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

by Charlotte Stone

  He frowned. “But I don’t want to talk to her.”

  Frank glared. “You sound like a child.”

  He felt like one as well. After all, how else was he to feel when someone controlled his spirits?

  “Lord Valdeston.”

  He turned and smiled appreciatively at Miss Judith. Perhaps if he was on his best behavior, Frank would allow him port when the men and women separated. “Yes, madam?”

  She smiled and Francis wondered if some sort of joke was being played on him since Judith’s hair was a reddish shade of blond and she had pale green eyes. She looked nothing like Genie, yet it was hard to look at her and not think of Genie. “Lady Francine and I were wondering if you gave any other ladies riding lessons besides the Earl of Buckley’s daughter.” She frowned and turned to her friend. “What’s her name again? She truly is a sweet girl, though one wonders how she ever manages to stay a horse at all. She’s dreadfully small. What’s her name again?”

  Francine looked puzzled. “Oh, I can’t remember. It’s one of those more unconventional French names.”

  “It’s Genevieve.” Francis took a deep breath. “Genevieve was also the patron saint of Paris.”

  “Oh, was the girl’s family Catholic? You do know that any titled gentleman who marries a Catholic woman must give up his title.” Judith lifted a brow at him.

  Francis blinked. He didn’t care if Genevieve decided she wanted to strip nude and worship the moon. He’d give up anything to have her. Though he had known that Genie’s mother had been a strict Catholic, that being a secret she’d only shared with her family and one Genie memorialized through the necklace.

  Calvin, who’d been paired with one of the chaperones, cut in. “Miss Judith, I caught a glimpse of your father’s handkerchief. Did you happen to embroider it for him?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Oh, yes, I did. Francine and I have begun stitching a new pattern.”

  The conversation went on from there and Francis found himself praying that the final course would come and end soon. He didn’t want to be at the party. He didn’t want to be around women. He just wanted Genie.

  He stared at Judith and tried to imagine years or sitting across from her or any other woman who wasn’t Genie. His stomach turned as a thought struck him. Dinners like this could be his future if he allowed himself and Genie to go on this way, endless parties where the only smiles he gave were those that society required.

  Had he been a fool to let her go? God, she probably hated him. He’d allowed her to hate him.

  He didn’t want this. He didn’t want Judith or anyone else.

  Genie would never marry him unless he spoke to her immediately.

  He stood.

  Everyone turned to look at him.

  He bowed. “If you will all excuse me.” He started for the door and heard the sound of another chair scraping back and then footsteps following him out.

  “Where are you going?” Emmett asked.

  Francis stopped at the stairs. “I need to write a letter.”

  “Now?” Emmett blinked.

  “Yes, I need to write Evie.”

  Emmett crossed his arms. “But we’re in the middle of dinner. Perhaps your letter can wait until later or even tomorrow.”

  “No.” Francis grabbed his arms as his thoughts became so clear. “I have to tell her I love her now. She has to know.” Then he frowned. “You’re right. I should ride to her. A letter won’t do. I’ll speak to her in person. We’ll sort this out. Tell everyone I said good night.”

  His friend stared blankly at him and sighed. “Lorena wrote me. She says the women are planning to return tomorrow. Why not wait until then to see Genie for yourself?”

  Tomorrow.

  Francis tightened his hold. “They’re coming back?”

  “Apparently,” he told him. “They’ve changed their minds about returning to London and are returning to Maura’s home in the morning. We didn’t think it wise to tell you until you’d sobered.”

  Francis was feeling sober and glad. He smiled. “I love her. I’ll tell her tomorrow.” He wondered why it had taken him so long to come to understand that life without Genie was not an option. He’d been a fool not to go to her sooner, to allow her to leave without knowing how he felt.

  Emmett smiled. “Good, now let us return to dinner. I’m supposed to be keeping my eye on Julius and Hugh to ensure that neither ends up in the duchess’ bed tonight.”

  “Did Morris ask you do that?”

  “No.” Emmett started toward dinner. “Hugh and Julius did.”

  Francis shook his head and decided he would see his way through dinner.

  But his return was interrupted by the appearance of Lady Cort.

  Emmett looked away at her approach.

  She waved him away. “Don’t worry, I don’t sleep with men who are already claimed.”

  Emmett blushed. “Good to know.”

  “Now tell me why the both of you have left my dinner party. If anything goes wrong, I’ll demand it redone.”

  Francis did not like that idea. “We were just getting ready to return.”

  “Excellent.” She grabbed Francis’ arm and smiled. “You may escort me back to the table.”

  “Of course.”

  He tried to keep pace with Emmett but the duchess slowed him down and he immediately knew this was being done on purpose.

  “I did admire your mother, you know,” she told him.

  He nodded in her direction without looking at her.

  The duchess went on, “There was much to admire, like how she managed to turn down an endless parade of men who were willing to give her anything in exchange for a night in their beds.”

  Francis stopped walking and looked at her. “My mother was propositioned?”

  “Repeatedly.” The Grand Lynx gave her grandest smile. “I grew accustomed to taking whatever man she’d refused. She was so beautiful and with your father’s trouble with his books, the whole ton thought her easy game. Her innocence is the only thing that kept your sister’s name intact by the time of her debut.”

  Francis had known none of this but couldn’t think of anyone who’d have brought up the subject except for Morris’ mother. His mind raced to recall parties of the past where he’d seen other men interact with his mother. “Did my father know?”

  “Oh, yes.” The duchess grinned sadly. “It angered your father but I do recall your mother saying he’d given his blessing for her to act as she thought best.”

  His heart raced and anger filled his blood. He struggled to breathe around his words. “My father would allow his wife to cuckold him in such a way?”

  Lady Cort’s eyes widened. “Perhaps I should have kept that to myself but you’re looking at this from the perspective of a son who’s been wounded by the faults of his father. You must look at it like a man in love and what he was willing to do to make his wife happy.”

  “How about not pouring all our money into empty investments?”

  Her hazel eyes lit up. “Why do you think he did it? So your family could be secured. Yes, he failed but to this day, I have never met a man more in love than your father was with Constance.” Lady Cort shook her head. “I often envied her.”

  “You envied our poverty?”

  She smiled and touched his cheeks. “Money isn’t everything. You’ll see.” Then she looked him over and sighed. “You’re so young.”

  “Too young for you,” Morris said as he approached.

  His mother scoffed. “I wasn’t trying to tempt Lord Valdeston. I know where his heart lays” She winked at him before sashaying away.

  Francis glared at Morris.

  Morris gave no apology. “It was the only way to keep her from hunting you.”

  Francis shook his head and wondered if Morris realized how much he was like his mother. They both hunted flesh. “Shall we rejoin the party?”

  “Yes, before she decides it’s ruined and we have to it again.”

  They both rushed back to the
dinner and Francis managed to behave.

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  CHAPTER TWENTY

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  Francis arrived at Maura’s door late the next evening, knocked, and was surprised when Sudworth answered it, opening it just enough to be seen but not allow entrance. His expression showed nothing in the lamplight.

  Francis had spent the day sobering completely and had reluctantly had a long talk with Frank on the use of alcohol and finding other ways to cope with grief. Francis wasn’t sure how he felt about the branch of philosophy that tended to deal with understanding the human mind but Frank quoted such philosophers as John Locke and George Berkeley and even went further to study in-depth the work of David Hartley, though Francis believed some of his prejudice against the man stemmed from Hartley being a Cambridge man.

  After his session, he spent some time thinking of just what he would say to Genie while he groomed and repaired whatever damaged he’d done to himself during the last two weeks. For a while, he’d thought the sun would never shine on him again but inside Maura’s house was the woman who held his heart.

  “You work here now?” Francis asked Sudworth.

  “I work wherever I’m needed.”

  Francis thought that odd. “Where’s the other man who usually stands here?”

  “I told him to take a break.”

  He thought that odd as well but nothing about Lorena or her staff was ever quite right. The two men stared at one another and Francis waited for the man to move. When he didn’t, he went for a more formal approach. “Lord Valdeston here to see Lady Genevieve.”

  Sudworth lifted a dark brow. “I know who you are and why you’re here, Your Grace.”

  “Excellent.” Francis waited and when Sudworth still didn’t move, he frowned. “Aren’t you going to tell the lady I am here?”

  Sudworth seemed to think about this for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I don’t think I am.”

  Francis glared, amazed that a servant was speaking to him as though they were both peers and on equal footing. A thought came to mind. “Exactly when did you give the other butler a break?”

  Sudworth’s eyes went cold. “When I saw through the window that it was you arriving, Your Grace.”

  Just what he’d thought. While the other man was less likely to bar him from the house, Sudworth tended to do as he pleased, which included requiring payment from people he didn’t like just to enter Lorena’s home. Francis allowed the man to stay because of his protectiveness over the girls but was thinking better of that decision at the moment.

  “Move or I’ll have you sacked.”

  “I work for Lady Lorena. She’ll not sack me,” He spoke confidently and the first sign of irritation came to his eyes. Sudworth moved to close the door. “Good day, Your Grace.”

  Francis stuck his foot in the door just before it could shut completely. “Move aside, Sudworth.”

  Sudworth put pressure on the door and glared. “I’ll not let you hurt Lady Genevieve any further.”

  Francis pushed with all his might. “This is not your home. You are a servant, you must obey.”

  The struggle persisted and their voices rose.

  “You’re not getting in here!”

  “Obey your betters!”

  “I’m a better man than you’ll ever be!”

  The words struck Francis right before the door gave way and he stumbled inside, catching himself on the wall.

  Francis straightened his jacket and glared at Sudworth. Then he turned to his aunt, who’d obviously approached the door after hearing the shouting match. She seemed surprised but as her eyes settled on Francis, her expression became no better than Sudworth’s.

  “Francis, what are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to see Lady Genie.”

  “Why?” the woman asked.

  Francis sighed. “Personal matters.”

  Aunt Tilda held his eyes, nodded, and motioned toward the drawing room. “She is in there if you truly wish to see her.”

  Francis turned in the direction of the drawing room and stilled as the other night came back to haunt him. He prayed what he was seeing was not true but after blinking repeatedly, he knew it to be so.

  Lord Buckley and Mr. Cross were sitting on the couch next to Genie and all of Francis’ plans went out the window when Buckley caught his eyes.

  Genie stiffened at his entrance and he watched the flash of pain that went across her face before she schooled her features to something bland. She pressed her lips together and Francis hoped he’d have another chance to kiss them. It was all he could ever hope for.

  Francis bowed and tried to think of something to say, of some reason he could say he’d arrived. Then he straightened. “Lady Genevieve.”

  “Lord Valdeston.” Buckley smiled, speaking before Genie had the chance. “It’s good to see you. I came to have dinner with my cousin and to make sure she was all right after the other evening. How are you faring?”

  Francis shifted from one foot to the other and avoided Genie’s eyes. “I’m well.”

  His aunt brushed past him on her way into the room. “Lord Francis has something he wishes to say to Genie.”

  Buckley straightened. “Oh, well, I’m so very glad I didn’t miss it. Please, don’t hold back on my account.” He was grinning wildly now.

  His friend, Mr. Cross, looked between the two of them but said nothing.

  Francis finally turned to Genie. “I wanted to know which days would be best to continue your lessons?”

  The room fell into silence and he saw the disappointment written on every female face.

  Genie took a breath, her small hands clamped in her lap. “Lessons?”

  “Yes, your riding lessons.” He felt like such a cad. What sort of a man broke a woman’s heart and then inquired on her schedule? He was sure that everyone else was thinking the same, except for Lord Buckley, of course.

  “My riding lessons?” Genie’s face compressed and she squeezed her eyes together before meeting his again. “Why would I wish to continue lessons with you, Your Grace?”

  “Because it was your father’s wish.” Which wasn’t true at all. He’d had to beg the man to allow them.

  Genie reared back and covered her chest as though he’d struck her. “How dare you bring my father into this?”

  Movement from the corner of the room made him turn just in time to see Mr. Taylor approach.

  “Might I have a word with you outside?” the tailor asked with a look that warned Francis of the consequences for being refused.

  Francis was more than ready to leave the room. He’d wanted to make it better but all he’d managed to do was make it far worse. He bowed one final time, ignored the glares and the pain in Genie’s eyes, before leaving the room. He walked outside and turned to face Mr. Taylor.

  “Have you lost your mind?” the man asked. “That girl in there is hurting because of you.”

  Guilt ate at him. “I know but if I could just speak to Genie alone, I could make this right.”

  Mr. Taylor narrowed his eyes. “No, what you need to do is go home, go far away from here and leave Genevieve alone.”

  Francis shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

  “You young people complicate everything unnecessarily.”

  Francis released a breath but the frustration he’d begun to feel in the house grew to anger. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, no?” Mr. Taylor asked. “Then tell me what it is I don’t know.”

  Francis straightened, took a breath, and for some reason he didn’t know the answer to, told Mr. Taylor everything.

  In the end, the man was left blinking and frowning. “Oh, that is complicated.”

  Francis crossed his arms. “You can only imagine.”

  Mr. Taylor lifted his brow. “Though I’m s
till confused on why you’ve not simply taken her.”

  Francis dropped his arms. “What do you mean? I just told you—”

  “No, I mean take the girl.” Mr. Taylor stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I’m old, so excuse me when I say life is very short. I was in love once. She’s gone now but I enjoyed the hell out of her while I had the chance. You’re in love, might as well enjoy yourselves while you can.”

  Francis stared at him. “But I could never do that to Genie. She must be a virgin on her wedding night and there’s no guarantee that man will be me.”

  “Oh, how honorable.” The comment was said with disgust. Mr. Taylor looked to the heavens. “This is why I shielded Sophia from your world, yet somehow here we are, acquainted with the most powerful homes in Europe. Dukes and earls and the like.” He shook his head and met Francis’ eyes again. “Every one of you is forced to live the same dreadful life full of rules and obligations to men who are too dead to hold you to them and, in the end, all you’ll leave behind is a stale portrait and antiques that will grow dust and sadly have more fun than you when some maid is taken roughly from behind by a footman.”

  Francis’ cheeks stung.

  Mr. Taylor didn’t seem to notice. “Is that what you want? You want your mahogany tables to have more fun than you? Holding the weight of desperate bodies in heat as they thrash with abandoned lust?”

  “No, sir,” Francis said in a low voice.

  Mr. Taylor waved a hand, cutting him off. “Eventually, people will forget you. Perhaps not your name, but someday Francis Cullip will just be another name on a list of dead men. Make no mistake of that, Your Grace. So why not enjoy life while it is yours to enjoy?”

  Francis had always known the man had little respect for aristocracy but had never met a gentleman who spoke so plainly about it. “How fortunate that you were born second.”

  Mr. Taylor smiled. “Yes, almost missed that chance.” Mr. Taylor sighed. “Francis, the problem with you gentlemen is that you always want to take the lead and there is little fun on that road, I tell you. Everything is like a waltz to you lords; you set the tone and tempo and the ladies are left to follow your steps but sometimes a woman likes to make a decision. Let this one be Genie’s to make. She’ll be given so very little of those.”