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

by Charlotte Stone

  "My lord, it's nothing like that."

  "Or perhaps your skills are of a different sort. You're obviously running away from something, and when I see a young woman running, usually there is a man chasing. Is he a lover? Are you a star of the demimonde? God, have I had a courtesan living under my roof for the last few weeks and not had the wit to avail myself of her charms?"

  Sam crossed the floor to drag Marilee to her feet. There was still an instant pang of panic at seeing her unsteady without her crutch, and then that panic turned to sheer rage at what she had done to him, what he had allowed her to do to him.

  "Sam!"

  "God, but you have turned me inside and out."

  The kiss was brutal. There was no other word for it. His mouth was ravenous on hers, and it would have been an obscenity if she hadn't responded to him as she did. Instead of pushing him away, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, clinging to him and kissing him back. Her delectable curves pressed against him, and his body howled with need for hers.

  They were balancing on the edge of a deep precipice. One wrong movement, one unwise breath could blow them right off, and God only knew what would happen when they hit the ground.

  Sam didn't know what would have happened if there hadn't been a knock at the door. There was still enough wit left in them to spring apart. Marilee's face burned scarlet, and Sam knew he looked no better.

  "What is it?"

  A small junior maid edged the door open with a look of terror on her round face.

  "My lord, Cook would like to know if you would like breakfast soon."

  It felt as if concerns like breakfast came from another country, and under his searching gaze, she shrank back even farther. It was likely only the fear of losing her place that kept her from fleeing outright.

  "My lord, you are going to frighten the girl. Maisey, I do not think either of us are very interested in a proper breakfast, but perhaps she could do us up some bread and cheese, perhaps some jam, and have it sent up?"

  The maid fled with a grateful, “Yes, miss.”

  Marilee pulled back from Sam, shaking her head.

  "We're ridiculous."

  "On that, Marilee, at least we agree."

  "You shouldn't have said those things to me. That's horrible."

  "Tell me what to say instead. I may not be as unreasonable as you fear."

  She spun on him with narrowed eyes. "If you are reasonable, you are the first lord I have met who was. God, but everything that is happening now is happening because—"

  She choked off the words, shaking her head hard and wrapping her arms around her body. At that moment, she looked so small and vulnerable that Sam thought he would have forgiven her anything if she would only tell him what the matter was.

  "Because?"

  "Because... because this is none of your business, Sam. I will not tell you. Simply let it be. Let me go. If you will only give me passage to the Royal Mail coach stop, I will be gone."

  "I don't want that."

  She started to argue, and he shook his head. "Go to the window and tell me what you see."

  Frowning at him, she did what he said, and she gasped. The snow that had started when they were arguing on the road had only thickened. There was already at least a foot on the road, and there would likely be more than that by the time it was done.

  "Are we..."

  "We are not trapped, but there is a good chance the Royal Mail coach is. Like it or not, Marilee, you are here for a little longer at least. You might as well make the best of it."

  The look on her face was stricken, as if he had told her the sky would drop down on their heads tomorrow. Involuntarily, he reached out to touch a lock of dark hair that had freed itself from her plait.

  She flinched as if he had raised his hand to strike her and shook her head.

  "I can't... I won't..."

  Blindly, she walked out of the library, and without recourse to anything else, Sam let her.

  Goddamnit, Marilee, why won't you just tell me what's the matter?

  * * *

  11

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  CHAPTER ELEVEN

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  The revelation that she was trapped at Huntingdon for at least the time being terrified Marilee. If she missed the Neptune's Chariot, she had no idea whether there would be another ship sailing at this late date. The longer she stayed in England, the more likely it was that her stepfather and his brother would catch up with her, and when they did...

  She shivered.

  The last time she had felt so helpless was when her mother died and she realized she was under her stepfather's control.

  This must be what purgatory feels like.

  She didn't know what was going to happen. The snow was piling up outside, she stayed at Huntingdon because there was literally nowhere she could go, and Sam...

  She had tried to stop calling him by his Christian name, even in her head. It seemed to her as if she no longer deserved to do so after what they had gone through. However, taking the step backward and calling him by his proper title felt... simply wrong.

  After their confrontation in the library, she had thought she would simply avoid him. It had worked well the first two days. She stayed in her room, she had her meals set up, and when she ventured out at all to take the air, she was careful where she walked. He seemed to be willing to ignore her as well. Given how easily he had done it when they first met, she rather thought she would not see him unless he wished to be seen.

  That was all right with her, or at least, it should have been. She should have been grateful that she was allowed to stay in his home after she had betrayed his trust so very thoroughly. However, at the bottom of all of it was the fact that she missed him. Knowing he was nearby and suffering as she was suffering was almost too much. The only thing that kept her from going to him was the realization that there was really nothing to be done. She needed to continue as she was. Nothing could change until she turned twenty-four.

  Please, please, just have some faith in me. I swear, it will be different. It will all be different.

  Everything seemed like the season itself: frozen. Everything was still and silent, and even the servants of Huntingdon kept to themselves, passing quietly in the corridors when she saw them at all.

  Marilee almost wondered if she could pass the time until her twenty-fourth birthday at Huntingdon, completely silent and without a word from beyond or within. It was not an unattractive prospect, if Sam would allow it, and she spent the long hours of the dull winter afternoon wondering how to bring it up with him.

  What if I told you I could be an heiress if you simply let me stay here, hidden, until my birthday?

  Every time she tried to think of a plan, however, she came up against the terror of the truth, and she stopped again.

  Then a young maid appeared at her door with a note written on fine linen rag paper.

  "He asked me to deliver your response when you had it, miss."

  Marilee smiled ta the young maid distractedly and read the note.

  I am in the mood for company tonight. Will you come to the library and share a drink with me at eleven?

  It was unsigned, but there was only one person it could be.

  Marilee hesitated. The safest option was to simply decline. Even in London, this would have been a dangerous and impossible thing. A young unmarried girl going to drink with an earl; it was unheard of. But Huntingdon seemed to be a world all its own, with its own rules and its own ways.

  "Tell him I will be there."

  * * *

  Marilee thought wistfully of the fine dresses she had left at home in London. She had always been a challenge for the modistes to dress with her stunningly curvy figure, but she thought she had done all right. On the run, she had only what he had provided her, which was a rather demure gown in cream and mink-brown.

&nb
sp; I look more than a little like a parson's daughter, but I suppose it will have to do.

  She made her way to the library, and when she knocked, she was greeted at least kindlier than that poor maid had been that fateful morning.

  Sam was lounging in front of the fire, dressed casually in breeches, Cordovan leather shoes, shirt, and waistcoat. It struck her all over again how very handsome he was, and with the firelight gilding his blond hair, she thought again of Lucifer, the fairest of all the angels.

  "Shall I come sit by you?"

  "I would like nothing more, Marilee. You look beautiful tonight."

  "It was what I had, but thank you."

  She came to sit on the chair opposite his, and for several long moments, he simply watched her. From another man, it might have been simply predatory, but Sam's gaze fell on her with a certain gravity.

  "Why did you ask me to come here tonight, Sam?"

  She hadn't intended to speak, but Sam shrugged.

  "Because I wished to see you. Because I missed you. It is a flaw, of course, that will be corrected when you leave, and I have a choice about it, but for now, I do not see a need to correct it sooner. Unless you find being here in my company objectionable?"

  "Never."

  Sam smiled a little at that, and it was almost as if the last few days had never happened. That meant she could forget that savage kiss that had occurred the last time they were together here, but a small part of her absolutely refused to do that.

  "Good. I have too few friends to lose even one. I was thinking I could interest you in a drink tonight, and perhaps a game."

  "A game, Sam?"

  "Yes, one that I learned when I first came to London and was a little less wise. I am not sure it has a name. Are you interested?"

  Marilee knew the answer should be no, but the truth of the matter was that she was intensely curious. This was a kind of liberty she had never been allowed back home.

  "All right. Explain the game to me."

  "The person who starts says two things about themselves. One of the things should be a lie, and the other should be the truth. The other players guess which is the lie and which is the truth, and those who guess wrong must take a drink. Simple enough, yes?"

  "Yes. But... is this the best game for us to be playing? Given our histories, let's say?"

  Sam grinned, and she could feel a warmth flow through her when she saw it. Dear God, so this was how Lucifer had convinced a third of Heaven's host to follow him in rebellion.

  "I think it will be fine. Are you still game?"

  "Yes. Yes, I am."

  "Good. Sherry, then, to start?"

  Sherry had been on her parents’ table since she was a little girl, and she wasn't afraid of drinking it, though she'd never been allowed an adult's portion before. She nodded, and Sam came to pour the gleaming liquid into a tumbler for her.

  "All right then, Marilee, that is both of us set up. I'll start. The first story is that I once fell from my horse and broke my arm so very badly that I could not ride again for almost a year when I was a boy. The second story is that I once lost all my clothes at a game of cards in Seven Dials, and I had to beg clothes off a kind butcher so I could make my way home in less than utter disgrace."

  Marilee stared at him. "The one about the horse is true. The one about the clothing is like something from a play on Drury Lane!"

  "And take a drink, because dramatic it might have been, but a lie it was not. I've actually only fallen off a horse a few times."

  "Are you serious?"

  "As the grave. I sent the butcher back his clothes with a large amount of money, and I was very grateful when no one ever found out about it. It really was just another terrible Thursday night for me back then."

  Dear God, if that was just a normal night for him, why in the world did he leave London?

  Marilee took a sip of her sherry, finding it sweet and rich and delicious, and then she thought for a moment.

  "All right. For my turn, the first story is that I once impressed a magician with my escape abilities. The second story is that I stole my father's ring once because I loved it so, and I never got to return it to him until he died."

  Sam blinked at her story, and a troubled look came over his eyes. "The second story, I suppose, must be the true one."

  Marilee laughed at him, shaking her head.

  "Fooled you, I am afraid. I still have the ring my father gave to me, and the magician who was impressed with my escape abilities was hired for the birthday party of a friend of mine when I was only nine. He tied me up to saw me in half, but I didn't like it, and so I escaped."

  "And how in the world did you do that?"

  Grinning, Marilee held up her hands, and then showed him how she could fold her thumbs close to the palm, far closer than most people could.

  "He said that if I were not so young and of noble birth besides, he would take me on as an apprentice. Some of the most famous magicians can contort themselves like that. Others must learn by popping out the joint, which sounds perfectly horrid."

  Sam laughed and took his drink even as he shook his head. "Brat, all right, it's my turn..."

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  12

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  CHAPTER TWELVE

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  Marilee hung on longer than Sam expected her to do so. She took ladylike sips and started the game with the natural caution of a London debutante, but soon enough, her natural exuberance got the better of her. She liked the sherry, which made sense as it was some of the finer stuff from his cellar, and as she drank more carelessly, her tongue loosened as well.

  Sam didn't have a plan, exactly. He wanted to know what had driven her to flee from London, why she was so damn secretive. However, he had also told her the truth. Even the last few days had told him he would miss her terribly when she was gone.

  It had also told him that he was not going to let her go without a fight. If there were dark forces leagued against her, he was going to protect her, and if there were bad men chasing her, he would stop them.

  He had a suspicion that telling her so, however, would only alarm her, and so he had proposed the game.

  Of course, Sam forgot that loosened tongues and easy confidences between them went two ways.

  It was close to midnight when he told her a truth he hadn't anticipated.

  "Well, let's see. First story. I was once almost drowned by a wolf. Second story, I fell in love with the wrong woman and left London ahead of the scandal."

  At that moment, Sam would have given anything to swallow back his words, but Marilee sat up from her chair, looking at him with emerald eyes that were almost deliriously clear.

  "The second one. The second one is why you left London, isn't it?"

  He wanted to tell her it wasn't true, but that wasn't the point of the game at all.

  "Yes. it is."

  Marilee looked at him, her head tilted to one side. "You may keep your secret if you like, but I think you want to tell it to me."

  For a moment, Sam was tempted to do just that, but then he shook his head. "Another time, perhaps, but you already have more of the truth to it than anyone else does. Your turn."

  They played until Marilee was curled in her chair like a cat, her slippers set neatly under the chair and her feet bare. When she took too long to guess, Sam saw that she was half-asleep, and he shook his head fondly.

  "Come on, pretty one. It's time for me to take you to bed. I can see you won't give up your secrets as easily as all that."

  He lifted her up from the chair, holding her close and relishing the feel of her body against him.

  "I will, you know."

  Her words were soft around the edges and unguarded, making Sam smile as he carried her toward bed.

  "Will what, darling?"

  "Tell you. All about... all about why I'm running. And when I can sto
p."

  Sam walked a little slower, wanting to draw her out, not wanting to scare her off.

  "It seems a poor thing to me, to run and not know when you can stop."