Christin's Splendid Spinster's Society (The Spinster’s Society) (A Regency Romance Book)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Copyright
Personal word from Charlotte Stone
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Part 1.1
.
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Epilogue
Part 1.2
Chapter One
Preview of Next Book
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Publishers Notes
Christin's Splendid Spinster's Society
The Spinster’s Society
A Regency Romance Book
Charlotte Stone
Contents
Copyright
Personal word from Charlotte Stone
Find Out More
Part 1.1
.
Chapter Two
.
Chapter Three
.
Chapter Four
.
Chapter Five
.
Chapter Six
.
Chapter Seven
.
Chapter Eight
.
Chapter Nine
.
Chapter Ten
.
Chapter Eleven
.
Chapter Twelve
.
Chapter Thirteen
.
Chapter Fourteen
.
Chapter Fifteen
.
Chapter Sixteen
.
Chapter Seventeen
.
Chapter Eighteen
.
Chapter Nineteen
.
Chapter Twenty
.
Chapter Twenty-one
.
Chapter Twenty-two
.
Chapter Twenty-three
.
Chapter Twenty-four
.
Chapter Twenty-five
.
Chapter Twenty-six
.
Chapter Twenty-seven
.
Chapter Twenty-eight
.
Chapter Twenty-nine
.
Chapter Thirty
.
Chapter Thirty-one
.
Chapter Thirty-two
.
Chapter Thirty-three
.
Epilogue
.
Part 1.2
Chapter One
.
Chapter Two
.
Chapter Three
.
Chapter Four
.
Chapter Five
.
Chapter Six
.
Chapter Seven
.
Chapter Eight
.
Chapter Nine
.
Chapter Ten
.
Chapter Eleven
.
Chapter Twelve
.
Chapter Thirteen
.
Chapter Fourteen
.
Chapter Fifteen
.
Chapter Sixteen
.
Chapter Seventeen
.
Epilogue
.
Preview of Next Book
ORDER OF BOOKS LIST. Also By
Join Today
Publishers Notes
Copyright © 2018 by
Charlotte Stone
All Rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
* * * * *
* * *
PERSONAL WORD
FROM CHARLOTTE STONE
* * *
Dear lovely readers,
The characters of my writings are women who have a strong mind of their own, women who know what they want to pursue in life. It is their tenacity to finding true love that drives them to overcome the challenges which they may face while waiting for the man of their dreams.
Will such tenacity of their believing bring them true love in spite of the societal-standing challenges one will face in an era such as that of Regency.
Read on to find out the answers!
Thank you once again for your strong support in my writing journey!
Much Love,
Have you checked out my other historical romance book series?
Click the link below to get started
*** Amazon US ***
* * *
Got something to share?
I would want to hear from you!
So please do get in touch with me:
https://www.facebook.com/charlottestonebooks/
charlottestonebooks@gmail.com
- THE SPINSTER’S SOCIETY SERIES -
Christin's Splendid Spinster's Society
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CHAPTER ONE
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Christin Potter pulled in a breath and held it as Lord Jeanshire leaned forward, reached out across the table between them, and wrapped long fingers around his china tea cup. Then slowly, as if not to startle her, he receded back into his chair, the only sound in the room being the seat giving way for his comfort. She watched in fascination as he extended the cup to his lips, then jerked her gaze up to meet his eyes.
His startling blue eyes had remained on her through the entire process, and Christin was sure she’d never experienced a more intense moment in her life. Lungs burning, she released her breath and licked suddenly dry lips. She’d become aware of him the moment she’d walked into her sitting room. The elegantly furnished blue space was used for all Potter Agency’s interviews with potential employees and patrons of both the middle and upper class. She’d met both titled and untitled gentlemen, yet had never seen a man fill and command the very air in the room like the Earl of Jeanshire.
Potter Agency was known in London for the talent and discipline of its servants. Men and women were trained for positions in wealthy homes. The business had been started by her mother-in-law and on the death of both Mary Potter and Christin’s husband, she’d taken on the responsibilities, seeing to every part of the business from hiring the teachers, accepting apprenticeships, and seeing that her employees were placed in the best homes throughout the empire
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She’d wondered why Patsy, one of her housekeepers-in-training, had looked slightly unsettled after showing her latest patron to the sitting room and retreating.
But the man she’d found in her sitting room had not been what she’d expressed at all.
Where did one start when they wished to describe the Earl of Jeanshire?
Christin closed her eyes as she sipped her own tea.
There was no need to look at the man further. He’d become engraved in her mind the moment she’d walked through the door.
When one thought of a lord, Jeanshire was not what came to mind. While he was extremely handsome, his hard features were not aristocratic. His bone structure was more primitive than genteel. And so, instead of comparing him to the statues of gods, her mind envisioned ancient warriors, men who gained their power though strength and not birthright.
His hair was like fine gold but cut unfashionably short, leaving only a hint of a wave that made his face all the more impressive.
She couldn’t picture this lord as an idle god or even a lazy peer. Had she seen him on the road dressed any other way, she’d have thought him a builder, capable of lifting and breaking both stone and man. A leader who’d shed blood on his climb to the top, giving nothing for free yet taking whatever he wished, no matter the consequences.
In a word, he was far too manly to be a god.
He looked more like a god killer, as though he were the reason the deities no longer roamed the earth, fearful of what this man could do, hiding in the heavens while the rest of the world was forced to yield to Jeanshire’s every command. The bones in his cheeks and wide jaw were resilient… as was the rest of his body.
He was large, his shoulders exceeding the width of the wingback chair he’d been shown to. He'd been forced to sit with his legs wide for fear of them running into the table between them.
A matter that had never risen before with anyone else.
The muscles in the thighs that lay under his dark silk breeches flexed with his every move, and her body became inflamed whenever she caught sight of it.
Dear God.
Christin had never experienced anything like this in her life, and at seven and twenty, she thought herself well past the years of senseless infatuations and the wiles of attractive men.
She’d not even been this way when she was sixteen.
Not even with her departed husband.
Though why she would compare a simple, yet lovely man like John Potter to this… beastly robust man, she didn’t know. The only thing her husband and Lord Jeanshire had in common was their sex.
“What do you think?” The deep rumble of his voice gave her a start.
“Hmm?” What was wrong with her?
She pulled in another breath and dared to settle her gaze on his.
Unsurprisingly, her thoughts fled her once again, but she was aware she made a sound of some sort. She only hoped it had been appropriate as her eyes moved over him again.
His arms, which rested on the chair, looked like twin columns of solid stone. One hand held her china cup. How it didn’t crumble to dust in his grasp she didn’t know. A single gloved finger rubbed leisurely against the porcelain edge, and Christin struggled to keep her mind from imagining those fingers on her person, undoing the buttons at the front of her dress and idly stroking an exposed nipple until it bloomed.
Heat shot through her core with such strength that her vision blurred.
“Mrs. Potter?” He had the sort of voice one would pay great money to listen to, a baritone so low that anything he said sounded far too arousing. The sound of it was like being wrapped in a warm blanket or held against skin.
His would be warm, she readily decided.
She jumped when she heard the tea cup hit the table. “Oh, I…” Her voice trailed off as his eyes caught hers again and then his gaze moved lower, his irises becoming warmer before his nostrils flared. He clenched his fist, and Christin clenched the muscles between her thighs.
The pleasure of it nearly knocked her over and the truth flew through her mind.
She wanted him.
It had been so long since she’d wanted a man and even longer since she’d allowed one to touch her.
Five years. Five lonely and pleasureless years.
She gripped her skirts as their stares collided. Once more, Christin was lost.
He moved, and she jumped to her feet at the same time, but instead of moving toward him, she circled the chair and placed it between them. She almost screamed when she found him on the other side. He’d moved so quickly. She stared up at him, the chair poor protection against whatever was happening between them.
“Uh… I…” She swallowed and looked down at the red paisley design of the chair, fixating on it until she could right her mind and the world stopped shifting underneath her feet.
“Forgive me. I—”
His hand cupped her shoulder, and she sucked in a breath to find him beside her. His expression was one of confusion that drew his dark brows in and formed creases on his otherwise flawless tan skin.
But then that wasn’t true. On closer inspection, she noticed a flat pale line that went across the width of his nose. It had been broken before. She wondered how.
She didn’t know why every detail about him struck her so greatly, but it did.
His mouth was full and wide, and she was stuck dumb when the blacks of his eyes widened, engulfing much of the blue, even though the confusion hadn’t left their depths.
His confusion called to her as well.
This man didn’t seem the sort to be confused often. He seemed certain, willing, and able to take on any test he came across with ease. She didn’t know him, they’d barely spoken since she’d walked into the room, but if she had only three words to describe him, she’d have said hard, masculine, and certain.
She released the breath she’d been holding and became enchanted as an expression she thought suited him far better cleared his brows.
Certainty.
It took her another moment to realize that that look might be associated with her.
Finally, her brain turned back on. “My lord—”
He leaned forward, and Christin gasped as he turned and settled his nose at the side of her neck. He inhaled, and she shivered at its release. His breath was warm and sank into her skin. Only the hands that held her shoulders kept her from tumbling to the ground.
“This can’t be happening,” he moaned deeply against her, and a sound she didn’t think could come from human lips left Jeanshire as though it were ripped from his chest. Then he lifted her head, and Christin froze as the feeling of standing on the edge of something great took hold of her. Behind her was everything she knew and was familiar with, and before her was the plunge into the unknown.
“You,” he whispered as a soft smile touched his lips.
“Me?” she asked in answer to a question she wasn’t entirely sure she wished to know.
With his response came an expression she couldn’t recognize. “Yes.”
She had a fear of heights, yet she held Jeanshire’s eyes and allowed herself to fall.
She thought his kiss would be hard but discovered it was something far more dangerous. He was slow and thorough and seemed to leave no part of her mouth untouched.
He tasted delicious, like coffee and sugar. She licked his lips, and he groaned before pulling her closer. Her thoughts became more lucid as he intoxicated her with the most stunning kiss she’d ever received.
“You,” he whispered again, the sound made with great breath, working as an irresistible lull. Did he not know he already had her? She had no idea who he thought her to be, but in that second, she didn’t want to be anyone else. She wanted to be his ‘you,’ no matter what it cost.
“Yes,” she replied.
His hands moved down to her waist and dragged her the final inches that separated them, and still, it wasn’t close enough to satisfy her. Her hands went around his neck, and she opened her mouth just
before his tongue swept in.
Another shot of raging heat hit her, and her body shuddered violently at the brush of the first strands of pleasure. “Oh!”
Never had it come from just a kiss.
A dark urgency compelled her to capture his tongue and suck it lightly.
It was all the encouragement he needed.
His hold tightened at her waist, and she jumped into his arms, locking her legs around his narrowed hips. Hunger blinded her, nearly muting the sounds of something crashing to the floor before her bottom settled on a hard and cold surface.
His hands bunched up her skirts, and she slipped a hand down his shoulder, over his chest, and further down until she cupped his manhood. She found it hard and thick and felt him gasp against her mouth.