Page 26 of A Spinster’s Folly (Courting the Unconventional #2)

“No,” Eugenie replied. “It was a strange man who leaped from a coach. I had never seen him before.”

“Then I think it would be best if you forgo your visits to University College for the time being.” His tone was firm, brooking no argument.

Niles snapped his attention towards her, his expression thunderous. “What visits to University College?”

Eugenie winced.

Drat.

She offered her brother a placating smile. “Well, I… may have taken a short trip to Oxford to attend a lecture,” she admitted. “That’s where I ran into Lord Bedford.”

“Women are not permitted to attend lectures at Oxford,” Niles remarked.

“That is true,” she acknowledged, “but they are far more accommodating when one is dressed as a man.”

Niles sucked in a sharp breath. “You dressed like a man?” His voice was a mix of horror and disbelief. “Are you mad?”

Eugenie shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. “Yes, but it was harmless.”

Taking a step closer to her, Niles asked, “Did you even visit your friend or go shopping on High Street?”

Eugenie paused, knowing her brother would not be pleased with what she was about to admit. “No, I did not.”

“So you lied to me?” Niles pressed .

“I did,” she admitted, lowering her gaze. “However, no one else but Lord Bedford knew what I was about.”

Charles interjected. “Professor Addington knew as well, but he allowed her to sit in on his lecture. He won’t betray her confidences.”

Niles turned his glare towards Charles. “And you let her do this?”

“She was quite determined, Westcott,” Charles replied. “Had I not been there, she would have attended regardless.”

Niles let out a sound of frustration, leveling them both with a hard stare. “Do you realize what would have happened if she had been discovered?”

Eugenie opened her mouth to argue. “But I wasn’t? — ”

“How many times have you done this?” he asked, cutting her off.

She bit her lower lip before slowly lifting her hand, three fingers extended.

Niles’s nostrils flared, his entire body going rigid. He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to rein in his temper. “We will discuss this later . ” His voice was tight with restraint. Then he turned to Charles. “But first, I would like a word with you . Alone.”

Elsbeth placed a gentle hand on Niles’s arm. “Can it not wait until after dinner, my love?”

“No.” His reply was swift, absolute. “I want to speak to him now . In my study.”

Without another word, Niles turned on his heel and strode out of the drawing room, leaving behind a tense silence in his wake.

Charles exchanged a wary glance with Elsbeth before asking, “Does Westcott keep any pistols in his study?”

“He won’t shoot you.” Elsbeth paused, then added, “At least, I hope not.”

As Charles strode towards Westcott’s study, uncertainty gnawed at him.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from this conversation.

He had been half-joking earlier about Westcott shooting him, but the possibility didn’t seem all that far-fetched.

It wasn’t long ago that the two of them had been at odds, but they had set those differences aside for the sake of Elsbeth.

And now, Charles had given Westcott yet another reason to be furious with him.

He had helped Eugenie sneak into Oxford, allowing her to disguise herself as a man and attend a lecture.

It was a decision that had placed not only her reputation but his own at great risk.

He had known it was dangerous, but it hadn’t been enough to dissuade him.

Because if he hadn’t helped her, she would have done it alone.

Charles entered the study and saw Westcott standing by the drink cart, his back partially turned as he reached for the decanter. Without looking up, he lifted the crystal bottle. “Care for a drink?”

Charles lifted a hand in polite refusal. “No, thank you.”

Westcott shrugged, pouring himself a generous measure of brandy. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass before finally glancing at Charles. “What you did with Eugenie was reckless,” he said, his voice firm. “Foolish, even. If she had been caught, she would have been ruined.”

“I’m aware of that,” Charles admitted. “But she would have done it with or without my help.”

Westcott studied him for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “I agree.”

Charles blinked. He had been prepared for a verbal lashing, perhaps even a thinly veiled threat. Agreement, however, was not what he had expected .

Westcott took a sip of his drink before continuing. “Which is why I wanted to thank you for helping her.”

Charles’s brows shot up. “You’re thanking me?”

“I am,” Westcott confirmed, settling into one of the leather armchairs by the fireplace. He gestured for Charles to do the same. “Eugenie is stubborn, almost to a fault. She does as she pleases, consequences be damned.” His lips twitched. “Much like you.”

Charles let out a dry chuckle. “So now you’re insulting me?”

Westcott smirked. “It’s not an insult. Just an observation.”

That sounded more like the Westcott he knew.

Westcott swirled the brandy in his glass, his expression growing more serious. “But we have a larger issue at hand. I assume you’ve seen the latest newssheets?”

“I have,” Charles responded. “Which is why I offered for Eugenie, but she turned me down. She says she would rather be a spinster than marry me.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but the sting of rejection still lingered.

Westcott frowned, his fingers tapping idly against the arm of his chair. “Eugenie has always been fiercely independent. She has a rather misguided notion that marriage would stifle her. A makeshift prison, if you will.”

Charles leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I wouldn’t try to control her,” he said. “If she agreed to be my wife, I would never?—”

“I know that,” Westcott interrupted. “And I do believe you would be good for Eugenie.”

“You do?”

Westcott grinned, taking another sip of brandy. “Don’t look so surprised. We may have been at odds in the past, but I’ve come to find you tolerable . ”

“That is a glowing endorsement,” Charles joked.

Westcott grew solemn. He set his glass down on the table beside him. “I am serious, Bedford. I ask you—no , I plead with you—not to give up on Eugenie.”

“I have no intention of giving up on her,” Charles admitted.

Westcott nodded approvingly. “Good. Because if she doesn’t marry you, I do believe she’ll make good on her ridiculous threat of remaining a spinster.”

A wry smile tugged at Charles’s lips. “Do you have any ideas on how I might persuade her otherwise?”

Westcott sighed, glancing down at his brandy. “I don’t,” he admitted. “But Elsbeth might. She’s been playing matchmaker this entire time.”

“I assumed as much, given the number of dinner invitations.”

Westcott hesitated before speaking again. “I do believe my parents indulged Eugenie too much.” His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. “It wasn’t always that way, but after her accident, everything changed.”

Charles straightened. “Accident?”

Westcott placed his nearly full glass onto the table, his fingers tapping lightly against the rim.

“A few years ago, she fell from her horse and hit her head,” he explained.

“She was unconscious for days. When she woke, she struggled to remember the events leading up to the fall.” He shook his head.

“To this day, she refuses to go riding. She’s uneasy around horses, despite once loving them more than anything. ”

“I hadn’t realized.”

Westcott’s gaze grew distant. “When she was younger, we couldn’t keep her off her horse. She spent more time in the saddle than anywhere else. I daresay she would have slept in the stables if our parents had allowed it.”

A small, fond smile touched Charles’s lips. “I can picture that.”

“I had hoped that time would help,” Westcott admitted. “That eventually, she’d find her way back to riding. But even now, after all these years, she still refuses to get back into the saddle or even go to the stables.”

Charles sat back, digesting this new piece of information. Eugenie’s stubbornness, her insistence on independence—it had always been a part of her nature. But this? This was something else entirely. This was fear. And fear was far more difficult to reason with than mere pride.

Westcott rose from his chair, adjusting the cuffs of his coat. “Shall we return to the ladies?”

Charles followed suit. “That would be wise.”

As they made their way back towards the drawing room, Westcott cast a sidelong glance at him. “I know about the kiss.”

Charles came to an abrupt halt. “Pardon ? ”

Westcott turned to fully face him, his arms crossing over his chest. “Eugenie told me that you kissed her at Lady Britton’s ball.”

A slow breath left Charles’s lips. So she had confessed it to her brother . He wasn’t entirely surprised, but he would have preferred to learn this in a less confrontational manner.

Westcott’s gaze sharpened. “I do hope you don’t intend to engage in such behaviors again until you are properly wed.”

This was a conversation he had no desire to have with Westcott, particularly when he had been looking forward to kissing Eugenie again . Assuming she would let him. “I can’t promise I won’t kiss her once we’re engaged,” he said.

Westcott stared at him for a long moment before conceding. “One kiss. That is all, but only after she accepts your proposal.”

Satisfied that the conversation was concluded, Charles resumed walking, feeling an odd mixture of relief and amusement. He would never have imagined a day when Westcott would grant him permission to kiss his sister.

When they reached the drawing room, he saw the ladies were seated upon the settees, engaged in animated conversation .

Elsbeth glanced up at their entrance, her eyes flicking between them before she let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “I was certain one of you wouldn’t make it out of that study alive.”

Westcott chuckled, moving to stand beside her. “Bedford and I have come to an understanding. Haven’t we?”