewing the rich, buttery treat slowly while I formed my words. It was perhaps difficult for her to comprehend, and I was unsure if I even needed to explain myself to her. She was, however, one of my very dearest friends. I was sure she simply wanted to understand. “It has been six months since Aunt Georgina’s death, yes, and I have put off mourning clothes.” I plucked at my green skirt as if that solidified my point. I had remained in black far longer than was necessary. “But I cannot so easily put off those wretched cats. This is her home, after all, and she adored the beastly things. Every single one of them.”
“Was her home,” she corrected.
“True, and now it belongs to Elsie.”
“Does that bother you?” Rosalynn asked, never one to shy away from difficult questions.
I reared back, shocked at her insinuation. “No, of course not. I may have been Aunt Georgina’s companion for the last three years of her life, but Elsie was her great-niece. It was not my place to inherit the house.”
“Many of us expected it, though.”
“I did not,” I said with a note of finality which I hoped rang clear. I was not left the house in Aunt Georgina’s will, but I was left a sum of money that would keep me content for the rest of my days. Though, that was not public knowledge. I wasn’t quite sure if even Elsie knew of it.
“I should invite you to dine,” Rosalynn said, deftly altering the course of the conversation, “but we only arrived last evening and I need a few days to get the house in order first. Shall we say Sunday?”
“That would be splendid,” I lied. It had been a slow building occurrence, but ever since my father threw our family into scandal, I felt a certain level of discomfort in social settings. Not that we went out all that often. Most of the time people came to Aunt Georgina’s home. But the setting seemed to matter very little, for I would find myself nervous and shaky in company, even in our own drawing room.
“We shall keep it small,” Rosalynn said, “but I know Jack will love to see you.”
A whimper sounded near the window and I looked up sharply. I had thought Jasper was the last of the cats. He was certainly the most volatile. I listened to Rosalynn describe the changes she’d like to make to the townhouse Lord McGregor inherited with his title. Her mother-in-law had recently given over reign of the home to her and now, after three years of marriage, she had the ability to redecorate the outdated home however she wished.
Hot tea steamed from my cup, warming my fingers. I did my best to give my attention to Rosalynn but found my mind wandering to the letter awaiting me in my writing table.
A dark brown tail poked from behind a chair situated near the window and I found my face relaxing into a smile. Pursing my lips, I delivered a sharp whistle, effectively cutting Rosalynn off in the midst of describing a butter yellow wallpaper she had fallen in love with. Coco, the chocolate colored terrier, promptly jumped from his hiding spot and obediently came to sit by my feet. I scooped him up and carried him to the sofa, holding his scruffy, aging little body much like a baby.
“He is still around?” Rosalynn asked with no little surprise.
“He is a little lazier, but no less spunky for his age.” I stroked his ears affectionately. I loved nothing in the world more than my sweet little dog.
“Do you remember the day we found him?” I asked.
“Yes, Elsie threw a fit when we left him behind at the park.”
“And then your brother went back and searched for him. Did he know then that he was in love with Elsie?”
Rosalynn’s eyebrows scrunched together in thought. “I doubt it. I wonder if he knew his feelings for quite some time.”
I could understand that.
“Have you been busy these last few months?” she asked. “It is a little strange arriving to Town in the middle of the Season.”
“I haven’t been out much,” I admitted, focusing on Coco’s scruffy fur. I was yet unused to attending events without Aunt Georgina. “I’m only just out of mourning.”
“We shall have to change that.” She rose, smoothing her skirts around her perfectly round belly. Her cheeks positively glowing, she certainly wore motherhood well. “I can see myself out. I look forward to Sunday.”
With a grin, she was off, and I slumped onto the sofa the moment the door closed behind her. Dropping my head back to rest on the sofa, I sighed. Coco lifted her head, tilting it to the side in support.
Had I not fully established myself as a spinster on the shelf so that I might be able to control my own social schedule? Less than one day back in London and Rosalynn was already throwing a rock into my perfectly developed plan. If I wasn’t careful, I would soon be back to the innocent, obedient miss I was before I came to live with Aunt Georgina and learned the value of independence and self-government. The last four years had been a struggle and certainly had their ups and downs, but one clear benefit was how I had come into my own sense of self.
Now I simply had to figure out how to show that to Rosalynn.
Chapter 2
The McGregor townhouse was antiquated in its design, and all the more lavish for its old-fashioned decor. The rich burgundy and gold colors saturated the drawing room and created an aura of regal prestige. Why Rosalynn was planning on replacing it all with butter yellow wallpaper was beyond me—not that she would have trouble appearing refined and graceful in any setting.
The dinner party was small. I sat on a couch near the fireplace and listened politely as Lord McGregor’s cousin, Mr. Kimble, droned on about his superior ability to tell at once if a person was lying to him. His jowls quivered with his endless chatter and I could not help but stare at the jiggly skin. Nodding solemnly as I sifted through my imagination for a suitable lie to test his abilities, I was caught off guard when the door opened to admit another couple.
Familiar eyes searched the room until they landed on my own. My heart warmed as I took in Elsie’s compassionate gaze, her arm leaving Lord Cameron’s side as she sped across the floor to embrace me.
“This is a surprise,” I said into her curled fringe as her tight embrace gripped me. She smelled much the same as she always had. Her coral gown set off her honey-colored hair to advantage, her comforting presence enfolding me like a thick, wool blanket. This was familiar; it was home.
“As I wanted it to be.” She stepped back and raked her gaze over me in her assessing manner. It was clear from the first day our friendship formed that Rosalynn was in charge. Of the three of us she was indisputably the lead female. But Elsie had always had a sort of mothering relationship with me. I believed she wanted to shield me from Rosalynn’s aggressive nature. Elsie probably didn’t even realize that she had taken on the role of protector and mediator, but she was very much both of those things.
I sat on the vacated sofa. Mr. Kimble had gone away, though I did not know where to. Relief poured through me. I was immensely more comfortable with Mr. Kimble’s absence. The man was a positive bore.
Elsie sat beside me, picking up my hand in both of hers. I had the suspicion she was not plan
ning on letting it go for some time.
“I did not realize you were back in England,” I said.
“We’ve spent the last fortnight in Kent. It has been years since I’ve visited my parents.”
“And how were you received?”
“Well enough.” She shrugged, glancing to her husband laughing on the other side of the room with Lord McGregor. “Both my mother and father adore Cameron. It is I who chooses to spend as little time with them as possible.”
“You’ve not forgiven them for lying to you during your Season?”
“I forgave them long ago,” she said quickly. “I simply have not forgotten. I find myself more at ease when I am not around them, ‘tis all.”
Elsie was a better person than I could ever dream to be. I had not yet forgiven my father for his misdeeds and I doubted I ever would.
“Are you choosing to settle in Town?” I held my breath, hoping that would be the case.
She shook her head. “Not year-round. We have begun looking at estates to purchase. Cameron has tired of staying with relatives and wants a house for himself.”
“But you travel so often.”
She glanced away, a gleam in her eye betraying the emotion she was trying to hide. A tight smile stretched her lips to a thin line. “We do not plan to do that forever. It is time to settle down.”
I opened my mouth to ask if there was a definitive reason for such a pronouncement—a baby, perhaps—but promptly closed it. I had made the mistake of inquiring about children years prior and discovered that Elsie was quite sensitive on the matter. Nearly four years of marriage without a baby had given enough tongues ammunition for wagging. I did not need to add mine to the list.
Love For The Spinster (Women 0f Worth Book 2) Page 1