Page 30 of A Spinster’s Folly (Courting the Unconventional #2)
E ugenie sat in the drawing room, one hand holding a book while the other idly stroked Sir Spotticus’s soft mane as he lay curled at her feet.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting a golden glow over the room’s elegant furnishings.
She read aloud, her voice lilting as she brought the words on the page to life, though the deep, rhythmic breathing of the foal at her feet indicated he cared little for the literature being recited.
Still, she continued, undeterred. If her brother happened to pass by and see her engaging in such an “improper” activity—reading aloud to a miniature horse in a drawing room—his irritation would be worth every word.
She had just reached a rather dramatic passage when Tanner stepped into the room and cleared his throat. “Lady Jane is here to call upon you, my lady.”
At the unexpected intrusion, Sir Spotticus lifted his head, ears twitching, his large, dark eyes peering curiously towards the doorway.
Eugenie smiled, giving the foal a reassuring pat. “Please send her in. ”
A moment later, Jane swept into the room, her muslin skirts rustling as she came to an abrupt halt just past the threshold. Her gaze dropped instantly to the floor, her eyes widening with astonishment. “Is that a miniature horse?” she gasped.
Eugenie, as if this were the most normal thing in the world, simply nodded. “It is.”
Jane let out a delighted squeal and hurried over, dropping gracefully to her knees beside Sir Spotticus. “I simply adore miniature horses! I have wanted one for years, but my brother insists they are pointless animals.”
“My brother shares your brother’s sentiment, but as you can see, I care little for his opinion on the matter.”
Jane stroked Sir Spotticus’s coat, her expression wistful. “How do you manage such defiance?” she asked. “Does your brother not control your pin money?”
“Mostly, yes. But I have a small inheritance from my grandmother that is entirely my own.”
Jane sighed, continuing to pet the foal. “My brother won’t even allow me to have a dog. He insists my time would be better spent pursuing womanly accomplishments.”
Eugenie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t believe I would get along very well with your brother.”
Jane hesitated, her hand stilling for the briefest moment before she murmured, “For the most part, he is kind to me.”
Eugenie studied her carefully, detecting something unspoken in those words. “I’m sorry,” she said, unsure of what else to say.
Jane straightened, brushing invisible dust from her skirts before moving to the settee opposite Eugenie. “Sometimes,” she admitted, “I feel more like an afterthought than anything else.”
“That must be difficult.”
“It is,” Jane admitted with a small, weary smile. “But what can I do about it? I am merely a young woman in a man’s world. ”
The quiet resignation in her voice made Eugenie’s heart ache for Jane. She had been fortunate, raised in a family that—despite their exasperation with her—had never truly tried to suppress her spirit. To feel insignificant within one’s own home was a burden she could not imagine bearing.
Jane quickly shook off her melancholy and brightened. “But enough about that. I didn’t come here to be such a naysayer.”
“You don’t need a reason to call upon me,” Eugenie reassured her.
A mischievous smile flickered across Jane’s lips. “In that case, I have rather interesting news.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I discovered who wrote that article about you and Lord Bedford.”
Eugenie sat up straighter. “You did? How were you able to manage that?”
Jane’s grin widened. “I called upon my uncle and asked him outright.”
“And he told you?” she asked. “Just like that?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Jane said, tossing her head back with a laugh. “But when he refused, I simply waited until he left his study, then searched his desk.”
Eugenie’s mouth parted in shock. “You searched his desk?”
“I did,” Jane said proudly, lifting her chin. “And I must say, the author of the article may surprise you.”
Eugenie leaned forward. “Who is it?”
Jane folded her hands neatly in her lap before saying, matter-of-factly, “Miss Winslow.”
“Miss Winslow?” she repeated, taken aback. “Why would she write such a thing? She was there that night. She was the reason I left the veranda in the first place.”
Jane’s brow furrowed. “Miss Winslow was there? With you and Lord Bedford?”
“No,” Eugenie said, knowing it was time to trust Jane with her secret. “I was alone on the veranda when I heard giggling. I went to investigate and saw Miss Winslow attempting to kiss Lord Bedford. When I made my presence known, he followed me back to explain what had happened.”
Jane frowned. “Then why would she report that you were alone with Lord Bedford?”
“Precisely,” Eugenie said, frustration creeping into her tone. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
Jane bit her lower lip, deep in thought. “Do you think she fabricated the article purely for the sake of gossip?”
“But why target me? I hardly know her.”
Jane considered this before offering, “What if you convinced her to print a retraction? If she did, the ton would move on to some other piece of gossip soon enough.”
Eugenie leaned back against the cushions, tapping a finger against her knee. “And what if she denies writing the article? I have no tangible proof, and I wouldn’t dare reveal how I discovered this information.”
Jane pressed her lips together. “That is a conundrum.”
Eugenie nodded grimly, her mind already turning over possibilities. If Miss Winslow had orchestrated this scandal, then she had to have a reason. But what did she have to gain from this?
The door swung open with a soft creak, and Elsbeth stepped into the drawing room. A warm smile spread across her face the moment her eyes landed on Lady Jane. “Jane, what a pleasant surprise,” she said as she crossed the room.
Jane returned her smile with equal warmth. “Good afternoon, Elsbeth. I would have arrived much earlier had I known Eugenie keeps a miniature horse as a pet.”
Elsbeth let out a soft laugh. “Ah,” she said with amusement glinting in her eyes. “That is rather a sore subject in this household, I’m afraid. My husband insists Sir Spotticus should reside in the stables with the other horses. ”
“But he is not like most horses,” Eugenie interjected. “He is far too tiny, far too delicate. He needs our attention.”
Elsbeth gracefully lowered herself into a chair opposite them. “As you can see, we are at an impasse,” she said with an air of playful resignation. “And I am wisely choosing to stay out of this particular battle.”
Jane laughed. “A smart woman, indeed.”
Eugenie shifted to face Elsbeth and addressed her. “What do you know about Miss Winslow?”
Elsbeth’s brows knitted together in mild confusion. “Miss Winslow?” she repeated. “I know very little about her, truth be told. She is a few years younger than me. May I ask why you’re inquiring?”
Eugenie hesitated for only a moment before exchanging a glance with Jane, who gave her a subtle nod of approval. Turning back to Elsbeth, Eugenie revealed, “She is the one who wrote the article about me.”
Elsbeth’s eyes widened slightly. “Whatever for?”
Eugenie shrugged. “That is precisely what I intend to find out.”
“And how, may I ask, do you plan on doing that?” Elsbeth inquired.
“That is an excellent question,” Eugenie mused, tapping her fingers against her knee. “One for which I shall ponder and hopefully devise an answer in due time.”
Elsbeth shifted in her seat, considering for a moment before offering, “I have heard that Miss Winslow is rather… shallow. She is exceedingly eager to find a match this Season.”
Eugenie let out a small scoff. “What young woman in the ton isn’t?”
“A fair point,” Elsbeth conceded. Then, after a brief pause, she added, “May I ask how you discovered that Miss Winslow was the one behind the article?”
Jane spoke up. “I found proof when I searched my uncle’s desk. Apparently, Miss Winslow has been writing under the pseudonym of Mr. Fairchild for over a year now.”
Elsbeth’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Miss Winslow? Writing for the newssheets? I wouldn’t have thought her clever enough for such a venture.”
“I daresay there is more than meets the eye when it comes to Miss Winslow,” Eugenie remarked.
Before anyone could respond, Niles strode in with a purposeful stride. His gaze immediately fell to the miniature horse at Eugenie’s feet, and his expression darkened with exasperation.
“Why,” he asked in a tone of long-suffering patience, “is that midget horse in the drawing room?”
“I was reading to him,” Eugenie replied, knowing that revelation would irritate her brother to no end.
Niles pressed two fingers to his temple, as though warding off an impending headache. “Are you actively trying to give me a heart attack?”
Elsbeth quickly rose from her seat. “Perhaps we could take a turn around the gardens,” she suggested, stepping towards her husband.
Niles’s tense expression eased ever so slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching in reluctant affection. “I would like that,” he admitted. Then, turning back towards Eugenie, his eyes narrowed once more. “And when I return, that horse will be gone.”
Eugenie lifted her chin defiantly. “I can’t promise that,” she said. “Sir Spotticus goes wherever I go.”
Elsbeth slipped her arm through Niles’s, gently tugging him towards the door. “Shall we, my love?”
For a moment, it seemed Niles would press the matter further, his lips parting as if to launch one final argument. But then with a resigned sigh, he relented. “Very well,” he muttered. “I could use some fresh air. ”
As the couple departed, their murmured conversation fading into the hallway, Jane let out a wistful sigh. “I find that I am rather envious of Elsbeth,” she admitted, her gaze lingering on the doorway. “Despite all odds, she found love.”