Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club Book 1)

by Samantha Holt

  She drew in a ragged breath. “Harry?” she whispered.

  He let his gaze linger on her lips, then along the pale freckles dancing across her nose. Inwardly, he chided himself. If there was an intruder upstairs, lusting over Merry was not his best move.

  “Harry, you are crushing me.” She tried to wriggle out from underneath him which only made things worse. Heat stirred in his body.

  There was another thud, and Merry froze. He held his breath and listened again. Nothing more. Only the thump of his heart and the drip of a tap. Perhaps it was the wind again. But all his instincts said otherwise. And they were rarely wrong.

  Spending time in London, even the more refined parts of Town, had left him with a keen instinct for danger. There were always plenty of thieves and criminals hoping to take advantage of the busy streets and lack of enforcement. Perhaps the strange man, and the footsteps and the broken door were nothing, but his instincts screamed otherwise.

  Merry flattened her hands against his chest and pushed.

  “Damn it, keep still, Merry.”

  “Harry, I do not know what you think you are doing but it was just the wind. Or something. Certainly no reason for you to...to...” She drew in an audible breath. “To be so close to me,” she finished with a hiss.

  He drew back, albeit reluctantly. If anyone caught them like this, Merry would be utterly ruined and as much as that might work in his favor, he had little intention of forcing her hand.

  “Stay here,” he ordered. “I am going to find out what that was.” She opened her mouth and he pointed a finger at her. “Stay here. I mean it.”

  Merry pressed her head back against the wall and rolled her eyes. “Fine. I shall stay here and hide from the wind. Goodness, Harry, I never expected you of all people to be so jittery.”

  “Can you blame me, when I have so fine a woman to protect?”

  Her brows furrowed, and lips pouted. “I do not need protection from the wind.”

  “So you do not deny you are fine?”

  “Well, no...I mean...” She sagged. “Just go and find out what that was. I shall stay here.” She made a motion of crossing her chest. “I promise.”

  “Good.”

  Harcourt made his way gingerly upstairs. Nothing save from the slight rattle of wind and a clock ticking somewhere could be heard. He checked out each room, one-by-one until he spotted an open window. The one that he had seen footprints by the other day. His palms grew clammy. That could not be a coincidence. For some reason, someone was trying to get access to the house. Or to Merry.

  He finished searching the house but could find no more sign of an intruder or anything untoward. As much as he wanted to protect Merry from being fearful, her safety was more important. He’d have to tell her what he’d seen.

  When he returned to the kitchen, he found her still pressed against the wall. She jolted slightly then straightened as he stepped off the final stair. He caught her quick look of relief that was masked hastily. Folding her arms, she gave him a smug smile. “I take it there was no great danger?”

  “No.” He eyed her. “But you were worried for me, were you not?”

  “Do not be ridiculous. Why should I worry about what mere wind might do to you?”

  “Is it so hard to admit you care for me?”

  “Not at all.” She swept a hand down her skirt, straightening out a non-existent crease. “You are my brother’s friend. Of course I care for you.”

  “And your friend, Merry. Do not forget that.”

  “Of course not.”

  “You will need to get the carpenter to fix the window in the rear dining room. The latch is broken.”

  She sighed. “Another thing to add to my lengthy list.”

  He grabbed his jacket and shoved his arms into it. “In the meantime, I do not want you in this house alone.”

  “It will be days before the carpenter can fix it,” she protested. “I have too much to do. Who knows when Daniel will return.”

  “With these winds, a good while longer I suspect.” He took her hand and led her upstairs, ignoring her little tugs on his arm. “I will not have you alone in an unsecure house.”

  “Harry, this protective, overbearing attitude is getting a little tiring.” She wrenched her hand from his once they reached the hallway. “I know you feel an obligation to look after me, but I am a grown woman, and am completely capable.”

  “Do you not think I know that?” If he was in a less concerned mood, he’d probably be thinking exactly how grown up she now was. “But something is amiss. Someone is trying to gain access to the house.”

  She made a dismissive noise.

  “Or to you,” he added.

  Merry opened her mouth, then shut it. Then opened it again. “Why would someone wish to get to me?”

  He shrugged. “I cannot say, but it is not a risk I am willing to take.”

  Tilting her head, she eyed him. “Have you had an accident and not told anyone about it? A hit to the head perhaps?”

  “Of course not.”

  “That would explain...” She waved a hand up and down. “All this.”

  “All this?”

  “Why you think a spot of wind is an intruder and why you believe someone might wish to harm me. And, of course, why you...Well...” Her cheeks colored.

  “Well?”

  “Why you are talking of...why you keep...” She bit down on her lip and readjusted her glasses despite them being perfectly in position.

  “Why I am talking of you and me, you mean? Of love?”

  She swung her gaze to the clock in the hallway. “Oh, look at the time. I should be heading back to the house.”

  Harcourt chuckled. The clock didn’t work and still read seven o’clock. “I shall walk you.”

  “There is really no need.”

  “I insist. I shall see you to the tree then you can walk alone from there. No need to be seen with a rake like me then.” He grinned.

  “I was not fearing for my reputation,” she insisted. “I just do not need an escort. It is only a quick walk down the road and I am on my brother’s land.”

  “I know that. But I am still accompanying you.”

  Merry gave a great huff. “See? Far more stubborn than I ever am.”

  “More determined too, Merry,” he warned. “Far more determined.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “But that is far more than we were paying before my father died!” Merry eyed the older man who had adopted a smug, sort of I know everything look as soon as she had stepped in the door.

  “I am sorry, my lady, but that is just the way it is. For that many candles, I must charge you that much. You are welcome to buy from elsewhere...”

  She narrowed her gaze at the candlemaker. He knew full well she would have to negotiate with someone in Brycesbury—the nearest town—if she did not buy from him, and the chances are the price would be no better. Whether they would treat her any better than Mr. Langford did, it was hard to say. The man clearly thought her incapable of running her brother’s household and was taking advantage of the fact she had never done it before. Even so, she was not foolish.

  “I fail to see why the cost of candles has increased by nearly twenty percent. Your materials are unchanged.”

  The dark-haired man gave a shrug. “It’s business, my lady. It’s hard to explain.”

  His patronizing tone made her breaths feel hot. For his age, Mr. Langford was an attractive man with short dark hair peppered with gray, a strong jaw, and clear blue eyes. His work kept him muscular too. She had never really had occasion to talk to him before now but as soon as she had stepped foot in the chandlery, he had tried to charm her. When he had realized that would not work, he had become condescending.

  “Either the costs of your labor have increased within a month’s time or the cost of your materials have. Or have you perhaps purchased new tools?”

  His jaw tightened. “As I said, my lady, you are welcome to purchase from elsewhere.”

&n
bsp; Merry clenched the order for candles in her hand until the letter shook. The house needed hundreds upon hundreds of candles to remain lit. It was an extremely profitable order for Mr. Langford, and she knew he did not wish to lose it. But he also knew she had little choice. Tears burned behind her eyes and she blinked them rapidly away.

  Spinning on her heel, she stomped out of the building. Fresh sea air struck her face, instantly cooling the heat in her cheeks and eyes.

  She inhaled deeply. She must not cry, she must not cry.

  Exhaustion made her bones ache and her mouth dry. Running a household the size of Whitely Grange was no mean feat.

  Yes, she knew well enough how to plan meals and organize the servants, but it was the other things—like buying enough candles so they did not all have to sit in the dark. Not to mention the running of the estate land and handling problems with tenants. Her father had never anticipated she might have to fill her brother’s shoes for a while and neither did she. She was making it up as she went, and it meant late nights after working at the dower house, and little sleep.

  And far too much stress. Especially when arrogant men like Mr. Langford thought he could take advantage of her because of her sex.

  Pressing fingers to either side of her temple, she drew in another breath but felt her chin quiver. Oh, if only Daniel would return home, or these winds would abate. No doubt the crossing would take twice as long with such choppy seas. If it was bad just in the cove, it would be awful out at sea.

  “Is all well?”

  She lifted her gaze and bit down on her lip. Of all the people to meet, it would have to be Harry. Just when she was at her weakest moment. He peered at her from under the brim of his hat, his eyes filled with concern. It made the tears well up again.

  “Y-yes, all is well,” she managed shakily.

  A brow rose. “Is it?”

  She sighed. “It’s just that Mr. Langford is trying to charge me an exorbitant amount for candles. I know he has raised the prices because he is dealing with me.”

  “Indeed.” He glanced at the slip of paper in her hand. “Is that the order?”

  She nodded.

  Harry snatched the paper off her before she could protest. “Won’t be a moment,” he said cheerfully, ducking into the doorway of the building.

  Merry opened her mouth to protest but it was too late—he had vanished into the shop. She huffed and pressed her back against the whitewashed wall. This was not what she wanted. She was a strong woman. A woman who was meant to be learning to function alone. Without the help of men. But now Harry had swept in and taken over, and she was left standing around like a fool.

  Several moments passed. Perhaps Mr. Langford would not acquiesce to Harry either. Merry was not sure if she would be pleased or not. She needed those candles, but not at that price. The estate could not afford such a rise in expenses, and she had no wish to appear as though she could not handle things while Daniel was gone. But at the same time, if Mr. Langford would not budge for Harry either, she would feel a little vindicated. Perhaps it was not about her sex after all.

  Harry’s expression when he left the building had her in no doubt that it was entirely to do with her sex.

  He handed her back the order slip. “All arranged,” he declared.

  “At the original price?”

  His lips quirked. “With a slight discount for inconveniencing you.”

  She stared at him, at his confident expression, then at the agreement that stated a discount. To her dismay, a sob bubbled out of her. Harry’s expression quickly changed to concerned.

  “Merry?”

  She covered her mouth and turned away. Tears sprung from her eyes and dripped quickly down her cheeks. It was all too much.

  How was she meant to achieve everything she wanted whilst doing a job she never thought she would do?

  “Merry?” Harry put a hand to her shoulder, twisting her around to face him. “What on earth is the matter?”

  “I cannot even find the time to work on my translation!” she blurted and tried to turn away.

  She had no time, and no help. It was all so much harder than she expected. The estate manager was excellent but treated her much like Mr. Langford did, as though she were a child who had no brain in her head. How utterly lonely it was trying to run an estate on her own.

  “Come.” He glanced up the empty street and took her hand.

  She had little willpower to resist. The morning had left her drained and boneless. Her eyes and lungs hurt from trying to hold back all the emotions simmering just below the surface. She let Harry lead her out of the village onto the hills that overlooked the sea.

  The wind blew fiercely, and she pressed a hand to her bonnet, but the day was not cold. The sea covered the horizon, broken up only by a few fishing boats. Even with a heavy covering of cloud, the cove was beautiful. The semi-circle beach offered up almost white sand and the sea was known to be bluer here than many other places in England. Sometimes she forgot how wonderful Lulworth was and how lucky she was to have such beauty a mere walk away.

  Harry released her hand. She could feel him watching her while she eyed the scenery and drew in calming breaths. Finally, she turned to face him. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For...” she waved a hand back toward the village. “For that. For being so snippety.”

  “For crying? For being defensive? I do not think you have anything to apologize for, Merry. Mr. Langford was trying to take advantage of your situation.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “That I was not impressed with him taking advantage of a grieving young woman and that I would take Lulworth Castle’s business elsewhere if he did not rectify the situation.”

  Merry gave a soft smile. It was still aggravating that Mr. Langford would only negotiate with Harry but, for the moment, she would take the reprieve. It was one less thing for her to worry about.

  “Thank you.”

  “I am sorry you are having to deal with these things alone.” He stepped close, touching a finger to her cheek. “If there is anything I can do...”

  “I am sure you have enough work, looking after your own estate. I knew it kept my father busy, but I did not understand quite how much work was to be done. And I am certain I could manage it,” she said hastily, “but I was never taught any of it. I am having to learn as I go.”

  “You always were a quick learner.”

  “Not quick enough. I fear the whole estate will have crumbled to pieces in the fleeting time Daniel has been away.” She clamped her bottom lip under her teeth as another swell of emotion rose up within her.

  He reached for her and she was powerless to resist. Harry drew her against his chest. He smelled of spice and soap, and he was warm, oh so warm. Muscular too. She knew all this, of course, but her mind would not let her forget that fact. In Harry’s embrace, she had never felt so protected, so...so unalone. She closed her eyes and listened to the steady heartbeat as she pressed her cheek to his chest.

  He rubbed a hand up and down her back in a soothing motion. All the anger and frustration fizzled away, leaving her relaxed but...well, slightly achy and hot. Once the emotion had died down, she became too aware of that muscle, too wrapped in the scent of him. She should pull away and yet she could not. Her limbs were utterly useless, rooting her in place.

  He eased back and used a finger to lift her chin. His green gaze searched hers. A little wind riffled his hair and she found her gaze dropping to his lips. They looked soft and warm. From memory, they probably would be. Suddenly, it did not matter how windy or exposed it was, she was too damned hot. Somewhere inside her, a voice whispered. It warned her to flee. To tear from his arms. Unfortunately, that voice was overpowered by another. Stay, it told her. Stay and kiss him.

  The loud voice triumphed. She remained in his arms and let him smooth a hand across her cheek.

  “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you, Merry?”

  The words cre
ated something warm and fluffy inside her. Which was ridiculous. She had never much cared about her appearance. Her hair was too curly and hard to maintain and after a good bout of sun, her freckles grew too dark. No one had ever called her beautiful. If anything, she was...acceptable. Nothing more.

  But, damn the man, the words took their intended effect. She almost felt beautiful as he eyed her, his gaze tracing what had to be every inch of her.

  His other hand rested on her lower back, keeping her close.

  “Every time you speak, every time you look at me, I feel as though I am powerless.” His words were slightly husky. “All I can think of is how much I want to kiss you.”

  She could create no words. Her mind tried to wrap itself around Harry’s confessions, but it could not. Instead, she gaped up at him, utterly lost to the magic of his voice and his body.

  Harry tilted his head. Breath held, she waited. He’s going to kiss you, Merry. She wanted to argue with that stupid voice. She knew very well he was going to kiss her. And God help her, she wanted to be kissed. It didn’t matter that this was Harry—a rake of the highest regard—or that they were out in public and all it would take was someone to walk by to ruin her forever. Had she learned nothing from her friends?

  Apparently not. She closed her eyes and absorbed the feel of his warm palm, then the brush of his breath over her lips. Behind her closed eyelids, Harry was just a man, a friend, a gentleman, and they were not out in public but somewhere secluded and safe.

  His lips upon hers galvanized her. It was a sweet kiss for a mere moment, until the torrent took hold. When she latched her arms around his neck, he made a raw sound in his throat that sent thrills through her. The feeling of being beautiful remained. The sensation of being wanted and adored and capable of stirring such passion in this man made her feel powerful.

  Stop, that quiet voice muttered somewhere. She searched for the louder voice, the one that urged her on and discovered that it had been her all along. Once Harry coaxed apart her lips with his own and brushed her tongue with his, the voices were gone, and it was only her and Harry.