The Spinsters Secret

by Monroe, Jennifer

  “Here, here!” Mr. Huntington said as he raised his glass once more, though Johnathan was already walking toward the door.

  Johnathan shook his head. What was he thinking doing business with such a man? However, the challenge the man’s daughter had proven to be had enhanced the deal they had made and reinvigorated Johnathan’s urge to complete the task. Yes, he would win—he always did.

  Chapter Eight

  The following week, Johnathan was walking through the garden with Miss Huntington, her ever-present mother following a discreet distance behind. Although he had an ulterior motive to woo the spinster woman, it prickled his skin to find he actually enjoyed her company.

  I will be strong, he vowed silently. She would never ensnare him to fall in love with her. He had no place for love in his life, and if he had to marry her and force her to live in one of his other houses, he would, for he would never allow another woman to tread over his heart as Jane had done. Never.

  “We have had glorious weather, have we not?” Johnathan asked as they made their way down the path.

  “Indeed,” Miss Huntington replied. “I do wish for rain, however. At times the heat can be oppressive.”

  Johnathan laughed. “You have never felt heat until you have visited Africa.”

  Alice looked up at Johnathan. “Have you been?” she asked, seeming as if she were truly interested in hearing his stories.

  “Indeed. Several times, in fact.”

  “I see,” Alice said. “And what did you think of the country? I have never been, but I have read of it.”

  “Well, summers are hot enough to fry an egg on a stone without a fire, and winters can be wet, but nowhere near as cold as an English winter.”

  Alice gasped. “Hot enough to fry an egg? How miserable.”

  Johnathan nodded. “However, the people are marvelous. Though very poor, they will give you the last bit of bread if you came to their home hungry. And quite a few times several families tried, but I turned away the food. Who am I to take food from the mouths of babes?”

  The gaze Alice gave him brought forth a feeling of pride, for she held a look of admiration. Unfortunately, he could not take credit for his tales; that accolade belonged to his brother, as it was he who had spent many years there. Stephen had shared many stories with Johnathan, and now Johnathan took them on as his own. The deception did trouble him slightly; however, winning this woman over was of the utmost importance. In all honesty, each time he used such stories to win over a woman, it became that much easier in the telling. And for whatever reason, women could not resist the soft-hearted man.

  The idea that Johnathan was a soft-hearted man was a ridiculous one, of course. One might have said he leaned more toward that man before, but he had spent years strengthening himself against the wiles of all women to become the man he was today. They did not deserve to see the real him, for when they did, they only used him and left him broken and weak. No, it was his turn to do unto women what they had done unto him.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked, having missed what Miss Huntington had said.

  “Will you return to Africa at some point?”

  Johnathan looked down at the woman. Of all the times the opportunity had risen for them to interact, not once had she shown any interest in what he had to say. However, today was different somehow. Not that he blamed her, of course. He did not make it easy. However, having her look up at him with such intense interest was a bit unsettling. Would convincing this woman to marry him be worth what he would get in return? Would he be able to contend with her falling in love with him? What would happen to the many women with whom he shared his bed? Not for their well-being, of course, did he ask himself this question but rather for his. Could he confine himself to bedding only one woman? He highly doubted it, and certainly not one as austere as Miss Huntington.

  Then he considered the business arrangement he and Mr. Huntington had negotiated and realized that, yes, it would be well worth it. In the end, if she believed his untruths, it would make no difference once they were married. Nor did it matter if she loved him. He would continue his life as it was now. If she did not like it, then she would have to deal with that problem herself, for he had nothing to do with it whatsoever.

  “I believe I will,” he replied, now that he had repositioned his feelings to where they belonged. “However, my business keeps me quite busy here. Who knows what the future will hold?”

  Miss Huntington sighed heavily. “Who, indeed?”

  The sound of her breath sent a tingle down his spine, and he wished only to walk over to one of the many low stone walls that surrounded the flowerbeds and kick it, if only to rid himself of the stirring he felt in areas he should not and to remind himself of his ultimate goal.

  Which did not include an entanglement of the heart.

  ***

  Twice that week, Lord Blackmoore came calling, and Alice found herself enjoying his company. Perhaps the gossipmongers had been wrong; perhaps he was a decent man who was misunderstood. It would not be the first time information had made its rounds only to be found to be false. Just last month a rumor made its rounds concerning one Duke of Shamesly, who was also called the Duke of Shame, was seen accompanying a young woman who was not his wife. As it turned out, the young woman was a sister everyone had forgotten due to the fact that she had been living in South America since she ran off with a young barber. Apparently, for years she had been ostracized by the family; however, after her young barber, who no longer was young, died from some sort of attack, the widow had returned to the family. Of course, then the gossip turned to the fact the Duke had allowed her to return, but it was soon chalked up to the fact that the Duke had caused the family more shame than his sister ever could.

  Alice’s mother continued to accompany them on their walks through the garden or stayed with them as they chatted in the drawing room in an attempt to keep any and all opportunities for unsavory stories to be told about the time Alice spent with the Earl of Lidenburg.

  Another week later, Lord Blackmoore called in and they took their typical route down the garden path. As they rounded a narrow corner, Lord Blackmoore stopped suddenly and Alice found herself in his arms. Their eyes met for only a second, but the intensity of that stare was such that Alice could not deny that the tides had turned on her heart.

  “My Lord,” she said breathlessly, “I-I am sorry for finding myself in this predicament.” She could feel her heart beating so hard the Earl certainly had to have felt it.

  “I do not mind,” he said in a smooth voice that only made her breathing more difficult and her heart to thump against her chest. Her mother had yet to turn the corner, and Alice knew that if she found them in this position, she would fall over in a fit, but Alice could not pull herself away from him. All she wanted was to have him lean in and kiss her.

  His head came forward and his eyes fluttered as she, too, closed her eyes. She could feel the heat from his breath on her lips when a voice called out.

  “Alice? Where have you gone?”

  Lord Blackmoore pushed Alice away just as Alice’s mother came around the corner. “I believe this flower here is called a columbine, is it not?” he said as if they had been deep in discussion just moments before.

  “Y-yes, it is,” Alice managed to say. Then she turned to her mother. “We are just here,” she told her. “I did not realize you were not with us.”

  Rather than seem concerned, Mrs. Huntington smiled broadly. “I had to chase away a rabbit in the peony bed again. He has been eating all of the buds before they are even allowed to open.” She clicked her tongue at the now absent rabbit. “I must ask Sherman to bring his sons to catch them once again. They did a wonderful job last summer and the boys were quite thankful for the coin they earned.” She sighed. “I do like helping those less fortunate than I anyway I can.”

  “An admirable trait,” Lord Blackmoore said. “Well, thank you, Miss Huntington, for yet another wonderful afternoon. I hope you are availa
ble again tomorrow.”

  “I believe that can be arranged.” She turned to Mrs. Huntington. “Mother?”

  “But of course,” the woman replied. “We look forward to your visits, do we not, my dear?”

  Alice shrugged. “I suppose we do,” she replied, though she could not wait for them to spend time together the next day. Perhaps another opportunity would arise for them to share in a quick kiss. The thought made Alice stop short. What of Thomas? She thought. However, she pushed that thought away. He was not here and Lord Blackmoore was.

  “Very well,” Lord Blackmoore said. “Until tomorrow.” He bowed to both Alice and her mother and then walked back toward the house to meet once again with her father.

  “It seems you two have gotten close,” Mrs. Huntington said once the Earl was out of sight.

  “Sorry?” Alice said, fearful that her mother had seen their near kiss.

  “I saw how you watched him walk away,” her mother replied. “You most definitely have an interest in him.”

  Alice felt relief rush through her. “Perhaps,” she said as she began the slow walk back to the house. However, she knew the answer was more definite than a ‘perhaps’. The man was winning her heart, and she was finding it difficult to maintain ownership of it.

  ***

  Johnathan felt a liberation when he walked away from the women in the garden. Having Miss Huntington in his arms had brought on old feelings he had not experienced for a very long time, and he felt relief when Mrs. Huntington walked around the corner, although he was glad she had called out to them first. Had she caught them in the embrace, who knew what would have transpired?

  Mr. Huntington requested he and Johnathan meet once a week at the least, and Johnathon dreaded the meetings each time. Somehow, deep inside, the idea of using Miss Huntington as a pawn in their arrangement left him with an unsettling feeling each passing week, and that only made him more aggravated when he met with her father.

  “What of the Pembroke connection?” Mr. Huntington asked.

  “What of it?” Johnathan asked as he attempted to rein in his thoughts, which were still on a woman with green eyes and bright red hair. How he wished he could have had that same opportunity to hold her that day she fell in the flower bed, for it had been the first time he saw how beautiful she truly was.

  He shook his head. What had gotten into him? He had bedded many women as beautiful, if not more so, than Miss Huntington. So, why was he acting the lovesick youngster when he simply thought of the woman? He had to get his head back into the true reason he was courting her in the first place. He took a deep breath and pushed her from his mind.

  Mr. Huntington sighed. “If you do not set up a meeting with Mr. Baines before putting in your first order, you will find that he will be less than willing to work with you. The Welsh can be a fickle people, as I am sure you must know.”

  “Yes, yes, I have all of that in hand,” Johnathan replied. He downed the last of his brandy, already sick to death of this man. And his daughter for that matter now that he had reined in whatever it was that had tried to escape during their stroll, and once he again felt in control. “I do wonder how I survived before doing business with you.”

  Mr. Huntington laughed. “I wonder the same.” Apparently, the man had missed the sarcasm behind Johnathan’s words, which only irritated Johnathan even more. It was bad enough that the daughter intrigued him with her intelligence and hidden beauty; dealing with the father brought on the exact opposite effect. Where Miss Huntington could be entertaining, Johnathan feared where his lapse in judgment would send him after making such an asinine agreement with her father.

  “Will you return again next week?” Mr. Huntington asked.

  “I believe I will.”

  The man slapped his hand on the arm of his chair. “Wonderful! You will have that girl under your thumb soon enough,” the man replied with a broad smile.

  “I believe it will be much sooner,” Johnathan said, his voice triumphant. “Perhaps we will even be closing our deal next week.”

  “That soon?” Mr. Huntington said with astonishment as he shook his head. “I did not think it possible.”

  Johnathan laughed. “You, sir, have yet to see me at work. This undertaking was not much of a challenge. Just you wait until you see what I can do with…”

  A crashing sound outside the door caught both men’s attention. “What was that?” Mr. Huntington pulled himself from the chair. “Well?” he shouted at the doorway. When no one responded, he went and threw the door open, but the hall was empty, except for a broken vase that lay on the floor beside a gleaming wooden table. “Gertrude!”

  A heavyset woman came running down the hallway. “Yes, Mr. Huntington?” she said breathlessly as she held her ample side as if in pain.

  He pointed to the broken vase. “Clean up this mess. Did you see who did this?”

  “No, sir,” the woman replied as she looked down at the floor. “I was in the library dustin’.”

  Mr. Huntington let out a heavy sigh. “Well, see to it. I’ll deal with the culprit later.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gertrude said with a quick curtsy. Then she ran through a swinging door Johnathan suspected led to the kitchen and returned with a broom in hand within seconds.

  Mr. Huntington shut the door to the sounds of the broom moving the broken pottery on the floor and shook his head. “No one will come forward, you just wait and see. Then I will have to threaten payment from every servant on duty today to cover the cost of the vase to get someone to confess. Why can people not simply come forward in the beginning and be honest?”

  If this was how the man ran his household, what would it be like working with him once their agreement was enacted? The thought only intensified Johnathan’s disgust for the man. Yet, as his thoughts went back to Miss Huntington and the business holdings he would gain, a smile crossed his lips. At least the reward for his misery would be worth it.

  Chapter Nine

  Alice ran as silently as she could from the horridness she had heard from her father’s study. She had come down to collect a book from the drawing room to take back to her room when she overheard voices in the study. She had not meant to eavesdrop, but the door was ajar and she found herself unable to close her ears to the words they said.

  Had she heard correctly? How could she have been so foolish? She had told herself many times during the time she and Lord Blackmoore had spent together that he was a rouge and a scoundrel and that she should do everything in her power to keep away from him.

  There was no doubt she had done this deed to herself. When she should have been listening to her mind, she allowed her heart to take control. Well, never again! She was tired of men feeling as if they could control every part of her life.

  As she looked out onto the garden, her eyes filled with tears, she caught sight of her mother strolling slowly past the beds, stopping periodically to pluck a dead flower from a plant. The woman was unhappy, that much was clear, for whenever she thought no one was watching, she stared out the window or walked along the path as she did now, a sadness to her eyes that clenched at Alice’s heart. How could the woman insist that her daughter marry when she herself was so miserable? It made little sense to Alice.

  As unhappy as her mother was, Alice wondered about her own sensibilities. Was she as unhappy as her mother? She did not feel as such, but would she become so if she were to marry, especially a man the likes of Lord Blackmoore?

  Her mind returned to Thomas as it often did without calling the thoughts forward.

  “You are strong and yet defiant! Wild as the red hair that flows around you,” Thomas had said with a smile one day when she went to visit him in the stables. Her mother would have been apoplectic if she knew Alice spent a good amount of time talking with the young man who had stolen her heart, but Alice found it difficult to keep her heart under control.

  “So, you do like my hair?” she replied in feigned shock.

  He laughed. “Of course, I do.” He
moved in close to her and wrapped his arms around her. “Like everything else about you, it is beautiful,” he whispered and then moments later their lips met with their first kiss. And what a kiss it was, the sensations strong, her heart filling with even more love.

  “One day, I will marry you, Miss Alice,” he said, “and we will run away together to a far-off place where we can live the rest of our days in each other’s arms.”

  “Oh? And what kind of woman will I be in this far-off place?”

  He laughed and returned to shoeing the horse. “Be who you are. Adventurous, daring, kind. And yet continue always to make me laugh. That is who you are.”

  Alice wiped the lone tear from her eye and pushed away the thoughts. “You are right, Thomas, as you always are,” she whispered. Then taking a deep breath she let it out slowly. The past had been like a blur as the chain around her heart had loosened. Now, however, as she had predicted in the beginning, it lay shattered with the vase that had fallen in the hallway outside the study. What irony it was that she should knock over something naturally when she spent so much time doing such acts for so long intentionally.

  It was at that moment that she realized that she had become a woman of little aspiration. Her life followed a predictable pattern, one that even the most dimwitted could achieve. Where had her desire for adventure gone? Where was her love of life?

  The answer came to her at such high velocity, it almost knocked her back. It had gone away with Thomas the day he had left her behind.

  She swiped at her cheeks and straightened her back. “Well, no more,” she said to the empty room. Some things were destined by fate, but others were in her control. No more would she allow her parents to lead her life, nor would that wretch of an earl, for that matter. She was her own woman, and she would once again embrace that bold and daring woman who had hidden herself away for too many years.