Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club Book 1)

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Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club Book 1) Page 11

by Samantha Holt


  “Humor me. Let me help you just once and I shall leave you to it.”

  Merry huffed. “Fine.”

  He stepped back and lifted it into the sky, letting the wind catch it. Then he hoisted it high and watched it soar upward before joining Merry again. She kept her focus on the kite—deliberately he was certain.

  Coming to her side, he watched the kite while Merry directed it to swoop and soar in the sky. Her tense posture eased, and a smile curved across her lips when she brought it down low then lifted it high again.

  “Have you been secretly practicing?” he asked.

  Her smile expanded. “I am just an excellent kite-flier.”

  “Hmm, I do not recall you being quite so talented last year.”

  “Just because I am better than you.” She flicked a teasing look his way that made him want to tear her away from the event and kiss that cheeky smile into submission.

  “No one is better than me.”

  She handed over the strings. “Very well then.”

  He took the strings and a sudden gust caused the kite to drop to the ground.

  She giggled. “Oh yes, I see now. No one is better than you, my lord.”

  “You sabotaged me,” he protested. “Get it flying again and I shall show you who is best.”

  Merry stomped across the sand and lifted the kite again, thrusting it up with all her might. The wind blew again, forcing the kite sideways and downwards. The strings wrapped about Merry and she stilled, effectively trapped.

  Harcourt laughed as he made his way over to her. She huffed. “I cannot decide if you did that on purpose.”

  “I certainly did not. Now stay still.” He began to unwind her, but she moved, and he gave the strings a tug, tightening them about her arms.

  “You’re making it worse!” she exclaimed.

  “You are making it worse. Keep still or you shall be forever at my mercy.”

  She froze at this threat, her lips a mutinous pout. Harcourt continued untangling her, lifting the strings up over her head and allowing the backs of his fingers to brush her neck. He met her gaze and saw her pupils widen.

  “Got yourself in a tangle there, Easton?” Griff strode over, grinning.

  Harry leaned in and murmured, “This is not over, Merry.”

  Merry’s cheeks filled with color. Harcourt wanted to say more but Griff’s vicinity prevented him from doing much other than releasing her from the kite.

  A lone figure up on the hillside caught his attention and he stilled. He stared at him until realization dawned. It was hard to tell but it looked an awful lot like the man who had been snooping around the house.

  He thrust the kite back into Merry’s hands. “Excuse me, I just need to do something.” He strode off toward the path that led up to the hill. He was going to find out once and for all what the stranger wanted.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Merry gnawed her bottom lip as she made her way down the slope of the road away from Arabella’s house. If only there was more she could do. The news of the return of this brother still shook Arabella. Merry kicked a stone from the road. If she got her hands on the man who had ruined her...

  Lord, sometimes these men so aggravated her. As much as Arabella tried to insist she was well and had forgotten about him, it was clear it still haunted her to this day. She had waited for so long for him to return for her, clinging to hope. Merry could hardly imagine what that must have been like, anticipating every letter and having her heart broken over and over when the man never came back. As a friend, she felt so powerless against the past. If only there was more she could do.

  She trudged along the road, hardly noticing her surroundings. What if there was some way they could cheer her up? She’d have to talk to Bella and Sophia. Their usual walks on the beach and tea together would not suffice, but Arabella was not one for visiting the bigger towns or spending time with lots of people. Nor were the rest of them particularly, but Arabella’s shy disposition meant she loathed big gatherings the most.

  Perhaps—

  The pounding of hooves and the rattle of wheels drew her attention. A shout came from behind her and she spun. A blur of horses and a carriage were upon her before she had realized what had happened. Jumping back from the road, she sucked in a breath. The conveyance whipped by her, sending a cloud of dust up around her. She closed her eyes against it and something hard struck her shoulder. Pain exploded through her body and she was knocked backward, sending her tumbling to the ground.

  Peeling open her eyes when she came to a stop, she eased herself up on both palms, wincing when a sharp stab of pain tore through her shoulder. Her palms were raw too and her body felt bruised. She lifted her head to eye the carriage vanishing around a corner. The driver had neither stopped nor slowed to check on her.

  “Jesus Christ, Merry.” Large hands were upon her, lifting her to her feet before she could connect the voice to the person.

  Harry gripped her by the elbows, his face etched with concern.

  Merry blinked and drew in breaths, her head slightly fuzzy while her pulse pounded through her. Any closer and that carriage could have...

  “I saw what happened. The bloody idiot could have killed you.”

  She nodded slowly, unable to summon a response through a dry mouth. She glanced at her shoulder and winced. Blood tinged the torn sleeve of her gown. He really could have killed her. She was lucky to be alive.

  Harry scooped her up, his arms a warm cocoon around her. She felt utterly boneless and entirely at his will. His muscles were firm and reassuring against her palm. He carried her over to a fallen tree and set her down. Were it not for his arms about her, she might have collapsed onto it anyway.

  It was only then that she realized Lord Thornford was with him. The man leaned over her. “Is she alive?”

  Her thoughts were still slow, and her limbs felt warm and loose. She forced herself to keep taking long, deep breaths but the fuzzy sensation would not quite leave her.

  “Yes, she’s alive,” he snapped at his friend. Harry sat down beside her and rubbed a hand up and down her back. “Lean forward,” he ordered. “Take deep breaths.”

  She did as she was told and kept breathing until some sense of normalcy returned. And annoyance. What sort of fool driver went at such speeds along these country roads?

  “I did not see him coming,” she finally managed to whisper.

  “I know. He was coming too fast,” Harry agreed.

  “And I was not concentrating.”

  “You should not have needed to. This was his fault, Merry. I swear, if I find out who did this...”

  Lord Thornford let out a sound of disgust. “The man was an idiot. I have never seen such reckless driving. It was like he wanted to hit you.”

  She shook her head. “I cannot imagine it was anyone local. They would know better.”

  Harry peered at her shoulder. “May I?”

  She peeked up at Lord Thornford who took a few steps back and turned away. She was unable to see the full extent of the damage, so she nodded. It stung but she did not think there was any permanent damage. Her body might tell her otherwise tomorrow when she was stiff and bruised from the ordeal.

  Drawing out a handkerchief, Harry lifted away the torn fabric.

  “I have a habit of ruining your handkerchiefs. I still have your other one up my sleeve if you want to use it.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grin. Blast, she should not have admitted that. She could not help it, though. He’d given it to her at her most vulnerable moment and there was something horribly soothing about having it upon her person.

  “I’m glad you kept it.”

  “Well, I could hardly waste a fine handkerchief, could I?” She grimaced when he dabbed at the wound. “What are you doing here anyway?”

  “I was coming to see you at the dower house. To see if my help was needed.” He pressed the napkin against her shoulder. “And to talk to you.”

  “Harry—”

&n
bsp; “I think you are in danger.”

  A laugh escaped her. “In danger? Why would I—”

  “Think on it, Merry. There have been too many coincidences. Broken glass, broken doors, windows forced open. and now this.”

  “This was an accident!” She glanced at him, taking in his furrowed brow. “Harry, you cannot be serious.”

  “I’m deadly serious. I did not tell you this, but I saw a stranger lurking around the dower house not long ago. I did not wish to frighten you, but I saw him again yesterday, watching you.”

  She frowned. “Watching me?”

  “At the kite event. I tried to follow him but had no luck. Even you must admit, you have had a run of bad luck recently.”

  “The door was simply the wind. As was the window. I do not know why some stranger might wish to watch me, but you cannot think that all adds up to danger.”

  “I certainly can.” He drew the handkerchief away from her arm. “No permanent damage I think. Just give it a clean when you get home.”

  “Think logically,” she insisted. “Why would someone wish to harm me? I am of no threat to anyone.”

  He shrugged. “I only know what I’ve seen. And even you with your logical mind, you must admit a great many strange things have happened.”

  She made a scoffing sound. “You think someone might be trying to kill me? By way of breaking doors and forcing open windows?”

  “All I am asking is that you be careful, Merry. Do not go anywhere alone. Not until we know for certain that no one is trying to harm you.”

  She folded her arms and regretted it when her hurt shoulder pulled. Instead, she put her hands into her lap. “I am not sure how you intend to ascertain that, especially when you do not know who this stranger is and can come up with no logical reason why someone might wish me harm.” She held up a hand. “I will admit, there has been a few strange occurrences at the house, but none of those add up to someone wanting to hurt me. This incident” —she motioned to the road—“was a horrible one, but hardly intentional. Who could have known I would be walking along here alone at this time of day?”

  “I did. I saw Arabella in the village and she said you had visited. Many people would have seen as much, especially if they had been following you.”

  “The only person following me, is you.” She jabbed a finger into his chest.

  “And thank goodness I did or else you might still be lying on the ground.”

  She sucked in a breath. The concern in his gaze was real and she had to admit, this accident had rattled her. But she was not some wealthy, powerful woman with secrets and suchlike. No one could have any reason to want anything from her. What did Harry expect from her? That she might spend the rest of her days being escorted about just in case his strange conclusion came true?

  Lord Thornfield cleared his throat from behind them. “Are we all decent?”

  “Yes,” she said weakly.

  He strode over to the log and glanced her over. Merry tried not to fidget under his appraisal. She did not know Harry’s friend that well yet, but he seemed to be making himself popular with everyone in Lulworth. With dashing good looks and a flirtatious manner, it was easy to see why, but she preferred to avoid flirtatious manners and extremely good-looking men.

  Not that she managed to avoid Harry at all.

  “What should we do with her?” Lord Thornford asked Harry. “I could carry her home if you wish.”

  “Over my dead body,” Harry said tightly.

  Lord Thornford shrugged. “I am stronger—that is why I suggested it.”

  Harry scowled. “Like hell you are. I’ve bested you at boxing many a time.”

  “Um—” Merry started.

  “Boxing has nothing to do with strength. You are lighter, so you are quicker on your feet,” Lord Thornford declared.

  Harry stood and Merry swung her gaze between the two men as they faced off against one another. The light-headedness had almost vanished now and aside from a stinging pain in her shoulder, she felt almost recovered. No doubt her shoulder would be stiff and bruised tomorrow but there was no chance she was letting either of these men carry her.

  “I am simply lighter on my feet, and stronger.” Harry folded his arms across his chest. “Besides, Merry hardly knows you. I am an old family friend. If anyone is to do the carrying, it is me.”

  “Were you not complaining of a sore back the other day? I am only trying to do you a service.” Lord Thornford huffed. “Apparently this is what I get for trying to be a good friend.” He looked to Merry. “Who do you want to carry you? This oaf...or me.” He flashed a grin.

  Merry opened her mouth to reply but the words were stuck. The idea of either man carrying her was implausible. If anyone spotted her in the arms of one of them, she would be ruined, and she was not at all sure she would survive a journey huddled up against Harry.

  “See?” Lord Thornford motioned to her. “She wants me to carry her but does not wish to offend you. You have put her in an awkward position, Easton.”

  “Actually”—Merry stood—“I do not need to be carried by either of you. I think I shall manage the walk by myself.” She began walking down the road at a careful pace, waiting to pick up speed until she knew for certain her head was clear.

  Harry and Lord Thornford hastened to catch up with her. “Let us at least escort you home. I do not wish you to be alone,” Harry said.

  “Because Easton has this crazed idea you are in danger,” Lord Thornford said. “Best to let him do what he needs to do,” he confided with a grin.

  “So you think it is preposterous too?” she asked Lord Thornford.

  Lord Thornford leaned in. “If I were you, I would let him play hero. It makes life a lot easier if you just go along with whatever Easton wants.”

  Harry gave a grunt. “You two make me sound as though I need carting off to the lunatic asylum.”

  Merry sighed. “Very well, you two can escort me, but as soon as we are in sight of the house, I wish to be left alone. You know how Mrs. Kemp feels about gentlemen visitors.”

  “Bloody Mrs. Kemp, whoever she is.” Lord Thornford exclaimed.

  Harry chuckled. “I feel exactly the same.”

  Peering between both men, Merry held back another sigh. How on earth did she keep getting herself into these situations?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Harcourt stilled at a knocking sound coming from the dower house. He doubted Merry had heeded his warning yesterday—or realized quite how terrified he’d been when he saw that carriage strike her. She’d been so damned close to being killed that he hadn’t slept a wink all night.

  Something that had not passed Griff, his mother or his estate manager’s notice. He had dark circles under his eyes as proof and he couldn’t prevent himself from yawning. If anything would have happened to her...

  If anything did happen to her...

  He found the front door of the dower house open and followed the sound of hammering. If someone else didn’t kill Merry, he’d have a tough time not throttling her himself. Fool woman was determined to be careless with her safety. Why did she think leaving the door open, so anyone could walk in, was acceptable?

  “Merry?”

  The hammering noise stopped, and a head peered around the corner of one door. “Lord Langley. Whatever are you doing here?”

  “Mr. Nicholson. I was about to ask you the same.”

  The carpenter stepped out from behind the doorframe and lowered his hammer. “I was fixing this window. Seems it took a battering from the wind. Then I’m to finish up the door. Lady Merry left for Brycesbury after issuing her orders not long ago.” The slight smile on the old man’s face had Harcourt imagining Merry had been quite specific in her orders.

  “I do not suppose you know why she was going to town?”

  He pressed fingers to his forehead. “Said something about wallpaper.” He shrugged. “I try not to listen to ladies’ conversations, but I think that was what they said.”

  “They?


  “Miss Sophia Pemberton?”

  Harcourt nodded. Sophia might not be the sort of escort he had in mind for her, but it was better than no one he supposed. Still, it was clear she had not taken him seriously. He’d have to remedy that.

  “Thanks, Frank. Have a good afternoon.”

  “And you, my lord.”

  The hammering resumed as soon as Harcourt left the building. He had not planned on going to Brycesbury today, but he could do with speaking to his accountant anyway. If he so happened to find Merry while he was there, so much the better. He could reassure himself she was well, and he’d be damned if the woman didn’t need another speaking to. He pushed a hand through his hair and put his hat back on. He’d always known Merry was a handful, but the bloody woman was turning him gray. If she was not kissing him as though he were the only man in the world then refusing him, she was determined to put herself in danger.

  He made his way back to Lulworth Castle and found Griff stepping out of the doorway.

  “Chasing after a certain woman again?” his friend asked with a grin.

  Harcourt ignored the question. “I’m heading to Brycesbury. Do you want to accompany me?”

  “Why not? I could do with a stretch of my legs.”

  “I’m riding in. It’s a little way on foot.” Harcourt led the way to the stables where they fetched horses. Thankfully several were already saddled, ready for exercise so he did not have to waste any time waiting. Brycesbury was only a forty-five-minute brisk ride away so he’d have a good chance of meeting Merry there. He’d have to ready himself for her ire at being followed but he did not much care at this point. So long as she was safe, that was all that mattered.

  Pushing his horse as fast as she could muster, they made it to Brycesbury in even quicker time. The town was smaller compared to the likes of London or even other towns in Dorset, but it was the nearest to Lulworth and boasted many shops. For those who did not wish to travel far, it was ideal. His mother complained there were no fashionable people or interesting places in the bustling town, hence her frequent trips to Bath, but he rather liked the quaint air of the place.

 

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