A Gentleman’s Revenge
The Spinsters Guild
(Book 3)
By
Rose Pearson
© Copyright 2019 by Rose Pearson - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document by either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
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Prologue
“Really, Miss Crosby, you must do better.”
Miss Sarah Crosby cringed and lowered her head. Whilst she was well used to Lord Britton’s sharp reprimands, it did not make them any easier to bear.
“My daughter depends on you to ensure she has a wonderful season and that includes having at least two seriously interested gentlemen. You cannot fail with your duties.”
Sarah wanted to protest that she had not failed, that she had simply gone about with her cousin, Miss Sophia Marks, as was expected, but that it was her cousin who had proven difficult to keep up with. Miss Marks had laughed and flirted and conversed with almost every gentleman present last evening, leaving Sarah to chase about after her in an attempt to prevent her cousin from behaving improperly.
It had been a difficult task. Obviously, Lord Britton—who was Sophia’s father and Sarah’s distant relation—had heard or seen the behavior of his daughter and rather than laying the blame upon her shoulders, had decided to settle it upon Sarah instead. However, aside from hauling Miss Marks to one side and refusing to allow her to even converse with another gentleman until she reconsidered her behavior—which was something Sarah knew she could not do—there was very little else she could attempt. The only choice she had was to continue to try her very best and pray that soon, Miss Marks would settle upon one gentleman so that her difficulties would be over. Although what would become of her thereafter, Sarah dared not imagine.
“Father, you are being rather harsh.”
Surprised, Sarah looked up to see her cousin giving Lord Britton a beseeching look.
“My cousin has behaved just as she ought,” Miss Marks continued in a wheedling tone. “It is not her fault I am so very popular amongst the beau monde now, is it?”
Sarah wanted to roll her eyes at this remark, knowing full well it was her cousin’s flirtations that had drawn so much attention rather than her popularity, but she restrained herself. It would not do to draw Lord Britton’s ire, not when he was already riled. Instead, she continued to sit demurely, dressed in her dull gray gown with her straight brown hair—immune to any curling efforts—now pulled back into her usual chignon.
She felt little more than a servant as her spirits plummeted all the more. Lord Britton saw her as nothing more than the hired help, useful for accompanying and supporting his daughter in her future endeavors when she herself might still be seeking a husband—had it not been for her selfish and disinterested father who considered her unworthy of returning to London after she had failed to find a husband during her one and only season some years ago. That, accompanied by her plain face and somewhat robust figure, meant she was not to have her chance at finding happiness. No, instead, she was to seek out her cousin’s contentment and pray that, somehow, she would find some suitable and mayhap even happy situation thereafter.
The thought brought her spirits all the lower, making Sarah wince inwardly at her failings and her inexpressible pain.
“I personally do not believe I am being overly firm in my words, Miss Crosby, but my daughter seems to think so.” Lord Britton cleared his throat, folding his arms as he pinned her with his sharp gaze. “Nevertheless, I wish to ensure things go a good deal better this evening than they have thus far.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Do I make myself clear?”
Sarah nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat and praying that she would not have to say anything more.
“You are to dance and converse as you have been, Miss Marks,” Lord Britton continued, his eyes now on his daughter. “But you must ensure you are not overly loud and you are well mannered at all times.” He waved a hand, his expression softening. “It is quite natural that you should be sought out by the gentlemen of the beau monde given your significant dowry, as well as the fact that you are from a titled family, but that does mean you must be on your guard all the more.”
Sarah saw her cousin’s eyes widen, her features just as beautiful as ever. “Indeed?” she breathed as though her father was saying something she had never heard before.
“Of course!” Lord Britton replied, a dark frown melting across his features. “You must choose your conversations wisely, your companions carefully. Not all those who come to be introduced to you are worthy of your time, my dear.” He threw one hand out towards Sarah. “I would have thought Miss Crosby would have spoken to you of this already.”
Flushing with both embarrassment and anger, Sarah felt words jump to her lips but forced them back with an effort. It would do no good to contradict Lord Britton, and certainly would not make things any easier for her. No, she would have to do as she had always done and accept the harsh criticism without question.
“Thank you, Father,” she heard Miss Marks say as heat began to spread across her face, her hands twisting together as she held them tightly in her lap. “I know now what I must do and what is expected of me.”
“Good.” Lord Britton said nothing more but turned on his heel and made his way to the door. Sarah begged for every footstep to quicken, begged for him to leave her company just as soon as he could, and she was given precisely what she wished for.
Her cousin turned to her at once. “I am sorry he has been so critical of you, Sarah, when I know very well it is my behavior that has caused you some difficulties.”
Surprised to hear such a confession from her cousin’s lips, Sarah looked up to see Miss Marks gazing into her face earnestly.
“I was a little overwhelmed last evening,” Miss Marks continued, her eyes now roving around the room as her cheeks dusted with pink. She was clearly still a little embarrassed. “I did not know so many gentlemen would be present and would be so eager for my company.”
“It is as your father says,” Sarah replied dully. “Your father bears a title, you have an exceptional dowry, and you are quite beautiful as well. Gentlemen who see only your fortune or your outward beauty are not worth even considering.” She said this with the full knowledge that she would never be in this sort of situation, would never have the chance to know what it was like to be in such a scenario. She would never have gentlemen crowding around her, each seeking to have their name on her dance card. Even though such men did so for entirely the wrong reasons, Sarah could not help but feel jealousy running through her. Her own father cared nothing for her and was glad to have her gone from his house for the season, if not thereafter, for Sarah was quite certain he would find her another situation soon. He
had, on one occasion, threatened to marry her to a gentleman older than himself, and that scenario was one Sarah feared the most.
“I should go to your mother,” she murmured, getting to her feet and praying Lord Britton would not find her remiss in these duties also. Lady Britton was not an invalid in any sense of the word but had come to depend on Sarah doing certain things for her. Sarah was, at this time of day, expected to go and read to Lady Britton whilst she rested, in preparation for the many afternoon callers that were certain to come to the house.
“You are not sad, are you?”
Miss Marks’ quiet voice made Sarah hesitate, looking at her cousin as she rose slowly to her feet. Was she sad? Sorrowful? The truth was yes, of course, she was sad. This was not the life she had dreamed of, not the life she had hoped for, and yet it had come to her regardless. There was nothing about this life that she enjoyed, for trying to ensure her cousin behaved well and the gentlemen she chose to speak to and dance with were entirely suitable was both wearying and unfulfilling. Caring for her aunt, who was more than capable of taking care of herself, was nothing more than a burden. She did not feel welcomed by this family. Even though Miss Marks was kindness itself, she insisted Sarah refer to her as ‘Miss Marks,’ whilst she called Sarah by her Christian name. It was as though she were deliberately setting them apart from each other, even though Sarah’s father was also titled. And yet, despite her sorrow, Sarah knew she could say nothing of the sort to anyone.
“Might I be permitted to take a walk with my friend, Miss Bavidge, tomorrow afternoon?” she asked, trying to change the subject. “You are to call upon Lord Jackson, and I do not believe that you will need me to accompany you since your mother will be in attendance also.”
“But of course,” Miss Marks replied, although there was no smile in her eyes when she looked back at Sarah. “Thank you, Sarah. You are very good to me.”
Sarah wanted to say that she was so merely because she had very little choice but instead chose to say nothing at all. Shrugging, she managed a small smile and then made her way towards the door, an urge to escape the room and her cousin growing within her. Tears stung her eyes as she pulled the door open, but, with an effort, Sarah pushed them back. There was no time for that, no time to consider her sorrows. She had duties and responsibilities, and with that came an abandonment of self.
“There is nothing you can do,” she told herself aloud. “You cannot change a thing. Therefore, you must accept it and do the very best you can to live as quietly and as humbly as possible.”
Lifting her chin, she tried to climb the staircase that would lead her to aunt’s room but instead found herself clinging onto the handrail, taking in long, agonizing breaths as she fought back the tears. Her pain became overwhelming, threatening to break apart within her and course through her like a rushing river. This was not what she had hoped for, not what she had once longed for. It felt as though such hopes had been forced from her, had been forced out of her, and yet some remnants remained. She could not put out the tiny, flickering hope within her that she might yet find someone of note, even though the very thought caused her more pain.
“There is nothing for the likes of you,” she told herself fiercely, ignoring the stab that ran through her heart. “What you hope for can never be, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you will be able to accept your life for what it is.”
The problem was, Sarah realized as she began to climb the stairs, she could not get rid of this tiny hope that one day, in some way, things might change.
Chapter One
Two weeks later
“Here, dry your eyes, Miss Crosby.”
Embarrassed that she had made such a cake of herself but finding she could not prevent her tears from falling, Sarah took hold of Lady Smithton’s handkerchief and wiped her eyes, her hands shaking as she did so. Beside her sat her own large handkerchief, which was already sodden with tears—but this time, her tears had been ones of joy and utter relief.
“You must believe such a thing is possible for you, Miss Crosby,” Lady Smithton said gently. “You are going to be able to find a gentleman and have a life of your own, such as you have always wished for.”
Sarah shook her head, not daring to believe it.
“My father, Viscount March, has never believed that,” she stated, her voice shaking violently. “I am of plain features, Lady Smithton. I have not the slim form the gentlemen seek out with their sharp eyes and grinning smiles.” Swallowing the ache in her throat, she lifted her eyes to Lady Smithton, who was looking back at her with a gentle expression on her face. “I have a dowry, but it is small and insignificant. I have no particular charms and am considered already to be a spinster—even by my own father!” She pressed the handkerchief to her eyes again, feeling yet more tears forming. “My fate shall be either to marry a gentleman of my father’s choosing, as I have told you already, or to continue as I am, in yet another situation. I shall be nothing more than a companion for the rest of my days!”
“No.”
Lady Smithton sat forward in her chair, her sharp blue eyes blazing with a fire Sarah had not expected to see. Her gaze fixed itself onto Sarah’s as though she were trying to fill her with a confidence Sarah herself did not have.
“No, Miss Crosby, it shall not be as you fear,” Lady Smithton said firmly, her voice as steady as her gaze. “I know you have nothing more than desperation and fear within your heart, but I am here to help remove that from you and, in their place, bring you a hope and a promise that you are going to succeed. You are going to make a success of your season.”
Sniffing, Sarah spread her hands. “Even if I am a companion to my cousin?”
“Yes, even if you are nothing more than a companion,” Lady Smithton replied. “You are in an excellent position, Miss Crosby. You are able to watch the gentlemen of the ton without them being fully aware of you doing so. You are able to distinguish which of them are being genuine in their compliments and which are nothing more than flirtatious for the sake of being so.” She shrugged and sat back in her chair. “You say that you must ensure your cousin makes a suitable match. Therefore, you must continue to do your duties, but consider the gentlemen of the ton not only for her but also for yourself.”
Sarah gaped at her. “But...my cousin,” she stammered awkwardly. “Lord Britton will know if I am failing in my duties towards her.” Looking back at Lady Smithton, Sarah felt her hopes begin to fade again. Lady Smithton could not take her duties from her now, could she?
Lady Smithton considered this for a moment, her gaze flickering between Sarah and her friend, Miss Bavidge, who sat to Sarah’s right. It had been Miss Bavidge who had been bold enough to approach the young, wealthy widow, who had only recently returned to London after enduring her year of mourning for a husband she had not cared for. Miss Bavidge had insisted that they speak to her, but Sarah had not been eager to do so, thinking it had not been their place simply to introduce themselves!
But Miss Bavidge had been quite determined, stating that Lady Smithton was the only person she could think of who might be able to help them in their struggles against society, and so had gone forth without Sarah’s blessing. Lady Smithton had been wary at first, for she was, at the present, faced with rumors and gossip about her part in her late husband’s death—which was entirely nonsensical, of course, but now it seemed Lady Smithton was willing to help both herself and Miss Bavidge make a suitable match.
Although quite how she would do so when it came to Sarah, she could not imagine.
“I have it!” Lady Smithton beamed suddenly at Sarah, her eyes alight with evident delight. “I shall introduce myself to your cousin. I shall accompany her whenever I have the opportunity, which, in turn, will relieve you of some of your duties and permit you to go about society as you wish—albeit for a short time.” Her broad smile captured Sarah’s attention, feeling as though she had very little choice but to do as Lady Smithton suggested.
“But no one will so much as glanc
e at me,” she answered slowly, not wanting to make Lady Smithton believe she was ungrateful but rather stating what was more than obvious to her. “As I have said, I have not the figure nor the beauty of face to capture the interest of a gentleman.”
Lady Smithton, however, shook her head. “That is not at all true,” she stated quite sternly. “You have your hair in a chignon, and your gown is nothing more than a gray sack—although you will forgive me the harsh words.” She smiled apologetically, but Sarah merely shrugged. That was quite true. Her aunt had given her very little money with which to purchase new gowns and so she had been forced to buy the dullest, most staid dresses of all.
“I think you would look vastly different if you were to wear your hair in a less severe fashion and if you wore a gown that had some color about it,” Miss Bavidge interrupted, giving Sarah a warm smile. “It is only because your aunt has refused to buy you anything remotely fashionable that you have been forced to wear such a thing.”
Sarah nodded slowly, looking back at Lady Smithton, who was still smiling.
“It would be very generous of you, Lady Smithton,” she answered slowly, a small flush climbing up her cheeks. “Although I could never pay you back for your kindness.”
As Sarah had expected, Lady Smithton blew this away with an immediacy that told Sarah she was never to worry about such a thing again. She blushed and lowered her head, her heart suddenly quickening into a hurried beat, excitement beginning to wind its way through it. It was not an emotion she had ever truly had before, and the feeling of it was quite extraordinary. It gave her a flurry of hope, a promise that she could rely on Lady Smithton. If she were to have any chance at all, then she would have to depend solely on the lady’s kindness and guidance.
“Now, when is your next outing?” Lady Smithton asked, rubbing her hands together in anticipation.
“I am to accompany my aunt and my cousin to Lord and Lady Martinson’s ball tomorrow evening,” Sarah offered, seeing Lady Smithton nod. “My aunt will be present, of course, but she often leaves me to accompany Miss Marks instead of having to go about it herself.”
A Gentleman's Revenge (The Spinsters Guild, #3) Page 1
