Genie’s Scandalous Spinster’s Society (The Spinster’s Society Book 3)

by Charlotte Stone

  Julius came to stand by him. “No one would realize you were gone if you left right now.”

  “I think everyone would,” Francis murmured under his breath. “It is obvious?”

  Julius dipped his blond head closer to the selection and grabbed some meat. “That you wish to be with someone else as opposed to here? Only to anyone who knows you.”

  Francis had thought about leaving numerous of times and it wasn’t because he couldn’t find ways to enjoy himself. A few of his friends were in a room gambling, some were either dancing or. like Julius. eating to their heart's content. There were other horse discussions taking place that would have made this place heaven had it not been for Genie’s absence. When was the last time he’d attended a party that she’d not been there for? Since the society controlled their social calendars, Genie had always been present where there was dancing and Francis had allowed himself to have one dance with her.

  Tonight, he’d danced with plenty of women whose faces he could hardly recall. Some of the mothers had encouraged it while those who wouldn’t allow their daughters to fall for an impoverished man, even if he held one of the grandest titles in the realm, made their displeasure known. They would be glad to know that he had no desire for anyone there.

  He watched Morris dance with a blonde woman who had nothing but eyes for him and could tell his friend hated every moment of it. Morris hated to dance and avoided it where he could, though Francis didn’t understand why. The man was good at it. “You think he’s wife hunting?”

  “Who?” Julius straightened and turned to the dancefloor. “Morris? Would make sense with his going after Genie earlier this year. You know how he feels about his obligations. He must find the perfect lady.”

  Francis sighed. “With a mother like his, he believes nothing else will do. I hope he finds happiness though.”

  “If we could all be so fortunate. Now go,” Julius told him. “You’ve completed all social obligations. There’s no need to stay any longer. I’ll inform the others that you’ve left.”

  Francis looked at him, turned to the table, filled up a plate, bowed, and left.

  * * *

  Genie was startled by the knock at her door. The girls never knocked but simply barged in on one another unless the door was locked. She suspected it to be a servant then. “Come in.”

  The door opened and she put her book down and stood at the sight of Francis. Her heart raced as she tried to understand if her mind were playing tricks on her.

  “Francis, what are you doing here? Is everything all right?” She looked at the clock on her mantel and noticed it to be only ten and long before the end of a party.

  He grinned. “Everything is fine, I simply wished to see how you were faring alone. I feel terrible that I invited everyone to that party.”

  Genie touched her hair; it was still pinned up from the morning and she’d most likely sleep with the style in. It had been terribly difficult to get it up and under the bonnet. Realizing what she was doing, she put her hands down and stared at Francis. They were alone in her room, and Genie tried to recall it ever happening before and realized it had not.

  Heat grew in her belly and she took a deep breath. “You came because you thought me lonely?” She smiled. “Oh, did you come simply to be with me?”

  His lips twitched and he shook his head. “Do you ever think before you ask such brazen questions?” He closed the door behind him.

  She lifted her chin. “Yes, I think about the answers I wish to hear.”

  He walked toward her and she noticed he kept a hand behind his back, his eyes steady on her. She’d only left one lamp burning and Francis’ features became more visible with his every step. “And what happens when you don’t get the answer you’re looking for?”

  “Then I’m hurt.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Your answers are just as forthright as your questions. Can you imagine if everyone could be this way?”

  “I always assume that you are telling me the truth.”

  His expression softened. “I try very hard to.”

  She took a deep breath and inhaled his cologne and the faint hint of Prince. Had he rushed to her side? “What’s behind your back?”

  He smiled and brought out a cloth-covered dish.

  Genie took another breath and knew immediately what lay under the cloth. She reached for it and Francis moved it out of her reach.

  “You’ll have to earn them.”

  She leaned into his body and whispered, “Am I to play mistress now and earn my sugar plums?”

  He chuckled. “No, actually I was thinking about cards.” He took a step back and reached into his pocket with his free hand, producing a deck. “Shall we play?”

  Her heart raced again. He planned to stay with her as opposed to returning to the party. “You can leave if you wish.”

  “What do you want?”

  “You know what I want,” she told him and what she wanted went beyond a game for sugar plums.

  He went to the small table, put down the plate, sat, and began to shuffle the cards. “Tonight, I offer you a game of Speculation.” It was a very simple game where the winner held the best cards in the end.

  She sat across from him and allowed him to deal her three cards. As the game wore on, they both ate the sugar plums and it was an hour before Genie whispered, “And tomorrow?”

  He looked up at her. He’d taken off his jacket and his elbow rested on the table, his head resting on his fist. There was humor in his eyes. “What?”

  “You offer me Speculation tonight. What do you offer me tomorrow?”

  He held her eyes and the tension in the room grew. His eyes darkened and Genie continued to breathe slowly as she waited. He stood, walked to her side of the table, and cupped the back of her neck. His mouth came down and Genie closed her eyes just as his lips landed on her forehead. “I better go. Good night.” He released her then and left.

  Genie collapsed into the chair and stared at the door he’d closed, wondering if he loved her, if she was seeing more than was truly there, and who would break first, him or her?

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  CHAPTER ELEVEN

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  The trees that surrounded them made the center of the forest cooler than out in the fields. Other riders could be heard in the distance, along with women’s laughter, the shouts of men, and the barking of dogs. Morris’ hunt had commenced the day after they’d returned from Newmarket with the Spinster women and the Nashwood men both in attendance but Francis had insisted Genie take a riding lesson as opposed to joining. She’d not objected to the suggestion since she never shied from an opportunity to be alone with him.

  “This way,” Francis called to her, leading their horses further in another direction.

  They slowed their speed and Genie took one deep breath after another and smiled. Francis looked winded, his cheeks reddened, and Genie could only guess at how she looked. She could feel the pins in her hair pulling as an ache began.

  “One moment.” She took off her riding hat and began to undo the hair. Her braid fell from the confines and she rested it over her shoulders with a sigh of gratitude. The tail’s end stopped just below her breast.

  “Your hair has grown.”

  She looked over to find Francis studying her and licked her lips as she pulled on her hair. “I cut it ages ago. Of course it grew.” She’d been fourteen when she’d tried what was becoming a fashionable style.

  He looked toward as he navigated them down a dirt path that had been carved out by both man and nature. “I’ve no clue why you cut it in the first place.”

  “Miss Fanny Perry.”

  He frowned at her. “Who?”

  Genie glared. “The kitchen maid with the short hair in your family’s country estate? I caught you kissing her once.” The anger of the day that had occurred so
long ago still burned her to the bone. She’d been more than glad to see Fanny leave. The Cullips were always losing servants whenever money was low.

  Francis stared at Genie. “I don’t recall her.”

  Genie turned her eyes toward the forest’s end where the sun shined brighter mere yards away. “It doesn’t matter. It was years ago.”

  He wouldn’t let it go. “You cut your hair because I kissed a maid?”

  She didn’t reply.

  His bark of laughter was like a slap in the face. “That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  She urged Jenkins forward with her heels but Francis instantly grabbed hold of the reins and pulled her back. She tried to take back control of her beast but their combined efforts only served to confuse him.

  He reached out, grabbed her chin, and forced her to meet his eyes. “You are so much more beautiful than she could ever be.”

  His words calmed some of the sting of his previous words. “How could you recall such a fact? You don’t even remember her name.”

  He grinned. “You’re making my point for me. Besides, I was young at the time. I stopped kissing maids long ago.”

  “Kissing perhaps but I’m sure you’ve done other things.”

  He released her. “We won’t discuss improper things.”

  “You say I’m more beautiful and yet you’ve never kissed me.”

  “That would have been inappropriate and this is another improper conversation.” He got down from his horse.

  “Well, we’re friends, are we not? Surely, friends can speak on a few improper topics.”

  Genie placed her hands on Francis’ shoulders as she slid off Jenkins’ back and placed her feet on the soft earth. Francis’ hands remained on her hips as he spoke. “She meant nothing.”

  She placed her hands on his chest. “And me? What do I mean to you?”

  They stared at one another and Genie watched Francis’ eyes slide to her mouth.

  She shivered and pressed closer.

  He frowned. “Are you cold?” His arms went around her, holding her close.

  Genie blinked and her eyes widened. Her heart’s rapid beat sounded loud in her ears. Was this a dream?

  Francis smiled down at her, his eyes like dazzling blue stars in the backdrop of the darkened leafy forest. Just enough sunlight streamed through to highlight the lighter parts of his otherwise dark hair.

  She reached out, ran her fingers through the locks, and tried to force his head toward hers.

  Francis resisted with little effort, a smile bloomed on his face, and he began to chuckle from her efforts. “Always so anxious.”

  She stilled. “Are you suggesting that I have patience?”

  Something secretive passed behind his eyes. “I’ve always been told that good things happen to those who wait.”

  Her belly warmed as she wondered what he could mean.

  He broke their connection, placed a hand on her lower back, kept the reins of both horses in his other hand, and started them toward the break in the trees. They quickly found themselves on the edge of the busy village. Children ran through the cobblestone road, and a woman carried a basket of goods from one side of the street to the other. A few men stood around outside an inn. Cort was known for agriculture, which made it a very quaint and peaceful place. It was a lovely place to think about her life, past and present.

  “Do you think of him often?” Francis offered the horses to a stableman at the inn and planned to retrieve them later. “Your father?” he prompted when he was done.

  It amazed her that their minds had been in the same place; her past and present had much to do with the man who sired her. “I think about him daily. He was my father.” He took her arm and she fell into step with him as they went on.

  “Do you have any fond memories of him?” While the question could seem condescending, she knew Francis sincerely wished to know if she recalled a time when the old marquess loved her.

  “No,” Genie stated. “He was not like your father.” She smiled at him. “I admired your father.”

  Francis gave her a soft smile. “He enjoyed you as well.”

  “Enough to wish us to marry?” Genie decided to ask. She’d known of the duchess’ wants but not of Francis’ father’s.

  “Yes.”

  His bold reply surprised her.

  “Did he tell you this himself?”

  “He did.” Something flickered in his eyes.

  Genie stopped walking. “When?”

  “Many times, Evie.” His face closed of expression. “My father thought highly of you and often spoke of how well we’d suit.”

  “You didn’t agree?” She licked her lips and tried to calm her nerves.

  Francis closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I can’t answer that question, Evie.”

  “Why not? Is it that you simply don’t wish to hurt my feelings?” She stepped closer to him. “I can take the truth, Francis.”

  He opened his eyes and they were full of frustration. “Damn you, Evie. I can’t answer your question.”

  “You almost kissed me in the forest. You thought of doing so, didn’t you?”

  His anger cooled but he said nothing.

  She wrenched her arm from his and started back toward the inn. Pain chipped away at her heart with every step.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To retrieve my horse. I’m in mourning. I can’t be seen in the village this way.” She wiped at a tear that fell and kept her face averted from his as he caught up with her. Anger and hurt made her body warm and her vision blur.

  They retrieved the horses in silence, and Genie started for the trees once more.

  “I don’t need you to ride back to the house with me. You may join the hunt.”

  Once they made the trees, Francis grabbed her arm and spun her around.

  “Evie, listen to me.”

  Her anger reached the point of no return. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed with all her might. “Let me go.”

  His hold on her only tightened. “Calm down, woman. I can’t answer all your bloody questions. It doesn’t mean I don’t wish to marry you.”

  She stilled. “Do you or do you not?”

  He drew his brows down but said nothing.

  “Then perhaps I’ll simply marry Morris.” She hoped the words would trigger his outrage.

  Instead, all emotion left him. “That’s not going to happen.” His confidence irritated her.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’ve spoken to him,” he stated calmly.

  She pressed her lips together and glared. “How dare you?” How dare he control her life? He didn’t want her but he didn’t wish anyone else to have her either. It was as unfair as it was cruel. She wanted to weep and scream. She wanted to simply hate him but she never would. He owned her very soul.

  She pressed against his coat, struggling to free herself. Her hands slipped up and landed against something hard underneath his shirt. She stilled as she pressed her fingers against the object more firmly, her hand recognizing the shape immediately.

  “What is this?” she whispered.

  Francis let her go and took a step back, immediately regretting their struggle. “I wasn’t thinking.” Oh, he had been, but his only thoughts had centered on not losing her. It was a battle against the patience of the mind and the longing of the heart. All night, he’d thought about the possibility of them being together sooner than he’d allowed himself to dream for the last few years and had taken the liberty of touching her more than he’d allowed himself to do in their recent past.

  Even the riding lessons had been more so about them being alone as opposed to her reputation.

  Genie pointed a finger at his chest. “What’s under your shirt? Is it my mother’s crucifix? The one with my hair in it?”

  Francis swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair as he tried to think of an excuse. “I found it and could think of no safer place to put it then on my person.�
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  “Where did you find it?” she asked him as she stepped forward, watching him with intense green eyes.

  He frowned, so unsure of what to say.

  “Francis, did you take the crucifix?” He watched hope bloom on her face along with great confusion.

  Fear made his skin break out into a sweat. If he gave her any intention of his feelings before the appointed time, it would ruin everything. “Evie.” He stepped around her and toward her horse. “It’s not what you think. Let’s go back to the house.”

  “Do you love me?”

  “You know I do.” He waited expectantly by Jenkins so that he could help her up. He kept his gaze to the ground.

  She walked over to him and, as she so often did, stepped farther than what was proper. Her eyes collided with his, hers the color of endless summer fields. “Can I see it?”

  He hesitated then started for his cravat. He undid the pin and loosened the knot under Genie’s watchful eyes. Heat began to creep in him as he undid the first few bottoms of his shirt, exposing his moist skin to the cool forest air.

  Genie’s hand was warm on his chest as it touched the golden crucifix. She smiled, staring at it, then up at him.

  “You can have it back.”

  “No,” she whispered. “I like it on you.”

  “I’ll return it to you the moment you’re out of mourning.” He groaned as she pressed her lips against the jewelry. The action happened so quick that Francis hadn’t had the chance to stop her.

  Her hand skimmed over his chest as she continued to litter his chest with kisses. Her fingers brushed his nipple.

  He hardened and grabbed a nearby tree to keep himself steady. A sweep of her tongue had his eyes losing focus as he tried in vain to look at their surroundings. He had to stop her.

  Yet how often had he yearned to feel her mouth on him? Her bold fingers curled around his nipple while her mouth licked its way toward the other.

  Liquid heat shot to his cock as her mouth encountered his already erect nipple.