Page 13 of A Spinster’s Folly (Courting the Unconventional #2)

E ugenie adjusted the cap atop her head, making sure it sat snugly over her carefully pinned-up hair.

Her heart pounded with an exhilarating mix of nerves and excitement.

She was about to attend a real lecture at Oxford.

She had only dreamed of stepping into this place as a student. And it was all thanks to Charles.

Across from her in the carriage, Alice sat with a decidedly less enthusiastic expression, wringing her hands in her lap. “Are you certain this is wise?”

“It is,” Eugenie replied with a self-assured nod, though her own stomach fluttered with anticipation.

Alice’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And what if you are caught?”

Eugenie gave her a reassuring smile. “You need not fret. Lord Bedford will be with me, and the professor is already aware of my circumstances.”

Alice glanced nervously out the carriage window at the bustling streets. “We could still abandon this foolishness and actually go shopping on High Street as you told your brother we would. ”

“Where is your sense of adventure?” Eugenie teased.

With a slight huff, Alice responded, “I suppose I am simply interested in keeping my position.”

“I promise you will never lose your employment with me, no matter what happens.”

But Alice didn’t look convinced. “I just hope you know what you are doing.”

“I do,” Eugenie said, lifting her chin with determination. “I will enter with Lord Bedford, sit quietly through the lecture, and leave with no one the wiser.”

Alice regarded her skeptically. “Why is Lord Bedford helping you with this?”

Eugenie had wondered the same herself on more than one occasion. “I suppose it is because I am rather charming.” Then, with a touch more sincerity, she added, “And because we are friends.”

Now who was she trying to convince—Alice or herself?

Before Alice could respond, the carriage rolled to a jerking stop. Eugenie adjusted the long black academic gown that concealed the men’s clothing she was wearing. She barely had time to steel herself before the door swung open.

Charles stood on the pavement, sunlight glinting off his dark hair. “Shall we?” he murmured, stepping back to give her room.

Eugenie inhaled deeply and stepped out, her heart soaring. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, casting a golden glow over the stately buildings of Oxford. The low murmur of students deep in discussion filled the street, and for a moment, she felt as though she truly belonged among them.

Then Charles leaned in, his voice low in her ear. “You are smiling far too broadly,” he warned. “Remember, you are trying to blend in, not stand out.”

“I find that I am in a grand mood,” she replied, unable to contain her giddy excitement .

“Well, do try to curtail that emotion,” Charles said, his tone amused. “Most students at Oxford are perpetually brooding.”

Eugenie shot him a quizzical look. “How can one be gloomy when one is studying at university?”

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. “Trust me. It is entirely possible. To them, attending lectures is an everyday drudgery. And, if I were being honest, some are rather dull.”

She gaped at him. “Do they not realize how fortunate they are? To study subjects they love? To have this privilege?”

“Wait until after Professor Addington’s lecture,” Charles mused, “and you might not feel the same.”

His words were teasing, but something in his expression made Eugenie pause. There was a shadow in his eyes, a tension in his features that did not belong to his usual easy manner.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

He answered too quickly. “It is.”

Now she was certain something was amiss. “Out with it,” she demanded.

Charles raised a brow. “Out with what?”

“What is troubling you?”

He let out the faintest huff of breath. “Why do you assume something is bothering me?”

Eugenie turned fully towards him, one hand resting on her hip. “Because I can see it in your eyes.”

His lips quirked in the faintest smirk. “Should I be flattered?”

“You should,” she said without hesitation.

But the humor in his gaze didn’t last. Charles exhaled slowly. “Very well,” he said at last. “Philip has been challenged to a duel. And he intends to go through with it.”

Eugenie’s breath hitched. “A duel? Over what?”

He winced. “He got a young woman pregnant.”

“How awful,” she said. “What if he were to apologize for his actions? ”

“I don’t think an apology will suffice in this instance. He needs to take responsibility—to care for the child. But I doubt he will.”

Eugenie’s heart ached for the poor woman caught in the middle of such a scandal. And for Charles, who bore the burden of his cousin’s recklessness.

“There is still time,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “Perhaps, if the seconds intervene, a peaceful resolution can be reached.”

Charles’s jaw tightened. “Philip is as stubborn as ever. He refuses to see reason.”

Eugenie gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Then you must make him see reason.”

The shadow in his eyes deepened. “I wish it were that simple.”

She held his stare, her determination unwavering. “Nothing about life is simple. But that does not mean we stop trying.”

For a long moment, Charles simply regarded her, his gaze searching hers as though trying to decipher something unspoken. Then, almost imperceptibly, he inclined his head. “Thank you.”

Eugenie withdrew her hand. “For what?”

“For listening.”

She flashed a knowing smile. “You will find that I am an excellent listener. One of my most admirable qualities, in fact.”

Charles gestured towards the stone pathway leading into the courtyard. “I would ask what the others are, but we wouldn’t want to be late to class.”

As they started walking, Eugenie kept her shoulders squared and her back rigid, attempting to exude the quiet confidence of a young scholar.

Charles glanced over at her. “Relax your shoulders. You aren’t having an audience with the queen. ”

“I am attempting to appear confident,” she murmured through a tight smile.

“Confidence is one thing,” he said. “You look like you’re preparing to defend your family’s honor in battle.”

“And how, pray tell, does one adopt the air of nonchalance?”

Charles gave an exaggerated shrug. “Pretend that this is just another dreary lecture on poetry or theology—something guaranteed to put half the class to sleep. The sort you claim to be endlessly fond of.”

She felt her shoulders loosen as she laughed. “So I must act as though I am bored to tears?”

“Precisely. Though I imagine you’ll find that difficult. You look positively giddy.”

“You are right. I must act as though nothing is out of the ordinary. I am merely an unremarkable student on his way to a lecture.”

“Now you are catching on,” Charles said. As they neared the entrance, he added, “You will like Professor Addington. His lectures can be rather intense, but his knowledge is unparalleled.”

“I am eager to meet him.”

Charles stepped ahead to pull open the heavy wooden door, allowing her to enter first. She stepped inside, drinking in her surroundings, her heartbeat quickening with exhilaration.

Before she could get too carried away, Charles fixed her with a pointed look. “Remember, you are not to ask any questions.”

“I am aware.”

“Good, because your disguise is barely passable, and your voice would fool no one.”

She cleared her throat and dropped her voice to a deep, rumbling register. “Is this better?”

Charles snorted. “That is far, far worse. You sound like you are gargling gravel.” He pointed towards the corridor ahead. “Professor Addington’s lecture hall is just there. Are you ready?”

Eugenie pressed a hand to her stomach, willing herself to remain composed. “Yes. As ready as I will ever be.”

“Your mediocre response does not bode well for me,” Charles muttered under his breath.

They reached the open door, and Charles gestured for her to enter first. Stepping inside, Eugenie found herself face to face with Professor Addington.

He stood with an air of quiet authority, his dark curls peeking out beneath his academic cap.

He was younger than she had expected, with striking features and an observant gaze that immediately landed on her.

He studied her with interest before speaking. “Welcome to my class. And you are?”

Drat.

Eugenie’s mind whirred. She needed a name—quickly. One that sounded believable.

Before she could open her mouth, Charles smoothly interjected, “This is Winston Plunkett.”

A flicker of amusement passed over the professor’s face. “Mr. Plunkett,” he greeted. “I believe you will find the seats at the back most agreeable.”

“Yes, I think—” she started.

Charles placed a firm hand on her shoulder, halting her words. “The back is more than acceptable. Thank you, Professor.”

Professor Addington nodded, stepping aside, and Eugenie moved quickly towards the back of the room, her pulse hammering in her ears. She took a seat, straightened her gown, and exhaled slowly. She had done it. She had made it this far.

Charles leaned in and whispered, “You mustn’t talk under any circumstance. Do you understand?”

“I do,” she murmured.

He gave her a pointed look. “You just talked. ”

“Well, you asked me a question,” she whispered back. “What would you have me do?”

“Pretend you are mute,” Charles quipped.

Eugenie rolled her eyes, but she understood his cause for concern. The last thing she wanted was to cause trouble—not for Charles, not for the professor, and certainly not for herself.

The door to the hall swung shut, and Professor Addington strode towards the front, placing his satchel on the desk with practiced ease. He turned to address the students, his voice commanding.

“Good morning,” he said. “I trust you are all eager to continue our discussion on the fall of the Roman Empire.”

Eugenie’s anticipation heightened as the lecture began. She leaned forward, attempting to absorb every word. Each time the professor paused for effect, she had the strangest urge to applaud. But, of course, that would immediately give her away.

So, for now, she remained silent.