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

by Charlotte Stone

  She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but in the end, she only nodded, climbing into the barouche without a word.

  On the entire silent ride back, Sam felt numb and too hot by turns. Had he mistaken everything? Could he have?"

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  9

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  CHAPTER NINE

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  As she waited for night to fall and for the servants in the house to fall into bed, Marilee couldn't stop thinking about her conversation with Sam.

  Why did he have to say all of that? Why couldn't he just let things be as they were?

  She knew why, of course. At the bottom of all of it, the iciness, the loneliness, the isolation, Sam was an honest man. If a thing was in his heart, he wanted to speak it, and she had a feeling that what was in his heart lived within hers as well.

  It wasn't as if she hadn't thought about it. Everything would change when she turned twenty-four in March. When that happened, she would be his equal finally, with nothing to fear.

  However, the last few years had taught her that she had a great deal to fear from men of rank, even the ones who were meant to have her best interests at heart, and even as she wanted to tell him the truth, she realized that she couldn't.

  I can tell him in March, when there is nothing left to fear. That will be better, won't it? To stand as equals, to know that we are equals.

  She knew that it was fear, plain and simple. A code bound together all men of noble blood, and she was not enough of a fool to think that Sam's regard might be stronger than that bond.

  Which was why she had to leave.

  The snow that had been threatening to fall for the last few weeks had finally begun around Huntingdon. It would obscure her tracks as she fled. She wondered if Sam would look for her, and with a flinch, she realized he almost certainly would.

  Just another few months. Then I will be back, and everything will be different.

  That same irritating small voice in her head called her a coward. If she could tell him March, she could surely tell him now, but she pushed it away again.

  If watching Mother die taught me nothing at all, it should have taught me not to bet until I had all the cards in my hands. I refuse to gamble from a place of weakness. Never again!

  It was almost one when the house had been silent long enough to suit her. With a pang, she realized that she knew Huntingdon now, knew it nearly as well as she knew her family's home in London. She knew the step of the housekeeper, Mrs. Albertson, as she did her final rounds, she knew the step of the watchman as he patrolled the house through the night, and the giggle of the most junior maids first thing in the morning. It was home when her own home had turned strange and dangerous. She felt a deep pang to be leaving it, for all that she had only known it for a short while.

  Stop being such a little ninny. If all goes well, and there is no reason to think it won't, I may be back here in just a few months.

  But there was a nagging part of her that thought it might not be the same, and her heart beat a little faster.

  Earlier in the day, she had packed up her bag with a few of the things Sam had so thoughtfully provided her. She could make her way to Dunsley, the small town closest to Huntingdon. From there, she could catch the early mail coach as it came through. It was too early for her to be in Hull to catch Neptune's Chariot, but it didn't matter. She couldn't stay here any longer, not after what had happened at the quarry. She needed to get to Hull, and after that, perhaps she could stay at an inn for a short while.

  After a cautious peek into the hall, Marilee made her way silently down the corridor, avoiding the bright patches of moonlight cast by the tall windows, and eventually making her way to the drive that led to the main road.

  She resisted the urge to look back at the manor, feeling a little like Lot's wife as she made her way down the track. The snow was falling faster now, and she noted with a grim satisfaction that it would cover up her tracks very well. It was a long walk to Dunsley, some ten miles, perhaps, but she knew that if she kept going, if she put one foot in front of the other, she would get there sooner or later. She set off down the path with a resolute step, refusing to think about what was behind her.

  The snow also managed to muffle a great many sounds around her. It took her a long time to note the sounds of hoofbeats, long past the time when noticing might have done her some good. As it was, she heard them, realized that they were coming from the road ahead of her, and was just realizing that the ditches on either side were too deep for her to jump down in them when Sam came into sight.

  In the back of her mind, Marilee noted that he was riding Briseis, remembering how good it had felt to be snuggled up against him, how very happy she had felt to be with him that day.

  Marilee's first instinct was to run. She couldn't bear the idea of talking with Sam when he caught her, but there was nowhere to run, absolutely no way for her to outpace Briseis even if there were.

  She would have to tell Sam what she was doing, but at the last moment, her nerve broke. She didn't know where she was going or what she was doing, but she scurried to the side of the road, where the solid packed dirt turned into a steep incline that, on normal days, would drain water.

  "Marilee, what in the hell are you doing out here?"

  She started to answer him, but just as she began to do so, her heel slipped, and a small part of the embankment crumbled out from underneath her. With a startled squeak of fear, she started to throw herself forward, but gravity got the better of her. Her arms pinwheeling, she tumbled backward into the ditch as Sam shouted her name again.

  Oh, God. After everything I have done and all the risks I have taken, I am going to die in a snowy ditch in Yorkshire.

  She hit the ground with enough force to knock the breath right out of her lungs, and for a moment, her head exploded with a bright shower of sparks that stunned her. She lay in the frigid mud gasping for what felt like an eternity, and she had to fight back tears for a few moments. She’d had worse moments in her life, but this one was in the top ten, at the very least.

  Then, like some kind of miracle, she felt strong arms around her. Sam was helping her sit up, and for a miracle, his voice was gentle.

  "It's all right, darling. Can you sit up for me? Does your head hurt too much?"

  "Yes, of course, I can sit up, Sam, and I suppose it hurts a little? Less bad than it could be though."

  "Well, there's a mercy. All right, love, I'm going to lift you up, all right?"

  At first, she thought he was just going to help her to her feet, but then, with barely more than a breath, he had lifted her into his arms.

  "Sam!"

  "Shush. If you just let me do what I need to do, I swear we will be back at Huntingdon and dry before you know it."

  She was still so addled from the fall that his words startled the truth out of her.

  "But I was running away from Huntingdon!"

  Sam uttered a dry chuckle that had a little bit of menace in it. "I had guessed you were. No matter what you are thinking, however, you are not going anywhere tonight."

  Moving slowly and carefully through the snow, which was thickening by the moment, Sam scaled the embankment with her in his arms. Despite the precariousness of their situation and the fact that she had been trying to sneak out of his manor, Marilee had never felt safer. She clung to him, shutting her eyes tight until he was back on solid ground.

  "I'm going to put you down, all right?"

  For a moment, she wanted to protest. She didn't want him to put her down, not even a little, but she nodded, not letting her go until she was steady on her feet.

  When Marilee was standing independently, Sam looked down at her, arms crossed over his broad chest.

  "Tell me where you were going."

  The first thing that came to her was to deny him, but instead, she shook her head
, giving in with a soft sigh.

  "I was going to town to catch the Royal Mail coach."

  "I see. You were trying to get to town, I believe?"

  "Yes."

  "You're not from here. I suppose it looks like a short distance on the map, but it is more than fifteen miles. It might be more if the main road is blocked off and you have to circle around."

  Marilee couldn't hide her dismay at his words. She had prepared herself for a long walk, but she hadn't thought it would be anything like that.

  "And, of course, even going a quarter of that distance would be impossible on an injured ankle, wouldn't it?"

  Marilee winced a little, staying silent, but Sam took her by the arm. He didn't hurt her, but his hand on her shoulder was heavy and completely undeniable.

  "Isn't it?"

  "It is. Sam, I am so, so sorry."

  "Save it. Come on. I'm putting you on Briseis."

  She was too miserable, tired, and sore to offer much of a fight. There was no way she was getting to town tonight, and the snow was coming down thicker all the time. As Sam lifted her up on the patient Briseis’ back, she felt a pang when she thought of how thrilled and happy they had been when they'd last done this.

  The terrible thing was how similar it was, despite her misery, despite Sam's nearly palpable fury. When he mounted up behind her, she still felt the unbearable urge to lean back against him. Instead, out of respect for both their feelings, she tried to stay as upright as she could, letting herself touch him as little as possible.

  However, as Sam touched Briseis to urge her onward, and as the mare started up a long and easy trot, she found herself leaning back against Sam even as she tried not to.

  "For God's sake, Marilee."

  She started to apologize again for touching him when, with the hand not holding the reins, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her more firmly against him. The shock of warmth from his body shocked her. For some reason, it nearly made her cry.

  "Sam?"

  "I can't abide the thought of you falling and breaking your head. Now be quiet."

  She cringed from the harshness of his tone, but she knew she needed to brace herself. There would be consequences for the events that had transpired this night, and they would hardly be pleasant ones.

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  10

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  CHAPTER TEN

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  Sam paced in the library, glaring at the weak and pale sun just now beginning to edge over the horizon. He thought about reaching for the cut-glass bottles on the shelf, not to become drunk or to render himself insensible, only to take the edge off things for a little while.

  He shook the thought away, because he suspected that whatever came next would require all his wits. He told himself that he would speak to Marilee before he came to any conclusions, that he would hear her side of things. It was the only right thing he could do, but a part of him said he was a fool for doing so.

  If she wants to get on the damn coach so much, I should let her. Hell, that's what I was going to do anyway, wasn't it?

  That all made sense when he put it like that, but the truth of the matter was that things had changed in the last few weeks. Marilee wasn't just a strange guest who had happened into his world, and he was willing to bet she did not think of him as a reluctant host either. There were too many questions to answer, too many variables, and he was nearly desperate to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  That jeering voice popped into his head again, the one born a few nights before he left London for good and which had become a constant and infuriating companion ever since.

  As you wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt? As you wanted to hear her side of things.

  If there had been a glass in his hand just then, he would have shattered it in the fireplace. As it was, he merely clenched his fists tightly and kept on pacing.

  After some interminable period, there was a gentle knock at the door, and when Sam barked for the knocker to enter, the doctor appeared. He looked slightly put out from being called out of bed again, but when he addressed Sam, it was with courtesy.

  "She is a little bruised, my lord, and she has sustained a few cuts and scrapes from her tumble down the bank, but overall, she is in good condition. She does not seem addled, and when I hold a candle to her eyes, her pupils are the same size and shape. She is a strong young woman and will likely suffer no harm from tonight's adventures, though I do wonder at how very accident prone the young lady seems to be."

  Sam nodded, letting out an anxious breath he was not even quite aware that he was holding. He braced himself.

  "And the matter I asked you to look at?"

  The doctor shot him a quizzical look, and Sam schooled his features to stern indifference. As long as the doctor did not go flapping his gums through the county, he didn't give a goddamn what he thought.

  "Her feet and ankles are in perfect health, my lord. All the contusions she sustained were from this evening."

  "Thank you. The housekeeper will see to your payment."

  The doctor left quietly, perhaps sensing the earl's smoldering mood, and now Sam was left with a pile of facts he couldn't put together. He didn't know anything about Marilee, no matter what it felt like, and that rankled. He had opened his home to her, been franker with her than he had been with anyone in years, and somehow, despite all that, he simply did not know her.

  Deep in his heart, feelings simmered for her that were unlike anything he had ever felt before, but he shut them up tightly. Just yesterday, he had been utterly intoxicated with her, overcome with the feeling of being with her no matter what.

  Today... he still felt that way, and if Sam were going to be honest with himself, that frightened him badly. The last time something like this had happened, the love had simply gone out inside him, like a candle flame someone had blown out. Now, he was dreadfully afraid that it was a great deal more like a bonfire, and there would be no easy way to extinguish it.

  I need to go talk to her. There's nothing else to be done. Speak with her, find out what the truth at the bottom of all of this is.

  He went to the door, ready to throw it open and demand that Marilee speak with him, but when he did so, he found the object of all his wrought feelings just beyond the portal, her hand up to knock.

  She yelped, stumbling back, and instinctively, Sam reached for her, holding her until she steadied. She pulled back, murmuring her thanks, and it occurred to Sam that she looked different. It took him a moment to realize it was because she wasn't using her crutch, which she had never needed, and he scowled.

  Marilee took a step back as if startled by his expression, but then she stepped forward again, her chin up and her spine straight. God, but she was beautiful, but Sam refused to think of that right now, not when her beauty could be used against him so easily.

  "I know it is early, but I had a feeling you would not be in bed yet. May I speak to you, Sam?"

  "Of course."

  She settled uneasily in one of the wing chairs by the banked hearth fire, and Sam stood leaning on the mantel. He felt exhausted, but a simmering anger kept him on his feet. When he only watched her silently, Marilee took a deep breath, knotting her hands together in front of her.

  "First... I want to say that I am sorry. I deceived you. I told you that my ankle would keep me from traveling for a while so that I could stay at your home."

  Sam snorted. "As I recall, you did not even have to say that much. You simply told me that your ankle was hurt, and I offered the rest. It was foolish of me."

  She winced at his careless words. "Not foolish, never foolish, my lord."

  Hearing her use his title like that sent a deep pang through him. He wanted to shout at her and tell her to stop being so ridiculous, but he stayed silent.

  "I know that I have hurt you, and I am... so, so sorry for
that. Someday very soon, I hope to make it up to you."

  "How?"

  She blinked at him. "I beg your pardon?"

  "How do you think you are going to make it up to me, Marilee? Because God as my witness, I have no clue what you intend."

  "Well…"

  "Are you going to come back with horses from some distant inherited stud farm? Are you an heiress whose ship needs to come in? Are you an opera singer prepared to give a stunning performance on the Continent? What is it?"