Diana Sensational Spinster's Society (The Spinster’s Society) (A Regency Romance Book)

by Charlotte Stone

  She knew what he would say next, and still wasn’t prepared.

  “Where do you bloom, Diana?”

  The answer came just as simply as his question about her dearest friend, but she couldn’t say it. The words burned in her throat and brought tears to her eyes. She could never be the bluebell. She’d never bloom again. Her future was like the wasteland of endless winter.

  And she instantly hated Frank for showing her this beautiful place, when she was so ugly inside.

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  He saw that Diana was working through her emotions, but held himself back from speaking or from gathering her in his arms, but her tears might as well have been nails, with the way they raked across his heart. He loathed every one of them.

  And then she turned her pale blue gaze his way. Her irises were dulled by the redness that covered the white. Her face was strained with tears. She blushed from anguish and her brows lowered as her look changed into something very close to betrayal.

  She stood.

  He rose as well, grabbing her arm before she could run away. He felt something touch his cheek and realized light rain had come upon them, but he wasn’t ready to go inside. “What answer came to you?”

  She didn’t answer, just pressed her lips together and continued to glare at him. She tried to yank her arm from his hold, but he held firm.

  “You thought of something. I know you did.”

  “Let me go!” The plea came out far more deranged and desperate than he thought it should have.

  He knew what the answer was, but he needed to hear her say it, needed her to know for herself.

  The rain fell more quickly, but she barely noticed. She turned to her bodyguard, looking desperate.

  Hit started their way, but Frank held up a hand and the man stopped, still a good pace away. “Don’t!”

  He could tell the man was conflicted, struggling to know what the right thing to do was. Then he made his decision and started toward them again. He’d already failed Diana once. Frank understood that, but Hit didn’t understand how critical this moment was.

  Frank gathered Diana in his arms and made her face him. “Where do you bloom, Diana? Where is home for you?”

  She wept loudly as the winds picked up, the rain falling like a sheet now. He was blinded by the weather but could still feel her in his arms. She was cold, but he suspected that a different cold lived deeper inside.

  He pulled her closer and rested his cheek against hers. His spoke directly in her ear. “Where do you bloom, strong Diana, goddess of the hunt and moon?”

  She pulled in a breath and leaned back to look at his face, bewilderment in her eyes.

  Hit’s hand landed on his shoulder, and Frank’s body reacted. He set Diana aside before turning to Hit. The bodyguard seemed prepared and threw the first punch. Frank blocked with an arm. Soaked by the rain, the contact made a slapping noise. Frank used his other arm and struck the man in the shoulder; the move stunning Hit more than it was meant to hurt him.

  Diana gasped from behind them, but he didn’t turned to look at her. He knew better.

  Instead, Frank held up his hands in surrender. He didn’t want to fight. “Give me five minutes.”

  Hit narrowed his gaze and growled in reply, then charged.

  Frank spun, taking them away from Diana as he dodged one hit after another, moving left and then right, as Hit’s powerful arms came toward him.

  He heard Diana shout as lightning stuck from overhead, but couldn’t hear what she said. Frank was dealing with Hit’s own anger. He’d failed Diana once, and was unwilling to do so again.

  Frank eventually planted his feet against the grass and bluebells and prepared to engage.

  Hit’s punch clipped Frank’s chin, but left his middle open. Frank took advantage, striking twice in rapid succession.

  The man grunted, but, likely used to being struck, didn’t slow. His next hit caught Frank in the hip, and a foot went toward his knee, but he spun out before any true damage could be done. Still, there was pain, but he breathed through it. Hit may have been concerned for Diana physically, but Frank fought for her mental state and he’d not leave— not back down— until he’d done everything he could to see her whole.

  Hit came toward him again, but instead of going for another blow, he used all his strength, grabbed Frank, and rushed him back. Frank braced and felt his back hit a tree before his head rocked back. Frank became lightheaded as his mind tried to right itself.

  Hit grabbed his throat.

  “Stop this!” Diana rushed over, dragging her skirt as she crossed to them.

  Frank couldn’t tell if she were weeping, or it were simply the rain. She looked more scared than anything else. He hated her fear but knew he’d be needing air soon, if he planned to do anything about it.

  He lifted his knee, but Hit kept his body out of reach. This was obviously not his first time holding a man this way.

  Frank’s pulse quickened, but instead of concentrating on what he couldn’t do, like breathe, or reach Hit with his arms and legs, he thought of what he could.

  The tree was thin. Frank managed to turn his body just enough, then lifted his arm and brought it down over Hit’s. He leaned forward to get a better grip, and Frank used all his strength to hit him with his elbow.

  Hit released him and fell to the forest ground. Rain immediately washed the blood away from his face, causing it to run off the sides.

  Frank used the tree to keep himself upright and pulled in long breaths. Had this been an alley in London and Hit hadn’t been blinded by anger, it might have been Frank lying in the bed of bluebells.

  From the corner of his eye, he noticed Diana watched him with more wariness than he liked.

  He pushed himself off the tree and felt the pain in his side he’d previously not allowed himself to feel. He moved toward Hit but was stopped by Diana’s hand.

  “Don’t kill him.” Her eyes were wide and he saw she was still weeping.

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  10

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  CHAPTER TEN

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  Frank glared at Diana. “I’m not going to kill him.” His throat hurt, but he decided to push on nonetheless. “Where do you bloom, Diana?” He didn’t wait for her reply. He needed to make sure the rain didn’t drown Hit. He gathered the man over his shoulder, and the pain in his hip became menacing. Getting Hit off the ground took work.

  Diana came over to help, piling Hit’s limbs over Frank’s back so the man could be dragged back toward the house.

  Frank started in that direction and cursed. He should have simply picked the damned flowers like Diana had suggested. With the pain, the wet ground, and Hit’s weight, the journey toward the house would take forever.

  He realized then that Diana was speaking but could barely hear her over the storm and his own thoughts. “What?”

  “How did you take down Hit?”

  He frowned at her. “I’m not speaking to you until you answer my question.”

  “Frank!”

  He didn’t answer. He knew he was being childish, but the man’s weight was causing a headache. He’d be bruised tomorrow.

  “No one takes down Hit,” she said a few minutes later. She walked closer and continued to stare at him as though he’d grown wings.

  How he wished he could fly at that moment. He needed to get away from her and though he couldn’t understand why, he knew it was necessary. “Go to the house and tell them Hit has been injured and to expect him.”

  She ran ahead without a word, and he sighed in relief.

  Hit groaned. He was coming to, but Frank would go on until the man said otherwise.

  Diana returned far sooner than he’d have liked.

  She stilled a few feet before reaching him and caught his eyes. Her hair was down around her shoulders. The rain had likely made the strands too heavy. They f
ell in disarray down to her waist. She’d never looked more like a goddess than at that moment, with the forest as her background and her clothes nearly transparent, the rain causing them to stick to her lithe form.

  He moved past her, but she remained by his side until they reached the house and came through the kitchen door.

  Mr. Lemon and Michael took Hit and carried him to his room.

  In the dim space, the cook turned to the hearth to heat tea, while the maid brought them blankets before taking the others and heading in the direction Hit had gone.

  Frank wrapped the blanket around himself, avoiding Diana’s eyes.

  The cook presented them both with tea, placing it on the small table in the corner. “I’ll take the rest up to Hit.” She took a tray and left.

  Frank decided it time to rest, himself, and started for the table with a slight limp.

  Diana’s touch paused him. Her arms went around his waist in an effort to help him sit down, but he fell nonetheless. He grabbed her to keep her from being injured, and she came down on him, falling into his lap.

  Thunder shook the house and the rhythm of the rain went on, but Frank was lost in her eyes. Her small weight added to his hip pain, but he was damned if he would tell her to move. Her scent surrounded him, amplified by the rain that clung to her with the growing heat of her body.

  Her hands moved to rest on his shoulders and he thought she’d push away then.

  Her mouth was only an inch or two from his, her breath brushing his lips with every exhalation. He remained still even as his body stirred, and he realized why he’d needed to get away from her.

  The fight had caused great amounts of anxiety, his blood burned through his body at a rapid pace, and he wanted to do something with her that was very much forbidden him.

  He noticed the faint scar on her cheek. She’d been hurt by someone just weeks ago. He had no right to touch her. He would not be another monster in her life.

  He let her go. “Diana…”

  She leaned closer, and he closed his eyes.

  Her kiss was soft, even as he could feel her heart racing where her chest rested against his own.

  He kept his mouth still. Tried. But she wouldn’t stop. “Diana.”

  Her tongue slipped between his parted lips, and he groaned before leaning forward, even as his hands tightened on the chair’s sides.

  This wasn’t right, and he was a villain for allowing it. She didn’t know what she was doing. She’d confessed to not knowing what she wanted to do with her life.

  He pulled away. “Where do you feel at home, Diana?”

  She stilled. Her eyes were only half open, her face no longer flushed with anguish but pure desire. That look hit him square between his thighs.

  “On stage,” she whispered. “When I dance.” She took his mouth again, capturing him before climbing the rest of the way onto his lap. She spread her thighs on either side of him, and Frank shook with an all-powerful need to release his manhood, throw up her sodden skirts, and bury himself where he knew he’d feel most at home. The need was blinding and all consuming.

  And she knew what she was doing. This creature, this goddess, was no maiden.

  That should have cooled his arousal. Gentlemen were supposed to be drawn to a gently-bred woman, but Frank wanted, needed his powerful deity.

  She settled her warmest place against his ever-hardening one and rocked.

  He caught her hips.

  She whimpered.

  He pulled her closer, no longer able to think of anything but being inside of her.

  Her hands left his shoulders and trailed down his shirt, never stopping her journey to what she wanted most.

  She grabbed his shaft through his breeches.

  “Goddess,” he hissed.

  She moaned. “Call me that again.”

  He’d call her whatever she wanted, but he needed to keep her skin upon him. His hands moved under her skirts, past her stockings and garter, until he was touching cool skin. “Goddess,” he whispered.

  She smiled and kissed him again.

  Frank felt as though he were no longer himself. It was as though he’d become another man within her grasp, incoherent and doltish to anything and anyone that wasn’t her.

  “You likely need more tea,” the cook said, announcing her presence. “Oh, my!”

  Frank stood, taking Diana with him, and straightened her skirts before turning to limp from the room.

  Hit no longer slowed his moves, yet guilt lay heavy upon him now. The pain in his hip had returned.

  “You don’t have to leave. We can do as we please.” Diana had followed him.

  He turned to her right before the stairs. “Diana...”

  She wrapped her arms around him and pressed against him. She was smiling and didn’t look at all embarrassed by what had taken place in the kitchen, while Frank wondered if Bancroft would at least allow him a proper burial, after he killed hm. “I love the way you say my name. Do you truly think me a goddess?” The flirtation in her eyes was clouded by doubt.

  He tried to become professional once more, even as his mind was addled by her continued touch. Boundaries had been more than crossed. They didn’t exist anymore. “Diana, you’re stronger than you know. You’re most at home when you dance. You should be dancing.”

  That got him freed of her arms and she took a step back. “I can’t.” She touched his shoulders. “Let’s not speak of it anymore.” Her gaze darkened as she leaned in to him again.

  But Frank was becoming more aware of just how “off” everything felt about this moment. He gripped her shoulder with one hand and stepped away. “Diana, I watched you run to and from the house. I’m sure with some practice you’ll be ready to perform once more.”

  Her eyes narrowed slowly. “Well, what if I don’t wish to pursue dancing anymore? What if I’ve new pursuits?” Her fingers trailed down to his belly again.

  He reached out and grabbed her hands while holding her eyes. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “I know exactly what I’m doing.” She sounded so confident. He was almost unwilling to break it.

  But he had to.

  “No, you don’t. This… attraction you feel for me is only because I rescued you.”

  She stilled as if thinking about it, and then shook her head. “No.”

  “Yes.” He tightened his hands. “Diana, you’ve been hurt and more than likely he… touched you.”

  She pulled away then, yanking from his hold. “How dare you!”

  He did dare, though he didn’t like himself very much. He’d wanted this process to be gentle, but hadn’t realized the danger her beauty placed on his judgement. “You’re turning to me for comfort, because of what the Earl of Dahl—”

  She gasped and her face crumbled. Had no one said the man’s name around her?

  He grimaced but went on. “You trust me to not hurt you, but in fact, you’re using me.”

  Tears built in her eyes, and she turned away. “Forget it.”

  He followed, limping. “You said the stage was your home. Home is usually where one feels the most comfortable. Dancing was your comfort, but you’re turning away from it. Why?”

  “Go away,” she growled before running up the stairs.

  He followed.

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  11

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  CHAPTER ELEVEN

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  Diana wanted to throw something at Frank. He knew he was hurting her, and she didn’t understand why he continued to do so. Had she been wrong about him? Did he not care for her at all?

  And he’d claimed that she was using him.

  Using him like the earl… had used her.

  She wanted to do something terrible, something to herself, to him. She didn’t know. She was confused and lost.

  And she hated him for rejecting her. Why couldn’t h
e allow her to be happy? Just for a moment.

  Oh, god.

  She realized it then. She had been using him.