Page 41 of A Spinster’s Folly (Courting the Unconventional #2)

She considered his words before saying, “I agree.”

“Good, because I am out of advice,” he said. “And, quite frankly, I cannot take you seriously while you are dressed like that.”

Eugenie reached up and pulled the cap from her head, placing it in her lap. “You should see me with my wig on.”

Niles rubbed his temples as though she were giving him a headache. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you had a wig made.”

Eugenie simply smiled and settled back into her seat. For the first time in a long time, she felt utterly, wonderfully content.

Charles exited his bedchamber and strode down the corridor, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished wood floors. Today was his wedding day.

It still felt surreal—this realization that, in just a short while, he would stand before a parson and bind himself to Eugenie for the rest of his life. But there was no apprehension, no hesitation. Only certainty.

He had finally found his match, a woman who both challenged and completed him. A love that transcended words. His heart now belonged to Eugenie, and he had no objections.

As he descended the grand staircase, he spotted his mother waiting in the entry hall, holding the morning newssheets in her gloved hands. The way she pursed her lips told him she had something to say.

“Your engagement made the Society page,” she announced, holding up the newssheets.

Charles frowned and reached for it. “How in the blazes did that happen?” He unfolded the newssheets, his eyes scanning the article. The name at the bottom of the column made his stomach twist.

Mr. Fairchild.

Which meant Miss Winslow had wasted no time in breaking the news. But how had she learned of his engagement so soon? It had only happened last night.

A curse slipped from his lips as he crumpled the newssheets in his fist.

His mother lifted a brow. “Does it truly matter?” she asked, unruffled by his irritation. “You will be married soon enough.”

“But how did she…” He cut himself off before he could say too much. As much as it frustrated him, he could not reveal Miss Winslow’s true identity.

His mother’s keen eyes didn’t miss a thing. “She?” she repeated, tilting her head in interest. “You know who this Mr. Fairchild is, don’t you? ”

“I do,” he admitted. “But I am not at liberty to say.”

“Then I won’t pry.”

He eyed his mother curiously. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

She laughed and reached for the newssheets. “I am simply too pleased about your upcoming nuptials to concern myself with gossip. That trumps all else.”

Charles leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I will see you at the chapel.”

“I do think it’s rather silly that you insist on traveling with Eugenie,” she mused. “Do you truly think she will change her mind?”

“It is a risk I am not willing to take,” he replied, half-joking, half-serious.

His mother shook her head with a knowing smile. “Then go, and hurry. I am quite eager to welcome Eugenie into our family.”

Charles tipped his head in acknowledgment before turning towards the main door.

As soon as he stepped outside, he spotted Addington, Wilton, and Alcott standing near the waiting carriage. They straightened upon seeing him, wide grins spreading across their faces like schoolboys up to mischief.

Addington stepped forward first. “We came to wish you luck on falling prey to the parson’s mousetrap.”

Charles smiled. “How generous of you.”

Alcott moved to stand beside him, his expression entirely too serious for comfort. “Here is my advice,” he said, lowering his voice as though imparting great wisdom. “Run. Do not marry. Stay a bachelor forever.”

Charles chuckled. “That is terrible advice, considering I’m actually looking forward to marrying Eugenie.”

Alcott shuddered dramatically. “Then it’s too late for you. There is no saving you now. ”

Wilton glanced heavenward. “Leave Bedford alone. He’s much more tolerable with Lady Eugenie in his life. You two are just jealous.”

“Why would I be jealous?” Alcott huffed. “I prefer bachelorhood. It is safe. Predictable. No wife to answer to.”

Wilton gave him a knowing look. “But you do have a sister that you answer to.”

Alcott grunted. “That is true. I should marry her off to the Duke of Clarence.”

“The duke is old enough to be your sister’s grandfather. Perhaps even her great-grandfather,” Addington stated.

Charles, amused by their bickering, shook his head and turned towards the carriage. “As enlightening as this conversation is, I need to depart for my wedding if I wish to arrive on time.”

Wilton pressed his lips together, but the humor in his eyes was unmistakable. “We tried, but Bedford is too far gone. He is a man in love.”

Alcott made a face. “Love? What a foolish thing to succumb to. A wise man marries for mutual toleration.”

“You should write poetry,” Wilton quipped dryly.

Alcott held up his hands. “Laugh if you must, but when I marry, it will be a practical decision—not some sentimental nonsense.”

“How romantic,” Addington muttered.

A footman opened the carriage door, and Charles stepped inside. Before the door closed, he glanced at his friends. “I do hope I will see you all at the chapel.”

“We will be there,” Wilton assured him. “Perhaps spending time in a chapel will do Alcott some good.”

“I attend church,” Alcott revealed. “My sister makes sure of it.”

“Yes, but do you listen to the sermon?” Wilton asked.

Alcott’s smirk widened. “I listen… enough. ”

With that, Charles settled into his seat as the carriage door shut behind him. He exhaled slowly, a sense of quiet anticipation settling over him. By the time this day ended, Eugenie would be his wife. And that was all that mattered.

A short time later, the carriage rolled to a jerking stop in front of Eugenie’s townhouse.

Charles pushed open the door before the footman could assist him and stepped out onto the pavement.

He took the steps two at a time. Before he could lift a hand to the knocker, the door swung open as if the butler had been expecting his arrival.

“Good morning, my lord,” the butler greeted, stepping aside with a formal bow. “Do come in.”

Charles nodded his thanks and strode into the entry hall. Almost immediately, he spotted Elsbeth waiting near the grand staircase. She wore a knowing smile, her hands clasped before her.

“It is entirely unnecessary for you to escort Eugenie to the chapel,” she said, amusement lacing her tone. “I would have ensured she arrived on time.”

“I know,” Charles admitted, not the least bit apologetic. “But now that Eugenie has agreed to marry me, I want to spend every waking moment with her.”

Elsbeth’s smile softened. “I am glad you have finally come to terms with your feelings.”

Before he could reply, the sound of light footsteps drew his attention to the corridor.

Eugenie stepped forward. The silver fabric of her gown shimmered in the soft morning light and a delicate headpiece adorned her blonde curls.

And in that moment, he knew he would always think Eugenie was the most beautiful person he had ever seen for as long as he breathed.

Charles didn’t even realize he was moving until he was suddenly in front of her. “Are you ready to get married?” he asked, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice.

If Eugenie noticed his enthusiasm, she didn’t seem to mind. A radiant smile spread across her lips. “I am.” She lifted the folds of her gown slightly. “Do you like my gown? It was my mother’s.”

Charles studied her, taking in the exquisite detail of the fabric, but more than that, the emotion in her voice. “It is lovely,” he said.

Her eyes grew moist. “I just wanted my mother to be part of my wedding, even in some small way.”

Charles reached for her hand. He curled his fingers around hers, squeezing gently. “I did not have the privilege of knowing your mother, but I imagine she would be very proud of the woman you have become.” He held her gaze, allowing his sincerity to shine through. “Because I know I am.”

“Thank you, Charles. That means more than you will ever know,” she acknowledged.

The deep chime of the long clock in the corner rang through the hall, marking the hour.

Elsbeth turned towards them. “It is time.”

Charles took a small step back and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

Eugenie looped her arm through his as she replied, “I would ask if Sir Spotticus could come to our wedding, but Niles has already expressly forbidden it.”

“I do not think horses are allowed in chapels,” Charles said.

“You make a fair point,” she conceded.

A familiar voice came from the corridor. “Bedford makes a good point,” Niles remarked as he approached. “But didn’t I say the same thing?”

Eugenie turned towards her brother, arching a brow. “Yes, but Charles says it with authority.”

Niles stopped beside his wife, shaking his head with exasperated affection. “She is all yours now, Bedford.”

Charles didn’t hesitate. “I will gladly take her.” His gaze met Eugenie’s, full of love and certainty .

“You say that now,” Niles said with mock seriousness, “but wait until you see her hat collection.”

Eugenie rolled her eyes. “You know you’ll miss me.”

Niles’s teasing demeanor faded, and his expression turned more solemn. “We will,” he admitted with emotion in his voice.

Charles led Eugenie towards the waiting carriage, each step bringing him closer to the moment when she would be his. And he, irrevocably, would be hers.

The thought sent a thrill through him—a sensation both grounding and exhilarating.

He had always believed himself to be a man of careful plans and of calculated decisions.

Love had never been part of that plan. But then Eugenie had arrived, upending his world with her sharp wit, her unshakable spirit, and the warmth that had quietly woven itself into every corner of his heart.

He hadn’t been prepared for her.

But love did not come with a warning. It did not announce itself politely or give time to prepare. It arrived like a force of nature, unstoppable, unrelenting, and undeniable. It changed everything. It made him question how he had ever lived without it.

Now, as he helped Eugenie into the carriage, her fingers warm in his grasp, he knew with certainty—she was his unexpected forever. And he would never want it any other way.