What a Spinster Wants Read online

  “Not that surprised,” Molly told her with a dry laugh. “She’s grown accustomed to my doing all sorts of things.” She waved and darted over to the window seat, picking up a book from the floor.

  Edith shook her head as she left the nursery, shutting the door softly behind her.

  What a delightful surprise Lady Molly Hastings was turning out to be! Lord Radcliffe would certainly have a time of it as her guardian; there was no doubt about that.

  Chuckling to herself, Edith turned to go back to her rooms to change, if she could remember the way. She had not taken more than two turns before another set of footsteps met her ears.

  Lord Radcliffe turned down the same corridor, coming towards her, his head lowered as though in thought. He stopped when he saw her, then looked her over, his mouth working as if he did not know what to say. Then his focus remained on her skirts, and his mouth quirked.

  “Why is your dress torn?” he asked without premise.

  Edith looked down at the hole she had made and laughed, cheeks flaming yet again. “Molly was so upset about the hole in hers, I tore one in mine to match.”

  He shook his head a little. “Why would you do that? I was told you did not have much by way of worldly possessions.”

  Edith shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t. But I can mend this well enough, and relieving Molly’s distress was well worth putting a hole in my frock.”

  That seemed to surprise him, and he looked quite as if words were beyond him.

  “She asked if I could see her later,” Edith said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I told her to ask you. I willna do anything without your consent, particularly if ye do not wish her presence to be known.”

  “I’m only protecting her,” he murmured softly. “I don’t hide her. I don’t speak of her, and I probably should. But I just… I can’t seem to find my way around guardianship without…”

  “Her parents,” Edith replied, her voice very low, her heart suddenly pounding too hard.

  He nodded once, looking away.

  “I am so sorry,” she murmured, not knowing what else to say. “I canna begin to imagine.”

  His throat worked on a swallow. “It has been difficult, it is true.” His attention came back to her, and compassion radiated from him. “I understand you have been separated from your family for some time. That cannot be easy, either.”

  “It is hardly the same thing,” Edith protested weakly. “My family… Well, they would still be there if ever I were permitted home.”

  “Permitted?” Lord Radcliffe repeated softly. “Do they forbid you?”

  Edith winced, wishing she had chosen her words with more care.

  “Aye,” she whispered, looking down at the rug beneath their feet. “From the day of my wedding, I’ve been cast off, ye might say. It was hoped that my marriage would last a bit more’n a day, but there was naught to do about that. Unless one takes the view of my father, in which case it is my fault.”

  “How in the world…?” he started to argue, his voice rising.

  “I didna do my duty proper if I couldna keep my husband to our marriage bed,” Edith overrode bluntly, her hands balling into fists at her side, the confession a release, so long it had remained buried within her. “If I had, he would ne’er have suffered his accident, and we might still be wed.”

  Lord Radcliffe’s eyes were wide, his lips parting ever so slightly. “Surely, you jest?”

  Edith nodded once. “I wouldna have the creativity to invent such a ludicrous statement.”

  “Well,” he muttered under his breath as he ran a hand through his hair, “as long as you realize it is a ludicrous statement…”

  “I ken verra well,” she assured him, smiling ruefully. “It is one of the reasons I dinna miss my family over much. Ye’ve a much stronger right to missing yours than I do.”

  A crooked smile crossed his lips. “I don’t believe it is a competition, but thank you. Besides,” he tilted his head in the direction of the nursery, “Molly keeps her parents very alive in many ways.”

  “Well, she is a delightful child,” Edith told him, stepping away a little, “and if you’ll permit it, I should like to see her again. But I will abide by your wishes. I do owe you that much, for being my hero.”

  His smile faded just enough to be bewitching, his eyes still fixed on hers.

  “I am no hero, Lady Edith, not even for you. And I would like you to see Molly again. Whenever you like, as you wish, now you know where she is.”

  “Thank you.” A giddiness began to well within her, something she didn’t understand but found a ticklish delight in. “Provided I can find my way back to the main of the house at all. I think Molly must have taken precautionary measures not to be followed by anyone, for I canna remember a single thing about how I ended up here.”

  Lord Radcliffe chuckled warmly. “She does enjoy her adventures, even if they involve servants’ stairs, ancient tunnels, and several rounds of backtracking.” He gestured back the way he had come. “Come with me, and I’ll see you back in a much, much more direct route. Far easier to recollect later.”

  Edith smiled and dipped her chin, falling into step beside him. “Are you trying to tell me your niece enjoys making things unnecessarily complicated?”

  “Molly thrives on making things unnecessarily complicated,” he insisted with an earnestness that had Edith laughing. “My life being chief among them. Only three months after I had assumed guardianship, she decided that she was only going to speak in rhyme. It was the most miserable three weeks of my life, and I tried everything…”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I am not particularly certain that I believe in love at the first sighting. I rather think that one is far more likely to love a person after the second sighting, in the proper setting. Or the third, when one is laughing. Or the fourth, in absolute perfection. But then, this author is a Spinster, so all this conjecture could simply be false.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 25 October 1819

  “Would it be possible to do a house party without a ball?”

  “I don’t believe so. There is a certain level of expectation.”

  “Why can we not defy expectation?”

  “Because we are a boring family, and we thrive upon tradition.”

  Graham looked at his aunt in mild surprise. “Do we indeed? Why does that not sound like a compliment, I wonder?”

  Eloise gave him a playful sneer. “Behave yourself, Gray. You’ve led a different woman into dinner every night so far, and you’ve been very good about keeping up conversation. Do try to dance this evening.”

  “What else would one do at a ball?” he asked, raising a brow.

  “You didn’t set up gaming tables, did you? The gentlemen must remain for the dancing. There aren’t enough to ensure every lady has a partner every time.” Eloise looked towards the ballroom in apprehension, biting her lip.

  Graham chuckled at her dismay and rubbed her arms gently. “No, Aunt, I did not. And we are rather evenly paired, considering the number of married couples in the house at present. Not all the ladies will wish to dance every dance, and everything is furnished beautifully. Will you do something for me?”

  Eloise nodded at once, her attention coming back to him rapidly. “Of course, what is it?”

  He offered her a smile. “Enjoy the evening? You look lovely; the lavender does suit you well.”

  His aunt gave him a dubious look. “Who told you this was lavender? You aren’t that conscious of shades, so you must have had help.”

  “Morgan,” he admitted without shame. “He asked Capshaw what she was dressing you in this evening.”

  “Traitor,” Eloise grumbled, though she smiled. “I cannot promise to dance, but I do think I shall very much enjoy a chair by the terrace door. Watching dancing can be nearly as enjoyable as participating in it.”

  Graham made a face. “I don’t know, I’ve never found much pleasure in either.”

  Eloise rapped him on the arm before looping her
hand around it. “You cannot have that attitude this evening. I forbid it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He winked as he led her into the ballroom, his chest swelling with pride as he took in the pristine appearance. The walls had always been a brilliant white, and it took a good deal of upkeep as the house aged, but moments like this were worth it. The vast array of elegant chandeliers and sconces dotted about filled the space with luminous candlelight, each reflecting off the bright walls in their turn. A hint of gold leaf detailing along engraved surfaces traced upwards into the ceilings and the murals painted thereon.

  It was the finest ballroom he had ever seen, and it happened to belong to him.

  Not that he’d had anything to do with it, but now he could fully appreciate what a fine space it was.

  “Stop gaping at your own rooms,” Eloise hissed with a nudge in his side. “The musicians await your cue, and if you would look about you, you would see your guests are eager to dance.”

  Graham glanced around and saw, shockingly, that his aunt was correct.

  The married couples stood close together, smiling at him as though they had known him for ages. They were, of course, all members of the Spinsters and their husbands, so they had only known him a short while, but somehow, he had been adopted. There was something equally satisfying about that.

  Strange.

  Graham gave a nod to the musicians, who immediately struck up a jaunty tune. The Bradford sisters and Miss Chesney were quick to form lines with their partners, and they were joined there by Lord and Lady Sterling, Tony and Georgie, and the Mortons.

  “Why are you not opening the dance?” Eloise asked with just as much exasperation as her last question had held.

  Graham sighed. “So many rules for being the host, I seem to have forgotten that one.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I highly doubt that.” She sniffed and looked around the room. “Now, where is Miranda? I simply must… Oh, there she is!” Tapping his arm with her fan, she disengaged herself from his hold and moved away.

  “What happened to finding a chair?” he asked after her, knowing a response was unlikely.

  No matter.

  Graham smiled at Lady Ingram as he neared her, his eyes casting around for her husband. “I was going to congratulate you on the return of your husband, my lady; only I do not see him near.”

  Lady Ingram laughed, her head tilting back in a charming fashion, highlighting her beauty in an entirely natural way. “Aubrey has gone to fetch me a drink. He will return momentarily.” She smiled at him, her hands folding elegantly before her. “I do wish you would call me Grace, Radcliffe. With all that you are doing for Edith, I’d feel much better calling you a friend.”

  Graham inclined his head in a nod. “If you wish it, I would be honored to do so, if the familiarity will not earn me an eye blacking from your husband.”

  She grinned quickly. “No, he would never. Besides, Tony, Cam, and Sebastian call me by my name. I daresay Hugh Sterling will as well, once he adjusts to being part of the group. We are all on quite familiar terms, Radcliffe. Rather like a family.”

  “I see that,” he murmured, watching Mrs. Morton laugh merrily while briefly partnered with Tony. “Rather remarkable, I must say.”

  “It has become so, and I am ever so grateful.” Her smile turned wistful, though there was a fond edge to it. “My own family gives me little enough reason to smile or laugh, apart from my husband. But with the Spinsters, I have never felt bereft of anything.”

  “Who’s feeling bereft?” Ingram asked with mild alarm as he approached, his eyes tracing over his wife as though looking for injury.

  Grace rolled her eyes. “No one, Aubrey. I was just saying that I do not feel bereft. Radcliffe was commenting on the Spinsters.”

  “Ah.” Ingram nodded once, flashing a quick smile. “Bereft is most certainly not a word to describe the Spinsters.”

  “So I see,” Graham murmured, watching the various members of the group around the room, all of whom were full of good cheer.

  Yet he did not see Edith anywhere.

  Suddenly, bereft was the only word to come to mind.

  “Looking for someone?”

  The suspicious note of curiosity in Ingram’s question brought Graham around to look at him, sardonic expression in place.

  “Looking for everyone,” he corrected easily. “As host, I could hardly have guests avoiding the ball, could I?”

  Ingram made a face, accepting the lie as accurate reasoning, no doubt. “I suppose not. What a dreadful idea.”

  “Avoiding a ball?” Grace asked on a laugh.

  Ingram looked at his wife with open honesty. “No, hosting.”

  Graham choked a laugh into a fist and took a glass of champagne from his footman with a nod of thanks before turning back.

  “How did your business in London go?”

  Ingram sobered at once and stepped closer. “Not as well as I had hoped, but not as bad as I expected. The solicitors we’ve hired are now poring over every possible document and working on a solution that might not leave Edith so destitute. Mr. Chadwick, who is Camden Vale’s brother-in-law, has been working especially tirelessly, when he is available.”

  “Available?” Graham repeated. “I thought he was a scholar.”

  “So did I,” Ingram said with a shrug, “and yet he seemed to have many conflicts in his schedule. Still, he has a brilliant mind, so I have complete faith that if anything can be found, Chadwick will find it.”

  “Good,” Graham grunted in satisfaction. “Tony was with you in that?”

  Ingram nodded. “And Francis. Cam made the introductions, but the law is not his particular friend.”

  “Now that, I can understand,” Grace commented dryly. “The man is a paradox in every legal respect.”

  “Cam is perfectly respectable, love,” Ingram insisted. “A gentleman of the highest degree.”

  Grace blinked at her husband once. “We are talking about Camden Vale, aren’t we?”

  Ingram’s expression soured. “Funny, wife.”

  “Just because he is your best friend of late does not change his stripes,” she laughed, linking her arm with his. “I adore him, but even you must allow that he rather enjoys being defiant.”

  “I know I do,” chimed in another voice.

  Graham smirked as Tyrone joined them, bowing politely to the Ingrams. “Making a tardy appearance, Tyrone?”

  His friend appeared unruffled by the accusation. “I didn’t realize we were emphasizing punctuality at your soirée, Radcliffe. How interesting.” He turned his attention to Grace while Graham and Ingram snickered. “My Lady Ingram, might I claim the next dance?”

  “Naturally, Mr. Demaris,” Grace said, smiling warmly. “And will we be competing against your cousin for best dancers in our set?”

  Tyrone grinned freely. “I knew you were my favorite of the Spinsters for a reason, my lady.”

  “Watch yourself,” Ingram growled good-naturedly. “Just for that, I think I’ll partner with Janet.”

  “Then we are assured of winning,” Grace shot back. “Remind me to fetch a compress for Janet’s toes later.”

  The Ingrams glared at each other, both on the verge of laughing, and Graham only shook his head, chuckling to himself. It was rare to find a couple in Society that adored each other, let alone one that could banter with each other so skillfully. Yet, in his admittedly limited experience, that was the standard for the Spinster couples.

  Had none of them made comfortable matches for the sake of it?

  No, that was part of their foundation, was it not? To marry for love, if at all? To avoid forming a marriage out of desperation?

  What, then, of Edith and her venture?

  Protection and security were what she sought. If the rumors were true, if she had a lover, she could have found it. Or, if she wished, she could find it in such a way with more powerful men. It was far less respectable, but many respectable widows did such.

  Even some respec
table wives did such, with more discretion, of course.

  The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he had to admit the possibility was there.

  “Oh, she looks wonderful, does she not?”

  Graham turned at the sound of Miranda Sterling’s voice near him, bowing in greeting. “Miranda, good evening.”

  She smiled, her eyes bluer for the nearly matching shade of gown she flawlessly wore. “Good evening, dear. Lovely decor and arrangement. What a marvelous room!”

  “Thank you.” He returned her smile, then returned his attention to the dance. “What were you saying? Who looks well?”

  “Edith, dear. Edith.” She indicated the dancing with her fan. “There, in the green silk. And she doesn’t look well; she looks luminous.”

  His eyes caught sight of Edith then, and all sound in the room ceased.

  How had he missed her entering? Her gown was the color of nature in the spring draped in a delicate lace overlay, both forming to her frame and person with a perfection that would make any dressmaker weep. Matching cream and green ribbons weaved in and out of her dark curls in an almost teasing manner, bringing the itch of temptation to his fingers. Tracing those ribbons within those locks, dislodging some and disheveling the appearance, yet losing nothing at all in the experience.

  But more captivating than all of that, as incomparable as it was, had to be the brilliant smile upon her perfectly full lips. She seemed to be constantly on the edge of a laugh, every step of the dance appearing lighter and fresher than he had ever seen. She was everything that any miss in Society would wish to be.

  Graham could not look away.

  He was transfixed by her, and it took him far too long to notice the unsteady beat of his pounding heart. As well as the dotty smile currently affixed to his lips.

  He couldn’t help it; anyone witnessing such a sight would have to smile at it. The fact that he felt as though every inch of him smiled along with his lips was beside the point.