Grace leaned over and put an arm around her slender shoulders. “That was not a criticism, love. Charlotte is only a very passionate defender. You know that.”
Charlotte practically bounded from her seat and placed a perfunctory kiss on the top of Prue’s head. “I’m sorry, little lamb. I shouldn’t have suggested it.”
Prue managed a smile, though it wavered. “I app-preciate the thought.” She looked over at Izzy and Georgie and her smile broadened. “Well, we certainly know why I am a spinster, don’t we?”
It wasn’t like Prue to tease herself, but since she was smiling, they all laughed.
“Come now, Miss Westfall,” Georgie intoned formally. “We all know why each of us are spinsters.” She shot a dirty look at Grace. “Except for Miss Morledge, of course.”
Grace grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “I don’t know either, I simply am!”
“I’m plain,” Izzy offered. Then she wrinkled up her nose. “And ‘nice,’ it seems.”
They all winced accordingly.
“I’m too fastidious,” Charlotte announced without shame.
“I’d rather talk with a plant than a person,” Prue admitted, still smiling, “and I’m probably better at it.”
Grace turned to Georgie expectantly. “And you? Why are you a spinster, Miss Allen?”
Georgie smiled indulgently. “Well, I’m just unpleasant, and that’s all there is to it!”
The rest of the girls protested quite nicely, and Georgie did her best to be properly demure about the whole thing, but remained firm in her position because, in truth, she was rather unpleasant. Or had become unpleasant. At twenty-seven, it was rather difficult to say. She had always known her own mind, but as she had grown older, she seemed to share it more, and apparently that was a fault.
One of many, but more than likely her primary one.
She was nothing if not honest where she was concerned.
“I’m here! I’m here!” A girl with light brown hair in slight disarray almost fell into the room, breathless and red-faced, her arms filled with small, leather-bound books.
Almost as one, the Spinsters, with a capital S, raised their brows at each other.
“Welcome to the meeting, Elinor,” Charlotte drawled without any hint of the welcome the others had received.
Elinor Asheley, aged eighteen, had absolutely no business associating with them. She was far too young to be a spinster, with or without a capital S, and far too innocent to turn to cynicism as they all had. But she was determined to be part of their group, and to be a spinster herself, and her sister had been one of the founding members, as well as a very great friend to Georgie, so they allowed her, for Emma’s sake.
Emma had married in the autumn to a kind widower with two children and had only a fleeting interest in the group as it was now, but she did still share the latest gossip with them. And she was frankly terrified of what Elinor would get up to and begged the girls to mind her when she was not in London to do so herself. As Mr. Partlowe favored country life over all else, they had begun minding Elinor all the time.
Unfortunately, the girl did not see their influence as any sort of guardianship so much as adoption, and she was the most willing puppy to ever grace a gathering.
Elinor’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Are we having official meetings now? That would make my mother feel better. If I could put down a committee meeting regularly in my social calendar, she would not be nearly so stuffy.”
“I doubt that,” Georgie muttered under her breath, fixing a very polite smile on her face. She liked Elinor a great deal, and adored Emma, when she was not slightly irritated that her best friend had married and left her to her unending spinsterhood alone. But Mrs. Asheley was not her favorite person in the world. Nor, as far as she was aware, was she anybody else’s.
“It’s an idea,” Charlotte told Elinor with a devious little smirk.
Georgie almost groaned and heard Izzy actually do so. Charlotte loved encouraging Elinor, and the results were always disastrous.
“I’m in favor!” Elinor chirped, sitting herself down with a swish of her white skirts. “We will need it with all of the information I’ve collected for this Season.”
“Secretary,” Izzy, Charlotte, and Grace all said at the same time.
“No,” Georgie ordered again, giving them each a severe look. They most certainly did not need anything official to encourage Elinor further in her delusions.
“Welcome, dear,” Prue said kindly. “Have some tea, it is still warm.”
Elinor wrinkled up her nose at it. “Did Mrs. Lambert have it made according to her instructions, or did Izzy order it?”
Izzy grinned with all the fondness in the world. “Mother did, Elinor.”
The girl shuddered too-knowingly. “Just a biscuit for me, please. I’d fancy water straight to that sort of tea.”
Charlotte grinned over at Georgie. “I like her. Can we keep her?”
Georgie scoffed softly. “Last week you wanted to be rid of her. Something about a boarding school, I believe.”
“Finishing school,” Charlotte corrected, shaking her head and letting the loosened curls dance a little. “The child is in desperate need of finishing, anyone can see that.”
“So are you, but we keep our mouths shut about it,” Grace broke in with a sweet smile that belied the words she’d just spoken.
Izzy choked on her tea and Georgie thumped her on the back as she sputtered with laughter while the others chuckled with the good-natured fun they always did.
“And what is it that you have discovered, Elinor?” Georgie asked once the girl was seated, doubtful it would be anything of real use.
Elinor’s fair eyes lit up and she chewed quickly on the biscuit she had just bitten into. “Lord Sterling’s cousin has returned to London.”
Charlotte groaned and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Which one? There are about twenty-seven Sterling cousins, and none of them have ever been worth our attention before.” She narrowed her eyes at the rest. “Which was the one who jilted that Scottish girl?”
“Mr. Andrews,” Izzy and Georgie said together.
“And the one who was caught dueling?”
“Mr. Parkerton.”
“What about the Sterling cousin who had the pet monkey?” Grace asked, sitting forward. “The one who claimed to have wed a daughter of the maharajah?”
“Mr. Newell,” Charlotte answered with a laugh. “He also claimed to have killed a tiger, though I don’t suppose he could have done that unless he’d sat on the poor creature and broke its head.”
“Lovely thought,” Prue mumbled, looking pale.
“The point is,” Georgie overrode loudly, turning back to Elinor, who was wide-eyed with shock, “that we are not inclined to think very much of any Sterling cousins, given their history.”
Elinor swallowed, nodding.
“But just for the sake of being thorough,” Izzy offered, smiling kindly, “tell us who it is, then.”
“Captain Anthony Sterling.”
“Well, I like the sound of a captain,” Charlotte chortled, sitting back.
“It didn’t help Captain Cary last year,” Izzy muttered.
Charlotte glared at her quickly. “You wouldn’t have accepted him either, Isabella Lambert, and you know it.” She sniffed and looked back at Elinor. “Go on, Elinor, give us the details.”
She turned to her books and pulled a thin journal from it, flipping open a page. “Second son of Lord Sterling’s uncle, served under General Robinson, and he went to school with Mr. Partlowe.”
It was the most unimpressive description she could have given the man, whoever he was, and they looked around at each other with the same mild disappointment.
“That’s it?” Charlotte asked when Elinor did not go on.
Elinor glanced up, then back down at her paper, her finger tracing the words carefully. She looked up and nodded. “Yes, that is all I have.”
Charlotte blinked, then turned to the others. “She’s not even hir
ed as a secretary, and I’m already dismissing her.” She swung back around to Elinor, shaking her head. “What sort of introduction to the man is that?”
“It’s all I could find out on such short notice!” Elinor protested, her voice growing louder in its defensiveness. “He only just returned yesterday!”
“And he went to school with your sister’s husband?” Charlotte demanded. “Who is in London at the present?”
Elinor scowled and snapped the journal shut. “I don’t see why you care, Miss Refuses-All-Proposals. No one meets your high and mighty standards.”
Georgie groaned and looked over at Izzy, who was shaking her head.
It was always this way; Charlotte making exorbitant demands of Elinor simply because she was eager and willing, and then becoming disgruntled when the information did not match her expectations.
No one knew what she was actually looking for, but Georgie highly suspected she did not either.
“Would you mind asking Mr. Partlowe to share some insight with you, Elinor, dear?” Izzy asked in her best tone, which had soothed everything from horses to old crones. “We would be so grateful.”
Elinor looked at her with an almost-pout, and then nodded. “Of course. He’s still so keen on being accommodating so I might think well of him, he might even be willing to give me an introduction.”
“Oh, that would be lovely for you,” Grace teased, setting her tea down. “Perhaps you’ll have the captain for yourself, Elinor.”
“I shall not!” Elinor protested hotly, apparently mortally offended by the notion. “I am determined to be a spinster, and nothing shall dissuade me.”
Nearly the entire room groaned, and Georgie shook her head. “Well, regardless, Elinor, it would behoove you to find out what you can about the man, so we might have better insight into him. The last soldier who returned to London turned out to be a blackguard and I had to send letters to no less than six families to warn them of his interest in their daughters. I don’t even like the Thomkinses, but that doesn’t mean I care to see Catherine deluded into a match with a man like that.” She shuddered at the memory and sighed. “We should try to discover that much, at least.”
The rest nodded in agreement, their expressions somber.
They would never pretend that there was anything particularly noble in their work, for in truth it was more interference than anything else. They were well aware that they occasionally made quite a nuisance of themselves, and at least half of their efforts were either not needed or in vain. Their intentions were good, but their reputation had become one of nagging, fussy women who saw every man as a villain and every young woman as naïve.
Nothing could have been further from the truth, but there was no point in explaining any of that.
“And if Captain Sterling happens to exceed expectations?” Grace asked with a calculating look.
Charlotte shrugged, grinning. “I vote we give him to Georgie. Let her cut her teeth on that uniform and see how he fares.”
That earned her a resounding round of laughter, and Georgie smiled indulgently.
“Would you take him, Georgie?” Elinor asked, her eyes wide. “Would you really?”
Georgie sighed heavily and turned to Elinor, keeping her expression and her tone mild. “I am not willing to write off any man without knowing his situation and nature, Elinor. I am in no position to be particularly selective. But I can honestly say that there is nothing about the name Captain Anthony Sterling that makes me in any way inclined to make his better acquaintance, good or bad.”
Chapter Two
It is impossible to say if there are truly any benefits to a man being in uniform or not. While it may enhance whatever physical attractiveness he may possess, in my experience, I have never found anything of heightened attractiveness of nature because of it.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 3 March 1817
Captain Anthony Sterling yawned as he surveyed the room, not entirely accustomed to the finer things in life now that his time in the army was done. He had no regrets about resigning his commission; it had been the perfect time to do so.
But he’d intentionally avoided being one of those officers that used their uniforms to influence others, and as such, he’d not had much interaction with anyone outside of his regiment and the other officers. Oh, there had been the occasional country dance that their regiment had been invited to, but Tony had always found a very good reason to avoid going. He preferred the battles on the field to the battles in a ballroom.
There was no particular reason for it. He was no tragic hero and he really was quite a congenial fellow with the opposite sex. He could dance rather well, he could converse with ease, and he had always done the utmost to behave as a gentleman no matter the circumstance.
He simply did not enjoy it.
His older brother Benedict had chosen, probably for the best, to avoid that necessity altogether by becoming a physician and situating himself in a small coastal town in Dorset. He never came to London, and rarely left his own county. Tony had just come from spending a month there, and while the experience had been invigorating and enjoyable, he’d rather felt as if he’d spent weeks convalescing by the seaside.
It hadn’t suited.
So here he was, back in London and feeling even more uncomfortable for it. His uniform certainly drew enough attention from the young ladies in the room, and he wished he’d thought twice about wearing it. Technically, he no longer had to. But it was far more comfortable for him than his rarely used eveningwear, so that had decided everything for him.
What exactly had possessed him to choose a ball for his first foray back into Society? He should have just gone to a club and spent some time with the other gentlemen, it would have been far better suited to his level of comfort.
But alas, he was here, and he couldn’t leave when he’d only been here half an hour.
So, he would just stand here.
And yawn.
“Now is that any way to behave at a ball, Captain? You have so much potential, it would be a shame to waste it.”
Tony didn’t bother hiding the smirk he felt as he turned to face the only person he was likely to know at the ball this evening. “My Lord Sterling, I shall consider your word a command.”
That earned him a dry snort. “Don’t do that, then I would have to consider myself a person of some importance, and I doubt my wife would like that very much.”
Tony held out his hand, grinning outright. “It is good to see you, Francis.”
His cousin gripped his hand firmly, clapping him on the shoulder. “And you as well. I’d heard you were in Dorset with Ben for a while, how did that go?”
Tony sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I am not meant for a simple life by the coast like he is. Ben was always the more easy-natured of the pair of us, so it’s perfect for him.”
Francis grunted and took up position next to Tony, surveying the room with his usual blank expression. “Has he got a wife yet?”
“Lord, no.” Tony chuckled and took a drink from the footman nearest him. “Half of the village girls are in love with him, though. You would not believe how many calls of ‘Doctor Sterling’ we received every time we were out.”
“Knowing Ben, I can believe it.” Francis folded his arms and nodded to himself. “He won’t be easily snatched up, though. He’s far too selective.”
“Says the man who swore to remain a bachelor for the entirety of his days,” Tony reminded him with a smile.
It was amazing to see the transformation that came over Francis at that reminder. His expression changed from bland politeness with a hint of smugness to a warm irony, his features softening as his eyes fixed on a dark-haired woman across the room, completely unaware of them, chatting with other women around her.
“I thought I would,” Francis murmured, still staring at his wife. “Janet was… unexpected.”
Tony scoffed softly as he watched them, Janet now returning the look from her husband, and coloring at it.
/> “And to think she once hated you,” Tony mused, almost to himself, as his cousin wasn’t listening.
Francis let a corner of his mouth lift in a crooked smile, Janet looked away quickly, smiling herself. Then his cousin seemed to shake himself and looked back at Tony. “As I said, too selective.”
“How odd,” Tony said with a smile. “Must be a family trait.”
That earned him a scolding look. “I’ll have no sarcastic judgment from you, sir, who cannot sort himself out enough to remember how to behave in decent society, and probably never did anything unless directly ordered while he served, am I right?”
Tony frowned at his cousin. “Hardly fair. It was my job to obey orders.”
Francis scowled playfully. “No one is commanding you now, are they? And without a command, you don’t know what to do with yourself.”
If only it were as stupid as it sounded, but that was too accurate for Tony’s comfort. He didn’t know what to do anymore, and a command would have been quite welcome right now. Preferably one to leave the ball and take up his recently resigned commission to get him back to familiar ground.
But that seemed unlikely. Particularly since he’d gone through so much trouble to get out, and his stepmother Miranda had been so pleased by that he hadn’t the heart to change it.
“Good heavens, Tony, it was only a joke,” Francis scoffed, nudging him. “No need to look so despondent. It’s a ball, not a funeral.”
“I’ve never felt so out of place in my life,” Tony muttered.
“With that expression, you look it.”
Well, that was certainly helpful.
“There was a time,” Francis continued, looking amused as he moved in front of Tony, “when you were very good at being the gentleman. Shame about that.”
Tony barely hid another scowl. “Are you abandoning me to my pathetic fate?”
Francis gave him a sardonic look. “Only for the time it takes me to claim this dance with my charming wife, who is far more attractive a companion than you, and of whom I happen to be fonder than you. So, if you can bear it, I will proceed accordingly.”
The Merry Lives of Spinsters Page 2
