Page 22 of A Spinster’s Folly (Courting the Unconventional #2)

Charles opened his mouth, as if to say something—perhaps to argue, perhaps to plead. But no words came.

Eugenie offered him a small, sad smile before turning away, walking back towards the townhouse with slow, deliberate steps.

He did not stop her.

And that, she supposed, was answer enough.

Charles had botched the proposal to Eugenie.

He had spent the ride over to her townhouse preparing, crafting the perfect words, rehearsing the logical case for marriage, ensuring he had an argument so sound she could not refuse.

However, the moment he had looked at her, his carefully prepared speech had vanished .

Instead, he had blurted out that they should get married.

Like a muttonhead.

How could he have been so foolish? He knew Eugenie well enough to anticipate her reaction. Knew she valued her independence too much to simply accept marriage as a matter of duty. But Charles wasn’t about to give up. This was a matter of honor. He would convince her.

But not today.

He had another pressing matter to deal with—one that, if handled poorly, could cost his cousin his life.

As the coach rattled to a stop in front of a narrow brick building in Bloomsbury Square, Charles forced thoughts of Eugenie aside.

He straightened his coat, mentally preparing himself for the meeting ahead.

Philip’s recklessness had landed them all in a dangerous predicament, and now it fell upon Charles to undo the damage.

The footman opened the carriage door, and Charles stepped onto the pavement. The street was bustling with vendors calling out their wares, apprentices hurrying to their shops, and the ever-present scent of city life lingering in the air.

He approached the door of the modest townhouse and knocked firmly.

A long moment passed before it creaked open, revealing a middle-aged woman with a streak of white in her dark hair. She wore a clean, though well-worn, apron and eyed him with mild suspicion. “May I help you?”

Charles inclined his head. “I would like to speak with Mr. Kingston.”

The woman’s brows lifted. “And who may I say is calling?”

“Lord Bedford. ”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Do come in, my lord,” she said quickly, stepping aside. “There’s no need for you to be standing about in the street.”

Charles entered the narrow entry hall, his gaze sweeping over the modest interior.

The home bore the marks of genteel poverty—the furnishings were clean but threadbare, the paint along the walls flaking, the floorboards worn from years of foot traffic.

It was evident that Mr. Kingston had fallen on hard times.

“Wait here,” the woman instructed before disappearing down the corridor.

Charles clasped his hands behind his back, his mind already racing through the arguments he would present to Mr. Kingston.

Moments later, the woman reappeared. “Mr. Kingston and Miss Kingston will see you, my lord.”

She led him into a small sitting room, where a man of average height, with slicked black hair and a rigid posture, stood beside a young woman. She was petite, clutching a piece of fabric in her hands as though it were a lifeline.

Mr. Kingston met his gaze with barely concealed hostility. “I am not surprised you have come, my lord,” he said gruffly. “But you needn’t have troubled yourself. This matter is between Mr. Ellsworth and me.”

“I’m afraid it is far more complicated than that. Philip is my heir. I cannot simply stand by and allow him to participate in this duel,” Charles responded.

“You have little choice,” Mr. Kingston countered. “Mr. Ellsworth has already accepted my challenge.”

“What is it you hope to achieve with this duel?”

Mr. Kingston’s chest puffed slightly. “Mr. Ellsworth wronged my sister, and he shall pay for what he has done.”

“With his life? ”

Mr. Kingston did not flinch. “So be it. Mr. Ellsworth has stolen my sister’s future.”

Charles turned his gaze fully on Miss Kingston. She was far too young to be shouldering the weight of a ruined reputation.

He met Mr. Kingston’s gaze once more. “And are you prepared to die, leaving your sister truly unprotected?”

Mr. Kingston scoffed. “I am an excellent shot. I am not worried.”

Charles decided to test him. He let out a knowing hum and folded his arms. “I am not sure what you have heard, but Philip is an expert marksman.” A complete fabrication, but Mr. Kingston didn’t need to know that. “Why do you think he didn’t hesitate to accept your challenge?”

Mr. Kingston’s shoulders stiffened ever so slightly. “I hadn’t realized,” he admitted. “But it makes little difference now.”

Charles saw an opening. “Call off the duel, and I will ensure that Philip does right by your sister.”

Mr. Kingston’s eyes narrowed. “This would all go away if he agreed to marry her. But Mr. Ellsworth refuses.”

“Philip is only eighteen years old . ”

With a slight gesture towards his sister, Mr. Kingston countered, “And Ruth is only seventeen . They are young, yes, but they can grow together. It would be an advantageous marriage for Ruth, which is only fair, given the circumstances.”

Charles studied Mr. Kingston closely. He believed this was the right solution. In his eyes, securing a marriage for his sister was the only way to salvage her future. But Philip was young. Selfish. He would never be an attentive husband, and Miss Kingston would suffer for it.

“I know you want what is best for your sister,” Charles said carefully. “But marrying Philip is not it. He is reckless and careless. I worry he would not treat her kindly.”

“But she would have the protection of his name,” Mr. Kingston argued .

Charles turned to Miss Kingston. “Is that what you want?”

Miss Kingston’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It is what I deserve . ”

Charles resisted the urge to sigh. The girl had resigned herself to this marriage, believing it the only path to security. But she had no idea what a disaster it would be.

Mr. Kingston squared his shoulders. “Is there anything else , my lord?”

Charles was running out of options. He grasped at straws. “What if I ensured that Philip acknowledged the child and provided for it?”

Mr. Kingston’s expression hardened. “That is not good enough. My sister would still be ruined, left to raise a child alone.”

“I understand that,” Charles said, his patience wearing thin. “But surely you must see?—”

“No, it is you who must see,” Mr. Kingston cut him off. “Mr. Ellsworth made his bed, and now he must lie in it. If he does not agree to marry my sister, I will not call off the duel.”

“That is incredibly foolish.”

Mr. Kingston’s lips curled in a humorless smile. “Duly noted, my lord. But you are wasting your breath. If you want someone to do the right thing, I suggest you speak with your cousin.”

It was painfully evident that Mr. Kingston would not be swayed. This meeting had been a colossal waste of time. “Good day, Mr. Kingston. Miss Kingston.”

Charles strode from the townhouse, his irritation mounting with every step.

Once inside his coach, he let out a heavy sigh.

There was only one person left to deal with now.

Philip. The only person who could stop this.

And yet, Charles had a sinking feeling that Philip would rather die than marry Miss Kingston.

A short time later, Charles’s coach came to a halt in front of Philip’s townhouse, a modest yet respectable residence nestled within a quieter street of Mayfair.

He barely waited for the footman to open the door before stepping out, his boots striking against the cobbled pavement with determined force.

Without hesitation, he strode up the front steps and knocked briskly. The door swung open, revealing Warnick, the household’s long-suffering butler.

“Good morning, my lord,” Warnick said, bowing slightly as he opened the door wider, granting him entry.

Charles wasted no time. “Is Mr. Ellsworth home?”

“He is, but he is still sleeping, my lord.”

Charles’s jaw clenched. It was nearly midday, and the fool was still in bed. “Wake him up,” he ordered curtly. “Inform him that I must speak to him at once . ”

Warnick dipped his head in acknowledgment before disappearing down the corridor.

Before Charles could take another step, a familiar voice called out from the drawing room.

“Is this about the duel?”

Charles turned to see his Aunt Phoebe. Worry lined her face, and her hands twisted anxiously together as she studied him.

“It is,” he confirmed. “I have come to talk him out of it.”

“I doubt you will be successful. It is all Philip has spoken about these past couple of days, and I fear no amount of pleading will sway him.”

“That seems to be a common theme with Philip,” Charles muttered.

His aunt’s face fell. “What are we to do?” she whispered, the fear in her voice evident.

Before he could respond, a drawling voice echoed from the staircase above. “Ah, the high and mighty Lord Bedford has descended from on high to grace our humble home. ”

Charles gritted his teeth before turning towards the source of the voice.

Philip stood at the top of the narrow stairs, his shirt untucked, and his dark hair mussed from sleep. “What is it this time?” he asked as he began descending the stairs, moving with the infuriating ease of a man who had not a single care in the world.

Rather than dignify Philip’s mockery with a response, Charles said simply, “I have just come from Mr. Kingston’s home.”

Philip paused on the last step, brows lifting slightly. “Whyever would you do that?”

Charles held his cousin’s gaze. “I was hoping to reach a resolution before you get yourself killed.”

“Mr. Kingston won’t kill me,” Philip said confidently, a smirk playing on his lips. “He wants me to marry his sister, not put me in a coffin.”

“You might be underestimating just how much Mr. Kingston despises you.”

Philip’s smirk only widened. “I promise you, Charles, I am not in any danger. Mr. Kingston may be angry, but he isn’t a murderer.” He crossed his arms, clearly dismissing the severity of the situation. “Is that why you came all this way? To scold me about my supposed impending doom?”

Charles exhaled slowly, forcing himself to remain calm. “Among other things.”

“Go on, then. Lecture away.”

“I have work that needs to be done at my estate,” Charles stated. “And you have not been fulfilling your responsibilities. When was the last time you even stepped foot in my townhouse?”

Philip shrugged. “Why bother? I won’t be your heir much longer, will I? I have heard that you’ve been sniffing around Lady Eugenie’s skirts. ”

Something inside Charles snapped. He took a sharp step forward, his voice dropping to a dangerously low register. “I would tread very carefully when speaking of Lady Eugenie.”

Philip blinked at the sudden shift in Charles’s demeanor, but, infuriatingly, the amusement remained in his gaze. “Do you not constantly lecture me about honor?” he asked. “And you and Lady Eugenie were seen alone together?—”

Charles closed the remaining distance in a few strides. Philip visibly tensed as Charles loomed over him, his fists curling at his sides. “Choose your next words wisely , ” he warned.

A flicker of uncertainty passed through Philip’s expression, and for the first time since their conversation began, the younger man seemed to consider his words carefully. “I merely meant?—”

“I know what you meant,” Charles interjected. “And you are wrong to even dare utter Lady Eugenie’s name in such a manner. She is innocent in all of this. She has done nothing wrong.”

Philip shifted uncomfortably as he glanced away. “My apologies,” he muttered.

Charles did not move. “See that it does not happen again,” he said firmly. “Next time, I won’t be so forgiving.”

As he finally took a step back, his aunt—who had been watching the exchange with wide eyes—spoke up. “What about the duel?”

“Philip will meet me in my study later today, and we will discuss it then,” Charles responded.

Philip tossed his hands up. “Fine. I suppose I can grace you with my presence, since you’re so determined to play my keeper.”

Charles turned on his heel, heading towards the door, determined to put as much space between himself and his insufferable cousin as possible before he did something truly regrettable. He stepped outside and the cool air did little to help his temper.

So far this entire day had been a waste of time. Philip would not take this duel seriously. Mr. Kingston would not be swayed. And Eugenie had made it clear where she stood. She would rather be a spinster than marry him.

Botheration.

Why would no one listen to him?