The Spinster's Secret by Emily Larkin

Author:Emily Larkin [Larkin, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: historical romance, virgin heroine, spinster, Waterloo, Scandalous, regency, tortured hero, Entangled, erotic confessions, gothic
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC (Scandalous)
Published: 2013-02-16T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

In the morning, a light drizzle fell. Edward rode into Soddy Morton and visited a farmer two miles east of the village, who, according to Miss Eccles, had recently been flush in the pocket. But neither the farmer nor his wife could read or write.

The drizzle became rain. Edward looked at the addresses that he had. One three miles west of the village, one two miles south, and decided to call it a day.

Back at the Hall he changed into dry clothes and went downstairs, four slices of gingerbread wrapped in a handkerchief in one pocket. As he passed Strickland’s study, he heard the murmur of male voices behind the closed door. Were Strickland and Quartley discussing Miss Chapple’s suitability as a bride?

Edward grimaced.

He looked in the library, the drawing room, and the parlor. Miss Chapple was nowhere to be found. As he passed Strickland’s study again, the door opened.

“Have you seen my niece?”

“No, sir,” Edward said. “Perhaps she went for a walk?”

“It’s raining.”

Edward shrugged. “Perhaps she’s in her room.”

“She’s not!”

Edward didn’t offer another suggestion. He stood politely while Strickland scowled at him.

“Stupid girl,” the old man muttered. “Disappearing now of all times!”

He shut the door with something approaching a slam.

If Quartley is about to offer for her, she’s picked the perfect time to disappear.

Edward headed for the stable yard. Hoby was in the stables, rubbing down Trojan.

“Miss Chapple in the hayloft?” Edward asked.

The elderly groom looked up from his task and nodded.

Edward climbed the ladder to the loft, and there, in the cozy dimness, he found Miss Chapple lying on her stomach on the hay.

“The irresistible lure of kittens?” he said, as he stood with his elbows resting on the top rung.

“Yes,” Miss Chapple said, and then she added with frank honesty, “and a desire to avoid Mr. Quartley.”

Edward crawled up into the loft, breathing in the dusty, familiar scent. “Your uncle’s looking for you.”

“Do you know why?”

“Quartley, at a guess.”

Miss Chapple pulled a face and returned her attention to the kittens.

Edward decided to be as frank as Miss Chapple. “Will you refuse his offer?”

“Yes,” she said. “If he should offer.”

Edward recalled the way Quartley had gazed at her breasts. “He’ll offer.”

Miss Chapple sighed.

One of the kittens climbed up Edward’s arm, its claws digging into the green superfine. He carefully detached the tiny creature and stroked it.

Miss Chapple cupped her chin in her hand and frowned at the other two kittens, rolling together in the hay. “If you were me, would you marry Mr. Quartley?”

“No.”

She transferred the frown to him. “Why not? He has money.”

“He’s too old. Too…” The only word he could think of was grotesque, and he groped for another description. “Too portly.”

“Portly.” Miss Chapple snapped a stalk of hay in half. “Yes, he is that.”

Then she grinned. “Portly Quartley.”

Edward was surprised into a laugh.

Miss Chapple’s grin faded. She sighed.

“I suppose I’d better go.” She crawled over to the ladder.

“Oh,” Edward said. “I forgot. I have this for you.”

He pulled the gingerbread from his pocket and held it out to her.

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