Page 12 of A Spinster’s Folly (Courting the Unconventional #2)

She broke his gaze, looking towards the window where the sunlight cast golden patterns across the floor. “I want to live my life on my own terms,” she admitted. “I have freedoms now that I would lose the moment I took a husband. I do not wish to be bound by expectations that are not my own.”

Charles studied her for a long moment before saying, “The right man wouldn’t ask you to change. He would love you as you are.”

A wistful smile tugged at her lips. “And where, pray tell, would I find such a man?”

Before he could respond, a voice interrupted from the doorway.

“Cousin,” Elsbeth greeted, stepping into the room with a knowing smile. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Charles rose to his feet. “I came to speak to Eugenie about a private matter.”

Elsbeth’s gaze flickered between them, her grin widening. “Is that so?” she mused. “How very mysterious.”

Charles chuckled. “You are reading far too much into it, but alas, I should take my leave.” He gave them both a polite bow. “Ladies.”

As soon as he departed, Elsbeth turned to Eugenie with a curious expression. “And what, pray tell, was that all about?”

“Nothing,” Eugenie rushed out, standing before she could be further interrogated .

A teasing gleam came into Elsbeth’s eyes. “Fine, keep your secrets. But the truth always comes out, you know.”

“As delightful as this conversation has been, I do believe it is time for my nap.”

“You can run, but you can’t hide.”

Eugenie strode towards the door, willing her heart to still. She would not dwell on Charles’s words. She would not wonder what his answer would have been had Elsbeth not interrupted.

And most of all, she would not think about the possibility that she cared for Charles more than she dared to admit.

Charles stepped down from his coach and strode towards his grand townhouse. The polished brass knocker gleamed under the gray London sky, but he had no need for it since the door was already opening as he approached. Hagen stepped aside, inclining his head with the usual deference.

“My lord,” Hagen greeted.

Charles merely tipped his head in acknowledgment and moved past him towards the study.

He entered the room and rounded his desk, pulling open the heavy ledger that awaited his attention.

If nothing else, he could attempt to make use of the afternoon by tending to matters that actually required his focus.

However, fate had other plans.

He had barely begun scanning the rows of figures when the study door opened. He didn’t need to look up to recognize the familiar footsteps. It was his mother’s firm, deliberate stride, followed by the softer, hurried steps of Phoebe.

“Good, you are finally home,” his mother announced, not bothering with pleasantries. “We have a problem. ”

Charles closed the ledger with an audible thud. So much for getting any work done. “What is it now?” he asked, already dreading the answer.

Phoebe stepped forward, a folded piece of paper in her hand, her eyes clouded with worry. “Some young woman claims that Philip got her with child, and her brother—Mr. Kingston—has issued a challenge. A duel.”

“A duel?” Charles repeated, rising swiftly from his chair. “When?”

Phoebe handed him the letter. “I don’t know, but Mr. Kingston has given him the opportunity to choose his second.”

Charles unfolded the paper and scanned the hastily written words. He exhaled sharply. “So there is no time or place set yet?”

“Not that I am aware of,” Phoebe replied.

Charles frowned. “Where is Philip now?”

“Where else?” Phoebe said, her tone laced with exasperation. “His favorite gambling hell.”

Charles let out a curse under his breath, dropping the letter onto his desk. “I need to speak with him.”

Phoebe stiffened. “He cannot participate in a duel, Charles. He is a terrible shot. He will get himself killed.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Charles vowed, though even he knew how difficult controlling Philip could be. He rounded his desk, heading for the door. “Try not to worry.”

Phoebe wrung her hands together. “If that letter speaks the truth, then Philip has done more than put his own life in jeopardy. He has ruined a young woman’s future. That is not how I raised him.”

Charles paused beside her, his hands settling firmly on her shoulders. “Let’s focus on preventing the duel first.”

Phoebe hesitated, then conceded. “Very well.”

His mother, ever pragmatic, added, “I had Hagen bring your horse around to the front. ”

Charles gave her a curt nod of appreciation. “Good thinking. That will save us a considerable amount of time.”

Without another word, he left the study, his strides long and purposeful as he made his way towards the entrance. How could Philip be so reckless? A duel, of all things. What on earth was his cousin thinking?

Stepping outside, he mounted his horse with practiced ease and urged it forward, the bustling streets of London blurring past as he made his way towards The Rabbit and the Fox .

A short ride later, he slowed to a stop a short distance from the infamous establishment, securing his horse before striding towards the entrance. The heavy wooden door loomed before him, its iron studs glinting under the lantern light. He knocked firmly.

A small panel slid open, revealing a pair of narrowed, suspicious eyes. “What do you want?” the man behind the door growled.

“Let me in,” Charles ordered.

The doorman’s scowl deepened. “I don’t take orders from you.”

“Do you want me to waste my money here or not?”

There was a beat of silence, then the panel slid shut. A moment later, he heard the sound of locks being unfastened. The door creaked open, and the man stepped aside grudgingly. “I assume you know where to go, Mister.”

Ignoring the doorman, Charles stepped inside. The thick haze of cigar smoke immediately assaulted his senses, mingling with the clinking of coins and the low hum of conversation. He navigated the crowded hall, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed on Philip.

There he was, seated at a round table in the back, a stack of cards in his hand, his posture relaxed as if he hadn’t a single care in the world.

Before Charles could approach, a woman draped in a revealing gown sidled up to him, her lips curling into a slow smile. “Looking for a good time?”

“I’m looking for my cousin,” Charles replied, barely sparing her a glance.

He crossed the room and stopped beside Philip’s table, clearing his throat.

Philip looked up, his expression twisting in irritation. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

“Not now.” Philip’s attention returned to his cards.

Charles’s patience snapped. He reached out and clamped a firm hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Yes. Now.”

Philip let out a long-suffering sigh and threw his cards down. “This better be important. I was about to win that round.”

“You weren’t,” Charles countered, steering him away from the table.

They stepped into the corridor, the noise of the hall muffled behind them. Philip turned, crossing his arms. “Well? What is it this time?”

Charles fixed him with a hard stare. “Would you care to explain yourself?”

“That depends. What exactly am I supposed to explain?”

In a low voice, he asked, “A duel, Philip? Are you mad?”

Philip shook his head. “Let me guess—my mother has been snooping in my affairs again.”

“She had every right to,” Charles snapped. “Do you understand the risk you’re taking? A duel is a good way to get yourself killed.”

“I wasn’t the one who issued the challenge,” Philip countered. “Mr. Kingston did.”

“Did you get his sister pregnant?”

With a slight shrug, Philip replied, “So she claims. ”

Charles’s jaw tightened. “Did you or did you not sleep with her?”

Philip bristled. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

Taking a step closer, Charles lowered his voice and said, “Because actions have consequences. And because you are my heir.”

Philip scoffed. “Heir presumptive , Charles,” he corrected. “We both know you’ll marry and have sons, leaving me in the dust.”

“That’s not the point,” Charles said, forcing himself to remain calm. “You need to settle this matter before it goes too far.”

“I was going to ask you to be my second, but clearly, that was a mistake.”

“You cannot honestly be considering going through with this duel,” Charles said, incredulous.

Philip lifted his chin. “I can. And I will.”

Charles thought it was best to try to reason with his cousin. Surely that couldn’t hurt. “Just apologize. Offer to care for the child. If you do that, Mr. Kingston may let this go.”

Philip laughed loudly. “Why would I do that?”

“Because it’s your responsibility,” Charles snapped.

“I have no proof the child is mine.”

Through clenched teeth, Charles threatened, “Philip, if you go through with this, I will cut you off.”

Philip’s expression faltered. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would.”

His eyes grew wide in disbelief. “All this over some chit?”

Charles held his gaze. “Over a matter of honor.”

Silence stretched between them. Charles could only hope that, for once, Philip would make the right choice.

Philip took a step back, his expression hardening with defiance. “You have no right to dictate what I can and cannot do, Cousin,” he said, his voice laced with both arrogance and frustration. “I am my own man. I will do as I please, when I please.”

Charles didn’t flinch. He held his cousin’s gaze with unwavering authority. “Not on my penny, you won’t.”

Philip threw his hands in the air. “Fine! I do not want your money,” he snapped. “I will make my own fortune, and I will prove you wrong. You will see.”

“Philip—”

But before Charles could say another word, his cousin turned on his heel and strode back into the hall, disappearing into the haze of cigar smoke and the raucous laughter of drunken men.

Charles knew there was no point in going after him. He had already drawn enough attention—the murmurs of nearby onlookers told him as much. A few men were still lingering near the corridor, their eyes glinting with interest, having clearly eavesdropped on their conversation.

There was no point in pressing further. Philip had made his choice.

Turning on his heel, Charles strode out of the gambling hell. The cold air was a welcome contrast to the thick, suffocating atmosphere of the establishment. He pulled his coat tighter around him as he crossed the street to where his horse was tethered.

He mounted swiftly, gripping the reins with more force than necessary as frustration burned in his chest. He had come here in the hope of knocking some sense into his cousin, but once again, Philip had proven to be as reckless and stubborn as ever.

As he urged his horse forward, guiding it back towards his townhouse, the weight of the evening settled over him. He had tried—tried to reason with him, tried to make him see the danger he was walking into—but Philip was determined to be a fool.

And Charles feared it would cost him more than just his pride.