Page 32 of A Spinster’s Folly (Courting the Unconventional #2)
A lone candle glowed on the writing desk as Eugenie sat in the library trying to think of something to write for her next article. What topic would capture the interest of her readers? And if she bared her soul upon the page, would it be enough?
As she tapped the feathered tip of the quill against her lips, Charles entered the room, looking far too handsome for his own good. She schooled her expression into an air of indifference. “Dare I ask why you are here?”
“To see you, of course,” Charles replied, a devilish smile curving his lips.
She arched an eyebrow. “The truth, if you please.”
Charles’s smile merely grew. “Elsbeth extended an invitation for dinner, and I found it unwise to refuse. However,” he added, stepping farther into the room, “I was not entirely dishonest. I did, indeed, come to see you.”
“Well, you saw me. You can leave now,” Eugenie said.
He moved to stand beside her, his gaze drifting towards the paper in front of her. “Did I interrupt something of importance? ”
Eugenie placed the quill down, knowing she could trust Charles with her secret. “I was working on what to write for my next article in the Society page.”
Charles’s brow shot up. “You are writing articles for the newssheets?”
“I am,” she affirmed.
Leaning in slightly, he asked in a low voice, “Are you Mr. James Fairchild?”
She shook her head. “No, I wrote the article titled A Spinster’s Guide to Scandal .” She hesitated before revealing, “But I know who is writing under Mr. Fairchild’s name.”
Curiosity flashed across his face. “Who?”
She took a deep breath before answering. “Miss Winslow.”
His expression shifted to one of disbelief. “Are you quite certain?”
“I am,” she confirmed. “But I cannot disclose how I came by this knowledge. Suffice it to say, my source is trustworthy.”
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly unsettled. “But why would she write such fabrications? She was there. She knows the truth.”
“I do not know,” Eugenie admitted, determination settling in her chest. “But I intend to call upon her tomorrow and demand answers.”
Charles frowned. “Your brother will never allow you to leave the townhouse, not after the recent attempt to abduct you.”
Eugenie’s lips pressed together in frustration. “I feared as much, but it changes nothing. I must go.”
“Then I shall take you,” he declared.
She lifted her gaze to his. “And risk my brother’s wrath?”
Charles’s lips twitched. “It would not be the first time I have endured his ire for your sake, nor will it be the last, I suspect. We shall go under the guise of a simple carriage ride.”
Warmth spread through her chest. In that moment, she thought she could not care for him more than she already did. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Charles reached for the paper she had been toiling over, scanning its contents. “This is good,” he acknowledged.
“You approve?” she asked.
His gaze softened as he set the paper down. “I support you in all that you do, Eugenie. No matter what. I only ask that you remain true to yourself.”
She had been mistaken.
She did not merely care for Charles.
She loved him.
For how could she not? He saw her, truly saw her—the woman she kept hidden from the rest of the world.
Charles cleared his throat, drawing back her attention. “Elsbeth sent me to retrieve you. The dinner bell should sound soon.”
Eugenie rose to her feet, the shift bringing her mere inches from him. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she found herself caught in his gaze. “We should go,” she managed.
“Yes,” he murmured, leaning closer. “We should.”
But she didn’t want to go. Not now. Her eyes dropped to his lips and she hoped that he would kiss her again. She could feel his warm breath against her lips and she closed her eyes in anticipation.
“Eugenie…” His voice was hoarse.
She opened her eyes, finding his filled with raw intensity.
“If I kiss you, I won’t let you go,” he confessed, his fingers trailing up to cup her right cheek. “Is that what you want?”
Yes.
But the word lodged in her throat, held captive by uncertainty.
He continued. “I want you. I want us. I want it all. With you. Now and forever,” he said. “I want to be the man at your side, your greatest supporter. I want to be your husband. ”
“Charles…” she whispered, her thoughts a tumult of emotions.
“Marry me, Eugenie,” he said fervently. “I promise to be the man that you need.”
It would be so easy to say yes, but something held her back. Charles said nothing about love. And that is what she wanted more than anything else.
With great reluctance, she took a step back. “I’m sorry, Charles, but I cannot accept.”
His face fell, pain flashing across his features. “Whyever not?” he asked. “I care for you, and I suspect that you care for me as well.”
She looked away. “I do, but I want more. I want love.”
Charles reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “I want that, too,” he asserted. “I do believe I am already halfway there.”
Eugenie’s voice was barely above a whisper. “As am I… but I am scared.”
“What are you scared of?”
She took a steadying breath. “My grandparents loved each other deeply, but when my grandfather died, a part of my grandmother died that day. She would sit in her armchair by the fireplace, day in and day out, and stare at the portrait of her husband. There was no consoling her. She longed for death because it meant she no longer had to endure another day without her true love,” she shared.
“When she died, the doctor said she had a smile on her face.”
Charles’s lips curved slightly. “That sounds beautiful.”
“It terrifies me. I can’t risk losing myself like that.”
His grip on her hand tightened. “You don’t know what the future holds. You should live and love every day like it is your last. Because one day, it will be. You must take chances and live your life.”
“Yes, but it is safer not to risk one’s heart.”
He nodded. “Yes, it is safer,” he agreed. “But love is not something you search for. Love finds you, and when it does, whether you are ready or not, it will be the best thing to ever happen to you.”
Eugenie searched his eyes. “And if you are wrong?”
“I am rarely wrong,” he replied with a smirk.
Despite herself, a slight laugh escaped her lips. “You are being rather cocky.”
“It is only when I know what I want, and I won’t stop at anything to get it,” Charles said. “And I am convinced the rest of my life looks like you.”
“You aren’t making this easy on me, are you?” Eugenie asked.
Charles’s finger traced her cheek. “You know how I feel, but I won’t force you,” he said. “I care about you too much to do such a thing.”
A loud clearing of a throat from the doorway shattered the moment, causing both Eugenie and Charles to jump apart. Eugenie’s head snapped towards the source of the interruption, only to find Elsbeth standing there, arms crossed, a look of disapproval etched on her face.
“I do hope I am interrupting something,” her sister-in-law remarked, her voice laced with dry humor.
Charles offered his cousin a wry smile. “I was merely attempting to convince Eugenie to marry me.”
Elsbeth’s gaze flickered between them, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Well, it seemed to be going rather well, but the dinner bell rang a few moments ago. Shall we adjourn to the dining room before the food turns cold?”
“Yes, I believe that is a splendid idea,” Charles said, turning towards Eugenie and offering his arm.
Eugenie placed her hand on his sleeve. Together, they followed Elsbeth out of the library and into the dimly lit corridor, the silence between them filled with unspoken thoughts and emotions still lingering from their conversation .
It was Elsbeth who finally broke the quiet. “I am rather surprised I did not find Sir Spotticus curled up in the library with you.”
Eugenie laughed. “I thought it best to return him to the stables for now. I found that horses, even miniature ones, are rather messy.”
“Niles will be thrilled, no doubt, to hear that,” Elsbeth said.
Eugenie turned her gaze towards Charles. “Have I properly thanked you for Sir Spotticus?”
“You have,” he assured her. “And I am glad you have taken to him so well. Perhaps he will help you rediscover your love for horses.”
She let out a small sigh. “I do love horses, Charles, but riding one is an entirely different matter. I am not certain I will ever be brave enough to get in the saddle again.”
Charles reached over and gave her hand a reassuring pat. “Whether you do or not, you will always have my support.”
As they stepped into the grand entry hall, she saw Niles standing in casual conversation with Charles’s mother. His sharp gaze lifted to meet theirs, and his lips quirked in mild exasperation. “It is about time,” he commented, his tone teasing but edged with impatience.
Elsbeth moved to stand beside him, giving him a playful nudge. “Leave them be,” she said lightly. “They were engaged in a discussion of utmost importance.”
“And what, pray tell, was so important?” Niles asked.
Elsbeth’s expression remained composed. “It is none of our concern.”
Niles looked as though he would press the matter further, his mouth opening slightly as if forming another protest. But after a moment, he exhaled a long, knowing sigh. “Very well. I suppose I should simply be grateful that the midget horse isn’t with Eugenie.”
“Again, it is a miniature horse, dear brother,” Eugenie corrected. “And if you continue to be unkind, I shall fetch him from the stables.”
“The stables are precisely where that horse belongs,” Niles grumbled.
Elsbeth, ever the peacemaker—or perhaps just eager to move things along—looped her arm through Niles’s and began leading him towards the dining room. “We can continue this utterly fascinating debate over supper.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Niles muttered, though he allowed himself to be pulled along.
Charles’s mother, who had remained an amused spectator thus far, finally spoke. “Now I find myself quite intrigued by this famed horse. When might I have the pleasure of meeting him?”