Page 24 of A Spinster’s Folly (Courting the Unconventional #2)

Eugenie could only stare at Elsbeth, her body trembling. “What just happened?” she whispered. Her mind was still reeling, trying to comprehend that she had just nearly been abducted .

Elsbeth placed a steadying hand on her arm. “We need to get you home.”

Eugenie nodded—at least, she thought she did. She wasn’t certain. Everything felt numb .

She barely registered the walk back to their own carriage or the moment she stepped inside.

As she settled against the cushioned bench, her mind was still struggling to make sense of it all.

Across from her, Elsbeth said, “It is a good thing I always carry a pistol in my reticule.”

“You would have shot him?”

To her surprise, Elsbeth laughed . “Heavens, no!” she admitted. “My pistol isn’t even loaded. I’m just very glad he didn’t call my bluff.”

“You were bluffing?”

“It’s dangerous to carry a loaded pistol in a reticule,” Elsbeth said with a smile. “Can you imagine if I accidentally shot myself in the foot? What an unglamorous way to get hurt.”

Eugenie’s heart still pounded in her chest, her limbs trembling from the shock of nearly being dragged into a coach by an unknown man. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice softer now, more earnest. “For saving me.”

Elsbeth’s teasing expression faded into something gentler. “Always,” she said simply .

Eugenie turned her gaze to the window as the question lingered in her mind, pressing down on her like a weight she could not shake.

Who would want to abduct her?

What reason could there be?

None of this made any sense .

Charles sat at his desk in the study of his townhouse as he tried to focus on the ledger before him, but his mind refused to cooperate.

He needed to prepare himself before Philip arrived.

A calm head was essential when dealing with that insufferable boy.

Philip was aggravating beyond belief, yet Charles had no desire to see him dead.

How could he possibly convince Philip that dueling was a fool’s errand? Even if he miraculously survived, how would he live with the knowledge that he had taken another man’s life?

A gentle rustling of fabric signaled his mother’s entrance before she spoke. “What did Eugenie say to your… uh… proposal? Or shall I say ‘command’?”

Charles groaned, closing his eyes for a brief moment. This was the last conversation he wanted to have, but ignoring his mother was not an option. “It did not go well,” he admitted, dragging his fingers through his dark hair.

His mother hummed knowingly, stepping farther into the room. “Interesting,” she mused. “I can’t imagine why. Can you?”

Charles snapped the ledger shut with a bit more force than necessary. “Is there something I can help you with, Mother?” he asked, attempting to redirect the conversation.

She raised a delicate hand. “Oh, nothing in particular. I was merely curious.”

Leaning back in his chair, he regarded her with a tired expression. “You were right,” he confessed grudgingly. “Eugenie did not take kindly to my method of proposing. Are you satisfied?”

A triumphant smile curled at the corners of his mother’s lips. “Did you just admit that you were wrong?”

Charles narrowed his gaze. “You will not be in my good graces much longer if you gloat.”

“Oh, forgive me, dear child,” she said with mock sincerity, her amusement only deepening. “It is just so unlike you to admit such a thing.”

He reached for another ledger, flipping it open in a desperate bid to end the discussion. “Will that be all, Mother? I have work to attend to.”

She gave a nonchalant wave of her hand. “Before I go, I should mention that I have accepted Elsbeth’s invitation for dinner this evening.”

Charles’s head snapped up, his full attention now fixed on her. “I beg your pardon?”

His mother tilted her head ever so slightly, feigning innocence. “An invitation arrived earlier today, and I couldn’t possibly refuse. Elsbeth would have been most insulted.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “And surely you wouldn’t wish to offend them, would you?”

His jaw tightened. Was he ready to face Eugenie so soon after his disastrous proposal? If he declined to attend, she might assume he was avoiding her. And he would not give her—or anyone else—that satisfaction.

Before he could respond, the door burst open, and Philip strode in, his expression already set in irritation. “I’m here,” he announced. “The lecture can commence.”

Charles’s mother turned, offering a polite smile. “It is good to see you, Philip.”

“At least someone is happy to see me,” Philip muttered.

“Well, I shall leave you two to it,” she said. “I have other matters to attend to.” With that, she exited, closing the door behind her.

Charles gestured towards the chair opposite his desk. “Sit.”

Philip sighed dramatically, dragging his feet as he crossed the room. “For what purpose? We both know what this is—an interrogation.”

“Sit,” Charles repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

Rolling his eyes, Philip flopped onto the chair with exaggerated movements. “Happy?”

Charles pinned him with a level stare. “You are my heir. But more importantly, you are my cousin. Whatever you may think, I do care for you and have your best interests at heart.”

“Now you sound like my mother,” Philip mumbled.

Charles ignored the remark. “What do you intend to do with your life if I marry and my wife bears me sons?”

Philip looked unbothered. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“You should. It ought to be your every waking thought,” Charles said firmly. “You have a mother to provide for.”

“My mother has a small jointure,” Philip countered. “She will manage.”

Charles looked heavenward. “So your grand plan is to live off your mother?”

“I never said that,” Philip snapped as he leaned back lazily, crossing his arms. “Besides, I’m only eighteen. I have plenty of time to think about my future. Perhaps I’ll marry an heiress.”

Charles’s lips pressed into a thin line. “So you aspire to be a fortune hunter, then?”

Philip shrugged. “There are worse things. I’ve grown rather accustomed to a certain lifestyle.”

“You are a cad.”

Philip smirked. “Did you summon me here merely to insult me?”

Charles pushed back his chair, stood, and walked to the window, clasping his hands behind his back as he gazed out into the gardens. “As my heir, I forbid you from engaging in this duel.”

Philip shot upright in his chair. “You forbid me?”

“I do,” Charles said, turning back to face him. “Which means you must make this situation right.”

“No!” Philip exploded, jumping to his feet. “I won’t marry that chit!”

“That ‘chit’ is the mother of your child,” Charles stated plainly. “And you will treat her with the respect she deserves.”

Philip’s hands clenched at his sides. “You want me to throw away my future for some whore?”

Charles took a deep breath as he attempted to quell his growing irritation. “You chose to sleep with her, and actions have consequences. You need to rise up and be a man.”

Philip let out a bitter laugh. “She is the daughter of gentry. How low have I fallen?”

Charles unclasped his hands and took a step towards him. “You will marry her, and I will see that you are both provided for.”

Philip’s lips curled in disdain. “For how long?” He arched a brow. “I only ask because of… Lady Eugenie.”

“Lady Eugenie has nothing to do with this,” he growled.

“This isn’t a request. It’s a command. And if I refuse, I suppose you’ll threaten to cut me off,” Philip said as he glared at him. “So this is how it’s to be, then?”

Charles met his gaze with unyielding resolve. “This is how it must be.”

A heavy silence settled between them, the weight of unspoken words pressing into the room.

Philip was the first to break it with a cluck of his tongue.

“So be it,” he declared, his voice laced with defiance.

“I would rather be cut off than marry that chit. It doesn’t matter if she has an inheritance.

She is still lowbred, and nothing will ever change that. ”

“Fine,” Charles responded. “You’ve made your choice. ”

Philip turned sharply on his heel, striding towards the door. But before he reached it, he paused, one hand gripping the frame. “You think I need your money, but I don’t. I can make my own way in the world.”

Charles folded his arms across his chest. “With what skills?” he asked, his tone dripping with exasperation. “You were kicked out of Oxford, you have no trade, no title of your own, and, by all accounts, you are a dreadful gambler.”

“I won ten pounds last night,” Philip announced proudly.

Charles walked over to his desk, lifting the ledger with a pointed motion. “Ten pounds wouldn’t even come close to covering your expenses for the month.”

Philip waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, but if I win ten pounds every night, it most certainly would.”

Charles let out a short, humorless laugh and gestured towards the door. “By all means, prove me wrong.”

Philip tilted his chin upward. “I will. And when I do, you’ll regret this.”

“I very much doubt that,” Charles replied as he returned to his seat, flipping open the ledger once more. “You may go now.”

Philip hesitated for a moment before scoffing under his breath and striding out of the study, the door clicking shut behind him with a decisive finality.

A brief moment of silence followed before his mother entered the room. “Well,” she said dryly, “that went well.”

“Eavesdropping again, Mother?”

She did not look the least bit repentant. “I am entitled to listen to conversations that happen under my roof.”

“Next time, I’ll just invite you to stay.”

His mother’s laugh rang out. “Finally, we are in agreement on something.”

He furrowed his brow. “How can you joke at a time like this?”

The humor in her expression softened, replaced by something more thoughtful. “I am sorry,” she said, her tone gentler now. “I know you’ve been trying to mentor Philip, to shape him into a man who could one day take your place as earl. But, my dear, I fear it is a lost cause.”

“I refuse to give up on him just yet.”

“I know. And that is why you are my favorite son.”

Charles shook his head. “I am your only son.”

His mother pressed a hand to her chest in mock concern. “You are? Oh, dear. I think I may have misplaced one or two without realizing it.”

Despite himself, Charles let out a reluctant chuckle, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “Thank you. I do believe I needed a reason to laugh today.”

His mother’s lips curled in satisfaction. “Then my work here is done,” she quipped as she settled into the chair across from him.

Charles exhaled, the brief moment of levity fading as his thoughts drifted back to Philip. “Do you think he will ever grow up and face his responsibilities?”

His mother studied him for a moment before speaking. “You have done everything in your power to help him—perhaps even to a fault—but in the end, Philip is his own person. You cannot force a man to change if he does not wish to.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting towards the ceiling as he contemplated her words. “I know Aunt Phoebe will be disappointed.”

“In Philip, not you,” his mother corrected. “She sees the effort you’ve put into guiding him. She knows how hard you have tried.”

The rhythmic ticking of the clock filled the silence between them until the deep chime of the hour echoed through the room. His mother rose. “Come,” she encouraged. “We should begin getting ready for supper. We wouldn’t want to be late. ”

“And what, pray tell, shall I say to Eugenie?”

His mother briefly considered him before answering, “I would suggest using words when speaking to her. Preferably arranged in an order that forms a coherent sentence. Women tend to like that.”

“Why do I even bother with you?”

A radiant smile spread across his mother’s face as she moved towards the door. “Because you love me.”

“That I do,” Charles said.