Page 8 of A Spinster’s Folly (Courting the Unconventional #2)

Elsbeth set aside her needlework. “When you find the right person, they make you forget about yesterday and dream about tomorrow.”

Across from her, Eugenie pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile. “You’ll have to excuse Elsbeth. She is a newlywed and, as such, has a terribly skewed way of looking at things,” she said. “You can remain a spinster with me.”

Lady Jane let out a soft gasp of protest, shaking her head adamantly. “Oh, no, I do not wish to be a spinster,” she declared.

“Well then,” Eugenie said, threading her needle with renewed purpose. “We may have to find you a way to outmaneuver your father.”

“One can only dream,” Lady Jane murmured, lowering her gaze.

Eugenie couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Lady Jane.

The thought of having one’s future decided by another, with no regard for personal desires, was a fate she could not imagine enduring.

Her own brother, for all his faults, would never dare attempt to arrange a marriage for her. He knew better than to try.

Not that it mattered. She had no interest in marriage. The very notion of tying herself to someone, of relinquishing even a portion of her independence, felt suffocating. She answered to no one but herself, and that was a luxury she would not trade for anything.

Charles sat at his desk, the flickering candle casting long shadows across the worn pages of his ledger.

The dim light danced over the carefully inked numbers and transactions, but he barely saw them.

This was his life now. It was an endless column of figures, and the weight of responsibility pressed down on him like an iron shackle.

He would review the accounts until he died, and though he knew his perspective was grim, he couldn’t summon the will to change it.

Once, academia had been his life. Numbers had fascinated him, and the pursuit of knowledge had given him purpose.

But that life had been ripped away from him in an instant.

Now, he was an earl, burdened with an inherited title, an expansive estate, and countless obligations.

By all accounts, he should be grateful. His family no longer wanted for anything.

He had the means to do good things, to better the lives of those under his care.

And yet, deep within, he longed for something more—something he couldn’t quite name.

With a weary sigh, Charles closed the ledger and ran a hand over his face. What right did he have to complain? Others would kill for his position, wealth, and security he could provide his family. And yet, what was the purpose of it all if he could find no joy in it?

Before he could dwell further on his discontent, his mother swept into the study, dressed in a dark purple gown. “Why are you not ready?” she asked, her sharp gaze scanning him with barely concealed disapproval.

Charles rose from his chair, stretching out his stiff limbs. “I’m afraid I got rather preoccupied with the accounts,” he replied. “But I am ready now.”

His mother’s expression softened, if only slightly. “Wonderful. The coach is out front. Shall we depart?”

He moved around the desk, straightening his waistcoat. “Why, pray tell, did you agree to have dinner with Elsbeth this evening? ”

His mother looked at him as if he were a simpleton. “Because I did not get to dine with her last night.”

Charles frowned. “We do not need to dine with them every evening. What if she grows tired of us?”

“I highly doubt that, considering it was her idea.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, since I doubt it was Lord Westcott’s idea. There is no love lost between us.”

His mother reached up, adjusting his cravat with the careful precision of a woman who had done so for years. “Which is a shame, really, since you two are very much alike.”

Charles scoffed, mock horror on his face. “How dare you!” In truth, while he and Westcott had started off as adversaries, their relationship had grown into something resembling mutual respect. Perhaps even reluctant friendship.

His mother merely spun on her heel. “Come. We don’t wish to be late.”

Resigning himself to the evening, Charles caught up to her, escorting her to the waiting carriage. As they settled onto the bench inside, he glanced at his mother. “How was the sewing circle?”

Her face lit up with a bright smile, a clear sign that he had asked the right question. “It was delightful,” she said with enthusiasm. “I particularly enjoyed conversing with Lady Eugenie.”

At the mention of Eugenie’s name, an image of her sprang unbidden to his mind—golden curls, eyes alight with intelligence, a soft smile that could charm even the most hardened of hearts. But he shoved the thought away. It would do him no good to dwell on her.

His mother studied him closely. “You are smiling.”

He quickly schooled his features. “Was I?”

Her knowing look made it clear she was not fooled. “That is an odd reaction to me mentioning Lady Eugenie.”

“I was thinking of something else,” he said too quickly .

She arched a brow. “And what do you think of Lady Eugenie?”

Charles hesitated. “She is a… woman.” The moment the words left his mouth, he inwardly cringed. That was, without a doubt, the most idiotic thing he had ever said.

“That she is,” she agreed, amusement dancing in her eyes. “A very beautiful young woman.”

Feigning disinterest, he turned to look out the window. “Is she? I hadn’t noticed.”

“She is also quite clever.”

He turned back to her, exasperated. “Is there a point to this conversation?”

His mother raised a hand innocently. “No, not at all. Just making conversation.”

Charles knew better. If she were attempting to play matchmaker, she would be sorely disappointed. He had no intention of marrying Eugenie—or anyone, for that matter. Not yet. There was too much he needed to accomplish first.

Thankfully, the coach came to a stop in front of Elsbeth’s townhouse, and Charles wasted no time stepping out onto the pavement. He turned back, assisting his mother down before leading her up to the main door.

The butler opened it promptly. “My lord. Mrs. Ellsworth.”

Charles inclined his head in acknowledgment before stepping into the entry hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. He turned slightly—and there she was.

Eugenie descended the grand staircase, clad in a deep blue gown that accentuated her fair complexion. Her blonde hair was arranged in an elegant chignon, with delicate curls framing her face. But it wasn’t just her beauty that held him captive. It was something deeper.

She was beautiful in the way she saw the world and in the way her eyes lit up when she spoke of something she loved. She was beautiful in the sharp wit that danced on her tongue and in the kindness she showed to those around her.

For a fleeting moment, Charles forgot himself. And then, just as quickly, he forced the thoughts away. It did not matter. It could not matter. He had far too much to do to be distracted by thoughts of Lady Eugenie. Even if she was utterly captivating.

His mother nudged him gently with her elbow, her voice lowered to a whisper. “Remember what I said about smiling earlier?”

Charles snapped his gaze to her. “My apologies. I was just…”

“Thinking about something else,” she finished for him. “And I have a strong suspicion as to what—or rather, who—that ‘something else’ is.”

Charles cleared his throat, casting a warning glance at his mother. “Drop it, Mother,” he muttered under his breath before turning his full attention to Lady Eugenie. With practiced precision, he bowed. “My lady.”

Eugenie dipped into a curtsy. “My lord,” she murmured before lifting her gaze to his mother. “Mrs. Ellsworth.”

His mother tsked. “Mariam, my dear,” she corrected with a patient smile.

“Yes, of course. Mariam,” Eugenie said.

A voice rang out from the grand staircase, drawing their attention. “Cousin. Aunt Mariam,” Elsbeth greeted, descending with effortless poise, her hand resting lightly on her husband’s arm.

Charles turned towards her. “Cousin. Westcott.”

Westcott came to a stop in front of him. “Bedford. What an absolute delight to see you two nights in a row,” he said dryly.

Beside him, Elsbeth gave his arm a playful swat. “You promised to be nice,” she chided lightly.

“This is me being nice.” Westcott softened the quip with an easy, knowing smile .

Before Charles could respond, the dinner bell chimed through the main level.

“Shall we adjourn to dinner?” Elsbeth asked.

“What a wonderful idea, Wife,” Westcott replied, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips.

Charles could practically hear Eugenie roll her eyes. He turned towards her. “May I escort you to dinner?”

Eugenie glanced down at his proffered arm, hesitating only a fraction of a second before delicately placing her gloved hand upon it. “Thank you,” she replied.

He moved to offer his other arm to his mother, only to find that she had already taken it upon herself to follow Elsbeth and Westcott towards the dining room. With no need to rush, Charles took his time escorting Eugenie. He rather enjoyed having her this close.

He stole a sidelong glance at her. “How was shopping?” he asked, though they both knew he was inquiring about something far more particular—her recent excursion to Oxford.

A small smile curved Eugenie’s lips. “It went well. At least… until the very end.”

“That is most unfortunate,” he responded. Then with careful deliberation, he added, “I was thinking—if you would like to go shopping again, I may have found a way for you to do so.”

Eugenie arched a brow. “Is that so?”

He nodded. “I happen to have a friend who teaches at a shop,” he said, deliberately vague. “I could inquire whether he would allow you to visit on occasion, assuming, of course, that you dress appropriately for such an outing.”

She stopped abruptly, her hand tightening ever so slightly on his arm. “Do you think he would mind?”

Charles offered a small shrug. “No, though I should warn you that it is a history class,” he said. “I am not entirely sure if that would interest you. ”

Eugenie let out an incredulous laugh. “Of course it interests me! It is far preferable to the poetry and religious lectures I have been subjected to.”

“Very well, then. I shall ask him.”

Her expression brightened instantly, her smile so brilliant that it nearly stole his breath. For a brief moment, he simply stared, utterly entranced.

“Thank you, Charles,” she said, her voice brimming with sincerity. “This means so much to me.”

He exhaled a short chuckle. “My friend has not agreed to it yet.”

“He will,” Eugenie declared with unwavering confidence. “Because if anyone can convince someone to do something, it is you.”

Charles couldn’t stop the grin that pulled at his lips. “You are rather easy to please.”

“You will find,” Eugenie said, a playful lilt in her voice, “that I would do just about anything to go shopping . It is, without question, my favorite pastime.”

Charles considered her for a moment. “That is something we have in common, then.”

For a brief moment, he held her gaze—longer than what would be considered proper. There was something disarming about her, something that made it impossible to look away.

The spell was broken by a voice from the doorway of the dining room.

“Did you two get lost on the way to dinner?” Westcott drawled.

Eugenie turned towards her brother. “We were just discussing shopping.”

“Shopping?” Westcott sounded genuinely appalled. “How dreadfully dull. I hadn’t taken Bedford for a man who does much shopping. ”

Charles smirked. “Shopping is rather enjoyable, assuming you do it right.”

Westcott snorted. “And how, pray tell, does one ‘do it right’?” He raised his hand before Charles could answer. “No, never mind. I do not want to know. Just hurry along before Elsbeth comes to fetch you herself.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Charles said before leading Eugenie into the dining room.