The Spinster and I (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 2)

by Rebecca Connolly

  He raised a brow and gave a hint of a bow. “Camden Vale. And should your name actually mean anything to me?”

  “I s-sta… I s-st…” She growled and slapped the bench. “I have d-difficulty s-speaking when I’m nervous.”

  He widened his eyes and gaped. “You do?” he whispered in a dramatic, shocked manner. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  She gave him a bewildered look, then suddenly beamed and burst out laughing, and the surprisingly musical sound caught him somewhere in the vicinity of where his heart ought to have been.

  He found himself smiling in earnest as her laughter continued, and she gripped the bench for support. When her laughter started to fade, he moved in her direction.

  “So sorry, Miss Westfall, I meant no offense.” He gestured to the spot on the terrace rail near her. “May I?”

  She nodded, still smiling.

  Camden leaned against the rail, watching her a little.

  She returned the favor. “You don’t have any designs on me at all, do you?”

  He chuckled to himself and shook his head. “No, my dear. Not tonight.”

  “Any other night?” she asked, raising a brow.

  He gave her a wry look. “Are you suggesting it, Miss Westfall, or simply curious?”

  Her eyes widened again, and her cheeks colored. “C-curious,” she stammered rapidly.

  Ah, he’d forgotten about her timidity, and he nearly cursed. He didn’t need to be the cad with her, it wouldn’t amuse anybody and wouldn’t help matters.

  “To be perfectly frank, Miss Westfall, I’m not nearly as wicked as anybody thinks I am, so I can’t even promise that any other night would be filled with designs either. I hope that doesn’t offend.”

  She blinked, and one side of her mouth curved just the slightest.

  Why that suddenly pleased him was a mystery, but please him it did.

  “In fact, most of what people say about me isn’t true,” he admitted with a sigh. “It’s quite unfair, having a reputation one has not fully earned. Not that there isn’t a reason for it, because there is. It’s just not true. Well, no, it’s mostly true, but not entirely. Certainly not to those extremes, but not entirely honorable.”

  He was talking himself in circles, rambling as if to make up for her impediment, though he’d started off intending to be amusing.

  Now he only looked like an idiot.

  Figures.

  “You seem confused about your own reputation,” Miss Westfall stated rather simply.

  Camden snorted at that. “If you’d heard the extent of it, you’d be confused by it, too.”

  She looked away for a moment, her lip tightening as though she gnawed on the inside. “I’m a Spinster,” she said quietly.

  “That’s all right,” he replied as he looked up at the stars. “There are worse things.”

  She hummed a soft laugh and looked up at him. “I am a spinster, but I mean the other Spinster. With a capital S.”

  Now that was a confession! He’d been reading the Spinster Chronicles with everybody else in London almost since they were first published, but he’d never taken up Society’s curiosity with the Spinsters’ identities. It wasn’t his business, and what was it to him if they wanted to amuse themselves thus?

  Plus, he enjoyed the articles and frequently laughed out loud.

  “Oh ho,” Camden chortled, folding his arms and grinning at her. “That changes things, Miss Prudence Westfall. Which article in the Chronicles do you write?”

  Her cheeks colored again but to a lesser extent. “It varies. I’ve written each of them before.”

  “And which is your favorite to write?”

  “The main one, but I don’t get to write it often.” She shrugged lightly and drummed her fingers on the stone of the bench. “You c-can say a lot in that one, and I have a lot to say, despite…” She gestured to her throat and mouth quickly. “But everyone else has a lot to say, too.”

  Camden shook his head a little, smiling at her again. “I’d wager you do have a lot to say, Miss Westfall. Probably far more than anybody else, but I won’t judge the others when I don’t know them.”

  She smiled, too. “That’s very considerate.”

  “Not really,” he retorted. “I’d judge them plenty if I did know them. I’m a very judgmental person.”

  “That’s a pity.”

  She said it, but she didn’t sound as though she disapproved at all. Interesting creature.

  “I know,” he sighed. “I really am very poorly behaved as far as gentlemen go. Hardly the sort of person to invite anywhere. I almost never go out in polite society, purely because I do not qualify.”

  Miss Westfall snorted and covered her mouth, making him smile. “So why…?”

  “…Am I at this party?” he finished, even as she jerked to look at him. “I don’t know. It’s the thing to do, isn’t it? No idea how I made the invitation list, but one ought to come when one is invited. I have nothing better to do. And I find myself being very polite to you, which is highly unlike me. I’m hoping it will pass soon, but…” He shrugged and looked her over with probably too much thoroughness. “You would be my sort, you know. If I wanted to behave less than politely.”

  Astonishingly, she didn’t color in the slightest. “And you don’t?”

  Camden smirked a little. “Put out, are we?”

  She frowned so quickly he laughed. “No.”

  “All right, all right,” he chuckled, “I apologize again. Forgive my impertinence.”

  She ducked her chin in a nod, which he took to be a sign of forgiveness.

  “So why are you here, Prudence Westfall?” he inquired, losing his teasing air. “If you’re going to flee from interested gentlemen, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

  Prudence snorted again, this time with outright derision. “They are not interested in me, Mr. Vale, I can promise you that. They want…” Her brow furrowed, and she looked at him again.

  “What?” he asked, feeling suddenly defensive.

  “Do you promise that you have no designs on me?” she shot back with an accusing air.

  He held up his hands in surrender. “I promise on everything I hold dear, which doesn’t amount to much, but there it is.”

  Her lips quirked as though she would smile but she resisted the impulse. “I have recently inherited quite a large fortune and an estate in Hertfordshire.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “No?” he laughed. “My dear Prudence, you are an heiress, and that is something worth praising.”

  She shook her head firmly. “Not for me. I don’t want it.”

  “I’d be happy to take it.”

  “I’d let you,” she admitted softly, no longer looking at him. “I’d let you take it in a heartbeat. I haven’t even told my friends I have it. I don’t mind having financial security, but as for the rest…”

  Then, realization set in, and Camden looked at Prudence in an entirely new light. “You are being hunted.”

  She nodded with a shudder as color appeared in her cheeks again. “It’s t-terrifying,” she whispered. “Nobody ever paid attention to me b-before, and I was fine with that. N-now I have more attention than ever before in m-my life, and it’s overw-whelming and unsettling, and I s-stammer so m-much anyw-way, and…”

  He saw her unraveling before his very eyes, and he didn’t need her stammering to tell him that.

  “Prudence, it’s all right,” he soothed in the gentlest voice he could, rather as he used to do with Molly. “Shh, it’s all right. Prudence…”

  “Prue,” she gasped as she clung to the bench again.

  “Pardon?” he asked, not sure he’d heard her right or if she’d sneezed.

  She swallowed, cleared her throat, and then gave him a straightforward look. “If we’re being informal, p-please call me Prue. Only my mother calls me Prudence, and the c-connotation is not favorable.”

  Camden grinned, not caring that she would see
it. “Prue, then. Call me Camden. Or Cam, if you’re feeling impish.”

  She smiled back. “I’m rarely impish.”

  “Rarely is not never,” he pointed out. “I’ll bring out that impish side, see if I don’t.”

  Prue shook her head, whether in refusal or in amusement he couldn’t tell. “I don’t want to be an object of attention,” she told him, glancing back towards the ballroom. “Not from anyone who doesn’t mean it. Not that anyone does mean it, but it’s worse to have this attention. To only be wanted for my fortune…”

  “I’m sorry,” he heard himself say, finding her sad tone rather moving, even for someone as jaded as him.

  He really wasn’t as wicked or shocking as anybody said, that much was true, but neither was he anywhere close to a perfect gentleman. He wasn’t perfect in any respect, either for good or for evil. Aside from his sister, he wasn’t a favorite person to anyone on this earth.

  There had been Molly, but now…

  Well, she had seen the good in him and flat-out ignored the bad.

  He had the sneaking suspicion that Prue would see both, but never judge him for any of it. Her eyes were bright, even if there was torment behind them, and being one so overlooked had undoubtedly given her a clearer vision. Yes, she probably did have much to say in her columns, and if she could trust her voice, she might do so aloud.

  “That’s the proper sentiment, Camden,” she replied as she turned back, folding her hands in her lap and managing a smile.

  “You didn’t answer the question, Prue.” He cleared his throat, curious that someone calling him Camden should make him want to smile. “Why are you here? If you hate your fortune and dislike attention, why come here?”

  Her smile faded, and she sighed a bone-weary sigh. “I had no choice.”

  Camden frowned. “Surely not. If you’re old enough to be a spinster, with or without a capital S, you are surely old enough to make your own decisions.”

  She was shaking her head before he finished. “Have you met me?”

  “Only just.”

  Prue giggled a low, almost throaty giggle. “True, I suppose, but even so… I am hardly independent in nature, despite the age and fortune. My mother insisted we come, now that I am at last a proper marital candidate. Never mind that I stammer, flush, and have all the shyness of five shy girls even on the best days.”

  “Those must be some very bold shy girls,” he mused with a raised brow. “You’re quite vivacious at the moment.” His eyes sharpened on her mouth suddenly, and while it was a very pretty little mouth, it was also an un-stammering one. “Where did your stammer go, Prue?”

  Her eyes met his, and she raised a pristine glove to move a lock of hair. “It always fades in private. Don’t flatter yourself.”

  He scowled suddenly. “I wasn’t planning on it, but it’s unnerving.”

  “It shouldn’t be. Now I speak almost like anyone else. It means I feel safe.”

  That made him wince. “I’m not sure that makes me feel any better.”

  “Are you determined to be a wicked scoundrel?” she asked, almost amused by his offended air.

  “Not particularly,” he replied, playing out his scene, “but I do have a reputation to uphold.”

  “A reputation you are unclear on,” she pointed out.

  He considered that. “True enough, I grant you.” He flashed her a quick grin. “Don’t tell anyone I make you comfortable.”

  She shook her head obediently. “I wouldn’t dare.”

  Camden narrowed his eyes playfully, and she looked appropriately innocent.

  He chuckled to himself and looked past her into the ballroom. “Well, we can’t stay out here forever, Prue. Not alone, at any rate.”

  She sighed and followed his gaze. “I know. But going b-back in there…” She rolled her eyes and gestured at her mouth again.

  A ridiculous, completely mad idea suddenly crossed his mind, and he put a finger to his chin, tapping slowly. “I’m having a thought, Prue Westfall…”

  “An appropriate one?” she queried as she brushed at her faded skirts.

  “Shockingly, yes,” he informed her. He dropped his hand back to fold under his arm. “What would you say to an arrangement?”

  Prue looked unconvinced. “I’d ask what sort of arrangement.”

  “See? You are a sensible girl after all.” He nodded in approval. “Very good. I’m bored being here, and you’re terrified of being here. What if I agreed to be your partner in this house party?”

  “P-partner?” she asked, a strained look coming into her features.

  “Nothing untoward,” he assured her quickly. “Quite the contrary. What if I was by your side almost the entire time? I could show interest so that the others would be warded off.”

  She relaxed slightly but frowned all the same. “I don’t know that it would s-stop anyone. They come in p-packs.”

  “Ah ha.” He straightened and pointed a finger at her. “You forget I have a reputation.”

  She did not look remotely convinced. “But how would that help me? I hardly need rumors spreading about me, that might make things worse.”

  Camden shook his head. “It will be as honorable as my intentions.”

  “Is that supposed to m-make me feel better?” she asked, smiling at last.

  She was teasing him now? His delight knew no bounds!

  “What shy creature?” he protested pompously. “I see no such thing!”

  “You will,” Prue warned, turning serious. “Once we are b-back in there, you will see everything that everybody always s-says.”

  He made a face. “Yes, but here’s the thing, Prue; I’ve never been very good about listening to anything that anybody says, so that doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  She wanted to laugh, he could see it, but she adamantly refused to. “It’s not a pretty sight, Camden. It will require patience, endurance, and…”

  “…And my reputation will turn as soft as pudding for exuding all those things,” he replied with a dramatic gesture. “Yes, yes, I know. But I am willing to do it all, Prudence Westfall, and you may feel free to shower me with gratitude and kisses at any time.”

  She scoffed rather loudly, which made him smile.

  “I thought not, but one never knows.” He looked her over once and nodded. “I think I like you, Miss Prudence Westfall, and I very rarely like anyone genuinely.”

  Absurdly, she seemed to like that, which showed him that she was not as sensible as she should have been. “Time will tell if I like you, Mr. Camden Vale. I make no promises.”

  He barked a laugh and bowed to her. “You are the liveliest shy girl I have ever met in my entire life, and it is a rare delight, I can assure you.”

  “It won’t last.” She sighed and rose, inhaling slowly, and exhaling much the same. “I don’t want to do this,” she whispered.

  “Saying that isn’t going to help anything,” he told her softly. “Remember, I am coming to the rescue. However much comfort that will be.”

  “It will be.” She looked over at him, her pale eyes steady and clear. “You might be saving me, Camden Vale. I hope you’re prepared for that.”

  Her tone held much weight, and he suddenly felt the burden of it settling against his chest and stomach. More for the complete lack of stammer in her words, which seemed something of a miraculous thing.

  “I am no hero, Miss Westfall,” he told her with complete honesty, which was rare for him. “Not the saving sort of man. But I will do my best for your sake.”

  Prue smiled at him softly, the warmth of sunshine in its curve. “I’ll be the one stammering in the corner, red-faced and nearly swooning.”

  “And I’ll be the one riding in with shouts of glory,” he assured her. “Though white horses are frowned upon in ballrooms.”

  She nodded and turned for the ballroom, looking within carefully for her admirers.

  “You’re safe to go in,” he called. “They’re on the other side of the room.”

 
She looked over her shoulder, her eyes lowered, and dipped her chin in thanks.

  “Prue?”

  She paused and waited.

  “Do you like to dance?” he asked, smiling to himself.

  He saw the corner of her mouth curve, and she raised her eyes to his. “D-don’t tell the others, but I love to dance.” Her smile grew very briefly, and then she moved into the ballroom, away from him.

  Camden Vale, disreputable fellow, and nobody’s favorite person, sighed heavily and shook his head. “Camden, old boy, you may have just done something incredibly foolish.”

  He looked up and focused on the small figure making her way along the outer edge of the room, purposefully drawing as little attention to herself as possible.

  “But then,” he mused aloud, nodding as he reentered the ballroom himself, “I’ve always been rather fond of foolish things.”

  Chapter Three

  Sometimes there is just no explaining the nature of people. They may surprise you at every turn and prove your assumptions entirely incorrect. Nothing quite sets us up to fail as much as an assumption. And nothing surprises us more than being mistaken.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 2 March 1818

  “Prudence, whatever happened to your slippers?”

  Prue glanced down at the slippers and saw the telltale evidence from the night before on the pale fabric of the footwear. “I’m n-not sure, Mother. I n-never walk out of doors in these.”

  Her mother rolled her eyes dramatically and huffed, adjusting her bodice. “Well, change them, stupid girl, before someone sees them!”

  Prue exhaled silently and changed the slippers as quickly as she could. They were still in their rooms, so who would have seen her stained slippers was something of a mystery, unless they were now hiding things from servants, as well.

  “Hurry up, Prudence!” her mother insisted as though she were the one who had marriage prospects below. “You never know who may wish to speak with you this morning. I was too distracted last night to mind you. Did you meet anyone of significance?”

  Did Camden Vale count as a person of significance? He’d seemed significant last night when she’d been in need, but would that count for anything with her mother? Prue knew nothing about Camden’s situation in life, nor had she ever heard of him, but that did not surprise her. Prue had rarely heard of anyone, despite being one of the Spinsters and having Elinor and her endless resources about the men of London in her midst.