The Spinster's Guild : A Sweet Regency Romance Boxset

by Rose Pearson

  And then, the victory would be his. The conquest had been successful, and the lady was then entirely forgotten. He would leave her, refusing to pursue her any longer and certainly not tempting her any further. That was not the sort of gentleman he was. But whenever he sought out someone new, it was never anyone who lacked beauty or elegance. It certainly would not be someone who walked with a limp and brought a good deal of attention towards themselves because of it! So why, then, was he feeling such anger towards Lord Davidson due to his remarks?

  The performance from Miss Fairbank came to a close and was applauded by the audience, although to Oliver’s ears, it was a little less than what had been given to Lady Amelia. Rising from his chair and ignoring Lord Davidson’s request that he remain so that they might discuss things further, Oliver found his feet making their way towards Lady Amelia. She too had risen from her chair—as had the rest of the guests—and was now standing next to Mrs. Peters and Lady Smithton, who were all listening to another lady’s conversation—someone Oliver did not recognize. Lady Amelia’s cheeks were a little flushed, and she was nodding gently, her expression one of embarrassment. Oliver thought the lady must be complimenting Lady Amelia on her performance and paused for a moment, taking in Lady Amelia’s expression and wondering whether she had ever been given a compliment before.

  Moving a few steps closer, he put a smile on his face as both Mrs. Peters and Lady Smithton looked at him, the smiles falling from their faces as they watched him draw near to Lady Amelia. Oliver ignored them both, focusing entirely on Lady Amelia and waiting politely until the other lady finally took her leave.

  “Lady Amelia,” he said, extending his hand towards her and smiling into her eyes. “May I say that your performance this evening was quite wonderful.”

  Lady Amelia blinked, her hand remaining steadfastly by her side. Oliver chose to keep his extended, praying she would give him her hand so that he might bow over it.

  “It was breathtaking,” he continued, when she said nothing. “I wished it would never come to an end.”

  Mrs. Peters cleared her throat gently, and Oliver saw Lady Amelia start in surprise. Her cheeks filled with color, and she put her hand quickly into his, her touch a little hesitant as she looked away from him, clearly a little lost for words.

  “I—I thank you, Lord Montague,” she replied, her voice very soft indeed. “I am glad you enjoyed it.”

  Finally having her hand in his, Oliver made sure to bow over her hand for a few moments longer than was appropriate, his lips very near to her skin but not quite touching. Hearing her swift intake of breath and smiling to himself, he lifted his head and smiled at Lady Amelia again and finally let go of her hand.

  “I hope I might hear you perform again some time soon,” he said, seeing how she blushed and feeling a faint sense of triumph rising within him. “I must depart now, but I wanted to ensure you knew of my appreciation before I left.”

  Oliver smiled, nodded to Lady Smithton and Mrs. Peters, bowed to them both, and then turned away from the three ladies, making his way towards the door. He had left Lady Amelia with what he hoped was an excellent impression of his character, which might fly in the face of what Lady Smithton would say, but he had faced such a thing before. He had managed to encourage a lady’s attention, even though her mother or companion had been less than willing.

  Wait.

  His mind began to whirl, forcing his steps to slow. He had no intention of capturing Lady Amelia’s attention, so why was he thinking of her as though she was to be his next mark? Had what Lord Davidson said pierced his mind more than he had been aware? Or was it because he had to admit Lady Amelia was, in fact, quite beautiful?

  Sighing to himself, Oliver shook his head, ran one hand through his hair, and then forcefully marched towards the door. He did not need to do anything other than make his way to Whites, order himself a drink, and forget entirely about Lady Amelia. She meant nothing to him and certainly was not worth his attention.

  That being said, her singing had been exquisite. He would not deny that he thought her quite wonderful in that regard, and a part of him was glad he had been able to compliment her so. A small smile crept across his face as he thought of how she had blushed as he had bowed over her hand, to the point that he found his spirits lifting all over again.

  “To Whites,” he muttered, quickly walking out of the door and choosing to close his mind to any further thoughts of Lady Amelia. Perhaps he would get to hear her sing at another time during the Season, but it did not matter to him whether or not they furthered their acquaintance. He did not care about whether he would see her again, nor if they would ever get to converse further.

  At least, that was what he repeatedly told himself as he stepped out into the darkness, ready to climb into his carriage. The memory of her gentle smile as she accepted his compliments continued to linger in his mind as the carriage rolled away, making it all the more difficult for him to forget about her completely. But forget about her he must, for Lady Amelia could never be a conquest for him. She was not perfect and, as such, not worth his time. Settling back into the carriage, Oliver closed his eyes and rested his head back against the squabs. Perhaps it was time to set his attention onto someone new, to start on his first conquest of the Season. Someone beautiful. Someone entirely perfect. And someone who would remove every trace of Lady Amelia from his mind.

  “I thought we might find you here!”

  Oliver groaned aloud as Lord Davidson wandered into the room, pointing a long finger in Oliver’s direction.

  “You left Lord Burton’s very quickly indeed,” Lord Davidson said in a slightly accusing tone. “It is not because you wanted to hide from us, was it?”

  “No,” Oliver replied stoutly, a little bit more emboldened with a good deal of brandy now running through his veins. “I did not want to be in such dull company, that is all.” He grinned broadly as the two gentlemen stopped dead, looking at each other uncertainly. “Why did you follow me here?”

  Lord Davidson regained his composure a little bit, clearing his throat and coming a little closer. Oliver looked up at him from his chair, refusing to get up out of his seat nor even push himself up into a more formal sitting position. Instead, he continued to remain slumped in his chair, thinking Lord Davidson was an annoying sort of fellow and finding him more than a little irritating.

  “I want to know if you are going to pursue Lady Amelia,” Lord Davidson said, pulling a chair closer to Oliver and sitting down. “My coffers are not what they were, and my estate will not do well this year if I do not recover some of what I have lost.”

  Oliver rolled his eyes. “Even if I were to do so, why should I inform you?” he asked, slurring his words just a little. “I have no intention of helping you, Lord Davidson.”

  “You helped your friend last year,” Lord Davidson said darkly, his expression growing rather grim as his companion wandered away, perhaps realizing the conversation was becoming a little more tense than he had anticipated. “Lord Marston made a good deal of money last year.”

  Oliver shifted a little uncomfortably in his chair. “I did not say anything in particular to Lord Marston,” he said, his brandy sloshing from one side to the other in his glass as he moved. “He and I are very well acquainted, that is all. He knew some of the interests I had.”

  “And now I might know of one of these ‘interests’ also?” Lord Davidson queried, watching Oliver with a sharp eye as though he might blurt out the truth, should he look at him long enough. “I am desperate, Lord Montague. This would help me greatly.”

  Sighing, Oliver rested his head back against his chair and regarded Lord Davidson. “I think, then, you ought to ensure you do not gamble any longer, Lord Davidson,” he muttered, feeling a trifle more irritated. “Your coffers—or lack thereof—are none of my concern.”

  Lord Davidson’s eyes narrowed, but Oliver turned his head away, wishing the gentleman would leave him alone so that he might drink his brandy in peace. The man’s l
ack of skill in cards was nothing to do with him, and he had no intention of helping the fellow in any way.

  “I must ask you, Lord Montague, if you are acquainted with Lady Thornhill?”

  Oliver jerked visibly, reacting to the name at once. He narrowed his eyes and looked back towards Lord Davidson, who was watching him closely. “Do not question me, Davidson,” he muttered, seeing the fellow begin to smile, although he forced himself not to react to the gentleman’s expression. “It will not go well for you.”

  “I think I shall place a bet regardless, Lord Montague,” Lord Davidson said, his voice holding a warning Oliver did not quite understand. “And I look forward to the time that I will be successful and gain the money I require.”

  Oliver waved his hand in Lord Davidson’s direction, ignoring the fellow completely and letting out a long breath of relief when Lord Davidson finally got up and walked away. He had no intention of allowing Lord Davidson any insight into his considerations, especially since he would not be chasing after Lady Amelia, and regardless of what Lord Davidson might think, had no plans to express his previous acquaintance with Lady Thornhill, who was wife to the Marquess of Thornhill. Lord Davidson could make any bet he wished, but Oliver would do nothing to attempt to fulfill it.

  Sighing contentedly, Oliver lifted the glass of brandy to his lips and drained it, feeling the warmth spread through his chest and allowing his mind to cloud a little more. This was precisely what he needed. A quiet space where he might enjoy the finest French brandy and allow his thoughts to go wherever they pleased. Yes, this Season was going to be an excellent one, indeed.

  Chapter Six

  “I do not think you want to be here at this moment, Lord Havisham.”

  Amelia looked up at Lord Havisham as he sat down beside her, his eyes fixed upon what she had been writing.

  “I am quite contented to help you with your French,” he told her quickly, a slightly strained expression on his face. “Although I am certain you have a greater grasp of the language than I!”

  Amelia sighed heavily, then gestured to her paper. “I have been doing my very best to improve, but I find my pronunciation is less than perfect.”

  Lord Havisham rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, looking at her with a wry smile. “And Lady Smithton thinks this will aid you in some way?”

  Amelia nodded, although she could still not quite understand Lady Smithton’s reasoning behind her insistence that she practice her French. “I have been practicing all week, and it is imperative that I have done so by this evening,” she said, remembering what Lady Smithton had said. “Perhaps there is a particular gentleman she wishes me to meet.”

  “Mayhap that is the reason for it,” Lord Havisham muttered, pushing himself forward in his chair with an effort. “I am to look over this and thereafter, assist you with any other difficulties you might have.” He gave her a small, slightly rueful smile and picked up the paper. “I am not inclined towards languages, and yet my Eton education insisted I have a firm grasp of French. Lady Smithton knows this and, therefore, has forced me to use it.” He chuckled wryly and then looked down at the paper. “I am sure that whatever Lady Smithton intends for this evening, you will find your French to come in very useful indeed.”

  Amelia smiled and waited until Lord Havisham went over the words she had written, leaning forward and nodding as he pointed out one or two small corrections. Thereafter, they enjoyed a long conversation in French, where he helped her here and there, leaving her feeling a good deal more confident with her grasp of the language.

  “I think that will do for the present!” Lord Havisham exclaimed some twenty minutes later. “Unless there is anything else you wish to ask me?”

  Seeing the desperately hopeful look in his eyes, Amelia let out a quiet laugh and shook her head. “I have nothing else to ask you, no,” she said, laughing all the more when he let out a long sigh of relief. “I thank you for your help, however.”

  Lord Havisham smiled, slumping back in his chair in evident contentment. “You did not need much assistance,” he said with a small shrug. “Which I am very grateful for, given I do not much like…” He laughed and waved a hand. “I do not need to repeat myself. Needless to say, I am glad you have done so well, and I shall be nearby this evening if you require my assistance again.”

  “I thank you,” she answered, thinking to herself that the last ten days with Lady Smithton and what she now knew was called ‘The Spinsters Guild’ had been one of the most hope-filled times in her life thus far. “You have been very kind to me, Lord Havisham.”

  He smiled at her. “I am glad to be so,” he answered. “And you have had a few interesting social occasions of late, I hope?”

  “I have,” Amelia answered, recalling how Lady Smithton, upon hearing she sang and enjoyed playing the pianoforte, had encouraged her to do so in front of Lord Burton’s guests early the previous week. “I have been very nervous on occasion, but I have found the other young ladies, Lady Smithton, and yourself to be very encouraging.”

  Lord Havisham nodded, rose, and extended his hand. “Might I take you to the ballroom, Lady Amelia?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts. “We have to practice your waltz, I believe.”

  Amelia blinked, looking up at Lord Havisham and feeling her fear beginning to rise within her already. “No,” she stammered, a little awkwardly, “I do not think that—”

  “You can dance the waltz, Lady Amelia,” came a bright, confident voice as Lady Smithton walked into the room, smiling at her. “You have nothing to fear. Why do you look as though Lord Havisham has offered you something dreadful instead of something that will be greatly helpful to you?”

  Amelia swallowed hard and shook her head. “I fear my leg will—”

  “I will be most careful,” Lord Havisham interrupted, gently. “There is nothing to fear.”

  “Lord Havisham is an excellent dancer,” Lady Smithton said, not looking at Lord Havisham but continuing to smile encouragingly at Amelia. “He will be the most excellent of partners.”

  “I thank you, Lady Smithton.”

  Amelia hesitated, looking between Lord Havisham and Lady Smithton and seeing something pass between them, although nothing was said. There was a long look, with a small yet warm smile on Lord Havisham’s face, which lit up his eyes and, in fact, his entire features, whilst Lady Smithton’s cheeks colored just a little. Intrigued, Amelia remained silent, wondering if there was more to this friendship between Lady Smithton and Lord Havisham.

  “Yes, dancing,” Lady Smithton said briskly, giving herself a slight shake as she returned her attention to Amelia. “Come now; you must be brave. Lord Havisham will be an excellent partner and will do nothing to injure you.”

  “But not every partner will be so,” Amelia stammered, feeling a little ungrateful. “If I am seen dancing, then might not other gentlemen seek me out?”

  Lady Smithton smiled sympathetically. “They will, and that is what we wish them to do,” she said pointedly. “But that does not mean you have to accept everyone who asks! You can easily refuse—and indeed, I would encourage you to do so to anyone who is either a little in their cups, appears clumsy or inconsiderate, or who is immediately rejected by either myself or Mrs. Peters. Besides which,” she finished, laughing softly, “it will make you all the more intriguing if you only dance with some gentlemen and not others.”

  Amelia let out a long, slow breath and looked up at Lord Havisham, who had extended his hand again. She was not at all certain about dancing and was very afraid a gentleman might stand on her foot and wrench her painful leg in a manner that might force her to retire for the rest of the night. But then, she swallowed hard and reminded herself that, in order to make any progress within society, she had to be courageous. She had been so this last week, had she not? Lady Smithton had accompanied her to two separate soirees, a dinner, and had taken her in her carriage for a drive through Hyde Park during the fashionable hour. Mrs. Peters had accompanied her also, and Amelia had b
een glad to see just how delighted Mrs. Peters had been with all that was now occurring for Amelia. It had been astonishing to Amelia to realize just how much of a difference was made to her confidence when she had Lady Smithton by her side. The lady exuded strength and poise which, in turn, had encouraged Amelia. Her limp was just as pronounced, just as present, but with Lady Smithton giving it no attention whatsoever, Amelia found she herself did not give it as much consideration as before.

  “Then we must practice the waltz,” she murmured, accepting his hand and allowing him to help her to her feet. With Lady Smithton walking alongside them, the three walked from the room and slowly made their way to the ballroom.

  “Lady Beatrice is to arrive soon,” Lady Smithton stated as she surveyed Amelia’s stance with a critical eye. “So you shall only have time to practice the waltz, which, I think, is more than enough for one session.” She smiled at Amelia and gently straightened Amelia’s hand as it rested on Lord Havisham’s shoulder. “This is almost perfect, however, Lady Amelia. You are doing very well.”

  Amelia smiled back, trying to press down her anxiety as Lord Havisham held her both gently and with a firmness that encouraged her to trust him.

  “I will support you, of course,” he murmured, beginning to move carefully across the floor. “And you must inform me if you have any pain or difficulty, Lady Amelia.”

  Such was the strength of her concentration that Amelia said nothing in response. Her stomach was tight, her hands clammy, and her breathing ragged, feeling as though something would go wrong at any moment. It was not until some minutes had passed that she realized things were not going as badly as she might have thought. With Lord Havisham holding her tightly and moving carefully, Amelia found she was able to spin around the floor with more ease than she had expected. Breathing a little more easily, Amelia looked up at Lord Havisham and found herself smiling, actually finding a little more enjoyment from the dance than she had expected.