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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 theSpinsters’ 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 mightpossiblymanage to meet a gentleman whom wemightconsider 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 shouldchooseto 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: Weshall, 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.”