Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club #1)(48)

“Thank you for the dance, Miss Bella. And thank you for not damaging my toes.”

She chuckled. “You were one of the lucky ones.”

He excused himself and made his way across the ballroom. Griff stopped in front of him, loosening the hold of a determined young woman on his arm who moved dejectedly away.

“Where are you off to in such a rush, Easton? I saw you dancing with that Lockhart woman. She’s an attractive thing. Might see if I can’t get a dance myself.”

A cough from behind Harcourt made him turn. Bella Lockhart eyed Griff, her hands to her hips. “I am no thing. Nor am I ‘that Lockhart woman’, my lord. You shall not be getting a dance from me tonight nor any other night.”

With that, Bella spun on her heel and vanished into the crowds. Harcourt chuckled at this friend’s bewildered expression.

“Well, damn, a lady would never talk like that in London.”

Harcourt shook his head. “You deserved it, Griff.”

“I suppose I had better rustle up another partner instead.”

Grinning, Harcourt nodded toward his mother. “Not to fear, my mother shall have someone lined up for you.”

Griff grimaced.

“I thought you rather enjoyed having all these country ladies clamoring for you,” said Harcourt.

“I think I changed my mind.” Griff scanned the room. “Perhaps I can persuade Bella Lockhart to give me another chance.”

Harcourt shook his head. “You are a glutton for punishment.”

Griff’s smile expanded. “That I am. Where are you running to anyway? You did not say.”

“Do I need to?”

Griff rolled his eyes. “Lady Merry, of course. Well, not to fear, I shall keep your mother occupied while you hunt down your elusive love interest.”

“You are an excellent friend, Griff. I won’t ever forget it.” Harcourt clapped a hand on Griff’s shoulder before leaving the ballroom and heading outside.





Chapter Twenty-One





Merry ran a finger along the gold lettering on the spine of the book before placing it carefully on the bookshelf. Sat on the cold floor with books scattered around her, her only company was Orion and his whistling snore. Every now and then, his ears would perk up at the sound of a dripping tap or one of the many creaks in the house, but apparently it was far too late for him to get up to mischief, so he had opted to spend most of the evening curled on the rug by the fireplace.

She glanced over at the empty fireplace. The evenings were too warm for fires but once summer was behind them, the study would be lovely once lit by the glow of a fire—the perfect place to continue her translation.

She rubbed Orion’s head and grabbed the next book from one of the many piles scattered about the room. She should be at the main house at this time of night, but she had Orion here to protect her. Harry would probably still have a fit. However, she needed to keep busy.

Not that she minded missing the ball. Of course she did not. Balls had always bored her. Few men ever asked her to dance and even if they did, they quickly discovered her dancing skills were almost non-existent. Most balls were either spent with her friends, tucked away where they would not have to be wallflowers or hiding somewhere alone with a book.

Much like this evening, she supposed.

A tight knot bunched in her throat as she imagined everyone gathered together in a bright ballroom, chandeliers glinting overhead and strains of music whispering through the air. She shoved the book onto the bookcase and snatched up the next. She hoped her friends were having fun. Really she did. And Harry. So what if he was dancing with eligible young ladies? That was a good thing, was it not? Perhaps his attention would be transferred to someone else and she could escape this awful turmoil besieging her when it came to him.

Merry grimaced. Who was she kidding? Even if she was to be a wallflower, she’d rather be at the ball than alone. With Daniel gone and the passing of her father, it did not matter that she had the support of her friends. She really was utterly alone—especially when she could not admit to them the truth of her feelings toward Harry.

Vision blurring, she sniffed and smoothed a hand over Orion’s head. The soft texture of his fur, instead of soothing her, made the tears fall down her cheeks. She was silly to cry—especially over men. Over her father and Harry.

Her father, in particular, would have told her to stop being a silly girl. Would he even care that she mourned him? Probably not. It had been clear since she’d first had some kind of understanding of how a father should be that he saw her as nothing more than a nuisance—an extension of him that disappointed. On the rare occasions he acknowledged her existence, it was with frustration and scorn.

Merry drew in a breath. How silly she was, crying over that man—or any man for that matter. The Spinster Club would not be impressed with her.

A thud from outside the room made her heart give a little leap. Orion lifted his head and cocked it, his ears raised.

“You heard that too?” she whispered.

She stood. It could have been nothing. The house was prone to noises and they were even more pronounced at night while she was alone. But she could not help think of Harry and his concerns for her. What if it was whoever was trying to harm her? Oh dear, Harry would be aggravated indeed if he knew she’d ignored his warnings. Just her luck to run into trouble while everyone is at the ball, enjoying themselves.