Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club Book 1)

by Samantha Holt

  “Almost pretty,” Bella hissed. “What a compliment. If that bonnet makes me look almost pretty, I must be ugly indeed.”

  Merry knew Bella considered herself untraditional. Her strong features were not what was fashionable but that did not make her ugly at all. It didn’t seem to matter how many times they told her that, though. Bella always dismissed their compliments and told them she did not care if she were the ugliest woman in the world. Merry was not so sure that was true.

  Once they had paid for their bonnets, Bella snatched Merry’s and shoved it back on her head. “She needs to wear it right now, do you not think, Mrs. Bryce? It will make her feel so much better.”

  Merry gave her friend’s ankle a tap with her boot and shot her a look.

  “Indeed I do.” Mrs. Bryce beamed at her. “It really does wonders for your complexion and you do not want to gain anymore freckles now, do you, my lady?”

  Merry held back a sigh and thanked the shopkeeper. “As soon as we are out of sight, I am losing this bonnet,” she muttered to Bella. “It’s quite windy today, is it not? What a shame it would be if it blew away into the sea.”

  “Look how happy you made her, though,” Bella said, glancing back.

  “I know.” She glanced back at Mrs. Bryce who had hustled away and could be heard humming to herself even from the door. Merry supposed she had at least done her good deed for the day.

  As she pushed open the door, she tumbled into a chest—a strong, masculine chest that spanned her vision. She tried to peer up at the owner of the chest, but the ridiculous breadth of the bonnet prevented her from seeing anything but his cravat. She’d recognize that chuckle anywhere though.

  “New bonnet?”

  Merry divested herself of the thing immediately, clasping it in one hand. Harry smiled down at her and her stomach did that strange flip thing again. In shining hessians, breeches that clung to his thighs, and an elegantly embroidered navy waistcoat, he looked far more fashionable than she ever would, even without the bonnet.

  She glanced at the man next to him who was dressed just as finely and had black hair and a blue gaze that was so bright and curious that she looked away immediately. “Um, yes.” Merry bit down on her lip and peered at her friends who were huddled behind her.

  “It’s a little on the large side.”

  She chuckled. “That is putting it tactfully. When did you get back?”

  “Last night.” He motioned to his companion. “Please let me introduce my friend, Lord Thornford.”

  “Oh, he’s the son of the Duke of Harington,” Bella hissed behind her, non-too-subtly.

  Lord Thornford’s lips quirked. “A pleasure to meet you all. Please call me Griff.”

  “Um. What brings you to Dorset, Lord, um, Griff?” asked Sophia.

  “I wanted to see this wonderful village that Easton always talks about. I can see why he was eager to return home.” His gaze ran across all the women as he grinned.

  Merry saw the color in her friends’ cheeks. It was not often they had a stranger in their midst, particularly spectacularly handsome ones, but they had to be as aware as she was that the rumors surrounding the Duke of Harington’s son were far worse than those surrounding Harry.

  “How are you?” Harry asked her.

  The concern in his eyes made her feel strangely soft inside. She found her gaze kept falling to his lips while she recalled how soft and warm they had been. By some miracle, she’d managed to forget that kiss. Until now. Until they were surrounded by their friends and he was right in front of her. She’d managed to convince herself she’d practically made it up, that it had been the chaste kiss of a concerned friend and that it did not light feelings that she had long suppressed.

  “I...” Those feelings that were currently frothing forth, blanking her mind and making it impossible to say a word.

  “She’s going to move into the dower house soon,” Bella spilled out. “Before Daniel returns.”

  “Yes, thank you, Bella,” Merry said tightly.

  Harry’s brows lifted. “The dower house? It’s a bit of a wreck, is it not?”

  “I always intended to move there once Daniel returned, but I think it necessary to move before he comes home. He will have enough to be worrying about without having to set up my home,” she explained.

  “And let me guess, you intend to do it all alone.” His lips curved.

  “Well, not exactly...” Merry huffed. “I can manage you know. I am not completely helpless.”

  He lifted a hand. “I would never imply such a thing, but if you need some help, I would be more than happy to lend a hand.”

  “As would I,” offered Lord Thornford.

  Merry shook her head vigorously. If he made her stomach flip simply by standing in front of her, she could not bear to have him helping her at the house.

  “It might be useful...” Arabella started.

  Merry shook her head again. “I’ll manage. My friends are going to help, are you not, ladies?”

  Glances swung between them and they eventually all nodded.

  “Um, yes, of course.” Arabella twined her hands together and color bloomed on her cheeks. Merry resisted the desire to roll her eyes. Arabella was the worst fibber, she really was.

  Harcourt’s lips quirked. “Well, I shall like to see how things are coming along anyway. I shall see you soon, Merry. Have a good day, ladies.”

  Lord Thornford bid them farewell with a tip of his hat, and both men strode down the street. Merry watched their confident walk as did her friends. Once he vanished, she eyed Bella.

  “You did not need to tell him about the house, you know.”

  Bella held up her hands. “I did not think it was some great secret. Besides, I thought you considered Lord Easton your friend. Why should he not know?”

  “Because well...well...” Because he had kissed her. Because it felt strange. Because she was scared that she might want another kiss. This was not how it was meant to be. Sophia was right, Harry was her brother’s friend—and nothing more. He had kissed her to comfort her, and she was a fool to think anything more of it.

  “You should have accepted his help, Merry,” said Arabella. “You could probably clear the house in half the time with a strong man to help.”

  “And Lord Harcourt Easton is certainly strong,” giggled Sophia.

  “So is Lord Thornford,” added Bella. “So strong.”

  “Have you forgotten everything we said?” snapped Merry. “No men. We made vows!”

  “Yes, not to marry them. It does not mean we cannot admire a muscle or two,” Sophia said saucily. “If you had once been married to a dry old stick of a man, you might wish to admire muscles too.”

  Merry pressed her lips together and tried not to laugh. How Sophia had ever survived a marriage to such a man, she did not know, but she was grateful she had come out of the match with her sense of humor intact.

  “No matter how muscular a man is, we do not need them,” Merry determined. “We shall fix the dower house ourselves. We do not need men.”

  Chapter Five

  Like a miniature version of the main house, the dower house had tall windows and square proportions. Two grand pillars marked the front door. Harcourt paused and peered up at the building with a shake of his head. Ivy clung to one side, crawling its way up to block out the light of one of the upper windows.

  Even from here he could see that the windows were cloudy with grime and dust. The building had been neglected since the death of Merry’s great-grandmother—long before Merry was born. If he didn’t know Merry better, he’d think her ridiculous for taking on such a project but, of course, Merry could tackle most things she put her mind to.

  The front door was slightly ajar, so he pushed it open and stepped inside. Griff had decided to remain abed, for which he was grateful. Griff was a good friend, but he’d already started coming to his own conclusions about the local ladies and he did not need his friend interfering—especially when he knew he’d be horrified Ha
rcourt had decided now was the time to take the path to matrimony.

  The scent of dust and mildew greeted him. Underfoot there were tiles that had once been red but were lost under a sheet of dust. He glanced into the two rooms to either side where furniture lay under white sheets but saw no sign of Merry. A creak from upstairs made him pause, and then the slightly out of tune humming made him smile. At least the stairs looked in good condition. The large oak staircase that led all the way up the center of the hallway would need a little cleaning and that was about it. Harcourt headed up and followed the sound of humming.

  He found Merry in one of the bedrooms. Sheets covered all the furniture here too. She wore gray and black, but the gown had been marred by streaks of dirt. Her curls were a wild array with several escaping down her neck and clouding around her head. Her humming meant she didn’t hear him approach as she stared up at a disconcerting hole in the ceiling.

  “Merry.” His voice echoed around the room.

  “Oh.” She whirled, her foot catching on a floorboard as she did.

  Harcourt leaped forward and caught her as she tumbled forward. She pushed herself up and away from him, a little color staining her cheeks.

  “You startled me.”

  He gave a rueful smile. “Forgive me. I called at the house, but they said you were here.”

  “I thought it was about time I started work.”

  He swung his gaze about the room. “There’s a lot to do.”

  She straightened. “I can manage.”

  His lips quirked. So defensive, so damned stubborn. It was one of the things he loved about her. He’d been raised by a strong woman and had come to appreciate such qualities. There was no tougher woman than Merry, though. Her intellect had always set her apart from others and had made her seem odd to many. Being a viscount’s daughter and being ‘odd’ was no easy task, but she’d survived it admirably.

  “How exactly are you going to fix a hole in the ceiling?”

  She glanced back at the hole and sighed. “Well, I have other things to worry about first. Follow me.” She led him into what must have once been another room but was now cluttered with furniture, paintings, vases and books, as well as endless curiosities. “I think someone used this house as storage for the big house at some point,” she explained. “I had no idea we even owned this many...things. This is not even the only room like this. The other bedroom is full, as well as one of the drawing rooms downstairs.”

  “What will you do with it all?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not certain. I cannot sell any of it as it all belongs to Daniel now, but I could move some of it to the attics at the house. And some of the furnishings could be used here.” She patted a chair, sending up a cloud of dust that tickled the back of Harcourt’s throat.

  “Some of it is quite nice underneath all the dirt.” A sneeze exploded from her and Merry fished a handkerchief out of her sleeve.

  The embroidery on it caught his gaze and he allowed himself a small smile. It was the one he had given her. She’d kept it then. That had to mean something.

  “You’re going to need help, especially if you want to make this house livable before Daniel returns.” He paused. “It’s the curse isn’t it?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “How do you know about the curse?”

  “Dan and I are friends if you recall. I think he brought it up one drunken night. Gave us all a good laugh.”

  “Well, if you must know, it is not about the curse. I just wish to give them some space. They are newlyweds, Harry, they deserve that much.”

  Harcourt snorted. “Few newlyweds get ‘space’ and most survive. This is about the curse.” He grinned. “You think it might be true.”

  She sucked in a breath as though stunned he would even consider she might. “I certainly do not. Curses and magic and the like are entirely fictional. I would never believe such a thing.”

  “And yet you fear for Dan’s marriage.”

  “Our family does not have the best record of successful marriages.” Merry sighed. “We have yet to have a good one. I really hope Daniel’s is the first. He deserves happiness.”

  “I have no doubt Isabel will make him happy indeed. You need not fear if your presence will hinder their match. And you certainly need not worry about this curse.”

  Her eyes narrowed at him. “I do not fear the curse,” she insisted.

  He turned and eyed the moldy ceiling above. “What will your brother think when he comes home and finds you have evacuated from the house?”

  “I told him of my intentions before he left. He insisted it was not necessary but the more I think about it, the more it seems a sensible solution,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “Only you could think a young woman moving into a dower house alone is a sensible solution.”

  She pursed her lips. “Well I will not be completely alone. I shall have my maid and a servant or two with me. One of the kitchen maids has agreed to come and cook.” A smile broke across her face. “I think I could be quite content here all alone. It shall give me plenty of time to study.”

  “There is more to life than studying.”

  An eyebrow rose. “Like drinking and gambling and dancing, I suppose.”

  “Like spending time with good friends.” He moved closer.

  He saw a slight tremble run through her body. She was not immune to him, he was certain of that. Admittedly kissing her after she had buried her father had not been his most sensible of moves but it had felt right at the time—a perfect way to comfort her. Pursuing her while she was in mourning might not even be the most gentlemanly of things to do either, but if her father’s death had taught him anything, life was short. He had little intention of wasting anymore time.

  “I’m not going to become a recluse simply because I move into this house, Harry.”

  “I know what you are like once you become lost in books. We shall be lucky to see you once a year,” he teased.

  “I must finish this translation.”

  “How long exactly will this translation take?”

  “Oh years I suspect,” she said breezily.

  “Years? Christ, Merry. I thought the Odyssey had been translated already.”

  Hands to hips, she eyed him. “By men. All the translations have been done by men. And all translations are subject to bias. Because they are interpreted by men, they focus on the men, yet there are so many female characters of significant importance. I intend to translate it with the female view in mind.”

  Harcourt rubbed his forehead. “Well, if I know you at all, I am certain you shall do an outstanding job, but I’m sure sorting out this house—”

  A crack sound rumbled through the house. He froze. Another cracking sound followed, and a sprinkling of plaster dusted Merry’s nose. She wrinkled her nose and peered up. A sizable portion fell, this time landing on her head.

  As the next rumbling of noise occurred, the ceiling gave way. Harcourt snatched Merry to him, hauling her to the door as a large lump of ceiling crashed down, cracking across the furniture. He eyed the great fragment of plaster and looked back at Merry. Plaster dust covered her face and smeared her mourning dress. Little fragments of white were stuck in her black hair.

  She stared up at him, wide-eyed. He kept her close, aware of his heart pounding hard. Her lips parted, and he could swear he heard her deep breath in.

  “Are you well?”

  She nodded.

  Her arms were slender beneath his touch. he was too aware of her figure even under her simple gown. Heat rolled through him like a storm breaching the skies. He saw her pulse flutter when he reached to pluck a fragment from her hair. Releasing one arm from his hold, he smoothed away the dust from her cheeks then her nose.

  “You need to be more careful, Merry.”

  She nodded again. Her pale blue eyes had darkened. He had to mask a triumphant grin. She could not hide her reaction to him. Lady Merry Bradford desired him as much as he desired her. Now he just had to make her realize tha
t she loved him too.

  A final piece of ceiling landed with a crash. The sound seemed to wake her from the moment and she jerked away, much to his regret. Harcourt pushed a hand through his hair. He should just come out and say it, but he knew what Merry was like. She was so damned stubborn, she’d send him packing. He had to tread carefully. Make her see what he had. His time in London had secured it in his mind—he could not live life without her.

  “I had better get back to work,” she murmured, brushing her hands down her gown.

  “I can help,” he offered.

  “No, I can manage.” She kicked a lump of ceiling aside. “Do you not have your friend to entertain?”

  “Griff is abed. And likely will be for a lot longer.”

  She pursed her lips. “He keeps London hours then.”

  Harcourt shrugged. “I suspect he shall realize the country is not for him within a few days and return. He seemed to think it would be interesting to visit Lulworth.”

  “We do not have wild parties and gentlemen’s clubs, but I for one, rather appreciate that.”

  “As do I.”

  Her brows furrowed. “Not long ago, you could not wait to return to London. I distinctly remember you telling Daniel how much Lulworth bored you.”

  He could not recall the occasion, but it was likely several years ago. “Hmm, I do not remember saying as much, but a man can change his mind can he not?”

  “His mind perhaps, but not his nature.”

  “Is there something wrong with my nature, Merry?”

  She opened her mouth then shut it with a huff. “I really had better set to work.”

  “Very well. I shall visit again soon to see your progress.”

  “There’s no need—”

  “I’ll see you soon, Merry.” He grinned, and her cheeks flushed. He had her off-kilter and he could not help but like it. It meant she’d been as affected by their kiss as he. With any luck, she would not take much persuading before she recognized what was between them.

  Chapter Six