Lily and the Duke (Regency Spinsters Alliance #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

The St. Albans House, London

February, 1817

“So, ladies, now that we are all safely returned to London and before we fully embark upon another Season, are we all agreed, as the six founder members of this Alliance—”

“That would seem to imply you expect others will wish to join us?” came the question from one of those other ladies.

“I believe it to be a strong possibility,” Lily confirmed. “After all, we are not the only young ladies in Society unhappy with having our future husband, and consequently our life, chosen for us.”

“Agreed,” came the husky answer.

“But first, we must confirm that we all agree to the rules for our behavior for these following months and beyond, and which we have already discussed today.” Lily held up sheets of paper with the copious amount of notes she had taken during their meeting in the library of St. Albans House.

The library ran the length of the ground floor of the magnificent town house. It had two seating areas, each with a fireplace: one at the back of the house and one at the front. In between were vast floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that made Lily’s fingers itch to explore them.

As an avid reader, Lily knew she could spend a month in this room and still not wish to leave at the end of it.

Not so Lady Chloe Lord, the beloved only daughter of the Duke of St. Albans, who freely admitted she would rather shop than read.

One strong incentive for Chloe having chosen to meet in the library today, she had explained earlier when all the other ladies were shown into this room rather than her own private parlor, where she explained the chimney was in need of cleaning, was the warmth of the fire.

The other reason was that the library windows nearest to them faced the front of the house, whereas the ones in Chloe’s parlor faced the back of the house.

This way, Chloe had explained, she would be able to see when her papa returned from lunching at his club.

She had not enlarged upon that remark, but all of them knew Chloe would prefer her father, the fourteenth Duke of St. Albans, not be made aware of the alliance the six of them had formed today. Because, as they all were also well aware, it was highly probable that he would not approve.

“One of the things we discussed and agreed upon was that we are to be called the Spinsters’ Alliance ,” the fair-haired Chloe now corrected with one of her mischievous smiles.

A smile that revealed her impish enjoyment of life. That joy was echoed in the glow of her pale blue eyes, the same color as her illustrious father’s, except the duke’s eyes were invariably cold as ice.

“And I believe we agreed they were to be guidelines rather than anything as rigid as rules,” Chloe added.

“You are quite correct,” Juliet Chalmers agreed. “Rules imply there is no…elasticity to the resolve of our little alliance.”

“That is because there is not,” the acerbic Georgiana Stapleton snapped.

“But there is always the possibility, a slim one, granted, that one of us might possibly manage to meet a gentleman whom we might consider suitable to marry and spend the rest of our life with,” Amanda Styles reasoned.

“I am sure that Lily, having taken the minutes of this meeting, will confirm that the first agreed-upon rule of our Alliance is that none of us intends to marry,” Georgiana reminded. “If you would care to read out those rules, Lily?”

Lily nodded. “‘Number One: As the six founding members of the Spinsters’ Alliance, we will fight any attempt to force, cajole, or coerce any one of us into marriage.’”

“Which confirms my point. That guideline will not apply if any of us should choose to fall in love and marry,” Amanda said.

“Continue, Lily,” Georgiana instructed with a reproving glance at Amanda.

“‘Number Two: No man, be it father, brother, or any other male relative, fiancé, or husband, shall be allowed to come between our friendship for each other. Number Three: We shall, whenever and if it becomes necessary, ensure each other’s comfort now and in old age.’” Lily looked up from her notes. “I believe we agreed that last one was in the form that any of us who remain alive into old age will share a house to ensure we are never left alone and destitute, as so many older unmarried ladies are.”

“Indeed.” Georgiana nodded her agreement. “These rules, ladies, are our strategy for war against the gentlemen.”

“Oh, dear me, no,” the timid Rose Appleby protested. “I am not at war with any man or woman.”

“Not even those conceited and ridiculous popinjays of Society?” Georgiana scorned.

“No.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Georgiana gave her a questioning glare.

Rose glared. “I am protesting, in the only way allowed to me, at being forced to accept my parents’ choice of husband for me.”

“I do not think the Earl of Kingswood to be all that bad,” Amanda Styles stated.

“Then might I suggest you consider marrying him?” Rose accused.

Amanda’s cheeks became flushed. “I am not the one who has been betrothed to him since birth.”

“He is a rake and a bounder!” the agitated Rose dismissed. “A man I find totally contemptible. Which is why I cannot understand how my parents could have agreed to a betrothal between the two of us the moment I was born.”

“His mother is a dear friend of your own, and I do not suppose he was either of those things at the time that agreement was made, having been only twelve years old himself,” Chloe teased. “Besides, not all unmarried gentlemen of the ton are bad. My own beloved Papa is a widower and a veritable angel!”

This announcement resulted in her becoming the focus of five pairs of shocked or disbelieving eyes.

Chloe looked startled when she became aware of the sudden silence and looked up to find those five astounded gazes levelled at her. “Well, he always behaves like an angel toward me,” she protested.

Lily sank her teeth into her top lip to prevent herself from laughing at this indignant assertion.

Because everyone knew that, despite his obvious deep love and regard for his daughter, the very tall, handsome, and imperious Gabriel Lord, the Duke of St. Albans, was also arrogant and the height of haughty condescension.

A gentleman, moreover, who, whenever he did deign to attend Society events, which was not often, was known to prefer standing on the edge of that event looking down his haughty nose at all who were assembled there rather than even thinking of enjoying that entertainment himself.

Not that Lily had ever found herself the focus of that critical pale blue gaze for more than a second or two. She was the eldest daughter of an earl, admittedly, but not one who was a particular friend of the Prince Regent, as St. Albans was. Her father was also severely depleted in funds, although that was not public knowledge.

Even so, Lily knew herself to be well beneath the notice of the wealthy gentleman eighteen years her senior and who bore the title of the fourteenth Duke of St. Albans.

Besides, if the scandal involving her younger sister’s elopement two years ago, when Hazel had run away with a penniless Frenchman, should ever become known, then Lily’s whole family would be included in that scandal, and Lily would be rendered unmarriageable anyway.

Far better to make that decision for herself than to have her heart broken by being rejected after a betrothal had been announced.

Her sister Hazel had been aged only sixteen and not yet introduced into Society when she eloped to Gretna Green with their father’s French émigré secretary. She had left a note telling them as much, but they had not heard from her since, regarding either the taking place of that wedding or her whereabouts now. A fact which hurt Lily immensely, the sisters having been close in both age and affection.

Their father had refused to search for his errant daughter. Encouraged by their mother, Lily had no doubt. The countess would not tolerate even a whiff of scandal being attached to their name, which meant that Hazel was now well and truly lost to them. Something which saddened Lily.

Taking into account that scandalous situation and her father’s lack of funds, Lily doubted the Duke of St. Albans would even allow her to continue to be one of Chloe’s closest confidantes if he became aware of either of those things.

Not that Lily’s friendship with his daughter made her of any more interest to St. Albans than an irritating piece of lint that had dared to place itself upon the sleeve of one of his perfectly tailored always-dark evening jackets or superfine.

St. Albans had gone into mourning after the death of his wife when Chloe was born nineteen years ago, and the black clothing he still wore would seem to imply he had never completely come out of it.

There had certainly never been so much as a hint of gossip of the duke showing an open or clandestine interest in any woman during those years, in Society or out of it.

Indeed, Lily believed that cold and haughty gentleman to be capable of eviscerating anyone who would dare to gossip or speculate in regard to his private life.

Dark clothing or otherwise, to Lily, he remained the most handsome gentleman she had ever met, his appearance the epitome of elegant refinement.

An elegance many younger men in Society tried, and failed, to emulate. The reason for that failure was because none of them had that inborn air of haughty indifference that caused male as well as female heads to turn wherever and whenever St. Albans chose to grace Society with his presence.

Lily freely admitted, inwardly, at least, that she was one of those ladies.

Indeed, she had been smitten with the duke since the moment she entered this house one evening during the spring of the previous year to attend a ball given by the duke to introduce his daughter, Chloe, into Society.

Even now, merely thinking of him, Lily knew her heart had begun to pound loudly, her breasts seeming to swell in the bodice of her pale green gown, and a familiar warmth now ached between her thighs and coursed through the rest of her body.

All from merely recalling staring unashamedly at the handsome duke, with his muscular shoulders and chest, narrow waist, and elegant legs, as he guided his daughter effortlessly about the ballroom in this house for her first dance at her inaugural ball.

It was because Lily knew how futile that attraction was, and that it had only grown deeper during the past year rather than dissipating, that she was only too happy to help her five closest friends form the Spinsters’ Alliance.

Her feelings for St. Albans and the secret of her sister’s elopement were enough for her to know she would never marry. She believed it would be unfair to any gentleman to do so. Not just because of the scandal of her sister’s elopement and marriage to a penniless Frenchman, but because she knew herself to be completely in love with the unattainable Gabriel Lord, the Duke of St. Albans.

“Oh, dear me.” A flustered Chloe suddenly jumped to her feet as the longcase clock in the hallway began to strike the hour of three. “Forgive me, ladies, but I must leave immediately. Papa wishes me to have a new gown made for my birthday in three weeks’ time, and I have finally managed to acquire an appointment today with my seamstress to discuss designs and the color. It is in only ten minutes’ time.”

“I am sure she will wait for you,” Georgiana dismissed in deference to the Duke of St. Albans’s importance in Society.

“I am sure she will not,” Chloe scoffed. “Mrs. Ashton has become very much the rage this Season, so much so that it has taken until now for me to even secure this appointment to speak with her.”

“Then you must go now,” Lily encouraged with a wistful smile. There was no money for new dresses for her this Season.

Indeed, she and her mama had been busy all winter reworking and refreshing the designs of the half dozen gowns Lily had worn the previous Season, as well as some of her mother’s that could be suitably adjusted to her slighter figure and this year’s fashion.

“I must leave too.” Georgiana offered no further reason as to her actions, as was usually her way, when she rose to her feet.

“We are both scheduled to have afternoon tea with our maternal grandmother.” Juliet made the excuse for herself and her cousin, Amanda.

Their very rich and widowed maternal grandmother, Lily knew. Which was why Juliet’s and Amanda’s mothers, being the two daughters of the wealthy lady, often arranged for their own daughters to spend time with the elderly grandmother. No doubt in the hope she would bestow money to them upon her death.

Rose also stood. “I had not realized it was so late.”

“Would you care to accompany me in my carriage as far as my seamstress?” Chloe invited. “It is but a short walk from there to Appleby House.”

None of the other ladies made comment on this suggestion. Mainly because they all knew, although it was not discussed, that the Applebys were even more seriously strapped for money than Lily’s father was. As such, they did not have enough wealth to own a second carriage.

A lack of funds, which was no doubt the reason, now that Lily thought on it, that Rose’s parents were so insistent upon her upholding the agreement for her to become the wife of the wealthy Earl of Kingswood upon her nineteenth birthday at the end of this summer.

It was a pity that Lily’s own parents had not had the foresight to arrange such an advantageous marriage for her. Knowing she was engaged to someone else, Lily would have focused her attentions upon her fiancé rather than fallen hopelessly in love with the unattainable and haughty Duke of St. Albans the moment she set eyes upon him. A fiancé who, it might be hoped, would have also overlooked her sister’s scandalous elopement.

“Could you see yourself out, Lily?” Chloe gave an apologetic smile once there was only her, Rose, and Lily remaining in the room. “I really dare not be late for Mrs. Ashton.”

“Of course. I will see you all again this evening, in any case, at Lord and Lady Chelsea’s ball.” Being left alone for a while would also allow her, for a few minutes at least, to peruse the books in the St. Albans library.

But as she tidied up the sheets of paper containing the notes she had taken of their meeting, she became aware of a rustle of movement from the other end of the library.

A mouse, perhaps?

It was not unheard of for some of the vermin to enter even the most prestigious and well-maintained London houses.

Or possibly it was the black cat that Chloe adored, searching for the mouse?

Lily was not afraid, in either case—

Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt, her mouth suddenly dry, her lips falling open, and her heart seeming to cease beating altogether, as a tall and imposing gentleman unbent his powerful frame from the wingback armchair facing the unlit fireplace at the opposite end of the library.

The imposing figure of none other than the fourteenth Duke of St. Albans .