Page 11 of A Spinster’s Folly (Courting the Unconventional #2)

E ugenie sat in the library of her townhouse, a half-filled sheet of parchment before her. The writing desk was littered with crumpled attempts. She tapped the feather tip of the quill absently against her lips. What should she write about?

The Society pages thrived on gossip, but the very idea of indulging in such frivolity made her stomach twist. What did she truly know about the latest rivalries among the debutantes or which young lady was vying for the most eligible bachelor?

She hardly paid attention at social events, preferring to disappear into the library instead.

She glanced at her paper once more. Perhaps an article on the quiet existence of a spinster? Would the ton have any interest in such a subject? It was worth a try. The worst that could happen was a rejection, and if so, she would simply try again.

Eugenie had just dipped her quill back into the inkwell when a soft knock came at the door, followed by the entrance of Tanner. He straightened his posture before announcing, “Lord Bedford has come to call, my lady. ”

Eugenie carefully placed the quill next to the inkpot and looked up. “Send him in.”

Tanner inclined his head before disappearing through the doorway. Moments later, Charles stepped into the library. “Thank you for agreeing to see me,” he said as he approached her, his lips curving into a devilish smile. “I have come bearing the most wonderful news.”

Eugenie raised a brow, intrigued. He had her full attention now. “The most wonderful news?” she echoed. “What could possibly warrant such an introduction?”

Charles lowered himself into the chair opposite hers. “I spoke with my friend, Professor Addington, at University College, Oxford, and he has agreed to let you sit in on his lecture.”

Eugenie’s breath caught. “Are you in earnest?”

He held up his hands, palms outward as if to temper her enthusiasm. “There are conditions, of course. You will have to attend in disguise, and you must remain silent during the lectures—no questions.”

A thrill shot through her. “That won’t be an issue,” she said quickly. “When can I go?”

“Tomorrow.”

A bright, unrestrained smile spread across her lips. “This is extraordinary,” she gushed, unable to contain her excitement. “Thank you! Truly, you are the best of men!”

Charles leaned back, looking immensely pleased with himself. “I thought this might make you happy.”

Eugenie clasped her hands together, resisting the ridiculous urge to throw her arms around him. “It does. It truly does. And it means more to me than you could ever know. How can I ever thank you?”

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of Charles’s mouth. “I was hoping for another kiss, actually.”

Eugenie’s delighted expression faltered as she pursed her lips. “Shh…” She pressed a finger against them in warning. “You must not speak of that here.”

Charles’s grin widened. “Whyever not?”

She sighed, lowering her hand. “Because it was a mistake.”

“I beg to differ,” he said. “It was rather pleasurable.”

“A mistake can still be pleasurable.”

Charles tilted his head, considering her words. “Then shall we make another mistake? Maybe two?”

She rolled her eyes. “You are incorrigible.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

Charles leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I took it as one.”

Before Eugenie could reply, a maid entered, carrying a silver tea service. She carefully placed the tray on the low table between them and curtsied. “Would you care for some tea, my lady?”

Eugenie saw this as her opportunity to create a bit of distance between herself and the entirely-too-charming Lord Bedford. Rising from her seat, she replied, “I shall see to it, Nancy.”

The maid curtsied again before taking a seat in the corner of the room, ensuring they were not alone. Eugenie reached for the teapot and asked, “Would you care for some tea, my lord?”

“I would,” Charles said.

She handed him a cup before reclaiming her own seat, taking a small sip in an attempt to compose herself. Despite the lessons in propriety drilled into her since childhood, she found her thoughts rather unruly in Charles’s presence.

Desperate for a safe topic, she grasped at the first question that came to mind. “May I ask what you are reading at the moment?”

Charles settled back into his chair. “I find that I have little time for reading for enjoyment. Between managing my estate and corralling my cousin, I have little time for anything else.”

“That is a shame,” Eugenie murmured. “May I ask how Philip is faring?”

Charles let out a weary sigh, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“Not well,” he admitted. “He seems determined to squander every opportunity that has been placed before him. Oxford expelled him, and no amount of pleading, negotiating, or reasoning could change their minds. And truthfully, I am not certain I would have wanted them to.”

Eugenie’s brows drew together in concern. “I am sorry,” she said, not knowing what else she could say.

Charles gave her an apologetic smile. “It is I who should be sorry. I should not be burdening you with my troubles.”

“Nonsense,” she replied, sitting up a little straighter. “We are friends, are we not?”

His lips quirked, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “We are.”

“Well, friends help one another,” Eugenie said, setting down her teacup. “How can I be of assistance?”

Charles studied her for a moment. “I’m not sure there is anything to be done—at least, not where Philip is concerned. His greatest vice is gambling, and from what I have heard, he is rather dreadful at it. He does not know when to walk away.”

“Perhaps I could speak to him,” she suggested.

Charles gave a dry chuckle. “That would accomplish little, I fear. I have lectured him until I am red in the face, but he refuses to listen. If anything, he only grows more resentful.”

“Then what will you do?”

A muscle in Charles’s jaw ticked. “Eventually, I will marry,” he said after a pause. “And I hope that union will produce an heir. My priority will be securing the estate’s future, but I also wish to ensure Philip is cared for when the time comes. He is my cousin, no matter his failings. ”

Eugenie swallowed, an unexpected weight settling in her stomach.

The thought of Charles marrying—it should not have affected her so, yet it did.

She had always known he would have to take a wife one day.

It was the natural course of things. However, she found herself dreading the answer to the question that formed on her lips.

“Are you pursuing someone?” she ventured.

Charles held her gaze for a moment before shaking his head. “Not at the moment,” he admitted. “Right now, my focus is on the estate. I want to ensure it is profitable and thriving before I even consider taking a wife.”

Eugenie released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “That is wise.”

Charles arched a brow. “Do I detect relief in your tone, Lady Eugenie?”

She lifted her teacup to her lips, taking a slow sip to mask the warmth rising in her cheeks. “Not at all,” she said. “I simply meant that it is admirable to place duty before personal matters.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Charles’s mouth. “Mmm.”

She ignored the knowing glint in his eyes, setting her cup down with deliberate care. “So tell me, my lord—do you have any particular qualities in mind for this future bride of yours?”

Charles’s smirk grew, but instead of answering, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Now that,” he murmured, “is an interesting question.”

“Is it?” Eugenie asked, feigning indifference.

Charles leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression settling over his features. “I suppose I would want a young woman who is kind, clever, and, if I am being entirely honest, one who possesses a respectable dowry.”

A pang of disappointment flickered through Eugenie at his words, though she kept her expression carefully composed. “So you are a fortune hunter, then?”

The amusement drained from Charles’s face. “I am not,” he replied, his voice firm. “But marriage is a business transaction. A woman brings her dowry into the union, and in return, her husband provides for her in the manner to which she is accustomed. It is a practical arrangement.”

“You make it sound positively romantic,” she muttered, unable to keep the bite from her tone.

“There is nothing romantic about marriage,” Charles replied. “At least, not for members of the ton .”

Eugenie lifted her chin. “If I ever did marry, I would want it to be for love.”

The way Charles looked at her made her stomach twist. It wasn’t amusement or even disdain—it was pity. And somehow, that was worse.

“I wish you luck, Eugenie,” he said softly, “but life is far more complicated than the fairy tales you have read.”

“Elsbeth and Niles married for love,” she countered.

“That is true,” he conceded. “But such matches are rare in our circles, and you know that. Most people marry for convenience. It is easier that way.”

Eugenie pressed her lips together. “I disagree. I think it would be far more difficult to build a life with someone you barely know, someone you do not even care for.”

Charles spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. “And when, exactly, would I have the time to pursue love? Between managing my estate and my duties in the House of Lords, I scarcely have time for anything else.”

“That is rather sad,” Eugenie said.

“No, it is pragmatic,” he remarked. “My parents did not marry for love, and yet they were content. That is more than many can say. ”

Eugenie met his gaze. “You deserve love, Charles,” she said. “I hope you know that.”

Something flickered in his eyes, something almost unreadable. “As do you,” he replied. “And I truly hope you find it.”

She exhaled slowly, then gave a small shrug. “It hardly matters since I do not wish to marry.”

Charles’s brow furrowed. “Whyever not? You would willingly choose spinsterhood?”