Page 18 of Seduced by a Scoundrel (The Spinster Society #3)

L eaving Keir stretched out half naked in her bed was possibly the most difficult thing Sybil had ever done.

And that was including the time she had climbed out of the icy Serpentine without any help. But he was sleeping so soundly, the tense lines of his jaw relaxed, that she did not want to disturb him. He had slept with his chest pressed to her back the whole night. He was still here. It was unexpected, even after what he had told her about his father. So she did not wake him, even if she wanted to drape herself over him.

Instead, she just stood there and stared at him for a very long time. An embarrassingly long time.

There had been very little sleep to be had. She was tired, a bit sore, famished.

And it was absolutely worth it.

But she was still a Spinster. Breakfast meetings were part of the system that kept things running smoothly. Or as smoothly as they could, considering the things that they got up to.

Not to mention that she required a trough of tea this morning.

The others were already gathered, including Priya and Pierce. Tea was poured before Sybil had even found her seat. “Bless you, Peter. I left the Copperwhite letters in your study,” she added to Priya as she scooped blackberry jam onto a slice of cheddar for her bread.

“Yes, I saw that, thank you,” Priya said. “Lady Venetia will be much relieved.”

“Any progress on the rock through the window?”

“Sadly, no. We can assume Minos, but unfortunately, I am no nearer to finding out who he is. Or they are.”

“I’ll find this Alfie today,” Pierce promised grimly.

The chandelier rattled slightly overhead. Matilda smirked. “Your guest, Sybil?”

Sybil smirked back. Before she could reply, the heavy footsteps paused, started up again. Keir appeared in the doorway. “Good morning, ladies,” he said, cheeks ruddy. “Gallagher.”

He was as awkward as it was possible for a marquess with seven houses and the ability to brush the chandelier with the top of his head could be. His hair was tousled, as if he had combed it with his fingers, which he no doubt had. His shirt was creased, cravat missing. A marquess seldom showed himself to the world without the aid of his valet. And never at breakfast in a house that belonged to an unmarried lady. Several ladies. “I’ve… come to take Sybil for a promenade.”

“At ten o’clock in the morning?” Peony asked dubiously.

He shifted. “Er… yes?”

Sybil grinned at him over her teacup, thoroughly amused. He did not know the rules for this sort of thing and was no doubt scandalized. It was very endearing.

“That’s odd,” Peony added, adding salt to her eggs. “As I heard your footsteps coming down the stairs just now.”

“I…”

“You are not light of foot, my lord.”

“Peony, stop teasing the poor man,” Emmeline said. “He’s already looking a little peaked.”

“Sit down, Lord Blackburn,” Priya said, amused. “Break your fast. We do not stand on ceremony here.”

“Have some coffee,” Emmeline offered. “I made it myself.”

Everyone shook their heads in warning. Even the footman behind her, and it was not discreet.

“Thank you,” Keir said, and accepted the cup she poured for him, incapable of being impolite.

They would devour him whole in this house.

Keir took a sip, swallowed without a wince, and then added cream. Sugar. More cream. And took another sip. Emmeline beamed at him proudly.

“It’s like watching lions play with an injured gazelle,” Pierce muttered.

“I have rarely been compared to a gazelle,” Keir remarked drily.

“You have rarely been with the likes of these ladies.”

“That is no doubt true.” He piled his plate high with ham and eggs and fried potatoes. “You need more footmen, Gallagher.”

“Also true.”

Priya huffed out an annoyed sigh. “We need actual footmen, at some point. Not just soldiers roaming the halls. Not that you are not most grateful to have you here, Peter,” she added.

“Thank you, Lady Langdon.”

“I can get you footmen,” Keir said. “Proper footmen. But big, at the very least.”

“And I can get more soldiers.”

“Excellent.”

Priya sat back. “And who, exactly, are you two to make such a decision?” she asked evenly. Too evenly.

Pierce and Keir froze.

“Who’s the gazelle now?” Sybil snorted.

Matilda popped her chin in her hand to watch the entertainment.

“I have overstepped.” Keir nodded. “I apologize.”

“I haven’t,” Pierce muttered. “And I don’t.”

Peony whistled. “We don’t usually have bloodshed before we have even finished our morning tea.”

“Yes, Mr. Gallagher,” Priya said, steel in her tone. “Let me pour you another cup of tea.”

Priya was well known for the herbs she added to the tea of those she was not pleased with. Herbs to cause drowsiness, cramps. Itchy ears. Violent complaints of the stomach.

Pierce winced. “No, thank you.”

“ We will decide if we need more soldiers,” she added, dark eyes flashing.

“Be reasonable, Priya.”

“Reasonable?”

There were gasps from around the table. Emmeline and Matilda exchanged wagers. Sybil wondered if she should slide Priya’s fork out of reach before she used it to stab her Irishman. She decided to leave it.

Pierce scrubbed a hand over his face. “You know what I mean. I’m worried. Things are escalating.”

She sniffed, relenting. “As it happens, I agree with you.”

“If you would just—You do?”

“Yes, but if either of you make pronouncements at our table like that again, you’ll be barred from the house. I can hire soldiers too, Mr. Gallagher. Just see if I don’t.”

He kissed her knuckles. As she did not use them to bloody his nose, the matter seemed settled.

“If you’ve copied all the information you need from the betting book,” Sybil said, “I wonder if we should return it? I don’t think it will be enough to call him off, whoever he is, but it might buy us a little more time to plan.”

Priya nodded. “Agreed.”

“I can do it,” Keir said. “I’m a member of Fortingham’s, remember?”

“But I think we should see the other betting books in Town as well,” Sybil said. “They might also be marked. Either way, it will tell us something more.”

“Marked?” Keir asked. “Marked how?”

Sybil glanced at Priya, then the others. They only looked back at her, waiting for her verdict. She nodded once. Priya nodded back. Whatever else was happening between them, Sybil trusted Keir. And he was right, they could use his help. Sybil was obviously not allowed inside the club anymore, and Lord Singleton was not a member. Neither was Pierce.

“This is not a finishing school,” Sybil admitted.

“You don’t say,” Keir replied, dry as decade-old tinder. “I am shocked to hear it.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Do you want to know or not?”

“Go on.”

“We protect the women of Mayfair.” When he frowned, she pointed at him. “And if you are about to suggest that is the job of a husband or a father, I will let Priya make you a cup of tea.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Clever man,” Emmeline approved. “Have more coffee.”

“There are too many fortune hunters and lecherous lords in London,” Sybil continued. “And very little recourse left to the rest of us.”

“No argument there. Men like Eastbourne?” His jaw clenched.

“Exactly.”

“Is that why you were in his cellar?”

Sybil nodded. She smiled widely at her friends. “Keir burned it down.”

Peony looked impressed for the first time that morning. “Well done, you.”

“Eastbourne and Portsmouth and Chiswick do as they please, and it is always the women in their lives who pay. They never pay.”

“Until now,” Keir guessed.

“Until now.”

“And the abduction, the rock through the window?”

“We are very effective, my lord,” Priya said. “If not quite as secret as we once were.”

“And they do not appreciate us.” Sybil shrugged. “Which is no great surprise.” She used leftover jam on her plate to make the symbol of three dots. “Have you seen a mark like this before?”

Keir studied it a moment, then shook his head. “Should I have?”

“Someone marked Eastbourne and Portsmouth and Chiswick and a few others with this symbol in the betting book. None of the men are good ton . It is the only thing they really have in common.”

“Right bastards,” Pierce agreed grimly.

“Have you heard of a secret society calling themselves Minos?” Sybil asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Keir said.

“I am not surprised. You are not the type they are recruiting.”

“I can ask around.”

“In the meantime,” Sybil said, “Keir will return the betting book and I will make the rounds of the other clubs and see what I can find out.”

“ We will make the rounds,” Keir corrected her. He glanced at Sybil, the other ladies. “Please.”

“Better,” Priya murmured.

“I should be off.” Keir placed his napkin to the side. “I have to see to my sister. She has already scared away three chaperones, and it’s only been three days. I shudder to think what she has accomplished this morning while I was not there to welcome the newest victim.”

Sybil followed him out of the breakfast room and down the hall to the front door, where the footmen had very helpfully made themselves scarce. He appeared pensive but not surprised. She had expected a lecture of some sort, a recitation of the rules of proper Society. Something about danger and reputations. Outrage. Smugness that he was right all those years ago and she was too wild for Polite Society.

He did not oblige.

“You are not shocked at all, are you?” she blurted out.

“Well, I didn’t think you were hosting a needlepointing club, Sybil.” He leaned down to press his brow to hers. “I was serious before. There’s nothing you can do, nothing anyone can say or do, that would make me abandon you again. Not unless you asked it of me.”

“This is not exactly behavior worthy of an earl’s daughter.” Or a marquess’s wife. Surely he could see that. She might understand why he had acted as he had when they were younger, but he was still Keir. Mayfair was still Mayfair. Society was still Society. He had no idea, not really.

“But it is behavior perfectly worthy of Miss Sybil Taunton.”

“You are taking this far too well.” It gave her hope. Too much hope.

“Did you want to me call for smelling salts? I’m not a boy anymore. And my father can’t hurt you,” he added sharply. “ No one will. That’s all that matters to me. So, you’ll wait for me tonight,” he ordered, catching her chin firmly to tilt her face up. “You don’t go in there without me.”

Sybil rolled her eyes.

He kissed her. Thoroughly. Distractingly. Deliciously.

She bit his bottom lip in retaliation. His grip tightened briefly, eyes flaring.

So she did it again. “Hurry.”

Sophie showed up at the front door a few hours later with two young ladies in tow. One of the housemaids at Wentworth House had slipped her the address of Spinster House. She had been asked to do so if any ladies showed up unannounced, especially if they looked nervous. Sophie did not look nervous, but she was known to the household. And the blonde girl definitely seemed nervous. She was bright red and looked ready to bolt. Or faint.

“Jane, do stop wringing your hands,” Sophie muttered.

“My mother would kill me if she knew I was here.”

“Then do not tell her.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “Problem solved.”

“Ladies.” Sybil stepped aside to let them in, casting a quick glance out of the door. She motioned for their coachman to take the carriage down to the mews. The fewer family crests associated with this house, the better. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Sybil, this is Lady Jane Sweeney and Miss Margaret Reed.” Sophie tilted her chin up defiantly even though there was nothing yet to defy. “We want you to teach us.”

The footmen drifted away when it was evident the young ladies were not being chased by anyone. “Teach you?” Sybil echoed.

“What you told me in the Park,” Sophie elaborated. Her eyes shone. “And how to kick a gentleman properly. Mostly that. I have since discovered that Mr. Pelham was courting two other girls. Jane was one of them.”

Jane winced, but she did look interested in the idea of kicking someone. Margaret grinned, her black hair coiled prettily under her bonnet. “I punched an earl’s son last month, but I bruised my hand. It hurt for days.”

“Yes,” Sybil said, “I imagine so. It’s best to use the elbow in most cases, or the heel of the hand. Come along.”

They followed her wide-eyed down the hall, ducking under ferns. “Was that Lord Oliver you punched?” Sophie asked.

Margaret nodded. “I ought to have known not to trust him. He kept reciting Byron to me.”

“I thought Byron was all the rage?” Sybil asked.

The dry, and deeply disgusted, expression on all three girls’ faces when they turned to her at once was identical. Sybil felt like she was back at home staring down her governess. Judged and found ridiculous. She had to grin. “Oh, you’ll all do just fine. Here we are, the ballroom.”

“We do not wish to learn the quadrille,” Sophie said.

“And Jane’s mother has us reciting proper ballroom etiquette before we are allowed a single sip of tea,” Margaret said. “It takes a very long time, and the tea always goes cold.”

“She says a gentleman would not wish to marry a lady who guzzles her tea,” Jane added.

“Your mother is awful.”

“I know.”

Sybil watched them as they stepped inside the ballroom, still chatting. They fell silent when they realized the dance floor was mostly filled with targets. And an obstacle course. A basket of rapiers sat by the door.

“Oh, now this is a ballroom,” Sophie exclaimed. “Sybil, you never said.”

Margaret nodded. “I like the quadrille,” she said. “But I shall like this too.”

Jane looked unsure. But also curious.

“It’s Jane’s first Season,” Sophie explained. “And as we are not out yet, we shan’t be there to protect her.” She lowered her voice. “She’s very nice.”

“And her mother really is a nightmare,” Margaret added.

Jane frowned. “ And I’m right here.” She sighed. “But they are quite right on both counts.”

Sybil grinned. “Never fear. You can be nice and protect yourself.”

“Some of us are much subtler than Sybil,” Peony said, dropping suddenly from a rope above their heads. Jane squeaked. “Not me , mind you.” Peony dusted chalk off her hands. “But others.”

“Ladies, meet Peony,” Sybil said. “You will hate her by the end of the day, but you will thank her later.”

Peony preened a little. “I don’t need to be loved,” she said. “I only need to be effective.” She circled them, focused and slightly unnerving. “Pugilism, I think. Every lady needs to know how to plant a proper facer. And we’ll have Priya make up some teas for you in the meantime. But first, you’ll run the obstacle course so I can assess your skills.”

Jane gulped. Even Sophie shifted uncertainly.

“Oh, you will positively despise Peony,” Sybil grinned. “Almost as much as you hate the obstacles.” Particularly crawling on their bellies under the wooden platform.

“When was the last time you went through the course, Sybil?” Peony narrowed her eyes.

“This week! With you!”

“You threw daggers and climbed a rope and sighed over a handful of letters. That hardly signifies.”

Sybil groaned. Loudly.