Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club Book 1)

by Samantha Holt

  She whispered the last words, fearful of saying them too loud. If she admitted it aloud, it might seal them together forever, and then what? She would probably get her heart broken and her friends would be so upset with her. The Spinster’s Club was all her idea after all. What sort of a friend would she be if she gave up on it already?

  Harry eyed her and sighed. “I’m not giving up on you, Merry.”

  She blinked at him. “You should.”

  “I do not suppose you shall let me walk you home.”

  Merry folded her arms across her chest. She could not decide whether she was glad or not that he had yet to give up on her. After all, if he did not, it would mean more of his kisses, more of his attention. It was foolish of her to want more. She would only have to fight against her feelings again.

  “I am going to stay here tonight.”

  “Lock the doors and check the windows. Anyone could get in.” He grinned. “As lethal as you are with books, I do not fancy your chances against someone more determined.”

  “More determined than you?”

  “You know what I mean.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek before she could back away. “I shall see you tomorrow.”

  “Or you could stay home.”

  He gave her a look that she knew meant she had more chance of holding back the tide. “I’m still responsible for your safety.”

  She opened her mouth to protest but he left the room before she could summon a response. Sagging back against the desk, she touched a finger to her lips, feeling their swollen warmth. Somehow, she’d have to steel herself further against him. Goodness knows how she would manage that after what had just happened. As hard as she tried, Harcourt Easton had pried inside her heart and embedded himself there. It would take more than books to keep him at bay.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A fresh chill blew in from the sea, bringing with it the scent of sea salt. The day was clear, however. Perfect for taking Merry out of the damned house and putting an end to this charade. Harcourt had had a night to sleep on it—a restless night at that—and he wasn’t going to back down, despite this spinster nonsense. He understood, and admired Merry’s loyalty to her friends, but he had no doubt they would not deny her a chance at love.

  And she damn well loved him. Yesterday’s reaction had proved that, even if he did not know it already. It was not just her passion, it was the way she looked at him, the way she responded to him. More than that it was the regret shining clear in her gaze when she told him of all the reasons they could not be together. He’d understood her reticence due to his reputation, but he was certain they’d moved past that now. Surely she saw him for what he was now? A man transformed—and transformed by her.

  He followed the road toward the house. If Merry had stayed overnight at the house, she’d still be there. Alone, hopefully. He wondered if she realized someone had been watching over her all night. She’d be aggravated but he did not give two hoots. Her safety was more important than whether she was annoyed with him or not.

  It was still early and most of those who had been at the ball had not left until sunrise flickered over the horizon. His mother had only taken to bed a few hours ago. He should be tired, but a new energy burst through him as he saw the chimneys of the dower house. Whatever protests she came up with now, he’d shoot them down. He’d kiss her and kiss her until she climaxed in his arms again. Now that he’d had a taste of her passion, he would not relinquish her.

  Not far from the house, he paused. The sound of hammering echoed through the air. He scowled. It could be the carpenter he supposed. His heart jerked a little, despite his own reassurances. He increased his pace again. This issue of someone trying to hurt her still was not resolved and he could not help fear...

  “You’re a fool,” he muttered to himself.

  Damned right. A fool for her. It was just the carpenter. He knew that as soon as he saw planks of wood piled up outside the house. The problem was, he would not be assured until he saw her. If anything ever happened to her...

  He came to a stop again when a man came out of the house. And he was most certainly not the carpenter.

  Another man followed him, then another. They moved the planks of wood inside and another brandished a paintbrush.

  “What the devil...”

  Merry came around the side of the house. He was not sure how she did it but even in dark gray and probably about as much sleep as he, she looked radiant. Her curls were a little mussed. It reminded him of how she’d looked after he’d pushed his fingers into her hair. She smiled. And not at him.

  Harcourt curled a fist. She smiled up at one of the men he did not recognize as she motioned to the house. The man smiled back, and Harcourt tightened his fist until his knuckles hurt.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded, striding over and eyeing the man.

  “Oh, Harry. I have enlisted some help,” she said breezily.

  How she tried to avoid his gaze did not pass by his notice. The bloody woman was determined to cut him out, he could see that, but it would take more than a few men to get rid of him.

  “Have you no regard for your safety?” he hissed, taking her arm and pulling her aside.

  “What on earth do you mean?”

  “Do you know any of these men?”

  She peered at him. “They come highly recommended from Mr. Nicholson. I hardly think any of them would have a reason to harm me.” She drew up her shoulders. “Besides, I am not convinced I’m in any danger.”

  “Damn it, Merry—” He paused when a figure caught his eye. His heart slammed into his chest.

  “Harry?”

  Racing over to the new stranger, he snatched the gangly looking fellow by his shirt and shoved him up against the stone wall of the house. “What do you want with her?” he demanded.

  The older man, his gray hair wild about his face, struggled to release himself from Harry’s grip. “I say...”

  Harcourt wasn’t fooled by the act. He’d recognize the man anywhere. “This is the man who was snooping around the house. He broke into the house,” he told Merry who had raced to his side.

  “I certainly did not!” the stranger managed to squeak out.

  “Why are you here? What do you want with Merry?” Harcourt pushed the man’s frail frame harder to the wall.

  “Harry!” Merry protested. “You are hurting him.”

  Harcourt looked at the man’s reddened face and eased his grip a little. The man was no good to him if he passed out. Harcourt wanted answers.

  “I promise you...I did not break anything...” The man pulled feebly against Harry’s hand.

  “Release him.” Merry tugged at Harcourt’s arm. “He cannot do any harm, look at him. Harry, please, let him go.”

  Harcourt glanced at Merry and eased his grip. “Fine.” He thrust a finger at the man. “But one wrong move and I will kill you.”

  The man’s pale blue eyes widened. “I-I-I do not know what you mean by wrong move. I only wanted to see my r-r-relation but I...” His face flushed red. “I well...” He thrust out a shaking hand to Harcourt. “Sir Seton at your service.”

  Merry frowned. “Seton? Relation?”

  Sir Seton adjusted his cravat and nodded, sucking in a breath. He glanced around at the audience of workers that had gathered. “Do you...do you mind if we take this somewhere private?” He dropped his voice to nearly a whisper. “I am not...n-n-not very good with p-p-people around.”

  Harcourt gave Merry a look. “Surely you are not convinced by this?” He motioned to the man. Whatever this awkward, uncomfortable act was, he was not falling for it. Ever since Harcourt had spotted him outside Merry’s house, all sorts of things had befallen her.

  Merry eyed the man, then Harcourt. “Let us take this inside.” Harcourt hesitated, and she gave him a stern look. “Harry?”

  He backed away just enough to let the man slip past him and follow Merry into the house. Harcourt shadowed the man. He wasn’t taking his eyes of this Sir Seton
for one second.

  Merry led the way into the drawing room that was almost fully refurbished now. All the paintings were hung, and the furnishings cleaned. It looked like the perfect space for Merry, and Harcourt did not like it one bit. It gave her yet another reason to refuse him.

  “T-this is an interesting house.” Sir Seton peered around, his hands shaking as he pulled off his gloves and clutched them tightly. Sweat clung to his upper lip. Harcourt narrowed his gaze at him. Something was not right about this man, that much was certain.

  “You say you are a relation?” Merry indicated to one of the chairs. “Please sit.”

  Sir Seton shook his head. “I will stand if you do not mind. I do n-n-not do very well sitting still.” He cleared his throat. “I am your late father’s cousin.”

  Merry nodded. “I recognized the name. But why have we never met?”

  “We did when you were a little girl, but you would not remember me, and it is unlikely your father would mention me. My wife had family in Scotland, so I-I have had little occasion to be in England.”

  “Why were you snooping around?” demanded Harcourt. “I did see you, nearly a month ago, did I not?”

  Sir Seton swallowed and tugged out a handkerchief to dab at his upper lip. “I was. You must forgive me. I k-know my behavior...well...” He gave a shaky smile. “I am not very at ease with people. I wanted to talk with you, but I am afraid my courage failed me.”

  “Why did my father never mention you?” asked Merry. “Or any of my other family?”

  “We had a falling out many years ago, when you were barely two. But I do not wish to speak ill of the dead. Y-y-you have my sympathies, Lady Merry. I am s-sorry for your loss.”

  “What did my father do?” she pressed.

  Sir Seton smiled gently. “Not much. H-he just made it clear that I was not welcome. Someone of my, um, inability to...be...well...normal...” He sucked in a breath. “Your father thought me an embarrassment to the family. When I met my wife, it was made clear that I should not maintain contact. I am sorry, however, that it meant missing out on you and your brother growing up. My wife and I were never able to have children.”

  Merry grimaced. “Unfortunately, that does sound too much like my father.”

  Harcourt shook his head. This was getting ridiculous. “Are you really taken in by this act, Merry?” He closed the gap between him and the old man. “What about the windows? What reason have you for prying them open? Or the door? Or the man on the street who tried to hurt her?”

  Sir Seton’s eyes widened. “Someone tried to hurt you?”

  “A man in town,” Merry explained. “I do not know why. I thought perhaps it was...well it seems silly now. It was most likely a robbery gone wrong.” She shrugged.

  “I-I would never wish you harm, my lady. Your mother took a more sympathetic view of me than your father did, and I would never wish her children harm.” He glanced at Harcourt. “I swear, I did not touch any windows or doors.”

  Merry shook her head in disbelief. “I always said it was the wind.”

  Harcourt shook his head and thrust a finger at Sir Seton. “No, I don’t believe it. Too many things happened. You must have been trying to hurt her.”

  “Accept it, Harry, you were wrong.” Merry put her hands on her hips. “To think you had me tiptoeing around as though someone was trying to harm me.”

  “I wanted you safe,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “I appreciate...” She dropped her voice with a glance at Sir Seton. “I appreciate that you were trying to look out for me whilst my brother is gone, but I think you took the duty too seriously.”

  Sir Seton swung his gaze between them. “Why do I-I not give you a moment?”

  “Oh, do not run off, Sir Seton. Please,” Merry begged.

  “Yes, I think you should leave,” snarled Harcourt.

  Sir Seton hastened out of the room, nearly knocking into a vase on a side table on his way out. Harcourt steadied the vase and turned his attention to Merry.

  “You’re foolish to trust him.”

  Merry’s cheeks reddened. “The man is clearly no danger to anyone! He could barely stand, let alone try to run me down with a carriage or set someone on me.”

  “You really think everything that has happened is a coincidence?”

  “You and I both know no one has any reason to harm me. This is a far more logical explanation.”

  “Logical,” he scoffed, mimicking her.

  She drew in a breath and eyed him. “I know of the Setons’ vaguely. I do not doubt his story, but I will ask my aunt to be sure, of course.” She pursed her lips. “You were uncommonly rude to him.”

  “Do you blame me?”

  “Yes! Yes, I do. You have been interfering in my life ever since...ever since Father died. I need some space, Harry. How can I even think when you...when you’re always around?” She gestured about the room with her hand.

  He stiffened. “I did not realize my presence was so unwanted.”

  “It’s not like that...”

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “I was only trying to protect you. I only wanted you safe.”

  She nodded stiffly. “I know. But there is no danger.” Merry thrust a finger toward the door. “I think you should leave. I need space. And time.”

  “You know, Merry, if you were not so determined to deny yourself happiness, you’d see that’s the last thing you want.”

  “Harry, I am done with you telling me what I want!”

  “You are so damned stubborn and mule-headed that you do not even know what you want.” He gritted his teeth and pushed a breath through his nostrils. “Fine. I am leaving. Perhaps then you will wake up and realize what I have known all along.” He straightened his hat. “We are meant to be together.”

  He swept out of the room and barged past Sir Seton, his breaths feeling hot in his lungs. Blast that bloody woman. Damn her stubbornness. He was done being patient. He was done trying to wake her up to what was happening between them. He could probably pursue her for years and she still would not give in, all because of some pact.

  He was done.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Merry?”

  Merry glanced up at all the shoes and skirts that gathered in the dusty dining room. She lifted her gaze upward to find that the shoes belonged to the Spinsters Club. She gave them a weak smile.

  “Whatever are you doing on the floor?” demanded Bella. “You shall get a cold.”

  “I was just...” Merry sighed, looking around at the clutter about her. The house was silent with the exception of the shuffling feet of her friends. She lifted her wrist. “I hurt my wrist.”

  Lord, she hated how feeble she sounded. She’d been moving furniture alone once more when she’d lifted one particularly heavy sideboard. If her friends had turned up a moment earlier, they’d have seen her practically blubbering from the pain.

  Of course, it was not just the pain bothering her. She frowned to herself and tried to remove the image of Harry’s hurt expression from her mind.

  She’d not meant to be so dismissive or to push him away. But how could she even breathe or think with him around dictating her movements? How could she ensure she remained true to the Spinster’s Club? Her Father’s cousin had nothing but good intentions and Harry could not see that. She just had to make him go away. She had to.

  “Where is everyone?” Arabella asked, kneeling beside her and lifting her wrist to inspect it.

  “I sort of...sent them all away,” Merry replied meekly.

  “But why? I thought you were making good progress.” Bella helped Arabella lift her and maneuver her onto a covered dining chair.

  “I do not need anyone’s help.” Merry stared at the floor, unable to meet her friends’ concerned gazes.

  She could not explain why, but she could not bear to have everyone working on the house after he had stormed off. In truth, she could not bear to get this wretched project finished. It had been a fool’s errand. W
hy did she think she could create a home for herself in such a brief time, all alone?

  Arabella slipped a ribbon from her hair and lifted Merry’s wrist. “It does not look too bad. Just a little swollen.” She began binding the ribbon around her wrist. “A little support will help.”

  Sophia folded her arms and eyed the mess about the room. Plates that Merry had intended to display on the sideboard were scattered about everywhere, sheets were half on and half off the chairs, and several candelabras waited patiently to be arranged on one end of the dining table.

  “Bella, help me with this mess,” Sophia instructed.

  “Oh, you really do not—” Merry tried to protest but Bella and Sophia started gathering up the plates and stacking them neatly while Arabella prevented her from standing with a gentle hand to her shoulder.

  “Merry, you do know there is nothing wrong with asking for help, do you not?” Arabella seated herself next to her. “You need not do everything alone.”

  “I wasn’t...” The words were cut off by a tightness in her throat.

  Sweet Mary, she did not understand what was wrong with her these days. She’d never felt so confused and uncertain in her life. Tears burned behind her eyes. She watched her friends clear away the plates and peered at Arabella’s delicate handiwork on her wrist.

  “Merry?” Arabella gaped at her. “Are you crying?”

  Merry sniffed. “No.” She drew out a handkerchief from her sleeve regardless, her heart jolting at the sight of the embroidered initials on it. She could tell herself that she did not know why she had been carrying it around ever since Harry had given it to her, but she’d be lying to herself.

  The fact was, she had chased him away. She’d done nothing but repaid his kindness and attention with scorn. And now....well, now she regretted it bitterly. It made her chest ache when she considered she had pushed him away so far that he had not been back in days.

  She dabbed a tear and Bella and Sophia paused to stand in front of her.

  “Merry, you never cry!” declared Bella.