My Fair Spinster

by Rebecca Connolly

  The Spinster Chronicles

  Book Four

  REBECCA CONNOLLY

  Also by

  Rebecca Connolly

  The Arrangements:

  An Arrangement of Sorts

  Married to the Marquess

  Secrets of a Spinster

  The Dangers of Doing Good

  The Burdens of a Bachelor

  A Bride Worth Taking

  A Wager Worth Making

  A Gerrard Family Christmas

  The London League:

  The Lady and the Gent

  A Rogue About Town

  A Tip of the Cap

  By Hook or by Rook

  The Spinster Chronicles:

  The Merry Lives of Spinsters

  The Spinster and I

  Spinster and Spice

  Coming Soon

  God Rest Ye Merry Spinster

  Text copyright © 2019 by Rebecca Connolly

  Cover art copyright © 2019 by Rebecca Connolly

  Cover art by Tugboat Design

  http://www.tugboatdesign.net

  All rights reserved. Published by Phase Publishing, LLC. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.

  Phase Publishing, LLC first ebook edition

  October 2019

  ISBN 978-1-943048-89-2

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2019914274

  Cataloging-in-Publication Data on file.

  Acknowledgements

  To Shannon, my beautiful, talented, hilarious, hopeless romantic friend, whose delightful personality brightened my life at just the right time. It was not coincidence we were thrown together, and I’ll love you for eternity, coolers full of ice cream, Scottish indulgences, and all. Can’t wait to walk the red carpet with you in our future, girl!

  And for Julie Andrews, the one true goddess on the earth. May I one day possess such grace, poise, wisdom, and incandescence half as well as you. Can we be best friends? Please? Sláinte!

  Want to hear about future releases and upcoming events for Rebecca Connolly?

  Sign up for the monthly Wit and Whimsy at:

  www.rebeccaconnolly.com

  Index

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  London, 1817

  “Miss Morledge, it’s a crime to have you sitting in the corner at an event like this.”

  Grace looked up at Georgiana Allen and Isabella Lambert, who now stood before her with friendly expressions. They’d met on several occasions, usually while occupying the same space, though they had never met outside of public events. Still, there was a sort of bond between spinsters, regardless of how or when they met. The two of them were part of the famed Spinster group, whose papers she had come to adore.

  “A crime, Miss Allen?” Grace queried with a polite tilt of her head. “In what way? I hope I am not to be faulted.”

  “No, indeed,” Miss Allen said, laughing easily. “I do believe the gentlemen in the room are the criminals, and you the innocent party.”

  Miss Lambert nodded fervently beside her. “Without a doubt, though I am sure it’s only because they do not know you, Miss Morledge. We mustn’t fault ignorance.”

  Miss Allen scoffed. “Well, we mustn’t excuse it either. She’s not actively avoiding anyone, is she?”

  “No, but one might be intimidated by all of her fine qualities.”

  “Oh, London gentlemen are intimidated by a pretty woman?”

  Grace smiled at the easy banter between the cousins, wishing she had similar relationships in her own life. Her older brother was a good sort, but the two of them had never been particularly close. He thought too much of their standing in Society, and she, too little. They had nothing in common but their bloodlines. Her younger brothers were better than James, though they were never at home, and they were closer with each other than they were with Grace. Her older sister, Anne, had been a close friend for her in childhood, but it had been given up as Anne matured and no longer had time for a younger sister. As for her cousins, the only one of sense was Felicity, and she was growing less and less sensible as time went on.

  “Do forgive us, Miss Morledge,” Miss Lambert suddenly said, smiling shyly. “My cousin and I do tend to go on.”

  “Not at all,” Grace assured her, her smile turning warmer still. “On the contrary, I was only thinking how fortunate it is for the two of you to have each other, and to enjoy such banter.”

  Miss Allen smiled at her in a mischievous, almost indulgent way. “Well, Miss Morledge, then the conversation we wish to have with you may be a bit more interesting for all of us.”

  Grace raised a brow, still smiling. “Intriguing. Do go on, then.”

  Miss Lambert shook her head. “First, I hope you will forgive me, but I must ask you, Miss Morledge. How in the world is a woman like you unmarried?”

  Grace’s smile never wavered, but the effort behind it did.

  How, indeed…

  Chapter One

  One ought to temper one’s judgments of young ladies, no matter their circumstances. Her situation may not be immediately evident, and she is destined to have secrets, as any young woman does. Save your judgments, readers, and give her the benefit of the doubt.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 24 March 1819

  Failing. There could be no doubt about it now; she was failing in every respect.

  Or so her father’s latest letter had so gently assured her.

  What other explanation was there?

  None that he cared to hear, especially from her lips.

  But Lord Trenwick had never cared what his younger daughter had to say about anything at all, and Grace was convinced he wasn’t about to start now.

  She looked down at the letter in her hand, shaking her head as the fury rose within her again. She’d already been over it four times, but she was determined to commit the scathing words to memory as she had done with the other letters.

  Please explain to me how the extensive effort we have put into your training and education, not to mention the necessary accoutrements to make you appealing, have been completely for naught and a waste of such significant funds. Your sister had a husband and three children by your age. How have you failed in every aspect?

  Grace’s eyes filled with burning tears, and she forced her fingers to avoid crumpling the paper in her fist. Instead, she took a deep breath, calmly folded it, smoothed it, and placed it in the small drawer in her desk with the rest before shutting the drawer softly.

  Then, she covered her face and screamed, muffling the sound just enough that, hopefully, it would not attract the attention of her mother.

  Hopefully.

  “Grace?”

  A startled gasp escaped from her as she whirled to face the door, though it was closed still. She wiped at her eyes and pinched her cheeks, desperate to avoid any pressing questions from her mother.

  Provided she did no
t already know.

  The door opened with some hesitation, and her mother poked her head around the door with a smile. “Darling, are you all right?”

  “Yes!” Grace insisted, forcing a too-bright tone and smile. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

  She almost winced at the inanity of the question, and the manner in which it had been delivered. Clearly, one of her many failings was the inability to lie with any conviction.

  Her mother glanced at the clock on Grace’s mantle, then back at her. “You’re going to be late for your Spinsters gathering, if you don’t leave now.”

  The words took a moment to sink in, and then seemed to shoot through her body and into her toes with a painful jolt.

  “Oh!” She jumped to her feet and brushed at her dress, not entirely sure what she was wearing at the moment, or whether it would be appropriate.

  One did not think about such things when they received a scolding missive from an irate father who did not care enough about her to spend more than three weeks at a time in her company.

  “You look lovely, Grace,” her mother assured her as she came and adjusted a lock of her hair. “Perfectly suitable. Perfect, as always.”

  Grace sighed, smiling easily at her mother, who had never seen the slightest fault in her, yet was not blind to any part. “I’m glad you think so.”

  Her mother’s face tightened, and she hugged Grace quickly. “I knew he had sent you another letter. I just knew it. I don’t know who is filling his head with ideas about you, but it’s not me. And I wish he would write to me instead of you, but alas…”

  “Why would he?” Grace muttered, pulling away and smiling at her mother. “Clearly, you are complicit in all of my glaring faults.”

  “Clearly.”

  Her mother didn’t show it, but Grace knew that the recent attacks from her father ate at her mother and left her feeling uneasy and unsettled. There was very little comfort to give in it, as her father had always, and would ever, act independent of anyone else, regardless of their ties to him. They were all at his mercy, in a sense, and would have to cope with whatever ramifications his actions brought.

  Grace sighed once more and rubbed her mother’s arms. “I’ll be all right. He’s in Austria, after all. What can he do from there?” She grinned rather cheekily before moving to her closet and grabbing a pelisse.

  “I’ve already called the carriage for you,” her mother told her as she moved towards the door. “Do give my regards to the girls, especially the new Mrs. Morton.”

  Grace grinned at that and shook her head. “Mrs. Morton. Good gracious, that does sound rather perfect, does it not?”

  Izzy Lambert had married the handsome and agreeable Mr. Morton only a month ago, securing one of the only men the Spinsters, as a whole, considered a friend. They were so perfectly suited for each other that it had given them a sweeping sort of romantic whimsy. Some even dared hope that they might secure such a match for themselves.

  Well, Elinor Asheley hadn’t felt anything of the sort, but she was opposed to matrimony and men at all costs these days. She was not yet twenty, and somehow had become the exact stereotype of a bitter spinster that the entire world seemed to expect.

  And she wasn’t even a spinster. Without a capital S, at any rate. But she was certainly well on her way.

  Then again, Lady Edith Leveson was one of the Spinsters, and she was a widow.

  No matter.

  Grace made her way down to the carriage quickly and climbed in without any fuss. It was a short drive to Charlotte Wright’s home, where they now held their Spinster gatherings, at least weekly. Originally, they’d been held at the Lambert residence, but as there was no longer a Spinster in residence there, it seemed rather impolite to continue to infringe upon their hospitality. Besides, the tea was infinitely better at the Wrights’.

  She smiled to herself as she rolled along in the coach. No matter what her father or his letters had to say, the Spinsters would be able to set her to rights. They might not know the whole of the complaints leveled against her, as she had stopped informing them of the letters, but they knew enough to know that her father was less than pleased with her.

  If Charlotte had any idea of the number of letters that had arrived, detailing with excessive repetition the absolute displeasure Grace’s father felt towards his daughter, she would rage with such an entertaining fury that it was almost tempting to bring it about. But that would also ensure that a great outpouring of sympathy would be directed her way, more from Prue and Izzy than anyone else, and there was often a decent crossover between sympathy and pity.

  Sympathy she could endure. Pity she would not.

  There was pity enough in being a spinster, without a capital S, from outside the group. Any more from within would be intolerable.

  Besides, she was well enough off by comparison. Her fortune was more than respectable, and her family’s lineage impeccable. She was respected and admired by a great many people, and, as far as she knew, was not disliked by anyone at all.

  The only person who did not approve of her was her father and, apparently, all of the eligible bachelors of London. But her father was the only one vocal about his disapproval, and he was not due to return to England for some time.

  The bachelors were simply uninterested. There was very little she could do about that, she supposed. She’d given up trying to understand what they wanted. What her father wanted. What anybody wanted.

  The carriage rolled to a stop and the door was opened with a swift efficiency she admired. She smiled at the footman as he helped her down. He bowed, but not before giving her a quick wink.

  Impertinent, but she enjoyed it.

  They were always doing that when her father was away. Everything was so much more relaxed about the house when he was away, undoubtedly because no one was being critical. James was fussy, it was true, but he was a far cry from their father.

  Small mercies.

  In no time at all, she was shown into the house, had her pelisse and bonnet taken, and was brought up to the spare parlor where the Spinsters now met.

  “I’m so sorry for my tardiness,” Grace told them all as she entered, moving to the open chair without any ado. “I lost track of the time, and if my mother hadn’t reminded me, I would have forgotten entirely.”

  Charlotte waved a nonchalant hand, smiling blandly. “Nonsense. As you can see, we are not all assembled. And our last issue of the Chronicles went over so well, I’m feeling rather indulgent.”

  Grace glanced around the room and saw that, to her surprise, only Edith and Izzy had arrived. She frowned and looked at Charlotte. “Where are Georgie and Prue?”

  “No doubt being delayed by those husbands of theirs,” Charlotte returned. “Must be dreadful to have a husband.”

  “It’s not,” Izzy insisted with a knowing smile. “Believe me, it’s quite wonderful.”

  Charlotte scoffed. “Your husband is practically perfect, Mrs. Morton, and I defy anyone other than you and his sister to find a flaw.”

  Edith laughed once. “I believe you could find a flaw, dear, if you only put your mind to it.”

  “Please don’t,” Izzy protested, echoing the laugh. “I rather like everybody’s high opinion of him.”

  “I am not a finder of faults for my own amusement,” Charlotte insisted, gaping at the others, though her eyes twinkled.

  “Since when?” Georgie asked from the door as she and Elinor entered.

  Charlotte grinned up at them. “Can I help it if faults and flaws seem to appear before me?”

  “Yes,” Elinor told her at once, moving to the open sofa and reaching for the tea nearby. “I, for one, would appreciate some discretion in that regard from you.”

  “Perhaps if your faults and flaws were better hidden, I would not find them so easily,” Charlotte shot back.

  Grace rolled her eyes and looked at Izzy and Edith in exasperation. They echoed her expression.

  “How is Sebastian, Izzy?” Grace asked as the o
thers continued to banter about Charlotte’s abilities. “Are you accustomed to having him always underfoot yet?”

  Izzy beamed in a splendid manner; her entire face alight. “Oh, he’s wonderful, Grace. So thoughtful and loving, and he has begun to tease me quite mercilessly.”

  Edith coughed discreetly, listening in. “And do you enjoy it?”

  “I love it,” Izzy said with great emphasis. “He never used to tease, you know, he was quite serious. But now, he has this lightness about him that I love so very much. I know it’s early in our marriage, and the glow is destined to fade, but I truly think I have married my best friend.”

  “What a lovely thought,” Edith murmured as she seemed to stare off at nothing. “Would that all were so fortunate.”

  Grace nodded in silent agreement.

  At this rate, she would be fortunate to marry at all, let alone marry someone she could consider a friend. She’d given up the idea of love ages ago, but could friendship be possible?

  “And as to him being underfoot,” Izzy went on, smoothly riding over Edith’s melancholy comment, “I would have to say yes.” She giggled to herself and sipped her tea. “We’ve been hard at work on our collection of stories, you see, and yet there is still so much work to be done.”