Christin's Splendid Spinster's Society (The Spinster’s Society) (A Regency Romance Book)

by Charlotte Stone

  He shook his head kissed her before chuckling. “I suppose I should thank Alice for seeing to our meeting. I love you so very much.”

  Christin smiled and thought about that day only a week ago when she’d walked into her sitting room to find Aaron. She’d been unprepared for everything that happened next. She’d had no clue what her life had been missing until she’d found Aaron and since that day, every moment with him had been grand.

  And she was certain her future would be nothing short of splendid.

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  EPILOGUE

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  One Month Later

  Everyone stood as Hugh walked into the room cradling a small baby bundled in a blanket. There were collective gasps and sweet sighs as he came closer. The smile that covered his handsome face and the unshed tears that glittered in his eyes said it all. Taygete was well, and they were very happy.

  “It’s a boy,” Hugh whispered.

  His brothers went over and cupped a hand on his shoulder or hit his back as though he’d said that he’d saved the Crown. The Spinsters gathered in front of him and peered down at the sleeping babe. The next Marquess of Edvoy was beautiful.

  “What will you name him?” Lorena asked.

  “I named him after my father and my best friend… Raymond Joseph Vance,” Hugh announced and caught his blood brother’s eye.

  Ray stilled and held Hugh’s eyes. “No one here is named Joseph.”

  “That would be the name that comes from our father,” Hugh said plainly.

  Ray shut his mouth and then hesitated. “You... named him after me?”

  Hugh chuckled. “I don’t know another Raymond.”

  “I met one once,” his brother went on anxiously. “He was at a pub and—”

  “I don’t know him,” Hugh said. “And he’s not my best friend.”

  Raymond looked around the room, and Christin knew what thoughts went through his mind. Hugh had adopted nine other brothers and had banned Raymond from joining the Brotherhood, but that didn’t mean that he’d replaced him in his heart in any way. He obviously loved his brother.

  Raymond looked down at the baby and smiled. “Well, we certainly can’t call him ‘Ray’ or we’ll be confused as to whom is being called.”

  “Taygete already called him ‘Monty,’ ” Hugh told him, making it clear that the marquess and his wife had been discussing this for a while. He’d not come up with the child’s name on the spot. This had been planned.

  “Damn you,” Ray whispered and wiped his eyes, obviously embarrassed.

  Hugh chuckled. “Do you want to hold him?”

  “You know I do.” Ray took the boy and went over to sit on the couch. Immediately, he was surrounded by the Spinsters and the other two women who’d traveled to Edvoy Hall in time for Christin and Aaron’s wedding and the child’s birth. Maura’s mother, who everyone called Aunt Tilda, was present, as was Morris’ mother, the Viscountess of Dovehaven. The Viscount was there as well, since he was not letting his pregnant wife out of sight.

  They’d announced days ago that they were to have a baby, which meant that both Sophia and Morris would be not only getting a child of their own but also a sibling. This had sent Sophia into yet another panic, but both Morris and Dovehaven had worked to calm her.

  The Spinsters in total—with the exception of Maura and Christin—were starting to show and had been distraught when their husbands had forbidden them from being in the room while Taygete gave birth. But Hugh had been there.

  “How is Taygete?” Christin asked.

  “Well and resting,” Hugh said while holding her eyes. “Thank you for suggesting I be in the room. It was an experience I shall not soon forget.”

  Christin smiled. She’d shared the story of her sister’s birth with him, and he’d taken her advice.

  “I honestly don’t know how women manage to do it on their own,” Hugh went on. “I held her hand through most of it, which I might add she almost broke. I encouraged her the entire way.” He sighed heavily. “The results could have been far different had I not been there.”

  Christin rolled her eyes at his inflamed ego. “I think Taygete would have managed perfectly well.”

  “Oh, no.” Hugh shook his head and looked at the Brothers. “You all need to be in the room when your wives give birth. It’s necessary. In fact, there should be a law enacted. Women can’t handle this one.”

  The men seemed to be taking in every word he said.

  Christin scoffed and turned to Aaron to see a considering look in his eyes. “Don’t listen to this. Women have been giving birth on their own for years. We’re much stronger than we look.”

  Aaron looked doubtful.

  Christin narrowed her eyes. He smiled and pulled her to his side, wrapping a strong arm around her shoulders.

  Lorena turned to them from her position on the couch. “You can’t be serious.”

  Hugh walked to a wingback chair and fell into it. “Well, I am. I’m tired and likely just as drained as Taygete.”

  The Spinsters gasped.

  Sophia stood, tottering lightly. Her stomach was twice as large as the others’. Her face was masked with anger. “Don’t you dare suggest that a few hours in a room equates to carrying a child for nine months!”

  “It is hard work,” Francis agreed, while facing his brothers. “Genie is hungry at all hours of the night. I can’t count the times I’ve had to get up and pull the bell.”

  “Pull the bell?” Genie asked. “You call it hard work simply pulling the bell? How would you like it if someone was kicking you at all hours every single day?”

  Emmett grunted. “I know exactly what that’s like…”

  “Don’t you dare,” Lorena began.

  “And the worry,” Morris cut in. “I swear, I’m on edge every moment of every day, wondering what Sophia should be doing and where she should or shouldn’t be going.”

  Calvin’s eyes seemed to fill with anxiety as though he understood from personal experience every word Morris had uttered.

  “This is ridiculous,” Sophia said. “There is no occurrence that compares to what we go through.”

  The men looked at one another and then let their gazes fall away, each sporting their own versions of disbelief.

  “Men are so annoying,” Alice said.

  Florence tsked and shook her head.

  “And they wonder why we started the Spinsters Society,” Genie went on.

  “Speaking of which,” Rollo said. “Perhaps it’s time that you all focused your time on our children and less on your aimless women's clubs.”

  There was a moment of silence and then fighting broke out.

  “If you ask me,” someone said under their breath. “They’re all annoying…”

  Christin turned around to stare at the man who’d made the comment. Seeing Sudworth, she broke into great laughter and drew everyone’s attention.

  “What’s so funny?” Lorena asked, a storm still in her blue eyes.

  Christin covered her mouth and shook her head. “Oh, nothing. It’s just something Sudworth said.”

  Calvin grunted. “Yet another example of what our women call a great idea. Sudworth barely recognizes himself as a servant much less acts like one.”

  Sudworth said nothing, but his wicked grin said it all. Christin recalled the first time she’d seen him a year ago and had to admit the servant seemed more relaxed than before, almost blending into the fold as though he were not a servant at all.

  “Indeed,” Dovehaven said from his chair. “Sudworth has little servant qualities about him. He talks like a man who’s had a tutor, reads and speaks French, and carries himself as if he owns every bloody room he’s in.” The viscount’s green gaze was fixed on Lorena’s former butler. His look was considering. “Where did you say you were from… Zed?” He said the name as th
ough he didn’t really believe Zedock Sudworth’s name to be real.

  Christin looked him over and decided he didn’t look like a Zedock, though she wasn’t sure what a Zedock looked like. He didn’t look like a Sudworth either.

  Sudworth narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t say, my lord.”

  Emmett crossed his arms and sighed, now also staring at the footman. “You know, I decided against questioning your presence in our company after you saved Lorena, but now I wonder…”

  “Yes,” Hugh agreed. “Is Zedock your real name?”

  “Of course, it is.” Sudworth started for the door. “And if anyone needs anything from me, just ring the bell.” He gave Francis a pointed a look. “You know how it works, I’m sure.” Then he was gone.

  Genie giggled and said, “That’s why we keep him around. He's not really servant-like, but he’s great fun when he wishes to be.”

  “Servants shouldn’t be fun,” Rollo said.

  “Oh?” Florence challenged. “Then what should they be like?” As a former servant herself, her question was daring.

  Rollo shut his mouth.

  A cooing noise drew everyone’s attention to the baby in Raymond’s arm.

  He was awake.

  They all moved closer and watched as he opened his eyes.

  Gray. Even paler than Taygete’s, though that could change.

  “He already has the ability to quiet a room,” Hugh said proudly.

  Christin was sure he’d have been pleased with a girl as well, but it was clear he was glad to have his heir.

  Aaron’s hold on her dropped to her waist, and she looked over to see if he was looking at her. Instead, he was looking over her head at the door Sudworth had gone out before turning to Hugh. “I know you’ve much to deal with,” he whispered, “But find out—”

  “Done,” Hugh replied before looking at his son again.

  Was Hugh going to look into Sudworth? Did this have to do with the secret the men had yet to share with their wives? Christin wondered… but then little Monty made another noise and distracted her once again.

  But nothing would distract her or the other Spinsters for long.

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  While you are waiting for the next book …

  Flip this page to read another one of my books. Included here is a novella special which is not available elsewhere.

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  NOVELLA SPECIAL

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  CHAPTER

  ONE

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  When Nicholas Barrington, Duke of Winnefield, exhaled, plumes of his breath hung for a moment in the air before uncoiling to be lost to the wind. It made him feel a trifle dragonish, or perhaps devilish would be more appropriate.

  Catherine Green had certainly called him devilish more than once during the two days he had spent with her. His rather unpleasant business in Hartford had only kept him for a night. Spending the two nights after that at his mistress' cottage had been a welcome change. The time spent with Catherine, mostly naked, mostly laughing, was a delight, but he wondered whether it was time to give her a final rich gift and bid her goodbye.

  He had been attracted to the sharp-eyed girl in Mrs. Wentworth's brothel for her grin, her curves, and her wild ways, but these last few visits, he had seen her getting uncharacteristically moon-eyed over him. Nicholas liked Catherine, but he disliked attachments, especially of the female variety. No. as amusing as she was, it was likely time to end things, and if she was hurt, well, the cottage he had purchased for her and the bank draft he would have his man deliver to her would hopefully salve those wounds.

  The road to London from Winslow and points farther north was a quiet one, and even if he was a man who had always favored London's lights over the calm of the countryside, Nicholas enjoyed the ride back. His mare, a Moroccan Barb, fairly danced under his light hand, and when he could, he let her stretch her elegant legs.

  When the first shot rang out, Nicholas’ mount tossed her head, dancing a little, but he stilled her, looking around to see where the sound had come from. It was likely a local squire out for a day of shooting or at worst, a poacher who Nicholas couldn't bring himself to care about. A second shot came, and he realized that it had originated from the road in front of him.

  “Easy now, my love,” he murmured to his horse. “And gently—”

  He continued around the bend and saw what he most feared. Stopped not twenty yards in front of him was a Royal mail coach, as large in the road as a barge was in the river. From his vantage point, Nicholas could see the driver clutching his arm and the guard sprawled on the road, his gun cast aside.

  Drawn up next to the coach was a man with a revolver and a hand inside the window, and Nicholas guessed he was offering the people seated inside their lives for whatever valuables they were carrying.

  The bandit was utterly focused on the coach, and Nicholas reckoned that he could get fairly close without the man noticing him. Of course, if he was unlucky, the man would turn just in time to see him, and at close range, it wouldn't matter if the bandit had good aim or not.

  Well, I always liked high odds.

  Almost as if she understood the need for silence, Nicholas’ mare moved quietly toward the bandit and his mount. The man was leaned into the coach, speaking in a rough and urgent tone with the people inside. Just as Nicholas got close enough that he could think about making a grab for the criminal, a hoarse shout rang through the air and then the air was filled with an oddly familiar lemony-herbal reek.

  While Nicholas was still trying to figure out what the hell had happened, the bandit reeled back from the coach window, hanging on to his revolver desperately with one hand while he wiped frantically at his eyes with the other. Never one to let an opportunity go by, Nicholas gigged his mare up alongside the man's cob before drawing his elbow back and slamming it across the man's throat. This close, the smell was even stronger, and Nicholas turned his face as the bandit toppled backward off his horse. On his way down, the revolver fell out of his grip, and Nicholas caught it deftly in his free hand.

  “All right, sir, hold as still as you can or you might not live to make it to the magistrate,” Nicholas said with a grin. When it looked like the man lacked the interest in doing anything besides wiping at his stinging eyes, Nicholas glimpsed at the coach's interior. He was slightly startled to see a frail and shaking man, a Quaker couple, a matronly woman with what looked like a mass of small children clutched under her arms, and sitting close to the window of the coach was a young woman dressed all in black, a fierce look in her vividly green eyes.

  “If you are also planning to rob us, I should make you aware that I may be out of Hungary water, but I will happily strike you down with the bottle instead.”

  She brandished the small rock crystal bottle at Nicholas with such determination that he pulled his mare back slightly with a laugh.

  “I can see that you will, miss,” he said. “But right now, I was hoping to find a man who would be willing to tie up the bandit who tried to accost you. The driver is wounded, and we must still check on the guard.”

  “I can take care of that for you,” said the woman in black. With her martial temperament, Nicholas guessed she could be a war widow.

  “I could do it if you would rather hold the revolver?”

  “No. I detest guns.”

  She said it with a kind of flat distaste that brooked no question, and before he knew what she was about, she had opened the door and gathered her skirts in one hand before hopping out. As she did so, her hat was knocked askew, showing off gleaming chestnut braids coiled around her head. Nicholas smiled, charmed at the ferocity of such a pretty thing.

  “All right now, you rogue, we'll see about making sure you don't escape.”

  As Nicholas kept the gun trained on the man, she bound the man tightly with his own belt and some spare leather tack that
hung from the coach.

  When she was done, she looked around briefly.

  “I don't suppose there will be a passing constable who can help us.”

  Nicholas nodded at the iron hook hung off the side of the coach. It was empty, designed for hauling bags of mail.

  “I think I have an idea.”

  Nicholas laid the revolver aside and hauled the man up, hanging him by his bindings from the hook. He figured he needn't have worried with the gun; the man's eyes were red and irritated, nearly swollen shut, and Nicholas shot the woman in black an amused look. Now that the bandit was taken care of, he couldn't help but notice that she was more a girl than a woman. It was the black fustian that made her look older.

  “I shouldn't like to be a bandit while there are Amazons like you around, miss,” he said with a grin.

  She shot him a baleful look.

  “It was the last of a gift from someone who was very dear to me. I know he would have approved of my using it in a noble cause, but I am still sorry to lose it. Now we must see to the guard and the driver.”

  As it turned out, the guard was merely stunned, but the bandit had broken the driver's wrist when he snatched the reins from him. The poor man was in so much pain that the only thing to do was to load him into the coach as he would not be able to ride on the outside seats. Nicholas looked at the crowded coach interior dubiously.

  “Well, I can drive the coach on to Berkhamsted, but it might be dangerous with so many crowded inside.”

  “Well, he can have my seat, and I can ride on the outside seats,” said the woman in black.