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

by Charlotte Stone

  Francis began. “Has your company ever been called Gold Coast Traders?”

  “No.” Ellerey frowned.

  Francis lifted a brow. “Oh, no? The Gold Coast Traders actually worked out of this building.”

  Hugh cut in. “We have a statement from a worker at the tavern across the street that recalls seeing the Gold Coast Trader’s sign outside this building’s very door five years ago.”

  Mr. Blackfall placed the sheet on the desk.

  “And?” Ellerey glanced at the paper before returning his eyes to Francis. “That was five years ago.”

  “You’ve owned the building for six years,” Francis told him. The men had done their research on the company and with the information in the Countess of Buckley’s letters, once they’d found their way, everything else seemed to fall into the light. “So why would your company advertise itself as something they are not?”

  Ellerey straightened and looked over Francis’ shoulder. “Well, Gold Coast Traders was a name we’d thought to go with at one point but we changed our minds early in the beginning stages of the company.”

  Francis leaned in. “Five years ago, my father was approached by a Mr. Jennings about making investments into a company called Gold Coast Traders. My father, the Duke of Valdeston, was offered forty-nine percent of Gold Coast Traders but the company failed before it began.”

  Ellerey blinked. “Well, we don’t have a Mr. Jennings.”

  “No, you don’t,” Francis told him. “But Mr. Jennings sold my father forty-nine percent of Gold Coast Traders, using not only the building but information from East African Trading Company and I still have the paperwork to prove it.” In a week’s time, it had become apparent that his father had not been the fool he’d begun to believe him to be. He’d simply trusted the wrong man.

  Mr. Aims placed those precious documents on the table.

  Ellerey looked at them and picked them up.

  “Do you recognize Mr. Jenning’s handwriting?” Francis asked. “The way the ‘J’ curves?”

  Ellerey slowly lowered the paper and his eyes met with Mr. Jackson’s; his face turned white. “What have you done?”

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Ellerey,” Mr. Jackson said. “He wasn’t supposed to find out.”

  Francis turned to the bald and frightened man behind him. “My father described you as having black hair.”

  Morris asked him, “How likely is it that we will find a wig in your house?”

  Jackson paled.

  “Let me handle this,” Mr. Roy lifted his hands to silence the men and turned to Francis. “Mr. Ellerey never gave Mr. Jackson permission to sell any shares of any company. Therefore, your papers mean nothing.”

  “But Mr. Ellerey has given Mr. Jackson full control of the company, at least that’s what Mr. Jackson said. Is this true?”

  Mr. Ellerey shook his head at his assistant. “I trusted you.”

  Mr. Roy said, “Your documents will never stand up in court.”

  Francis stood. “We aristocrats don’t take kindly to men stealing from us.” He turned to Morris. “What’s the penalty for stealing from a lord?”

  “Death.” Morris smiled.

  “Merciless,” Francis whispered.

  Mr. Ellerey stood with wide eyes. “But it wasn’t me.”

  Rollo stood. “Francis’ father was sold forty-nine percent of this company. We’ll be sure to see he gets what his father was owed.”

  Mr. Roy spoke with anger. “Well, even if you win, don’t start thinking your word will mean anything around here. Forty-nine percent is not enough to become lord around here.”

  Rollo turned to him. “That’s where you’re wrong because two weeks ago, you sold Francis two percent, making his part of the company equal fifty-one. That means it’s his company.”

  The solicitor’s mouth fell open.

  Francis stilled and looked at Rollo. “Is that true?”

  “It is.” Rollo grinned. “I told you making investments was wise no matter the size.”

  Francis left the building, stepped out into the cold December winds, and knew exactly where he was going next.

  “I believe there to be an earl who is owed an explanation,” Morris said as they climbed into the waiting carriage.

  “He might also owe you money,” Frank said with a grin.

  “Or not,” Blackfall said. “If the contract is binding then he may still be forced to honor it. With both of the men who started the debt dead, it will not be easy to get out of it.”

  Francis crossed his arms. “If I gain controlling shares of East African Trading, I’ll be able to pay off the debt easily.”

  Blackfall smiled. “Indeed, you will. You’ll be the owner of one of the most lucrative companies in Europe, trading in precious stones, art, and spices.”

  Francis stared out the window and whispered, “Is it too much to hope for?”

  “No,” Morris said. “I think it’s about time you started believing.”

  Francis agreed.

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  EPILOGUE

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  Three Weeks Later

  Genie opened her eyes and stared at Francis’ sleeping profile, wondering when she’d ever get used to seeing it. It would probably never come, even when they grew old and frail. She’d always love him. Her eyes fell to the necklace he wore about his neck, the crucifix glinting against his skin. She leaned forward and kissed it just as she’d done that day in the forest.

  Then she kissed his body in ways she’d done plenty of times over the last few weeks, waking him in the way he most enjoyed. He started with a groan and, moments later, their bodies raced to a climax that shattered their world and left them in a reality where only they existed.

  An hour later, she lay on Francis’ arm with her back against his chest. His hand trailed down her body and settled at her hip. “We could always do it if you change your mind. There’s still time.” He kissed her shoulder.

  She smiled and shook her head. “No, let us wait like the contract dictates.” Francis was still beholden to the contract he’d signed with her father, even though the earl was no longer alive to dispute it and the courts frowned on contracts broken between two lords. Francis had won the fight against East African Trading Company and was now the controlling owner. However, the company was slow to give Francis the amount he needed to clear the debt, saying seventy-five thousand would take time to gain since the company had invested in other profitable ventures. In a matter of weeks, Francis had become one of the wealthiest men in London and the ton was glad for him.

  “You all do this on purpose,” Francis told her. “I’m convinced of it.”

  Genie turned around and met his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  He glared at her. “You’re the third woman amongst the Spinsters to receive a proposal and still none of you are married. You’re all plotting against us, conspiring to actually remain spinsters when none of you truly are.”

  Genie laughed until tears filled her eyes. “We don’t do it on purpose. Lorena wishes Emmett to have their new house ready before she becomes a countess. Alice wants her father to return from the Navy so that he can attend her and Calvin’s wedding. I would like your debt to be paid so that we can move on without my father’s ghost over our heads. That should happen in a matter of months. No one is plotting against you men.”

  “I don’t believe you.” He kissed her nose and then rose. “We should get ready and join the others downstairs.

  Genie slipped from the bed and went to the wash basin. They were at the Dovehaven estate and Christmas was only mere days away. Genie was glad she would be spending it with people who loved her and that once it was over, she could finally resume wearing colors. For now, she was still stuck in black.

  Francis helped her do up her dress with enough kisses and sensual touches that she was c
lose to begging him to take it off her, then she left the room while he finished getting ready.

  She started down the hall and decided to take the servant stairway since it was closer to the gardens. She still liked giving Francis his morning flower and enjoyed fresh air to start her day. She turned to the stairway and paused at what she saw. “Sophia?”

  Sophia and Morris broke from one another and her friend covered her lips before she whispered, “Not a word.”

  Genie pressed her lips together and simply nodded. She wouldn’t say a word because words had left her entirely.

  But she did give a scandalous grin.

  * * *

  THANK YOU

  for reading my book and

  i hope you have enjoyed the story.

  The next book targeted release date will be 15th November.

  In the meantime . . .

  If you have enjoyed reading Genie’s Scandalous Spinster’s Society, I believe you will be interested in the previous book.

  I have enclosed a sneak preview of the previous book.

  Check it out below . . .

  It is currently priced at $0.99 (around 230 pages)

  CHAPTER ONE

  July 1813

  London, England

  Alice Wilkins followed the servant’s directions and moved around the people who crowded the halls, taking note to make sure she avoided stepping on toes and ball gowns… her own included. She loathed balls. Society was not part of the world she’d been raised in but, more recently than she’d have wished, she was becoming a frequent guest at every elaborate party, all in her aunt’s hopes that she would marry well, even though her mother had failed.

  There seemed no better place to look for a husband than at the engagement of another. This celebration was in honor of Emmett Starr, the Earl of Ashwick, and Lady Lorena Cullip. Alice was happy to note that the couple looked very much in love. It had been hard not to stare at them as Ashwick and his fiancée danced the waltz twice, which was a scandal in itself, but then Lady Lorena had danced with a few other men. Alice had noted they were all handsome and seemed to have a familiarity with her. She’d never met Lady Lorena, but she’d known a few of her dance partners through their membership at Wilkins’, the gentleman’s club owned by her father.

  A few had even danced with her cousin, Rose. Aunt Arrah had tried to get Alice onto the floor as well but Alice had refused.

  The only reason she entertained her aunt’s ambitions was because the woman was nearly blind and had the tendency to fall asleep even while standing. Alice often found herself able to slip away without her aunt noticing.

  Like now.

  She was looking for Rose and a servant had told her he’d seen her cousin slip off into a room toward the back of Viscount of Dovehaven’s home.

  As she walked in that direction, she took in the house around her and, not for the first time, wondered what it would be like to live in such a residence. She’d heard the viscount had won the house in the very gaming hell that Alice’s father owned, procuring it from a wealthy merchant to the ton’s extreme delight. They delighted in anything that kept the lower-class low.

  Yet another reason she simply didn’t belong.

  As she made it to the last door in the hall, Alice wondered what Rose was up to. Her cousin was known for causing trouble and, usually, Alice took the blame to spare Rose any embarrassment. After all, Rose was the daughter of a marquess, while Alice was the daughter of a club owner. Even if Alice lived her life as delicately and as pure as a lily, she would always be looked upon as though she smoked pipes and drank brandy in the company of gentlemen, which wasn’t true at all.

  Alice always took her brandy alone.

  When she heard a disturbing sound, Alice pushed open the door and her blood ran cold at what she saw.

  Rose knelt on top of a large bed with her cream and pink embroidered dress fanned around her but what caught Alice’s eye was the fact that she was on top of a man.

  Rose’s blond head turned in Alice’s direction and her blue eyes widened before she scrambled off the bed.

  Or at least she tried.

  The man’s large hands shot up and grabbed Rose around the waist, forcing her back down upon him.

  “Where do you think you’re off to, love?” he said in a deep seductive voice that Alice recognized instantly. It was a voice she’d not heard in weeks but one she’d never forget.

  Rose looked behind her again, her eyes full of remorse.

  The traitor.

  The moment grew worse when the man lifted his head, and Alice stared into his vibrant hazel eyes.

  Calvin Lockwood lifted a confused brow. “Alice?”

  Alice backed away from the door until they were both out of her sight then she continued to back away until her back hit the wall behind her. She pressed her hands against the solid structure and tried to get her breathing under control but she found it hard to do when faced with the fact that her heart was broken.

  She closed her eyes.

  “Alice?” Rose called.

  She opened them as Rose headed in her direction while she straightened her clothes.

  Alice ran toward the door that led out into the night. She heard her name called again and closed the door behind her, shutting out the light from inside before she slipped further into the darkness.

  She found herself in a garden and ran toward the hedges. She lost herself in the maze, turning left and then right and holding back the tears that threatened to fall.

  Not yet.

  She had to hold them back and make sure they didn’t fall where anyone could see her. A man and woman stood by a fountain and they both gasped as she ran past them. She made another series of turns until she came to a moonlit bench by a tree.

  She sat and allowed the first tears to fall as she called herself all manner of cruel names.

  She’d expected this of Mr. Lockwood. She’d heard reports from the numerous women whose bodies he’d claimed. Many of those women worked for her father. But she’d never have thought Rose would betray her. Her own cousin. Rose knew that Alice was in love with him and had been for years. Never mind that Calvin never paid her any mind…

  Until exactly six weeks ago.

  The last time she’d seen Calvin, they’d been caught by her father. But she recalled how her body had reacted when he’d kissed her. She’d been putting together a stack of cards from a table that was no longer in use when he’d stepped up behind her, grabbed her waist, and pressed his mouth to her throat.

  Alice had dropped the cards in favor of holding onto the table. She’d shivered as Calvin’s mouth grew aggressive and his hands scored her body. Alice had felt on the verge of fainting when he’d finally spun her around and claimed her mouth, pushing her against the table until she’d had no choice but to climb on it, which had been exactly what he’d wanted.

  He’d moved in between her legs, never breaking the kiss. One hand had controlled her by holding the back of her neck, keeping her mouth pinned under his, while his hand had moved up and cupped her breast through the dark work dress that she wore most days. Its fabric was rough and when he’d found her nipple, her entire body had vibrated. Just when she’d thought it wouldn’t get any better, he’d said her name.

  “Alice.” The tone of his voice held reverence, anguish, and something else. Something she’d hoped entailed just as much longing as she had for him.

  She’d placed her hands on his neck and he’d lifted his head, pushing back his blond hair with his hands. His eyes met hers and she’d seen he was drunk. Looking into his hazel eyes was like looking at the richest brandy through a glass. Beautiful even when inebriated.

  She’d smiled, not caring in the least that he’d most likely not remember kissing her, only because he’d known exactly who he’d been kissing when he’d done it.

  Then his hands had slid down until they’d landed on her lap and his fingers curved around the top of each of her thighs and he released a sound that was both groan and s
igh. Their heads tilted down to see where his hands rested, his bare tanned skin against her nearly black dress, creating creases in the material from his firm grip. Then her eyes had moved to his hair and her hands moved through the strands, parting the waves because for the first time she was free to do so. His blond was not pure but instead held strands that ran the gamut from the lightest white to nearly brunette at the roots.

  She’d never forget just how good it had felt to touch him, the sound of his heated breath, or the words that followed.

  “If you were mine…”

  She’d stilled.

  His head rose, and his hazel eyes returned to hers. “If you were mine, I would—”

  But he never got the chance to finish his words. Her father, Ralph Wilkins, had found them, accused Calvin of taking advantage of her, and had him blackballed that same night.

  She’d worked at changing her father’s mind, but she and Calvin had been caught in what had become a very sensitive place for Ralph after an employee had died there. Mr. Thomas St. George had taken a ladder to fix a clock on a high wall when he’d fallen from it. Ralph hadn’t found him until hours later and grew more distraught every time he walked into that room. So, she’d kept her silence for the time being.

  For weeks, she’d hoped Calvin would return and finish his words. She’d gone to sleep at night envisioning him crawling through her window like a prince from a fairytale and taking her away to a better life, a life where she was respected and seen as a woman.

  Calvin’s kiss was the first time Alice had ever felt… delicate and feminine.

  Over the years, she had found herself in other compromising positions with her father’s men. She was taller than the average woman, and her father had claimed she’d gained admirers because she looked like her mother, with hair the color of night, eyes the shade of day, and skin the color of winter snow. He’d accused her of growing curves much too soon, as though she could control what Mother Nature gave her. By sixteen, she’d begun to wear dresses that were much too large for her but hid her body, which was what her father preferred. Still, the men had come. Some had been drunk, others not so. All had been blackballed, until at last the men who spent time at Wilkins’ understood that Alice was not to be touched.