Natalia’s Secret Spinster’s Society (The Spinster’s Society) (A Regency Romance Book)

by Charlotte Stone

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  CHAPTER FOUR

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  Even turned out in a smart ice-blue walking gown, Emily couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed at the door to the duke’s home on Grosvenor Street.

  “Our family never needed a place so grand,” she murmured to Winnie, who was looking around as pert as a bird.

  “Well, our family was never quite so wealthy,” she responded pragmatically. “His grace is a duke, after all, and of course, that means something.”

  What it seemed to mean was a house of impeccable style and fashion with servants who wore their station with a gleaming and rigorous pride. Even when her parents were alive, she had never come to a house as fine as this one. She quelled her nerves by telling herself that this was all to the good. If the duke was going to help her, it was better that he was this rich, his home this prestigious.

  They were taken to an elegantly appointed drawing room, where they waited... and then waited. A maid arrived to bring them a small tray of tea and delicate sandwiches, but there was a pinched look on her face that made Emily wonder.

  “Excuse me, but is his grace aware of our arrival?”

  The maid’s face twitched, and she ducked her head a little.

  “His grace has been informed, Lady Emily. I’m... afraid he is not quite ready.”

  The maid left before Emily could ask more.

  It was at least another fifteen minutes before the door opened and revealed the Duke of Wellford, dressed only in shoes, shirt, buckskin trousers, and his waistcoat. His dark blond hair was ruffled, there were dark circles under his eyes, and he gazed at them as if marveling at their existence.

  “Dear God, you weren’t some damned nightmare, after all, were you?”

  “Hardly, your grace,” said Emily after the first shock had worn off. “I’m afraid that I am as real as you are.”

  “I don’t feel very real myself,” the duke growled. “If you’re real, then we must talk. Come on. That’s best done in the library.”

  As they both rose, the duke shook his head.

  “No, just Lady Emily, I believe. She’s the one who’s made the most inappropriate bargain I have ever heard of, so I will be dealing with her alone. Lady Caverly, I’ll have the maid bring you some novels or whatever you like.”

  “Your grace, that is hardly...”

  “It’s all right, Winnie,” Emily said soothingly. “His grace is entirely right. Don’t worry. I don’t believe the duke is going to do anything to harm me. We simply have business.”

  Her aunt subsided with a narrow look at the duke, which he ignored, and as Emily followed the man to his library, she wondered if she was entirely right.

  I already told him that I was willing to accuse him of ruining me. Surely, he wouldn’t... decide to make good on that threat, would he? There’s not really anything stopping him...

  Then she wondered why the idea of being ruined, at least by this man, didn’t turn her stomach with fear. Her belly fluttered when she thought of the kiss they had shared, but surely, it was fear... wasn’t it?

  The library was a long narrow room lined to the ceiling with shelves. The desk was piled high with documents, which the duke removed to the floor so he could see her. Seated at one of the chairs opposite, Emily felt like a charity worker getting ready to convince a wealthy man of the plight of orphans.

  The duke scowled at her.

  “You hardly look like the chit who blackmailed me last night. Have you lost your nerve?”

  “Certainly not, your grace,” Emily said, stung. “And you needn’t say that so very easily. As a matter of fact, I have never blackmailed anyone before, and I don’t intend to do so again.”

  “Ah, there you are. I was wondering if you had lost all your nerve in the night. And if you’re going to be blackmailing me, don’t bother with the title. My name is Victor.”

  She stared at him, astonished.

  He grimaced.

  “Military manners, I’m afraid. On the continent, we were not afraid to call a spade a spade.”

  “And you are a duke,” she couldn’t help reminding him sternly. She needed him for his rank and his reputation, and she could use neither if he wore his title like a box over his head.

  “So they keep telling me. However, the request stands. Just call me Victor. I have enough people toadying around without my very own blackmailer standing on ceremony.”

  “I’m not—you know, fine. That’s not worth fighting about. Essentially... Victor, I am in need of a husband, and I am afraid that I must be very particular. I need you to introduce me to the right man and to help me... well...”

  “Trick him into marrying you?”

  “I have every intention of being a good wife,” Emily said. “I know I can be. I just have the idea that I am not going to find the right man at Almack’s.”

  “Well, I was not having such good luck finding prospective matches there myself. All right. So, what should your husband be?”

  “Old, first of all.”

  Victor blinked at her, and despite the seriousness of her situation, Emily couldn’t help hiding a small smile behind her hand. He looked as if he wanted to pinch himself to make sure he was actually awake. Honestly, the man looked as if he had barely slept at all.

  “And... how old shall your beloved be?”

  “Oh, say, about my aunt’s age. She will be sixty this year, so perhaps sixty-five or seventy?”

  “That would be a good match for... What are you, twenty-one years old?”

  “Twenty-four, and for your information, it is beyond rude for a gentleman to inquire after a woman’s age.”

  “Of course, I do beg your pardon. So, after we have selected the most doddering bridegroom we can find, what else?”

  “Rich, of course, but I am not sure I care overmuch about titles. Actually, if he has a title, he should have no children. That is important. I’d rather a husband with no title and no children.”

  “All right. That’s not usually how this goes, but apparently, I have been much misinformed about how courtships work back here at home. What else? Should he be sickly as well?”

  “Oh, is that an option?” Emily asked automatically, and then, at Victor’s horrified look, she scowled. “I assure you, your grace, I am no murderess! It is only that with my aunt, I have spent some time ministering to ill family members. It is something I am proud to do. Perhaps if my future husband is sickly, I could be a support to him. It would be a way for me to show my affection.”

  “Victor, not your grace. So... your husband should be old, rich, ideally on death’s door—”

  “I most certainly did not say that!”

  “Am I leaving anything out? Would you like him to have a limp and perhaps some very steep staircases?”

  “Of course not. Stop being horrid, Victor!”

  Suddenly the duke—Victor—smiled, and Emily’s breath caught in her throat. When he smiled, he looked years younger, showing even white teeth and dark eyes that sparkled with fun. Smiling, he was handsome, but there was more than that. Emily caught herself swaying toward him before she remembered herself.

  “I like the way you say my name, Emily.”

  “I didn’t give you permission to call me by my Christian name!”

  “No, and unfortunately, since you are blackmailing me for my help in getting you a husband and not for my ability to call you by your proper title, I don’t care. So... before I actually try to move this folly forward, have you really thought this out?”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I mean... have you thought about what life is going to be like with your wealthy, elderly, and possibly frail husband? Day to day?”

  “I know what’s important,” Emily said defiantly. She did. It was back at Everly, far from London.

  Victor sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

  “I’m sure you think that...”

  “Let me remind you, I do not need questions. I need a husband. Once I have accomplished my g
oals, you will never need to worry about my threatening you again. Isn’t that what you want?”

  Victor leaned back in his chair and watched her. He still looked tired, but the speculative sharpness of his gaze made her shift uneasily in her chair. The air felt like it did before a lightning strike, or the way it did when they’d kissed outside Almack’s.

  “What?”

  “I find myself surprisingly unsure of anything where you are concerned, Emily.”

  She swallowed hard. She had no problem answering him when he was being rude or incredulous. This curiosity seemed somehow far more dangerous.

  “I am sure enough for both of us. Believe me when I say this is for the best.”

  Victor let out a long breath, nodding reluctantly.

  “All right. Are you free tomorrow night? A friend of mine is back from his country estates, and he has been asking to see me. I suppose a play is as good a time to do that as any, and it will not look so strange if I bring you and your aunt along as well.”

  Emily had a strange moment where she was only pleased that she would get to see Victor in handsome formal black, and then she shook the thought out of her head.

  “That will do very nicely, I think.”

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  CHAPTER FIVE

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  Victor couldn’t deny that there was a certain pleasure in being dressed and out in Society. Dressed properly for the theater and escorting Emily and her aunt, he was certainly making a better impression than he had that disastrous night at Almack’s. Winnie waved at her special friends in the crowd, and Emily...

  Well, Emily shone.

  When he had arrived to pick them up in the coach, his breath had caught when Emily walked down to the street. The night was unseasonably warm for March, and through the gossamer-thin shawl over her shoulders, he could see her sapphire blue gown, embroidered in brass and cut low enough to expose the creamy skin of her shoulders and far more of her chest than he felt necessarily appropriate.

  “It’s cold tonight,” she murmured, walking with him into the theater.

  “Well, I’m not cold,” Victor said. “Perhaps it’s because I’m completely and appropriately covered.”

  She shot him a dire look.

  “Your marriageability does not depend on gentlemen’s eyes popping out when they look at you, your grace.”

  Of course, he had to be your grace in public, but he couldn’t help a small pang of disappointment. He shrugged it off briskly. Emily felt they were there on a mission, and he had a point to make. He guided them to the box, where Reynolds awaited them.

  Eugene Reynolds was a big man, and even after the battle that had taken his left leg off below the knee, he still managed to fill up the box with his presence. His scanty hair was frosted with white, his cheeks were red from wind exposure on campaign, and Victor thought that Emily might be able to wrap her arms around his barrel chest but only just. He wore an unfashionable monocle, that, Victor was just now realizing, was nearly twin to the one Lady Caverly wore.

  “Colonel! Finally! I’ve been wanting to see you for a dog’s age! Er, though I suppose it’s not Colonel anymore, is it? Your grace, then, or perhaps Wellford, if I may be so bold.”

  “Wellford will do, though I have to say I have missed hearing Colonel more than you might think. Lady Caverly, Lady Emily, this is my great old friend Sir Eugene Reynolds. Sir Eugene, this is Lady Winifred Caverly and Lady Emily Allensby.”

  “I am so pleased to meet you, Sir Eugene,” said Emily with a bright smile. “His grace the duke has told me so much about your time together on campaign.”

  Emily had actually interrogated him for an hour until he had finally pulled out the maps of the Sierra Morena mountains he had drawn up to show her where they were.

  “How in the world did you fail at Almack’s?”

  “Almack’s was a terrible place full of terrible people that I could not prepare for. This is different. This is—”

  “War,” Victor had said with a sigh. “And, of course, you want to be prepared. All right.”

  Sir Eugene grinned, showing off sharp teeth.

  “Well, I certainly hope he did not tell you too much, Lady Emily. There are parts of war no gently bred young woman should have to hear about. There were some better bits, I suppose.”

  “Oh, would you tell me one of those?” asked Emily, eyes shining.

  Sir Eugene looked thoughtful.

  “Well, I suppose there was this one morning in Spain. Things were quiet, and the sun came up as if all the world had forgotten there was such a thing as war.”

  “May that truly be the case someday,” Winnie murmured.

  The baronet looked at her with surprise.

  “Well, yes, Lady Caverly. I do agree. Well, the sun came up, and my men and I were bivouacked beneath a grove of orange trees in full flower. I woke up that morning with the scent of orange blossoms all around me and the sun filtering through the leaves. For a brief moment, I didn’t know my name, my rank, how many men I had on horse or on foot. All I could do was marvel at the great beauty sometimes given to us.”

  “Sounds quiet,” Victor offered, knowing it was churlish when he said it. He didn’t like the way Emily leaned toward his old friend. He knew that she was only trying to snare a man into marriage, but for some reason, he felt oddly more put off that the smile on her face was real.

  “It was quiet. And beautiful, too. The light coming through the leaves was just the color of your eyes, Lady Caverly, if you do not mind me saying so.”

  The compliment was uttered with such grave assurance that it took Winnie a moment to respond, laughing a little and waving him off.

  “Listen to the man,” she scoffed. “My husband, God rest his soul, would always say that a man who said things about a women’s eyes had his eyes pointed rather lower.”

  Victor blinked, and Emily hissed a mortified, “Aunt Winnie!” but Sir Eugene only laughed, a deep and rolling sound that made people in the lower seats glance up toward them.

  “Ha, and you are certainly not wrong about most men, Lady Caverly, but it is the truth. The moment I saw your eyes, I thought of that morning.”

  Emily tried to engage Sir Eugene again, but Victor could already see the way it was going. Sir Eugene answered Emily politely enough, but when the orchestra struck up the opening, he guided Lady Caverly into the seat beside him. There were six total seats in the box. Victor ended up on one end with Emily to his left, and beyond her Reynolds and then Lady Winifred. Throughout a rather indifferent performance, he could hear whispering from the other end of the row, and, God help them all, the occasional giggle as well.

  At the intermission, Emily made another heroic attempt to grasp for the baronet’s attention, only to be turned away with a friendly word and an inquiry to Lady Caverly about the fine craftsmanship of her monocle

  “Oh, well, it’s German, of course, and, do you know, I cannot remember the maker? Though... I did see my dear friend Helen Bolling below. She would know!”

  “Ah, well, then shall we decamp to find your dear Helen? Lady Emily, Wellford, we shall be back before the curtain rises.”

  “Oh, Aunt Winnie, are you sure...”

  “Oh, pish, dear Emily. I am a staid old widow, and no one minds what I do. Shall we, Sir Eugene?”

  Victor was certain that he heard another giggle on their way out the door. Emily slumped in her seat for a moment before straightening up. The theater box was a place to be seen as well as to see others, and both of them were conscious of the eyes of others on them. Despite that, Victor’s grin was real when he turned toward Emily.

  “So, how’s it going?”

  She smiled sweetly at him, as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

  “You can see very well how it is going, Victor. Please stop smiling at my complete lack of charm.”

>   “I certainly will not. We are at the theater and remember that I have to look good as well. I may not be looking for a rich old widow to marry me, but I should be looking for one of those Society women you threatened to drive off. The ones who haven’t been driven off by the scar at least.”

  Emily blinked at him, her smile faltering a bit before she put it back on.

  “The scar? Victor, no one is being driven off by the scar.”

  “That’s very kind of you to say. I know different, however, and since we are in this very odd situation of your devising, we can at least be honest. I know it rather repulses the average young lady.”

  “Victor, is that what you think?”

  “Well, yes...”

  “Victor, I can tell you right now that your habit of swearing at young women and being snide at them about their choices makes that scar on your face one of your best features.”

  “I... thank you?”

  Victor’s genuine bafflement seemed to take the wind out of Emily’s sails. She bent over in her seat as if to grab her reticule, and hidden by the balustrade, she covered her face with her hands.

  “Oh, dear God in Heaven. I prepared so much for this evening. I learned about the difference between a saber and a rapier. I prepared, and I am still failing...”

  “Stop that at once, Emily,” Victor growled. He risked sliding his hand over to touch her shoulder gently. Her despair made a deep and yawning pit open in his stomach, and suddenly, he wanted to go down to the refreshment area and drag Sir Eugene right back.

  “Right, right. The last thing we want is for you to be seen in your theater booth with a young woman in the depths of despair.”

  Emily sat up with that brave determined smile on her face again.

  Victor felt his heart lurch in his chest.

  “That’s not why I wanted you to stop mourning.”

  She looked at him curiously for a moment, and then Winnie and Sir Eugene returned. Victor felt like a missish old aunt when he saw how flushed their cheeks were and how they were actually sharing a small bowl of candied nuts.