Diana Sensational Spinster's Society (The Spinster’s Society) (A Regency Romance Book)

by Charlotte Stone

  “Christin gave me your address… along with some other news about Lord Dahl.”

  She rushed to keep up. She hadn’t known he’d look into her problem so easily. She should have known she could depend on Frank. “What news?”

  He glanced at her again. “Why the costume?”

  “As you already know, I’m easily recognized in this area. The breeches ensure that no one follows me... but that didn’t seem to work for you. Now, what news have you?”

  He hesitated. “I’m not sure if I should tell you. This has obviously made you quite reckless. It’s likely best that you let me handle this.”

  She nearly stumbled at those words. “No.” She cut in front of him, blocking his way. He nearly ran into her, but stopped just as she brought up a hand. “You’ll not do this to me.” He couldn’t, yet as she stared into his menacing green eyes, her own anger built. “No!”

  Her shout seemed to snap him out of his daze and he glanced around. There were people on the street from all classes, and she’d drawn attention to them. It was likely someone would recognize him.

  But she would not relent until she had her way. He didn’t understand the need driving her. Until the other man was caught, she would never be entirely safe. She’d forever have to look over her shoulder. Forever have to be wary of crowds. On guard. Enough. “You will tell me—”

  He grabbed her arm and propelled her into a nearby alleyway. It was so small that two people could not walk side by side. But he made them fit, dragging her farther into the shadows until she could barely make out his face. Then he pressed her into the wall and lowered his voice. “I thought you were stable, but I was wrong. This situation still controls your judgement. You’re not seeing clearly, Diana.” She could hear the worry and wished she could make out more than his silhouette. She wished she could see his eyes.

  But she ignored that feeling and focused on her present situation as though her very life depended on it. Frank knew the answers to what she saw, and she’d get nothing from the men who worked for Bancroft. She could ask Lady Christin, but thought doing so would lead the countess to asking Diana questions she couldn’t answer. Already, Lady Jeanshire’s friends had invited Diana to tea repeatedly, but Diana declined. Her life held too many secrets.

  She needed Frank more than ever. “Don’t do this to me.”

  He shook his head. “I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I didn’t stop you now. I think… I should speak to Bancroft.”

  Her eyes widened in the shadows. “Don’t.” She grabbed his arms. “No, Frank. You promised not to tell him.”

  The pause that came seemed to stretch forever.

  “I was wrong to do so. I’m sorry.”

  She only struggled slightly as they left the alley, and then not at all. Frank could always go to her brother without her. It was best she be there to stand in her own defense.

  But with her every step, she grew angered to the point of tears, and decided she hated Frank very much.

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  23

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  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

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  When Frank saw Diana wipe furiously at her face, he quickly looked away and cautioned himself about looking at her again. He wouldn’t change his mind. He wouldn’t veer from the path he’d chosen. Diana wasn’t herself, though since he’d not known her long, he wasn’t sure.

  But tonight, he’d never felt more fear than he had upon seeing her stand before three men who’d outweighed her by four or five stones. His thoughts had gone to the woman he’d taken out of a cage, broken and hurt, bleeding from her arms and legs. He’d wondered at the slashes against her pale skin that first night and hadn’t known how they’d come to be until the day she’d confessed to Dahl’s form of torture. He’d forced her to dance and then he’d hurt her over and over again.

  He’d not let that happen to her again.

  She thought herself the only one hurt, but she didn’t understand what it did to him, how it changed him. He’d never been a violent man before, but where Diana was concerned, he continuously ran head first into fights. She brought out a side of him he’d not known existed. He’d trained relentlessly, savagely, in order to protect himself. But now, he woke up every morning and knew he no longer trained for himself. He trained so that he’d always be able to protect her. He likely told himself it was for the benefit of all his friends and patients but that was a lie.

  Didn’t she know he’d do anything for her? Even break a promise he never should have made?

  Telling her brother would likely cause strain to their relationship, but there was part of Frank who knew it was exactly what they both needed. They’d been growing too close. He’d grown used to touching her freely. She’d done the same, resting her head on him in carriages, reaching for his hand when she knew he’d not refused.

  He had to refuse her, but since he couldn’t, he had to find a way to set her back a few paces.

  Hate was just as strong as desire and Frank knew that if she hated him, she’d likely never desire him again.

  Then, and only then, did Frank know he’d beat the unsated feelings that grew for her every second of every day.

  She sniffed and he unthinkingly looked in her direction. Her face was set in grim lines and as they drew closer to the lights, he could see her eyes burned with tears.

  He could take no more. “Diana…”

  She quickened her steps, avoiding his hand. “There’s a side entrance that will take us straight to his office without having to wind our way through the garden.”

  He imagined them visiting this place under very different circumstances. He’d have enjoyed walking her through the garden. He’d been to Babylon a few times with his friends and their wives when they’d come for musicals but thought the experience would be different with her on his arm. It was likely he’d never know what that was like.

  She started in that direction. A side alley that led away from the well-dressed patrons of the garden and kept them away from the crowd.

  In the alley there were more men, but she removed her hat and every gentleman present stood at attention as though she were a general in an army. He wondered how many knew Diana to be Bancroft’s sister. Others just knew her to be under his protection. The last few likely enjoyed the sight of her. She was beautiful and the breeches… he’d warned himself not to look below Diana’s head, but once his eyes found those breeches, his thoughts became tangled and he easily forgot what he was about.

  “This is Pick,” she declared as she pointed her thumb back at Frank. “No one gives him trouble.”

  “We know who he is. ‘E’s been ‘ere before.” The burly man by the door stated as they approached. He looked from her to Frank. “Doc, ‘eard them calling ya Pick, now.”

  Diana gave Frank a questioning gaze, to which he shrugged. Even though he’d allowed her to lead, Frank had been to Bancroft’s sanctuary more than once. It seemed that once Bancroft trusted a man, he did so completely and, along the way, Frank had become integral to the man’s operations.

  Which was not something he’d told anyone about, and yet many had found out anyway.

  The guard, whose name was Peter, turned to Diana and grinned. “Bancroft will be glad you’ve arrived. He’s entertaining Lady Finch.”

  Diana cursed. It was the first time Frank had heard her do so.

  Then she turned to him. “Well, since you know the way...” She held out her hand, pointing toward the passage without expression.

  Frank took her anger in stride and led the way inside. The short hall led to an immediate stairway, making it impossible for anyone to get lost.

  Upstairs, there were two rows of doors. He knew the very last led to Bancroft’s private greenhouse. Noise came from one of the room he’d not previously entered.

  “This way.” Peter, who’d followed, moved in front of the
m both and walked toward the office. “I’ll let Bancroft know ya are ‘ere, though it may be a bit before ‘e can free ‘imself from present company.” And with that, he closed the door.

  Once they were alone, Frank glanced around the room. It was stylishly done with burgundy and bronze, and was quite small, though Frank knew from experience that Bancroft preferred to work in his greenhouse, which took up much of the upstairs, doming the entire pleasure garden in glass. It was the only way the various plants in the garden survived the London climate.

  A wall of windows lined one of the office’s walls, and at the end of that window was where he found Diana, staring out at the crowd that had gathered in the gardens below. The lamplights that flared on the walls gave the space nearly a romantic glow, yet everything was wrong with their situation.

  She held herself tightly and Frank almost wavered in his decision to tell Bancroft. Compared to the way she’d relentlessly pursued him, her silence left him empty. Her smile, already one of his most valued experiences, was all but taken from him.

  He was surprised when she spoke, glad that, too, had not been taken from him. “I’m angry.”

  Those words were devastating. He moved toward the wall of windows but kept his distance. He simply needed to see her face. “I understand that my decision upsets you—”

  She looked at him. “No. That’s not what I mean. I’m angry. I’m angry at what was done to me, but that does not mean I’m broken.”

  He hesitated. “I agree…”

  She turned to face him. “You were angry at Lord Dahl when you heard about what he’d done. Am I correct in assuming this?”

  His belly burned with rage just at the memory of it, anger for a man who was already dead. He’d had the man in Bancroft’s cellar for nearly an hour, but had he known what the man had done… had he known his victim to be Diana, things would have gone vastly different. “Yes, I was angry.” He cleared his throat when he realized he’d growled the words.

  She took a step toward him and never let her gaze fall. “What would you have done to him had he been in the room when you found me?”

  “Killed him.” He knew it. He’d dreamed it, and he didn’t feel any better knowing the man was already dead. The way he’d found Diana… never before had he felt such hate. The feeling had only compared to the way he’d felt, the night he’d found out his friend Julius was in trouble. Julius Hext, the Marquess of Darvess, had been raised to fear his own mother. She’d tried to kill him. She and a small army of men had attacked Julius one night.

  But in the end, they’d been the ones to perish at the hands of Julius, Frank, and the other Men of Nashwood.

  The event had been the first and last time Frank had taken a life.

  Lord Dahl would have been the second, had Frank had the chance.

  Diana continued to make her way to him. “You’d have killed the earl, even knowing you might have hanged for killing a member of the realm?”

  “Yes.” There was no doubt within him. Dahl had only lived as long as he had, because he’d fled to Italy. “I’d have killed him.”

  “For me?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She touched him, placing her hands on his arms, and he held himself back from grabbing her and holding her close. He’d never dreamed she’d touch him again. He had to fight to listen as she spoke again. “You’d have killed him even though it could have put you in danger?”

  He opened his mouth to give her the only answer he could, then paused as understanding dawned on him. He’d believed her to be unstable, because she put herself in danger while trying to find her kidnapper. How was he any different? “Maybe we’re both in the wrong.”

  She slid her hands to his shoulders and finally touched his face.

  His conviction wavered.

  Her fingers softly mapped his jaw. “Don’t do this, Frank. Don’t hurt me this way. I have to find him. Don’t you understand?”

  He closed his eyes and leaned forward, placing his head on hers. She continued to stroke him and he bit out, “You’re trying to control me through touch.”

  “No,” she whispered. “I’m touching, because I want to. Need to on occasion.” She pressed her mouth to his. “Don’t hurt us.”

  Us.

  His conviction broke.

  His hands shot out and gripped her hips. He pulled her body closer as he took her mouth.

  She was just as sweet as he remembered, her lips soft.

  He groaned, thinking of what he could have lost, had this night gone differently. She was so much stronger than him. She hadn’t given up. Instead, she’d put her mind to work and helped him see her side of things.

  This kiss. Her body. This might have been enough to save her tonight, to spare him from revealing her truths to her brother.

  But instead…

  His shaft hardened, and he deepened the kiss.

  He loved a smart woman.

  She pulled away. “Will you tell him?”

  “You know I won’t.” He cupped her neck and brought her back again. He’d thought her unreasonable, when it was him who couldn’t think straight. She had his mind tangled in knots, his body burning with need and frustration.

  A hand slapped the back of his neck and Frank was viciously yanked from her. His thinking stuttered until his back collided harshly with the wall, his head a second later. He jerked from the impact. Pain shot through his spine. His head felt disoriented.

  Bancroft was in his face a moment later. His black eyes had never seemed so murderous. “Tell me why I shouldn’t end you this very moment?”

  Frank’s heart raced.

  “Gyffon, stop this right now!” Diana shouted from behind him.

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  24

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  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

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  Bancroft either didn’t hear her or didn’t care, because he yanked Frank again only to send him into the wall a second time. Then Gryff’s arm swung back. She saw Frank wince in pain, right before his arms came up and blocked her brother’s hit. Then he yanked from Bancroft’s grip and rolled against the wall, out of reach.

  Her brother followed.

  Diana touched her head and wondered how many times Frank would have to fight men she cared for. “Bancroft, enough!”

  Her brother was much like Hit when it came to defending her. Relentless. Savage. His body seemed to grow, becoming more barbaric as he followed Frank.

  Frank, on the other hand, seemed cool of mind, though she knew that to be far from the case. This was the last thing either had expected, though they should have. They were in her brother’s office, after all.

  But Diana could take no more.

  “Stop!” She shot forward and stepped between the two.

  Bancroft’s hand landed on her stomach and she was surprised when she felt herself being pushed back. The shock continued until she landed on his couch, the cushions and pillows keeping her from harm.

  But her uninjured state didn’t seem to comfort Frank.

  Before that moment, he’d done nothing but block Gryff’s hits, but Diana saw when the switch happened. His eyes seemed to clear of all civility, and he transformed into something else entirely.

  His first hit connected with Bancroft’s chin, but her brother had grown up on the streets, and lived by the rule that enemies were allowed one blow.

  He blocked the next, but Frank didn’t seem capable of backing down. He was fighting with a new crudeness she’d not known he’d possessed previously, yet his strikes were still fluid.

  And now Bancroft retreated, but she knew her brother’s tactics. He was studying Frank and looking for a way in.

  Diana gasped as her brother found it. He grabbed Frank’s arm, turned him, and with a lift…

  “Gryffon, no!”

  ...slammed him on the office desk.

  The entir
e floor shook with the force of it.

  Diana’s eyes watered.

  Frank cursed in pain but managed to fend off her brother’s next series of hits.

  Then Frank viciously stuck out a leg. It sent Gryff across the room. He landed at her feet by the couch.

  Before, her brother had looked his usual brutal self. Perhaps, he’d only wanted to hurt Frank, but she recognized hatred when she saw it.