Historical Romance: Genie’s Scandalous Spinster’s Society A Lady's Club Regency Romance: The Spinster's Society, #3

By Charlotte Stone

Book 03 in The Spinster's Society series - A Historical Romance Book

Lady Genevieve 'Genie' Toft's heart has always beat for one gentleman in particular.

 

The Duke of Valdeston.

 

Determined to finally win his love, she and her Spinster Sisters set out to trap the elusive duke.

A scheme that might involve the occasional ax and willingness do whatever it takes to woo him.

 

But her plans and heart are shattered in a single moment that leaves Genie lost and wondering if the gleam she'd seen in the duke's eyes was ever there.

 

Francis Cullip is a man who's not been left with many choices in life, which includes marrying the woman he wants.

Forced to keep his adoration for Genie to himself, he's more determined than ever to break free of the darkness that's kept them apart.

But playing with fire could risk lives and the happiness of everyone they know.

 

But some passions can't stay tamed forever.

 

What is Genie willing to give up to be with the man she loves?

Which path will Francis choose, the safer route or the one that could lead to joy?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charlotte Stone
• Release date: Feb 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393870586

Charlotte Stone

In a near cynical world which we are currently living in, Charlotte finds comfort in the readings of Regency Romance writings, one of her favourite would be Laura Kinsale’s Flowers from the storm where the female character loves and saves the male lead character who is a stroke victim. It was such writings which inspired her to be an author herself. In Charlotte’s writings, the characters are able to see beyond the imperfections of each other and to accept and love one another, just the way one is. Isn’t this true of our inner self? To be able to find someone who is able to see the beauty in us, in spite of all imperfections we might have. Isn’t this true of what love really should be? Ever accepting, ever loving, ever seeking. May you find love and acceptance in Charlotte’s writings.

Book preview

prologue

*   *   *

October 1807

Oxford, England

Lord Francis Cullip looked up from his book as someone fell into the wingback chair next to his. In the dim light of the tavern, he looked at the young man, who started to rummage through his bag on the hunt for something. The young man pulled a book from the confines of the satchel and began to read, positioning himself much like Francis, with a leg over the arm of the chair. Francis guessed the boy to be in his first year at Oxford, making him only one year younger than Francis’ twenty. The gentleman had dark hair and dark eyes and Francis watched the grin he’d sported just a few moments ago vanish under the weight of the information on the page. He was studying philosophy, a heavy subject. Francis looked at his own adventure book and debated on the merits of studying himself. Then he decided against it.

Francis looked around Nashwood, his preferred tavern, and took note of how many people were in the room. He’d barely noticed that the building was full. The only seats that remained were the nine surrounding him. Well, eight now.

He turned to the young man, wondered if he should say something, and decided he would. Hello.

The other gentleman gave a quick smile. Good evening. He slowly went back to his book.

What’s your name? Francis asked, knowing very well he was interrupting.

John. John didn’t look up from his book.

Francis nodded slowly, waiting a moment for his own question to be returned. When it wasn’t, he went on as if it had been. Well, I’m Francis Cullip.

John nodded absently.

Francis waited.

Slowly, the book was lowered, and John stared at him, eyes wide. You’re Francis Cullip? The surprise and admiration bloomed quickly on his face. The school’s equestrian?

Francis grinned. I am.

John straightened with excitement. You beat Cambridge last year.

Francis placed an elbow on the chair arm closest to John and balanced his head on his fist. I know.

Are you going to beat them this year?

I plan to.

John nodded and looked around the tavern as reality dawned. You’re one of them, aren’t you? One of the Nashwood men?

Francis said nothing but the truth of the matter was obvious. Before them were eight empty chairs, and though the room was full of fellow students, some standing in groups and others lining the walls, no one had dared to sit by Francis, except for John, because this section of the den was reserved for Francis and his friends, the Men of Nashwood.

Embarrassment turned John’s face red. I didn’t know.

Francis smiled. You’re new. I realize that.

John looked over to the wall behind them and studied the names that had been carved into the exposed wood. The weight of his mistake hit him like a slap in the face.

An explosion of noise caused them to both turn as nine young dapper gentlemen walked into the tavern and headed boisterously in their direction. Their joy died at the sight of John.

Julius Hext lifted a brow. You’re in my chair.

Of course. John scrambled from the chair and started to bow at every man present. So sorry, my lords. He looked at a few of the others, who weren’t lords, the gentry of the group. Gentlemen. He bowed even lower. Then he grabbed his bag and scurried across the room to stand with the others, who’d known better than to sit in the reserved section of the tavern.

John made it to the other side of the room and was greeted by laughs.

Francis shook his head.

Julius dropped into his chair and frowned. It feels like a First Year has been sitting in my chair.

Francis laughed. You were a First Year just two years ago.

Still. Julius adjusted himself in the chair and narrowed his eyes as Francis. I can’t believe you let someone sit in my chair.

Francis rolled his eyes. I did not. I was in the midst of asking John to move as gently as I could.

"If John sat here any longer, his friends would have joined him."

Calvin Lockwood grimly looked through his satchel. Then we’d have to worry about John and his friends stealing the high tables at meals. It was custom at Oxford for paying students to sit in higher chairs at meals while the commoners sat in the lower seats.

You’re overreacting, Francis said, ready to laugh. John simply didn’t know better.

Besides, everyone knows Julius’ seat is the most comfortable, Morris Kidd said, his teal-colored eyes dancing with humor.

The others laughed.

Julius glared at him. You’re only able to jest because it wasn’t your seat that was snatched from beneath you.

The conversation went on and Francis’ grin widened, but the opening of the far door caught his attention and he stood. He walked toward the entrance and greeted his father with a handshake and a smile.

Father, what are you doing here?

The Duke of Valdeston tried to return the smile but it was obvious that he was troubled. We must speak.

Francis nodded, went back for his belongings, and headed out into the night with his father. The air was cool with the sun tucked away, which Francis was more than grateful for after the heated day they’d had. Are Lorena and Evie here? he asked.

Lorena was his younger sister while Evie—or Genie as everyone else called her— was her friend, a young woman with the sweetest heart he’d ever met. Genie’s green eyes came to his mind and the way they would light whenever he walked into a room. She’d visited him last year when she and Lorena had come to see his race. It was his fondest memory of his time at Oxford. He’d awoken to a tulip on his breakfast tray and had immediately known who it had come from. Whenever they were in the city, Genie made sure a flower was placed by his breakfast. She’d been in love with him for years and though Francis had yet to tell her, he loved her just as much.

The duke looked over at Francis as they climbed into his waiting carriage. The women are not here but Lord Buckley is. The Marquess of Buckley was Genie’s father and one of Francis’ father’s closest friends.

Francis sat down across from his father and frowned. What is Lord Buckley doing here?

The lamp in the carriage was lit and Francis noticed just how tired his father looked. A horrible feeling settled in Francis’ stomach, one that told him the night would not end in his favor. That had been the case repeatedly whenever his father sought him out to speak to him alone. It was well known amongst the peerage that the Valdeston name was an empty title, thanks to its current duke.

Francis’ father had lost their fortune in one bad investment after another, to the point that Francis waited for the day that Oxford would remove him from the roster for unpaid fees. It was only his mother Lady Constance Cullip’s inheritance that allowed Francis and his sister the few luxuries they did have. Thanks to the way their wedding contracts had been written years ago, Constance held a portion of money that was solely hers and though Francis’ father could take it if he wished, he’d never touched his wife’s funds. Francis respected his father for that and for many reasons. Though he was not good with his coin, he was an excellent father and was close to both Francis and Lorena.

But in the last few years, Francis’ father had allowed Francis to see the family’s financial records, simply so that Francis would have no illusions as to what he was inheriting. A name and nothing more.

What has happened? Francis asked.

The duke held his eyes, his blue a darker shade than Francis’. I’m in debt, Francis.

Yes, I know. Francis’ stomach tightened. But why are you here?

His father sighed and finally looked away. I’m going to prison.

Francis leaned back in his seat as the ill feeling grew. What? Why?

His father’s eyes returned to him. I’m in more debt than you know, and it’s an amount I’ll never be able to pay back in this lifetime.

Francis’ heart squeezed inside his chest as he thought about his mother’s reaction if she had to see her husband taken to debtor’s prison. Constance and the duke had been a love match from the very beginning. Does Mother know? Then he thought about what Lorena would do. She’d cry, no doubt, and would most likely never marry. Her future would end at the news of their father’s incarceration.

Your mother and Lorena don’t know and they don’t need to know if you help me, Valdeston went on.

Francis stared at his father as the uneasy feeling grew. The carriage stopped but neither of them moved and no footman appeared at the door. How do I help?

His father crossed his legs at the knee and leaned back on the bench. Lord Buckley is willing to lend you enough money to pay off most of my debts.

Me? Francis asked. Why not you? You’ve been his friend for decades.

Valdeston nodded. It has to be you because you’re young and have more time to see that the money is returned to his house.

Of course. He’d do anything to keep his father from prison.

The duke frowned. I’m so sorry, Francis.

He leaned over and touched his father’s shoulder. It’s all right. I’ll ask the marquess for the money. I won’t let you go to prison.

His father covered his hand while his eyes remained locked with his. Francis, what he will ask from you, the burden you will have to bear, I am truly sorry. Tears filled his eyes.

Francis’ heart raced. It’s all right. He smiled. It’s well known that every other Duke of Valdeston has better luck than the one before.

His father smiled sadly before tightening his hold on Francis’ hand. A moment passed before he said, If the debt is too high, don’t accept. Let me pay for what I’ve done.

Francis was shaking his head before his father finished. There’s no debt too high to stop me from saving my family.

Just remember what I’ve said, his father advised before he tapped the roof.

The door opened and Francis got out, noticing he was at an inn just outside of Oxford. He turned, expecting his father to follow.

The duke leaned toward the door. He’s in a private dining room waiting for you. I’ll wait here and you can come and tell me how it went.

Francis nodded and went toward the inn. He was familiar with the building, as it was the one his father used whenever he came to town. Francis went toward the private dining room and slipped inside.

The Marquess of Buckley was there, already eating. Sorry I didn’t wait for you. I was quite famished. He started to rise.

There’s no need. Francis took the chair directly across from him. The table was small, set for two, and a servant poured him a glass of wine before leaving the room. Francis looked at the offering on the table but didn’t have the stomach to eat and decided to get straight to it. I wish to ask for the funds to see that my father doesn’t go to prison.

Buckley’s eyes were brown but Genie had inherited his red hair. Thankfully, that was all she’d inherited from the marquess, for Buckley was not known for his kindness either. The older man sighed. I’ll pay your father’s debts but, of course, it will cost you more than simple interest.

Francis had expected as much. What do you want?

You’re not to ask for Genevieve’s hand.

Francis gripped the chair’s arms to keep himself from falling as his entire world tilted off balance. His breathing became hurried, and he opened his mouth to speak but no words left him.

Buckley glared. You think my daughter’s obsession with you has gone unnoticed?

It’s not an obsession.

The marquess’ eyes narrowed. Only because you return her affection. Then he smiled wickedly. You thought I hadn’t seen the way you look at her when she walks into a room?

He had thought precisely that because Francis had worked very hard to hide his feelings for Genie, wanting to be worthy of her before he made his intentions known. He’d known his family was poor and had aspired to put his name to rights before asking for Genie’s hand. 

His plans had been shattered, and Francis didn’t know what to do.

I love her, he told the marquess. I would treat your daughter well. I don’t even care about her money.

I know this, Buckley said with disgust. And I’d rather she married a man who did care about her coin, at least then I’d know she was safe.

Francis leaned forward. I could keep her safe.

How? Buckley asked.

I’ll repay every shilling I borrow.

Buckley blinked. Do you even know how much money your father owes?

Francis shook his head.

A hundred thousand pounds.

Francis leaned away. Impossible, he whispered. There was no way a man could go that far into debt. The wealthiest of homes made a tenth of that yearly, and Francis knew his father’s estate didn’t reach those figures. It would take Francis more than ten years to repay Buckley a sum that great. What had his father done?

Buckley went on. I will lend you this money but you are never to ask for my daughter’s hand.

Francis tried to see if there was a way out of this situation that allowed his father to have his freedom and for him to have the woman he loved. There wasn’t another man in Europe who had that much money. He and his friends had joked about Buckley being as rich as Croesus but he’d never believed it to be true. You have a hundred thousand pounds to lend?

I do, if it will ensure that Genie marries well.

Francis ran a hand through his hair and leaned back his chair. He would ask the marquess if love meant anything to him but knew that it didn’t. He also knew that his love for Genie would not allow him to burden her with his family’s debts either. He wouldn’t marry her under the current circumstances anyway. He’d never allow her to live as his mother did, with the shame of her husband’s failings. Love was not enough.

But the thought of marrying any other woman burned his gut. His eyes burned, and he closed them while he gripped the bridge of his nose to stop the stinging.

Do you accept my terms? Buckley asked.

Francis couldn’t answer. The burden seemed too great to bear. His father’s words returned to him. Valdeston must have known exactly what Buckley would ask of him. They might as well have killed him because the thought of marrying anyone but Genie tore at his very soul.

I want your answer tonight, the marquess said. The scraping of metal against china told him that the man had continued eating his meal.

Francis stood and paced the small room. I don’t know if I can answer this tonight. He needed time to think over the possibilities, a way to have Genie and save his father.

Tonight is all you have, Buckley said. My solicitor has traveled with me. We’ll sign a contract tonight to ensure that you don’t run off to Gretna Green with my daughter in the morning.

Francis looked at him. This is unfair. I’ve done nothing to cause your hostility toward me.

You breathe, Buckley told him in disdain. And so long as you breathe, I can’t get Genie to look at another man. Do you have any idea how many of my associates would happily marry the girl if she’d stop staring at you as though you hung the stars in the sky? But none of them are willing to have her while she continues to see you as a god. They fear she’d be unfaithful to the marriage.

Francis hadn’t known any of this. I can’t accept under these circumstances.

Then your father goes to debtor’s prison. I hear the accommodations are rather pleasant for peers. Buckley sipped his wine.

Fuck! Francis went to the window and glared at his father’s carriage. His entire world was ending. He pressed his head to the glass and closed his eyes. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t take on his father’s debts.

He wanted to break something. Everything. He hurt so badly.

What do you say? the marquess asked coolly.

Francis cursed again and imagined what Lorena and his mother would think if he turned his back on his father. They’d have to forgive him eventually... But would Genie forgive him? No, she’d feel the weight of his burden. She’d probably even grow to hate him. What sort of man turned his back on his own family?

A tear ran down his cheek and he wiped it away.

Francis—

If I pay off the debt, I can marry Genie. He turned to look at the marquess with the option he had.

Buckley glared. There’s no way you’ll ever pay it off while my daughter is of childbearing years. I won’t have you forcing her to wait.

Then I won’t tell her of my intentions.

Buckley leaned back and folded his arms. At the rate your family earns and spends money, it could take you over ten years to pay this debt. It’s best you move on.

Francis dropped his hands to his side. I can’t.

What happens if Genie marries?

Then I will marry someone else. Though the thought of doing so was painful. I plan to marry your daughter but, until my debts are paid, I swear to never reveal my feelings for her. Give me your word that if Genie is unwed, I can have her when my debts are paid.

Buckley looked away and nodded. Very well. He smiled. I’ll have my solicitor draft a new contract and present it to you within the hour.  He stood and walked over to Francis with his hand out.

Francis hesitated, took it, and felt as though he’d signed his soul over to the devil.

The marquess tightened his hold. This contract will be binding even if I should perish, Francis, and you should also know that the moment you break from it, I take everything.

Francis stilled.

Buckley went on, his eyes hard. If ever I hear a whisper about you making promises to my daughter before your debt is paid, I will take everything you or your father have, including your mother’s spending money, your sister’s dowry, your horses, your London residences, and anything that isn’t tied to the title. I will leave you destitute. Do I make myself clear?

Francis nodded.

Then Buckley went further. And if you should marry Genie before your debts are paid, I’ll leave her destitute as well. You’ll both have nothing, so mind yourself where my daughter is concerned. And on that, he let Francis go and returned to his dinner.

I don’t think Genie knows how much you care for her.

Buckley frowned. This is not about Genie. This is about my name. I’ll not be made a joke at the expense of your love.

Francis stared