My Fair Spinster

by Rebecca Connolly

  Aubrey stared at Georgie for another long moment. “Wouldn’t having someone more suited to your needs defeat Trenwick’s purpose? He’d be bound to find out.”

  “That’s a fair point,” Mrs. Morton conceded, her tone laced with worry.

  Lady Hetty coughed. “It would not defeat anything if the person actually looked for flaws.”

  Aubrey turned to the older woman almost wildly. “So, this person would still do the task assigned them? How does that help Miss Morledge at all?” He glanced at Grace quickly. “Pardon the harsh tone, Miss Morledge, this has nothing to do with you personally.”

  Grace gave him a mixture of a nod and a shake of her head, which he took to be encouraging.

  “It helps Grace,” Miss Wright insisted with a particularly sharp tone, “because this person will not be so severe about the task as to crush her spirits and break her soul, does that satisfy you?”

  Aubrey gave her a careful look. She was terrifying, outspoken, and disrespectful of position, rank, or influence.

  He liked her immensely.

  “Mildly,” he replied. He returned his attention to Grace, noting anything of interest. The color in her cheeks, the faint tremor to her frame, the slight pulling at her full lips, the roundness of her eyes…

  She hadn’t appeared so when he had called upon them the other day, though he was quite sure she had known about this ridiculous plan before he called. Which meant that this reaction was entirely because of him.

  She didn’t want him to do this.

  For some reason, that was significant. He hadn’t wanted to take on this madness as it was, but the fact that Grace was so clearly against it settled the fact.

  But he could not admit that. These women were likely to pounce on such a statement and take it as a confession of love that he had noticed such a thing, which would only torment he and Grace further, and then he would have to agree to find fault with her purely to avoid the abuse.

  He made himself sigh and shake his head. “I am terribly sorry, ladies, but I am a gentleman. I cannot in good conscience intentionally seek out the faults of any woman, let alone one of such quality. I won’t.”

  He saw Grace’s shoulders move on an exhale and knew his suspicions had been correct. Well, that made two of them that were relieved at the moment.

  Georgie, however, looked speculative. “This will not be the last you hear of this, Ingram.”

  “But it will be the only answer you will hear, madam,” he informed her. Then he scowled. “And don’t get your husband to pester me about it. You have no idea how annoying that is.”

  An odd hum came from Miss Wright, and he turned to her briefly.

  “I like you, Ingram,” she said, her lips curving in satisfaction. “Disappointing though your answer is, I like you.”

  He bowed. “I will take that as a great compliment, Miss Wright.”

  “I w-wouldn’t,” Mrs. Vale offered in a voice so soft he almost missed it.

  Miss Wright glared at her friend. “Excuse me, Prudence? Now is not the time for you to miraculously turn candid.”

  Sensing there was no need for him to remain among the group for the present, he bowed to them all in general. Then he locked eyes with Grace, fought the urge to offer a consoling smile, and nodded.

  She swallowed, then dipped her chin in a nod.

  Which, coming from a goddess, nearly made his knees do unspeakable things.

  Damned traitorous things, knees.

  Aubrey wrenched himself away before the sudden knee-betrayal became evident to anyone, and quickly moved on to dancing with a wallflower inhabiting the wall opposite of the Spinsters. Mindless dancing would be just the thing to keep him away from the schemes of Georgie Sterling and her cohorts. He would simply stay occupied for as long as he must remain at the Campbells’, and then make his exit as soon as it was polite to do so.

  Or he could go to the card room. Plenty of gentlemen did that, and it would be an easy enough occupation. He’d never been particularly adept at cards, but he was not precisely abysmal at them, either.

  Dancing or cards, cards or dancing…

  Or he could socialize.

  He nearly laughed aloud at himself. He hadn’t properly socialized in his entire adult life, and he most certainly was not going to start at an event like this.

  But he probably should converse with the young woman he was dancing with. She didn’t need to suspect that he was only dancing with her to avoid being cornered again. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been conveniently located for his needs.

  So, he attempted to converse.

  As it happened, there was a reason she was a wallflower.

  Which suited him just as well. Every now and then, he would say something, and she would respond, and then they would enjoy dancing in silence. They both seemed to be enjoying dancing in silence.

  Well. Perhaps he should marry this rather intelligent, sensible woman.

  He looked at her and forced himself to focus. She was certainly attractive enough to avoid being labeled as plain, but not attractive enough to be a diamond of the first water. Rather agreeable for a potential wife. She danced well, did not giggle, and had a pleasing smile. Her voice was mellow in tone, her figure was better than average, and she dressed sensibly while still adhering to current fashions for such an event.

  Yes, he could very well marry this girl.

  If he could remember her name.

  That should probably have been his focus from the start.

  Ah, well. He would not be rushing off to get the banns read, after all.

  The dance came to a close, and he bowed, escorted his partner to the wall he had plucked her from, then started towards the card room. With any luck, he would find a table of players more abysmal than himself and win a little pocket money.

  “Ingram!”

  Lord, have mercy on his soul…

  He turned with a polite smile to see Tony and Francis approaching, Tony wearing an expression of speculation, Francis looking more resigned. “Gentlemen, would you care to join me for a game of cards?”

  “Why not?” Francis replied, smiling a little.

  “Why were you dancing with Emma Young?” Tony demanded as he fell in next to Aubrey.

  Aubrey gave his friend a look. “Because she was there. And thank you for the reminder of her name, I had quite forgotten.”

  Francis barked a laugh, which he covered quickly.

  Tony was less amused. “What do you mean, she was there?”

  “Just as I said. She was there and I had the desire to dance.”

  “Leave him alone, Tony,” Francis urged in delight. “He can dance with someone without an impending proposal.”

  Tony scowled at his cousin. “Fine. Fair enough.” He looked at Aubrey with the same resignation Francis had worn moments ago. “Apologies. But why dance with someone just on a whim? You hate dancing, unless your opinions have changed there.”

  “I do hate dancing, for the most part,” Aubrey confirmed as they entered the card room. He dropped his voice to avoid being overheard. “I had to dance because your wife was going to commandeer every ounce of dignity and self-respect I have in a foolhardy scheme.”

  Tony smirked. “That sounds like Georgie.”

  “Certainly does,” Francis agreed. “What was the scheme?”

  Aubrey hesitated, debating over the matter in his mind. It wasn’t his story to tell, and it had the potential to seriously upset Grace if it were made known, even if she trusted Tony and Francis enough. He couldn’t hurt her, couldn’t spread her situation about like gossip. Though he would admit to never being particularly close with Grace, he had too much respect for her and her family to make light of any of this. Even if her friends with good intentions might.

  She would have to be the one to tell them.

  He would not.

  “It doesn’t bear repeating,” he said at last. “Now, whist or loo, gentlemen?”

  Chapter Six

  Sometimes what we
most fear comes to pass, and there is nothing to be done about it.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 14 December 1816

  “Sir, you have a missive.”

  Aubrey looked up from his breakfast yet again to stare at his butler with the utmost disgruntlement. “Locke, can you not see that I am eating? Or rather trying to eat, as I have yet to manage one single bite?”

  “I can see, sir. But the missive remains.”

  Locke was very carefully avoiding looking at Aubrey directly, and his expression was completely impassive.

  Wise man.

  “Fine,” Aubrey snapped, taking the missive from the tray and setting it on the table. “But I am not reading it until I’ve eaten something.”

  Locke inclined his head. “As you wish, sir. It matters not to me when you read it, only to see it delivered in a timely manner.”

  The almost impertinent response made Aubrey sit back in his chair and eye his butler curiously. “Timely would have been after I had eaten, would it not?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You sure?”

  “Quite sure, sir.”

  “Absolutely certain?”

  “Completely, sir.”

  Incredible. The man did not flinch in the face of needling provocation.

  Aubrey grinned up at him. “Thank you, Locke. You may go.”

  Locke nodded, then turned towards the door.

  “A moment, Locke. Who is this from, do you know?”

  “Lord Trenwick, sir.”

  Aubrey turned his attention to the missive, his eyes wide and staring as though the paper was about to burst into flames and start speaking to him.

  Where Trenwick was concerned, that sort of thing might just occur.

  Whatever contents lay within that folded missive would surely curdle his stomach in some direction or another. But Trenwick was also the sort to send repeated messages if his first was not precipitously responded to.

  So, he had to read it and respond.

  Aubrey groaned and shoveled some of his breakfast into his mouth before his appetite could flee completely, as it was threatening to do. Sure enough, a few bites in and he could not stomach another morsel.

  Cursed Trenwick.

  He sighed and reached for the missive, scowling darkly. He broke the seal, though it took two attempts, and scanned the very brief contents.

  It would be much appreciated if you would call upon me today at your earliest convenience.

  Trenwick

  Aubrey blinked at the single line, then turned the paper over to check for any additional information.

  There was none.

  He heaved another sigh, this one accompanied by a groan, and slouched inelegantly in his chair, making a face. He did not want to call upon Trenwick, he did not want to know what this was all about, and he most certainly did not want to risk seeing Grace after that uncomfortable evening at the Campbells’. In fact, he had been strictly avoiding any opportunity that could even remotely risk him seeing Grace.

  Venturing into her house would certainly increase that risk exponentially.

  His eyes widened, and a choking sensation gripped him.

  Oh lord. What if that was what Trenwick wanted to discuss? What if he wanted to seek Aubrey’s counsel on the matter, or worse, include him in it?

  Had Georgie gotten to Trenwick and planted the idea in his head? No, that was ridiculous. The Spinsters, as a group, despised Trenwick, and Georgie would certainly never venture so far as to tell Trenwick what to do, especially concerning Grace.

  Still, he felt remarkably uneasy. He could not honestly refuse to call on Trenwick, as there was always a chance the exchange might have nothing at all to do with his plans for Grace, but he found himself wishing most fervently that he would suddenly be struck with a malicious fever. Or perhaps even the pox.

  But not in any visible places. No need to mar his appearance for the sake of avoidance.

  He looked down at himself and threw his hands up. He’d not thought he’d be going anywhere today, so he’d had Sundrey dress him comfortably. The sort of look that was typical for his life at Breyerly.

  This would never do for Trenwick, unless he wished to receive a fatherly scolding for improper dress for a lord.

  Which, of course, he did not.

  He pushed out of his chair and moved out of the room. “Sundrey! Sundrey, I need to change!”

  Minutes later, Aubrey was in the carriage and rolling on towards Trenwick House.

  “Sorry, my lord, I cannot oblige you,” he recited as he fidgeted with his gloves.

  Trenwick would never accept that.

  Aubrey shook his head. “My lord, I wish I could help, but…”

  No, that was a lie, and there was no point pretending otherwise.

  “No.”

  There. That ought to be simple enough.

  Well, hope was eternal, at least.

  He stepped out of the carriage just as it pulled up to Trenwick House, not waiting for it to completely stop. Once this was over with, whatever it was, he could get on with his day and his life. He only needed to stand his ground, if what he suspected was about to be, and resist the urge to tell the old man what a stupid mistake he was making.

  Surely, he could manage all of that.

  Bennett had clearly been instructed to expect Aubrey, for his arrival was met without any surprise or additional attentions. He was immediately escorted to Trenwick’s study, though Aubrey could easily remember the way from his visit the other day. But butlers were always so intent on doing the tasks that fell within their stewardship, so he would just let Bennett fulfill that role.

  Trenwick was seated at his desk and looked up at their entry. He rose with surprising swiftness. “Ingram. Good, good, you got my message.”

  Aubrey smiled thinly. “Yes, my lord. Though there was little enough to go on within its contents.”

  “That was intentional.” Trenwick nodded at Bennett. “Thank you, Bennett, you may go.”

  Bennett shuffled out the door, shutting it behind him.

  Suddenly, Aubrey was filled with the oddest notion that he was trapped.

  He cleared his throat. “Intentional, sir? For what purpose, may I ask?”

  Trenwick exhaled and gestured for Aubrey to sit. “Something quite sensitive, Ingram. My daughter, Grace.”

  Hellfire and damnation…

  “I have settled it,” Trenwick continued, oblivious to Aubrey’s current state of death, “that in order for Grace to marry and cease with her troubling spinsterhood, the only true course is for a thorough examination to be completed.”

  Good lord, he truly believed this.

  “Of?” Aubrey managed.

  Trenwick gave him a markedly sardonic look. “Of Grace, of course.”

  There was no “of course” about it. Nothing about examining a young woman as though she were a horse at Tattersall’s was even close to an obvious course of action, particularly from a father.

  “Is that truly the best course?” Aubrey asked, taking great care that his tone should remain mild. “Surely…”

  “Give me one reason why my daughter is a spinster, Ingram.”

  Aubrey’s mouth dropped, and it took a moment for him to close it. Frantically, his mind searched for any reason, anything at all that he could say.

  But there was nothing. Everything about Grace from the surface was nothing short of perfection. Even he could admit that, though he had no personal stake in it.

  “I’m afraid I do not know Miss Morledge well enough to give you an answer, Trenwick,” he admitted, grateful that his deferral was actually accurate truth.

  Unfortunately, Trenwick smiled. “Exactly. That is why you must be the one to examine her.”

  There were not enough profanities in any language to adequately curse that statement.

  “Assess your daughter for flaws, sir?” Aubrey shook his head very firmly. “I cannot. It goes against everything a respectable gentleman stands for.”

  Trenwick slamme
d his fist on his desk. “Dammit, man, don’t you think I know that? But I have no other option! The longer we prolong it, the more of a pariah she will become. I cannot face my peers or Society without the shame of my daughter following me. I cannot be ashamed of my own daughter, Ingram. We must discover what is wrong with her so that it can be mended! She needs to secure a favorable match for our future to be equally secure.”

  Aubrey blinked at the sudden passion and felt queasy that Trenwick considered his daughter’s unmarried state to be a stain upon the entire family. That somehow her securing a match would relieve him of whatever bleak future he saw for the family as a whole. The man had three sons, for pity’s sake, and daughter already married.

  Why should Grace bear the burden of all this?

  Aubrey pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth in thought. “I cannot see how I am an appropriate choice for this endeavor, sir. I am not many years beyond the age of Miss Morledge, and my experience in the accomplishments and behaviors of Society ladies is singularly lacking.”

  “I don’t need Grace to be compared to other young ladies of the day,” Trenwick insisted. “I know full well she is more accomplished than the vast majority of them. Trust me, we spared no expense in her education in that regard, and her instructors sent me regular and detailed reports. I need her flaws to be discovered. You have an eye for detail, Ingram, you are impeccable in your business affairs, you are honest in your dealings, and with your tenants.”

  Yes, he was, but…

  “And you are not close enough to Grace to be overly sympathetic to her plight.”

  Also, technically true, but…

  “You must see that you are the obvious choice.”

  Yes, he supposed he must, but…

  Wait, what?

  “Obvious choice?” Aubrey repeated slowly. “I cannot see why.”

  Trenwick raised his brows. “I’ve just explained it.”

  Not adequately. Not convincingly. Not enough.

  “My reputation would be destroyed if anyone knew that I was intentionally looking for faults in your daughter, sir,” Aubrey told him, letting a sharp note enter his voice. “I have to consider that above all else. And my calling upon your daughter would lead to speculation about us, and I cannot have that hanging over me, no matter how I respect you or your daughter.”