That, however, did not mean he could not appreciate her beauty or the beauty of the rest of the women present. Each of his friends had not only married a woman with the strength to capture their wayward hearts but the beauty to capture the hearts of anyone who saw them smile.
“Does Florence receive your favor exclusively now?” Sophia asked with a winged brow. She held a fan in one hand and was quickly working to cool her face. She was a raven beauty like Christin, but her eyes were a summer green, dark and rich. She was also tall, but instead of feeling an immediate attraction, for reasons Aaron didn’t understand, Sophia had always brought out his protective side.
It had happened when he’d found her being manhandled by Columbus Gates. It wasn’t the first time Aaron had wanted to rip off his cousin’s head, and now he was raising the very man’s daughters.
He kissed Sophia’s cheek and then, before anyone else could complain, made his rounds, giving the final kiss to Alice.
And from her, he didn’t pull away. He only leaned back an inch and kept an arm braced on the back of her seat and the other on the table before her, trapping her in a way as he met her eyes. “You and I need to speak.”
Alice smiled. “Speak, Aaron. It isn’t as though I keep secrets from anyone in this room.”
That was true. Like the Brotherhood, the Spinsters were as close as blood. Though their numbers had grown, the council for the Society ever only included the wives of the Men of Nashwood.
But while Alice may not have her own secrets, Aaron surely had his.
In fact, there was big secret that the Brotherhood vowed to keep to themselves, one that not even the women who sat around the table could ever know about.
A secret that still haunted two of the brothers.
Aaron and Julius Hext, the Marquess of Darvess.
Can I play?
You’re not big enough, Aaron. This is a man’s game.
Memories tried to flood him, but he suppressed them and for once, found it easy at the thought of her.
Christin.
He had his secrets, yes, but when it came to the women the men intended to marry, he’d be hard pressed to keep it to himself.
“Christin Potter,” Aaron said plainly.
Someone else at the table sighed while Alice’s eyes softened before she tuned to the cup of milk in front of her. She preferred milk to tea, but more recently, Aaron had found her drinking it endlessly. “So you finally took my advice and went to her shop?”
He nodded slowly. “Tell me what you know of her.”
Alice tilted her head and put her cup down. “You mean she didn’t immediately fall prey to your charms and pour her heart out?” Her eyes mocked him.
There were giggles from the others.
Aaron narrowed his eyes. “I believe you knew she wouldn’t.”
“Christin falls prey to no man.” This came from Florence.
Aaron looked over at her though remained close to Alice. “You know her?”
Florence crossed her arms and leaned on the table toward him. “We all know her, but I’m sure you’re aware that Madam Margaret is my sister? Her shop is right next door. I’ve had tea with Christin on more than one occasion, but I must admit I don’t know her well.”
“I need answers,” Aaron said swiftly.
Alice continued to smile, but then the expression grew sad. “I’ve known her for years.” That comment said much but gave him little. Alice was holding back not just everything Aaron wanted to know, but also something else… something heavy. He saw it in her posture.
“What is it that I need to know?” Aaron asked her.
“She isn’t looking to remarry,” Alice confessed.
“I gathered that.”
Sophia looked at him again in surprise. “Have you already tried wooing her?”
He said nothing.
Alice turned to Sophia. “You should have known he would. These men don’t do anything slow.”
Indeed. Aaron was sure that if he locked himself and Christin in a room, they’d eventually get on quite well after an hour or so, but since that was not an option, he’d have to figure out what else could be done.
Alice frowned at him. “Christin is in a complicated situation.”
He’d known this would not be easy.
“Help me uncomplicate her situation,” he said.
The Duchess of Cort blinked. “Are you sure you wish to?” That she kept asking him questions told Aaron that Sophia felt some protective urges for the woman.
Aaron stared at her. “I’d not have come if I wasn’t sure.” And he’d been sure about Christin in less than an hour. Something about her called to him. It was more than beauty and the sexual attraction. There was something else he sensed in her eyes.
Alice touched his cheek and captured his attention. “I knew you were the right one for her.”
Warmth bloomed in him at her consideration.
“You’ll have to be gentle,” Alice said. “If you can manage it.”
“I can do gentle.” At least, he hoped he could. A year ago, he’d not have been sure, but now that he had small girls, he’d learned to contain himself.
“Hiram Welsh was here a few hours ago,” Genevieve said and for some reason, Aaron thought she looked slightly pale. Like Sophia, there was slight dew around her hairline. Her locks were a deep red. And her eyes, which were hidden from him at the moment, a pale green.
Perhaps the thought of Hiram upset her gravely as well.
Aaron immediately tensed, and his stomach began to burn with anger. He pulled in a breath and tightened his hold on the back of Alice’s chair. Hiram Welsh was yet another cousin Aaron despised, even more than Columbus. “What did he want?”
Lorena shrugged and ate a currant from the bowl before her. “What he always wants. The girls.”
“The courts already decided that they were mine.” Aaron slammed his fist into the table.
A few months ago, his cousin, Hiram Welsh, had driven in from the country and thought to take not only the girls but the barony from Aaron, claiming himself to be closer kin to Columbus than Aaron… and making comment that Aaron had quite enough titles as it was.
Aaron held four now.
The courts decided that his claim was not true, and Aaron had hoped Hiram would return to the country, never to be heard from again. But the hope had since died. It had come to everyone’s attention during the hearing that Hiram was currently Aaron’s heir, and so Hiram thought to worm his way into Aaron, Mary, and Lily’s life.
Aaron had broken the man’s jaw two months ago, the protective wall he’d built about his anger cracking under the threat of someone taking the girls. Emmett and Morris had been forced to restrain him from doing more damage, but like a plague, Hiram simply kept returning.
Sophia reached out and covered his fist. “You have to learn to control your temper.”
“Let a man try and take your children and see what you do,” he challenged with a look that had made other men flee a room.
Sophia didn’t even flinch, but her eyes did soften.
“We’ll protect the girls,” Taygete said, speaking for the first time since he’d come into the room, a hand on top of her rounded belly. Her gray eyes met his softly as well. “No harm will come to them under our care.”
Her kindness washed most of the heat from his blood. Taygete had lost a niece to death once. She likely understood more than the others.
“Where is Hiram now?” Aaron asked.
“Somewhere in town,” Lorena said. “He said he is staying for the season. He also wants an invitation to Lily’s party.”
Over my dead body.
“I’ll kill him,” Aaron said without thinking.
“Aaron,” Florence said with warning.
“Invite Christin to tea. Tell me where and when and I will be there,” Aaron said.
“She won’t like that,” Alice said, leaning away. “And I don’t want to break her trust.”
Aaron wondered again
at Christin’s complications. “What did you say the issue with this woman was?”
“I didn’t,” Alice said plainly. “It’s not my place to say. If she wishes to share however…” Her words purposefully trailed off, and Aaron understood that if he was to have Christin, he would have to take everything that came with her.
He’d already planned to do just that.
“Send her the invitation and then send me word.” He started toward the door. Aaron didn’t make decisions lightly. Unless he was angry, he usually took his time to make a decision, but he’d needed little time once his eyes had fallen on Christin.
Whether she was ready or not, his mind was set.
* * *
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CHAPTER FIVE
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Christin watched the hack approach the street outside her door and turned to Patsy. “I’ll return before dark.”
“Are you sure you wish to go alone?” Patsy handed her a pale bonnet that matched her day dress with a pink ribbon fluttering from it.
It touched Christin that Patsy would wish to accompany her, but where she was going, Christin wouldn’t even take a dog. “Mind your lessons, and we’ll find you a good residence to run within the next month or so.”
Patsy gave her a pointed look as she placed her hands on her hips, a stance that was much too hard for such a small and young woman. Christin, at first, had planned to train Patsy as a maid, but Patsy had talents that could be of further use. The girl had a way with numbers, was well organized, had a fine memory, and as Christin always said, was a very good judge of character. “I’ve minded my lessons well, but you mind your person. If that earl comes back around, run.”
Christin’s fingers stumbled as she tried to form the ribbon. The last comment was another reason Patsy would never do as a maid. She gave her opinion far too easily. For two days, Christin had tried to ignore the girl whenever she wished to bring up Lord Jeanshire, but it was of no use.
Patsy thought the earl dangerous, which would have made Christin want to laugh had she not witnessed what sort of danger he did offer to her with just a look. He’d unraveled her with a gaze, and Christin admitted that she’d been unable to right herself since, which would not do if she wished to remain in business.
And now more than ever, her business could not fail.
She raced out the door, thanked Quincy for holding the hack, and allowed him to assist her inside.
“Are you sure you wish to go alone, ma’am?” Quincy asked, handing her a basket. “St. Giles is no place for a woman such as yourself.”
She smiled, pleased that her staff cared for her safety. It made her feel as though she were a good employer. “I’ll be in and out.”
Quincy frowned and then leaned closer. “I’ve instructed the hack to wait for you, but if you take too long the man might flee.” St. Giles was a rough part of town and just on the other side of Seven Dials.
Christin nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Quincy stepped away and the hack was off.
Whenever Christin went to St. Giles, she usually dressed the part of a servant to make people think she had no money, but when she planned to spend the day in Covent Gardens, she always dressed the part of an innocent lady. It ensured that no one on the street thought her a courtesan and ensured her safety and usually protected her from rough treatment.
Covent Garden made its money off the wealthy. Fruit vendors came out during the day from the street markets. Women, men, and children worked earnestly to sell their wares to the servants of the best homes in London, but once the sun set, the market rolled away to make room for the evening’s entertainment.
There was the opera, the gardens, coffee and tea houses, gaming hells, and a brothel on every corner. When Covent Garden was first designed, it was actually the place where the wealthy lived. The buildings that were now businesses had been homes to the upper-class and somewhere down the line, the Potters had been a part of it all. Eventually, when money had grown short, they’d started the agency, which had done well to keep the family afloat and the home as immaculate as it had been when it was first constructed.
But as they neared St. Giles, everything changed, and Christin could feel a slight chill in the air as though the place had been abandoned by even the sun itself.
The buildings and roads were unkept. Her hack drew some attention on the street and when the driver stopped before the address he’d been given, she gave him instruction to park in the alley so as not to advertise themselves so much.
The building was made of crumbling brick like the rest of the neighborhood, and Christin quickly took to the stairs, knocked, and tried to calm her nerves as she waited.
Strangely, however, the ruffians outside never scared her more than who was inside the building. Once inside, she could hear the noise that came from behind the doors. Shouts and cries of both men and women. She went up a short flight of creaking stairs and knocked on the first door on the right.
She was almost startled when Tina opened the door.
Her niece looked tiny and much too tired for her age, which broke Christin’s heart, but when the girl saw her, Tina seemed to come to life.
“Aunt Christin!” Tina flung her frail arms arounds around Christin, who’d already bent to accept the girl’s hug. She found no trouble picking the girl up and carrying her inside to close the door. That worried her.
Once inside, Christin gave the girl a hundred kisses before setting her down. She was eight now, but one wouldn’t know from the lack of meat on the girl’s bones. It didn’t make sense that she was malnourished, since Christin sent along both food and money to make sure the girl ate, but one only had to look to the monster she lived with to get the answers.
Still, even with hollowed cheeks, Tina was very pretty. She’d inherited her father’s blond hair and blue eye, even his irrationally large lips, but the look seemed to work for Tina when it was paired with the Grant family's feline eyes.
She’d set Tina away to look at her and noticed the frayed dress she wore. Thankfully, it was dark enough to hide any dirt, but that didn’t mean that Christin hadn’t detected it from the smell alone.
She had to hold back her tears and the sob that burned her lungs.
How many times had she thought of simply taking Tina and fleeing the city, the entire country if she had to?
Many times. So often, in fact, that Christin had saved a little nest egg just in case she ever had to put the thoughts into action. She hated that she had to leave the girl with a man who obviously didn’t care for her and was only using her as a means to gain Christin’s money.
She tried to put those depressing thoughts out of her mind and focused on the reason she’d come.
“Is that for me?” Tina asked, spying the basket.
Christin lifted the cloth and showed the girl the bread and fruit she’d brought.
The look that passed Tina’s face made Christin’s eyes burn. It was a savage look, as though the girl would be willing to fight for what was already being freely offered her.
“Go hide the basket under your bed,” Christin whispered as she gazed around the room. Tina’s stepfather had yet to come greet her, and Christin didn’t see him anywhere, though she noticed the house was in a worse state than her niece. Where she’d ignored the smell of the room before, she could not do so now.
This would not do. She’d have to pay a group of maids to come out once again to set the house to something close to acceptable. She could not allow her niece to live in a place that was no better than a cave.
Tina took the basket and ran off but returned quickly with a piece of bread in her hand. She was eating as she stared at her aunt.
Christin touched her hair and thought she’d have to ensure the girl took a bath as well. “How are you?”
Tina shrugged and looked away. Then she looked C
hristin over and said, “You look pretty.”
Christin smiled with embarrassment and almost chastised herself for wearing her Covent Garden wear. It was a simple dress with a high collar and a row of pale buttons down the front but compared to Tina’s ensemble, she probably looked like the queen. If she didn’t have her tea appointment with Alice right after, she’d have worn something else.
“Perhaps it’s time I get you some more clothes, what do you say? You could also take a bath—”
Tina backed away. “I don’t want to bathe.”
Christin frowned. “Well, all little girls bathe, dear.” She tried to keep her voice down so as not to alert Jack of her visit. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t see the man at all. How fortunate that would be. “I could get you lemon-scented soap for your hair. Wouldn’t you like that?”
Tina shook her head and ate another piece of bread, her eyes no longer meeting Christin’s.
“Why not, darling?” Christin asked.
Tina didn’t reply, and Christin straightened at the sound of footsteps. Her heart raced and instinctively she pulled Tina closer, as if she could protect her.
Jack came in from one of the back rooms, and Christin noticed that he looked just as unkempt as her niece. His dark hair hadn’t been groomed in months and his coat had a hole, but unlike Tina, he’d grown in size. His gut was large, and his breeches were tightly stuffed. The breeches made her think of the muscle she’d glimpsed under Aaron’s breeches. Aaron put her brother-in-law to shame in every way.
Why she’d thought to compare the two, she didn’t know.
Jack walked farther into the room, and a genuine smile touched his lips. “Christin, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” And indeed, his eyes did look sore, reddened from drink. He smelled of gin, the scent nauseating.
“Jack.” Christin had nothing else to say to the man, so to stop herself to begging that the man let her take Tina, she simply reached into her purse and handed him the purse of money he’d come to expect.
Christin's Splendid Spinster's Society (The Spinster’s Society) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 4