The Marquess of Buckley was there, already eating. “Sorry I didn’t wait for you. I was quite famished.” He started to rise.
“There’s no need.” Francis took the chair directly across from him. The table was small, set for two, and a servant poured him a glass of wine before leaving the room. Francis looked at the offering on the table but didn’t have the stomach to eat and decided to get straight to it. “I wish to ask for the funds to see that my father doesn’t go to prison.”
Buckley’s eyes were brown but Genie had inherited his red hair. Thankfully, that was all she’d inherited from the marquess, for Buckley was not known for his kindness either. The older man sighed. “I’ll pay your father’s debts but, of course, it will cost you more than simple interest.”
Francis had expected as much. “What do you want?”
“You’re not to ask for Genevieve’s hand.”
Francis gripped the chair’s arms to keep himself from falling as his entire world tilted off balance. His breathing became hurried, and he opened his mouth to speak but no words left him.
Buckley glared. “You think my daughter’s obsession with you has gone unnoticed?”
“It’s not an obsession.”
The marquess’ eyes narrowed. “Only because you return her affection.” Then he smiled wickedly. “You thought I hadn’t seen the way you look at her when she walks into a room?”
He had thought precisely that because Francis had worked very hard to hide his feelings for Genie, wanting to be worthy of her before he made his intentions known. He’d known his family was poor and had aspired to put his name to rights before asking for Genie’s hand.
His plans had been shattered, and Francis didn’t know what to do.
“I love her,” he told the marquess. “I would treat your daughter well. I don’t even care about her money.”
“I know this,” Buckley said with disgust. “And I’d rather she married a man who did care about her coin, at least then I’d know she was safe.”
Francis leaned forward. “I could keep her safe.”
“How?” Buckley asked.
“I’ll repay every shilling I borrow.”
Buckley blinked. “Do you even know how much money your father owes?”
Francis shook his head.
“A hundred thousand pounds.”
Francis leaned away. “Impossible,” he whispered. There was no way a man could go that far into debt. The wealthiest of homes made a tenth of that yearly, and Francis knew his father’s estate didn’t reach those figures. It would take Francis more than ten years to repay Buckley a sum that great. What had his father done?
Buckley went on. “I will lend you this money but you are never to ask for my daughter’s hand.”
Francis tried to see if there was a way out of this situation that allowed his father to have his freedom and for him to have the woman he loved. There wasn’t another man in Europe who had that much money. He and his friends had joked about Buckley being as rich as Croesus but he’d never believed it to be true. “You have a hundred thousand pounds to lend?”
“I do, if it will ensure that Genie marries well.”
Francis ran a hand through his hair and leaned back his chair. He would ask the marquess if love meant anything to him but knew that it didn’t. He also knew that his love for Genie would not allow him to burden her with his family’s debts either. He wouldn’t marry her under the current circumstances anyway. He’d never allow her to live as his mother did, with the shame of her husband’s failings. Love was not enough.
But the thought of marrying any other woman burned his gut. His eyes burned, and he closed them while he gripped the bridge of his nose to stop the stinging.
“Do you accept my terms?” Buckley asked.
Francis couldn’t answer. The burden seemed too great to bear. His father’s words returned to him. Valdeston must have known exactly what Buckley would ask of him. They might as well have killed him because the thought of marrying anyone but Genie tore at his very soul.
“I want your answer tonight,” the marquess said. The scraping of metal against china told him that the man had continued eating his meal.
Francis stood and paced the small room. “I don’t know if I can answer this tonight.” He needed time to think over the possibilities, a way to have Genie and save his father.
“Tonight is all you have,” Buckley said. “My solicitor has traveled with me. We’ll sign a contract tonight to ensure that you don’t run off to Gretna Green with my daughter in the morning.”
Francis looked at him. “This is unfair. I’ve done nothing to cause your hostility toward me.”
“You breathe,” Buckley told him in disdain. “And so long as you breathe, I can’t get Genie to look at another man. Do you have any idea how many of my associates would happily marry the girl if she’d stop staring at you as though you hung the stars in the sky? But none of them are willing to have her while she continues to see you as a god. They fear she’d be unfaithful to the marriage.”
Francis hadn’t known any of this. “I can’t accept under these circumstances.”
“Then your father goes to debtor’s prison. I hear the accommodations are rather pleasant for peers.” Buckley sipped his wine.
“Fuck!” Francis went to the window and glared at his father’s carriage. His entire world was ending. He pressed his head to the glass and closed his eyes. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t take on his father’s debts.
He wanted to break something. Everything. He hurt so badly.
“What do you say?” the marquess asked coolly.
Francis cursed again and imagined what Lorena and his mother would think if he turned his back on his father. They’d have to forgive him eventually… But would Genie forgive him? No, she’d feel the weight of his burden. She’d probably even grow to hate him. What sort of man turned his back on his own family?
A tear ran down his cheek and he wiped it away.
“Francis—”
“If I pay off the debt, I can marry Genie.” He turned to look at the marquess with the option he had.
Buckley glared. “There’s no way you’ll ever pay it off while my daughter is of childbearing years. I won’t have you forcing her to wait.”
“Then I won’t tell her of my intentions.”
Buckley leaned back and folded his arms. “At the rate your family earns and spends money, it could take you over ten years to pay this debt. It’s best you move on.”
Francis dropped his hands to his side. “I can’t.”
“What happens if Genie marries?”
“Then I will marry someone else.” Though the thought of doing so was painful. “I plan to marry your daughter but, until my debts are paid, I swear to never reveal my feelings for her. Give me your word that if Genie is unwed, I can have her when my debts are paid.”
Buckley looked away and nodded. “Very well.” He smiled. “I’ll have my solicitor draft a new contract and present it to you within the hour.” He stood and walked over to Francis with his hand out.
Francis hesitated, took it, and felt as though he’d signed his soul over to the devil.
The marquess tightened his hold. “This contract will be binding even if I should perish, Francis, and you should also know that the moment you break from it, I take everything.”
Francis stilled.
Buckley went on, his eyes hard. “If ever I hear a whisper about you making promises to my daughter before your debt is paid, I will take everything you or your father have, including your mother’s spending money, your sister’s dowry, your horses, your London residences, and anything that isn’t tied to the title. I will leave you destitute. Do I make myself clear?”
Francis nodded.
Then Buckley went further. “And if you should marry Genie before your debts are paid, I’ll leave her destitute as well. You’ll both have nothing, so mind yourself where my daughter is concerned.” And on that, he let Francis go and returned to his
dinner.
“I don’t think Genie knows how much you care for her.”
Buckley frowned. “This is not about Genie. This is about my name. I’ll not be made a joke at the expense of your love.”
Francis stared at the marquess long after the man had sat and then left the room, knowing one thing in his heart. He was in love with a woman he could never have unless a miracle were to take place.
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CHAPTER ONE
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September 1813
Just south of Cort, England
Six Years Later
Lady Genevieve Toft glanced out the window at the hired hack and swore she’d seen that same tree hours ago. Were they riding around in circles? Had the driver lost his way? Were they moving at all? Knowing it to be unladylike but refusing to care, she stuck her head out the window took hold of the stray red curls that danced in the wind upon her face and shouted at the driver.
“Are you sure we’re going the right direction?”
“Genie, sit down,” her friend Sophia cried from inside the carriage.
Genie didn’t listen but kept staring at the driver’s back.
The man did not answer. He didn’t even look her way but she knew he could hear her. She’d been shouting at him since she’d hired him two days before and he’d responded each time, so unless he’d lost his hearing in the last few hours…
She sighed and pulled in another breath before setting back. “We’re lost.”
“We’re not lost,” Sophia Taylor reassured her with warm green eyes. They were a richer green than Genie’s pale ones, darker. Sophia’s hair was black.
The warmth of the interior quickly grabbed hold of her and the urge to pull herself out of her black costume grew. Genie felt as though she’d been in the carriage for months, though she knew it had only been two days. Still, she wondered if he could go any faster. “I’ve seen that tree three times today.”
Sophia chuckled. “All the trees look the same, Genie. They’re trees. Perhaps you should eat your last sugar plum.” Cook had found her an entire box of them and Genie had finished the lot of them on the way to the country.
Genie shook her head. “I’ve only the one left. Besides, don’t try to distract me with confections.” She stuck her head out the window to yell again when she caught sight of a landmark that she knew meant she was close to home. Over the horizon, she saw the top of Kidd Castle, which sat on the Duke of Cort’s land and knew her own house was just an hour’s ride north from there. “We’re here!”
Sophia turned to look out the window as well. “How do you know?”
“You see that tower? It’s Morris’ home, Kidd Castle.” Morris Kidd was the Duke of Cort.
Sophia blinked repeatedly as more of the stony structure rose from the earth as the carriage drew closer. The stones were the color of burnt umber, a rich and deep brown with a touch of red. It was magnificent. “One man owns all that? Is it as beautiful on the inside?” Sophia, who was the daughter of a famous tailor, had never been outside the city and had been amazed on more than one occasion during their journey.
Genie looked at her and smiled. “It’s gorgeous on the inside. I’m sure we’ll see while we’re here.”
“We can’t. You’re in mourning,” Sophia reminded her with a touch of understanding. “And you’re already breaking the rules by being with us at all.”
How quickly Genie had forgotten. Mourning was no fun at all.
“Perhaps we should stay at the dowager house and simply visit Maura. Your cousin did give you use of it.”
Genie frowned. “No, I rather not stay there. There are very few windows and they are all small. My grandmother didn’t believe fresh air or sunlight to be good for you and it’s grown crowded with trees. She thought both elements evil.” But none more than her own son. Her grandmother had hated her father, thought him the spawn of the devil, and Genie could understand why. She had no illusions that her father had ever been pleasant. How her mother had survived as long as she did was a mystery.
The carriage took a road that headed west, neither heading to Genie’s house nor to Morris’. Instead, Genie and Sophia were going to visit their friend Maura and Genie planned to hide there as long as she could.
She looked down at the matte black dress she wore and a pang of betrayal hit her heart. She was supposed to be in mourning. Her father, the Marquess of Buckley, had died and Genie had declared to mourn for six months after his death. As his daughter, she was allowed to mourn for a few as three months but Genie had chosen six. Unfortunately, it had been a decision she’d made before she’d met the cousin who would inherit her father’s title.
Now, she simply needed to get away.
She was anxious to see her friends for, after the month she’d had, she dearly needed their company. Maura was hosting two more of Genie’s friends, Lady Lorena Cullip and Miss Alice Wilkins, and together the five women made up what was known to London as the Spinster’s Society.
“How long do you think we have before Lord Buckley comes for me?” Genie asked. She’d begun to call her cousin by his rightful title at his insistence.
“A day at least.” Sophia’s expression was not happy.
She was breaking a large social rule but reassured herself that she was honoring her father by continuing to wear black and by forgoing her usual jewelry. She touched her neck where a row of black pearls laid and missed the feel of her mother’s necklace. It was a crucifix that held her hair in the center of it. Genie had taken it off a month ago when her father had died and had been unable to find it since. She hoped it would turn up before the end of her mourning.
She turned to Sophia. “I am quite anxious to see our friends.”
Sophia grinned. “Do those friends include a certain duke?”
Genie didn’t hide her smile as Francis entered her thoughts. He was never very far from her mind or her heart. She loved him so much that there were moments she believed she’d explode from the magnitude of the feeling.
And deep in her heart, she believed he loved her as well. Something in his blue eyes made her think so. She couldn’t say what it was but something kept her going and kept her spirits high in anticipation for the day he would finally ask her to marry him.
The day her father died, Francis and the rest of their friends had rushed to her side and Francis had held her tightly. Francis’ arms had been strong around her and his scent soothing. He’d stayed at her side the entire day and had visited with Lorena the next morning and every day until her father’s burial.
There had even been a few moments where Lorena hadn’t been there and Francis had still held her, renewing her hope. It was during those intimate moments that Genie had wept the most, with his strength around her and his whispered words at her ear. She held him tight and though she hated to admit it… part of her had been grateful for her father’s passing just so she could have Francis for that short time. The Marquess of Buckley had not been very kind and had only grown worse as his sickness grew. He’d always been hateful but Genie had tried her best to love him either way, knowing it was what a daughter should do.
The carriage came to a stop and Genie turned as the door was opened.
She followed Sophia out and looked toward the beautiful house before them just as the front door opened.
Francis stepped out with an expression of surprise in his blue eyes. His hands were still on the coat he was putting on.
Genie didn’t care. Her feet rushed to him and, in an instant, she was in his arms. She pressed her face to his chest and held on to his large powerful body. He was warm and smelled of sandalwood and something dark that was unique to him.
His arms pulled her close but then just as suddenly set her back. “What are you doing here? Are you all right?” His concern touched her.
“You’re here. Of co
urse I’m all right.”
Francis’ eyes softened at the same time a muscle in his jaw flexed. “Evie.”
She smiled at the exclusive nickname he’d given her nearly ten years ago.
His eyes moved from hers and toward Sophia. He let Genie go as he spoke. “Sophia.”
“Francis.” Everyone in the Men of Nashwood and the women of the Spinster’s Society was very informal. “Where is everyone?”
“Lorena and the women are inside. I’m heading toward Morris’ home.”
Genie wanted to go with him. She took the time to look him over as his eyes stayed on Sophia. While most boys she’d known had gone through years of disproportionate and awkward limbs, Francis had always been beautiful but over the last few years all signs of a boy had melted into a man who seemed to know and understand the world. His hair was dark with a slight wave and his eyes were winter morning blue with the thickest lashes she’d ever seen surrounding them and making them stand out even more.
His eyes flickered in her direction and Genie felt heat press into her chest. Then he lifted a dark brow. “Since you’re breaking the rules of your mourning, we’ll continue your riding lessons. I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning.”
Genie’s face split into a wide grin. She’d brought her riding habit just in case and was glad that Francis hadn’t disappointed her. Francis was her riding instructor and had been for the last few years since he was the only man capable of getting her near a horse and that was only at her father’s continued insistence that Genie ride at all. She’d been frightened of them as a child when her mother died during a riding accident. The marquess hadn’t seemed to care, however, and had allowed Francis to teach her, only so he could brag about having a champion as her instructor. Francis was the best rider in England and everyone knew it. Either way, Genie would never have ridden with anyone else. Only Francis’ presence made her feel safe enough to climb on the back of the beast.
Genie’s Scandalous Spinster’s Society (The Spinster’s Society Book 3) Page 2
