Page 23 of A Spinster’s Folly (Courting the Unconventional #2)
E ugenie walked stiffly down the pavement, her gloved hands clasped tightly together as she focused on the rhythmic tapping of her boots against the stone. Gunter’s Tea Shop loomed ahead, its cheerful striped awning at odds with the storm brewing in her heart.
She had no desire for lemon ice. No desire for polite conversation or idle distractions.
But Elsbeth had insisted, claiming a walk would do her some good.
Eugenie wasn’t so sure fresh air would make a difference.
She would much rather be curled up in bed, buried beneath her blankets, pretending the world did not exist—pretending her life was not falling apart.
And Charles…
What had he been thinking when he had offered for her? He had not spoken of love, not even of genuine regard. Only duty. Honor. How she was beginning to hate those words.
Elsbeth looped her arm through Eugenie’s and squeezed gently. “All your troubles will be forgotten once you have some lemon ice.”
“I highly doubt that,” Eugenie muttered.
“No, it’s true,” Elsbeth insisted, her voice light, determined. “ My mother always said that lemon ice is the cure for all manner of ills.”
Eugenie huffed. “It’s just ice . ”
“True, but delicious ice,” Elsbeth countered. “Besides, it’s good for you to be out of that townhouse—away from your thoughts, away from your problems.”
Eugenie adjusted the strings of her straw hat, her gaze fixed ahead. “I would rather be alone in my bed, drinking chocolate.”
Elsbeth sighed, her eyes filling with quiet sympathy. “I know Charles bungled his proposal, but he meant well. He was trying to protect you by giving you the protection of his name.”
Eugenie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “If I am ever foolish enough to marry, it will be for love . Not duty . ”
“As well it should be,” Elsbeth agreed.
Before Eugenie could reply, a ripple of movement in the crowded street caught her attention. A familiar figure stepped into their path. Miss Winslow . Good heavens . Could this day get any worse?
The young woman’s face lit up in an eager smile as she approached. “Lady Eugenie, Lady Westcott! What a pleasant surprise.”
Eugenie stiffened. “Is it?” she muttered under her breath, only to receive a quick nudge from Elsbeth’s elbow.
Ignoring her, Elsbeth returned Miss Winslow’s smile with a politeness Eugenie could not fathom. “Are you enjoying the shops today?”
Miss Winslow turned slightly, gesturing towards the maid standing behind her, whose arms were weighed down with neatly wrapped packages. “Indeed, I do so love shopping in Town. There is nothing quite like it.”
Turning back to Eugenie, Miss Winslow’s expression grew somewhat sincere . “I must say I am truly sorry for what was written in The Morning Post this morning. It was terribly unfair of them to print such a falsehood. ”
Eugenie hesitated, unsure how to respond. The words sounded kind, but the glint in Miss Winslow’s eyes said otherwise. Still, she forced herself to nod. “Thank you.”
A slow, knowing smile spread across Miss Winslow’s lips. “Although,” she added, “there are far worse things than marrying Lord Bedford.”
Eugenie went rigid. “I am not marrying Lord Bedford.”
Miss Winslow’s brows lifted in mock surprise. “Oh? Do you have a choice ? ” she asked. “I only mean—who else would want you now ? ”
Eugenie’s stomach twisted into knots. She opened her mouth—whether to retaliate or to flee, she wasn’t sure—but Elsbeth was already stepping forward.
With a tight smile and a voice laced with unmistakable steel, Elsbeth said, “Thank you for your opinion , Miss Winslow, but we must be on our way.”
And without waiting for a response, Elsbeth took Eugenie’s arm and led her briskly down the pavement, leaving Miss Winslow standing there, blinking in mild shock.
“That young woman is insufferable , ” Elsbeth muttered under her breath. “Do try to ignore her and her opinions.”
Eugenie swallowed hard. “She isn’t wrong , though.”
“Utter nonsense,” Elsbeth snapped. “You are clever, witty, and an absolute delight to be around.”
Eugenie forced a smile. “I daresay you are biased, being my sister-in-law.”
“Biased or not, I am right . ”
But as they walked, Eugenie found herself unable to shake the weight of Miss Winslow’s words. The looks from the men and women they passed felt sharper now, their eyes lingering just a moment too long, their whispers carrying just loud enough to sting.
Eugenie kept her chin lifted and her expression composed. But inside, her confidence wavered. Even she had her limits .
Elsbeth must have noticed, for she leaned in and murmured, “There are good days, and there are bad days. But the important thing is that you live each one.”
Eugenie nodded, though she wasn’t sure she truly believed Elsbeth’s words. Would the passing of time truly make things easier? Would the stares and whispers from the ton ever fade? Would she ever feel like herself again—unburdened, free?
She wasn’t certain.
As they arrived at Gunter’s Tea Shop, the cheerful chatter of patrons and the scent of freshly baked pastries filled the air.
The sight of the pristine white and gold facade, the delicate lettering etched onto the glass window, stirred a faint flicker of nostalgia within Eugenie.
She hadn’t been here in years. Not since her mother had passed.
The memory tugged at her, vivid and warm. How her mother had loved their little outings here. They would often indulge in lemon ice after an exhausting day of shopping, laughing over nothing. For a fleeting moment, she could almost hear it.
They placed their orders, and before long, two delicate glass bowls filled with lemon ice were set before them at a small table outside. The sun shone brightly, the warmth a contrast to the icy sweetness on her tongue as she took a bite.
Elsbeth sighed contentedly. “See? I told you. Lemon ice solves everything . ”
Eugenie let the tartness linger on her tongue, willing herself to enjoy it. Her mother had believed that, too. She blinked against the sudden sting of tears.
“Are you all right?” Elsbeth asked gently.
Eugenie set her spoon down. “I was merely thinking about my mother. I miss her.”
Elsbeth reached across the table, squeezing Eugenie’s hand. “From what Niles has told me, it sounds like she was a remarkable woman. ”
A soft, wistful smile played at Eugenie’s lips. “She was . If I could be even half the woman she was, I would be content.”
“I understand your parents loved each other deeply.”
“They did,” Eugenie murmured. “That’s part of the reason why I hesitate to marry. What if I never find that kind of love? What if I marry someone out of obligation and spend my life trapped in a loveless union?”
Elsbeth squeezed Eugenie’s hand again. “You will find love, Eugenie.”
“How can you be so sure?”
A knowing smile curved on Elsbeth’s lips. “Because when you find true love, you will feel seen, understood and valued. As if all of your complicated, imperfect pieces fit perfectly together. It is a wonderful feeling.”
Eugenie swallowed hard. That was what she wanted more than anything.
She knew she was different than most women of the ton. She was brazen and opinionated, willing to take risks to be who she truly was. And she wanted someone who would embrace her for who she was—not who Society thought she was.
Not someone who merely tolerated her.
Not someone who married her out of duty .
Her mind wandered and, before she could stop herself, her thoughts drifted to Charles. She resisted the urge to groan. Why did her thoughts constantly return to him? She scooped another bite of lemon ice, letting its tartness distract her.
But it didn’t help.
Charles was different. He asked her real questions, ones that made her think. He treated her as an equal, not as some fragile thing to be managed. And he had even arranged for her to attend a lecture at University College because he knew it would matter to her.
The realization settled into her chest, unwanted and undeniable. She was halfway in love with Charles. Her spoon clattered against the empty glass dish.
“Drat,” she muttered under her breath.
Elsbeth raised a brow. “What is wrong?”
Eugenie quickly schooled her features. “Nothing.”
“You were awfully quiet, and then you just cursed at your empty bowl,” Elsbeth remarked with a smile. “We can get you more lemon ice if you like.”
Eugenie shook her head, rising to her feet. “No, thank you. Shall we return home?”
Elsbeth studied her for a moment before standing, as well. “Very well,” she said, linking arms with Eugenie. “But I am rather curious what you were thinking about.”
They had only taken a few steps down the pavement when the sudden arrival of a sleek black coach interrupted their stride.
The door flung open.
A stout man leaped out and grabbed Eugenie by the arm, yanking her towards the coach with startling force.
A gasp lodged in her throat as panic surged through her.
Before she could struggle—before she could even process what was happening—the sharp, unmistakable sound of a pistol cocking sliced through the air.
The man froze.
“Unhand her . ”
Eugenie turned her head in shock. Elsbeth stood a few paces away, her reticule discarded at her feet, a pistol gripped steadily in her hands.
The man chuckled dryly, his grip on Eugenie tightening slightly. “You wouldn’t dare shoot me.”
Elsbeth’s eyes did not waver. “Believe me , ” she said firmly, “I would . And I would be perfectly justified in doing so.”
There was a tense silence. Then after a moment, the man released Eugenie’s arm. Without another word, he scrambled back into the coach, slamming the door behind him. The driver snapped the reins, and the coach sped down the street at a reckless speed, vanishing into the bustling traffic.
Elsbeth remained still for a moment before slowly lowering the pistol. She turned towards Eugenie, her gaze scanning her sister-in-law’s face. “Are you all right?”