Page 20 of A Spinster’s Folly (Courting the Unconventional #2)

Eugenie set the newssheets down with an unsteady hand. She had always understood the risks of defying Society’s expectations, of daring to step outside the carefully constructed role set before her. But she had never truly feared the consequences.

Until now.

She had done nothing wrong. And yet, her reputation hung by a thread.

How was that fair?

Charles sat in his study, drumming his fingers against the polished surface of his desk, his eyes fixed on the clock above the mantel.

Time crawled at an agonizing pace. It was still too early to call upon Lady Eugenie, but he was restless, anxious even, and biding his time was proving to be a task more difficult than any business dealing or estate matter.

She had told him she believed him, yet something in her expression last night suggested it wasn’t so simple. He needed to see her—to make sure she was truly all right.

But was that the only reason?

Somewhere along the way, without realizing it, he had developed feelings for Eugenie. Feelings that could no longer be brushed aside as mere fondness or friendship. He recognized that now.

And it was a problem.

Because Eugenie had made it clear, time and time again, that she was perfectly content remaining a spinster.

Would she welcome his pursuit? Or would she scoff at the idea, reminding him—yet again—that she had no interest in marriage?

The thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

His musings were interrupted when the door to his study swung open. His mother strode in, her usual composed demeanor offset by the firm grip she had on the newssheets in her hand. “Have you read this?” she demanded.

Charles sighed and closed the ledger in front of him, leaning back in his chair. “I have not yet taken my breakfast, much less read The Morning Post .”

“Well, perhaps you should,” she said, marching towards his desk and placing the newssheets before him with a pointed look. “You are mentioned in it.”

Charles sat up straighter. A cold sense of dread settled in his gut. Had someone seen him with Miss Winslow in the gardens? His fingers tightened around the edges of the newssheets as he swiftly scanned the columns. His eyes landed on a particular passage, and his breath stilled.

Lady Eugenie. His name. An implication that they had shared a moment of… indiscretion.

It wasn’t entirely untrue. But the way it was written—suggestive, salacious—painted an image of a romantic tryst. It didn’t state outright that they had been alone together in the gardens, but the insinuation was clear.

His jaw clenched as he crushed the newssheets in his hands .

His mother folded her arms, her sharp eyes assessing him. “Well? Do you care to explain yourself?”

“No,” he muttered, pressing his palm against his temple. “But I assure you, Eugenie is innocent in all of this.”

His mother arched a brow. “The article suggests otherwise. It says you were seen together before reappearing on the veranda.”

“Then the article is misleading,” Charles snapped. “Lady Eugenie was not alone with me in the gardens. She happened upon Miss Winslow… attempting to kiss me.”

His mother’s expression did not soften. “So you were alone with Miss Winslow?”

“For a matter of moments,” he admitted. “I took her outside for some air, thinking it might sober her up. Clearly, she mistook my intentions. But Eugenie—she merely stumbled upon the situation. She fled before I could explain, and I followed her to set the record straight.”

His mother shook her head. “Well, that is not what was reported. And now Lady Eugenie finds herself ensnared in scandal.”

Charles clenched his jaw. He should have been more careful. Should have known that even the hint of impropriety could be twisted into a full-blown scandal in a single day. He set the crumpled newssheets aside, inhaling deeply before declaring, “I will make this right. I will marry her.”

His mother’s posture shifted slightly, surprise flickering in her eyes. Slowly, she lowered herself onto the chair opposite his desk. “Do you even want to marry her?”

Charles met her gaze without hesitation. “I am not entirely opposed to it.”

“ Not entirely opposed? ” she huffed.

He nodded. “Yes. And I hold Lady Eugenie in high regard. I believe a marriage between us would be… mutually beneficial. ”

His mother pursed her lips. “You are being quite practical about this, Charles. But love is anything but practical.”

He lifted a hand. “I said nothing about love.”

“No, you did not.” His mother’s voice took on a dry, knowing tone. “Lady Eugenie is a lucky lady, then.”

Charles ignored her sarcasm.

She tilted her head, studying him as only a mother could. “Are you only offering for her to save her reputation?”

His mouth opened to reply, but the words didn’t come immediately.

Was he? It was a matter of honor—of course it was.

But the moment he had told his mother of his intentions, the decision had settled deep within him, with a certainty he had not expected.

A marriage between him and Eugenie would be more than a matter of honor. That much was sure.

His mother observed his silence and continued. “And do you believe Lady Eugenie will simply agree to this marriage of convenience?”

Charles hesitated. “I hope so,” he admitted.

His mother rose from her chair with a sigh. “By all means, go and try to convince her. But I would be mindful to avoid insulting the poor girl.”

Charles frowned. “How would I insult her?”

She gave him a pointed look. “I will let you determine that, Son.”

Before he could respond, a knock came at the door, and Hagen entered. He inclined his head politely before speaking.

“I apologize for the interruption, my lord, but a Mr. Barton has requested a moment of your time,” Hagen announced.

“Do I know a Mr. Barton? The name means nothing to me.”

“He said he was a friend of Mr. Philip Ellsworth, my lord,” Hagen responded.

His mother let out an exasperated sigh. “Good heavens. What sort of mess has Philip landed in this time?”

“Ah. That explains something, though not nearly enough,” Charles said, addressing the butler. “Very well—send him in. I won’t know what this is about until I’ve spoken with Mr. Barton... in private, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, my lord.” Hagen gave a small bow and withdrew.

His mother, already heading towards the door, paused only long enough to cast him a look of amusement. “I can take the hint. But I wish you luck with Lady Eugenie this morning. I fear that you need it.”

“I do not need luck.”

His mother merely sighed. “Now I am even more worried.”

And with that unhelpful parting remark, she swept from the room, leaving Charles with far too much to consider.

A moment later, a short young man with rounded spectacles stepped into the room, his expression grim. “Thank you for agreeing to see me, my lord,” he said with a polite bow.

Not bothering with pleasantries, Charles remarked, “I understand you are a friend of Philip’s.”

“I am. My name is Edward Barton, and I come bearing troubling news.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Philip refuses to apologize to Mr. Kingston,” Mr. Barton continued, his tone serious. “Not that it would help the situation at this point. Kingston is out for blood—Philip’s blood, to be exact.”

Charles groaned. “My cousin is an idiot.”

“That he is,” Mr. Barton agreed as he stepped closer to the desk, lowering his voice. “Philip asked me to be his second. I have done everything in my power to mediate the situation, but Mr. Kingston will not be swayed. I fear he is not simply demanding an apology—he wants retribution.”

“How do we know for certain? It is not uncommon for men of honor to fire into the sky, proving their point without spilling blood. ”

“Mr. Kingston has made it clear that this duel will not end until one of them is dead,” Mr. Barton shared.

Charles sat upright, his brows shooting up in shock. “That is highly irregular. A duel is usually fought until first blood or until one of the participants is unable to continue.”

Mr. Barton bobbed his head. “Kingston believes his family’s honor has been grievously damaged. He refuses to accept anything short of Philip’s death.”

“Where and when is this duel set to take place?”

“At St. James’ Park, before dawn, in four days’ time.”

Charles swore under his breath. “How did Philip react to this?”

“Delighted,” Mr. Barton admitted with a wince. “He sees himself as a fine shot and is utterly convinced he will win. He isn’t worried about the potential consequences—not to himself, nor to the reputation of your family. That is why I came to you. I was hoping you might talk some sense into him.”

Charles rubbed a hand over his face, frustration simmering beneath his skin. “Believe me, I have tried. But I cannot simply stand by and do nothing while Philip marches to his death.”

Mr. Barton met his gaze, sincerity etched into his features. “Philip is stubborn to a fault, but he does not deserve to die.”

Charles pushed back from his desk, rising to his feet. “I will seek out Mr. Kingston after I tend to another pressing matter. In the meantime, keep me informed.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

As Mr. Barton turned to leave, Charles called after him, “Keep this matter discreet. I do not want the ton catching wind of it and turning the duel into a spectacle.”

Mr. Barton paused at the door and inclined his head in acknowledgment. “You need not fear on that account. I understand the importance of discretion.”

With that, Mr. Barton departed, and Charles dropped back onto his chair.

Philip. His blasted cousin. Did the fool not care about anything beyond his own reckless impulses?

How could he be so careless? So completely oblivious to the damage he was causing?

He only hoped he had enough time to fix this before it was too late.

The door creaked open again, and this time, his mother stepped inside. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”

Charles arched a brow. “Are you in the habit of eavesdropping now, Mother?”

Ignoring his question, she asked one of her own. “Do you think speaking to Mr. Kingston will solve anything?”

He shrugged. “It is worth a try, is it not?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. He could see the worry in her eyes and how she wrung her hands together as though trying to contain her rising anxiety. And he did not fault her for it. Philip was young, but surely, he understood the gravity of the situation.

“You are right,” she conceded after a moment. “I only hope Mr. Kingston is feeling reasonable today.”

Charles let out a humorless laugh. “Philip took liberties with his sister. If I were Mr. Kingston, I doubt I would be reasonable either.”

His mother paled slightly, her hands twisting together more tightly. “I have seen Philip shoot,” she murmured. “He is… not proficient.”

That much was true.

Charles came around his desk, stopping in front of her. “Try not to worry. I will take care of this.”

“And if you can’t?”

Charles forced a confident smile. “Then I will pay Mr. Kingston off.”

“With what money?”

He placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “I will sell some land if I must. There is always a way,” he said. “Now, if you will excuse me, it is time I call upon Lady Eugenie. ”

“Ah, yes. Your grand plan to offer for Lady Eugenie.”

Charles straightened his cuffs, preparing himself for the morning ahead. “Not offer—convince,” he corrected. “There is a difference.”

“Of course there is,” his mother remarked. “But I would prefer a daughter-in-law who wasn’t coerced into marriage.”

And with that, Charles strode from the room, determined to mend one disaster before another had the chance to unfold.