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

by Rebecca Connolly

  Charlotte said something in her lighthearted way and then left them, Tony took Georgie out onto the dance floor, and Grace and Elinor appeared, jabbering and gossiping about several members of Society.

  Prue didn’t listen to any of them. She fixed her gaze on the dance, watching the couples go through the motions, noticing the expressions of each. Did any of them feel the same way she did about these things? Did they fear observation and attention? Did they wish to dance, but in a private setting and without any expectation rather than on display and with the risk of rumors starting?

  “Miss Westfall,” an intrepid young man greeted, bowing before her. “You are looking particularly lovely this evening, and that is a paltry expression indeed. Might I have this dance?”

  Prue stared at him without speaking, fairly certain she had never met him in her entire life.

  “You don’t even know her, Thomas Baldwin, so you can just slink off and find someone else to prey upon,” Elinor sputtered, waving him off.

  He glared at Elinor and curled his hand into a fist before striding away.

  Prue looked up at Elinor in surprise, but the girl was shaking her head at the retreating figure.

  “He’s a friend of Hugh Sterling,” Elinor spat. “I’ve heard him call you a duck, and a goat, and recently, ‘mine for the pillaging’. He’s not dancing with anyone I have ever said a kind word about, let alone you.”

  Izzy stared at Elinor, her eyes wide, her brow furrowed. “You’re turning into a termagant, you know that?”

  Elinor shrugged without concern. “All the better for me.”

  Prue exchanged a slightly worried expression with Izzy, then watched the dancing again.

  “Miss Westfall,” began another man.

  “No,” Elinor said abruptly. “Move on.”

  “Elinor,” Izzy hissed as he, too, left with a glower.

  “What?” she replied, utterly ignorant as to the problem. “We are protecting Prue from the vultures, are we not?”

  Grace met Prue’s eyes, and Prue did everything short of actually pleading with her to do something as her cheeks flamed. Grace nodded once, smiling for effect. “Elinor, did you say Thomas Baldwin was an associate of Hugh Sterling?”

  Elinor’s gaze sharpened at the name. “Yes. Why?”

  “I would swear I saw him paying a call to the Wiltons just yesterday.” Grace widened her eyes as if in dismay. “You don’t think…”

  Elinor grabbed Grace’s hand and pulled her away. “No, no, no. Come with me, we are going to speak to the Wiltons. That must stop right now.”

  Grace winked at the others as she let herself be pulled away, and Prue breathed a sigh of relief that had Izzy and Lady Hetty snickering.

  “I applaud her enthusiasm with your defense,” Lady Hetty commented dryly, “but the delivery leaves something to be desired.”

  “That is one way to put it,” Izzy agreed. “That girl…”

  Prue shook her head, exhaling slowly again, wishing her mortification would fade. Sitting beside Lady Hetty would keep some of the men away, as she terrified nearly everyone, but those who considered themselves to be important enough would not be put off by it.

  She had to make a show of participation in the activities of the evening, or her mother would never let her hear the end of it. But the list of men with whom she felt comfortable enough to dance with was short indeed. Additionally, Eliza’s penchant for spreading whatever stories she wished to provided a different set of problems entirely.

  “Is Eliza dancing with Mr. Frist now?” Izzy asked in an almost hushed voice. “That’s the worst pairing I’ve ever heard of.”

  “Almost as bad as Mr. Frist and m-me,” Prue muttered to herself.

  Izzy heard, though, and giggled at it. “I suppose that must be true. But it’s not favorable.”

  “No one is favorable when paired with Eliza,” Prue told her.

  “Prudence Westfall!” Izzy laughed, covering her mouth. “That is the most delightfully spiteful thing you have ever said! Where in the world did that come from?”

  Where? Oh, the bitterness of twenty-something years of enduring the patronizing, sniping, coldly cutting remarks of someone to whom she would be forever bound through the bonds of blood and family. From being tormented again and again by people who should have loved her and treated her with gentle consideration and kindness. From a dark corner of her mind that said and thought all sorts of things that she would never say aloud for fear of mortification and punishment.

  Prue smiled tightly at her friend. “I’m in a f-foul temper.”

  Her hand was gently squeezed. “It’s all right, lamb. You can be whatever you need to be tonight.”

  The trouble with Isabella Lambert was that she was endearing, enduring, and patient to a fault. The kindest, gentlest heart Prue had ever known, including her own, but so well liked by absolutely everyone that her being a spinster at all was astonishing.

  Not that there weren’t reasons for it. Izzy was plain and had no fortune to speak of, though there was a little money, and she was so accommodating that nobody thought about her in that regard. It was a tale almost as tragic as Prue’s, though for different reasons.

  Izzy wasn’t shy, though she wasn’t particularly outspoken, and she had no visible display of her insecurities as Prue did.

  She should have been the heiress.

  Not Prue.

  She didn’t even know if she could adequately understand the legalities of her inheritance, let alone the ins and outs of the details. She hadn’t met with the solicitor managing the affair yet, aside from the initial revelation of the inheritance itself. What if she couldn’t oversee her own finances the way she would need to? What if she bungled everything and lost it all?

  What if the man she married, if she married, squandered her fortune and left her with less than nothing? What if she chose the wrong husband and would have been better off a spinster heiress? What if her fortune was all she had to offer, and without it she was worthless?

  “Prue?”

  She shook her head at Izzy’s gentle, unspoken question.

  She couldn’t explain the torment inside her at the moment.

  “What if” were the two most terrifying words in the world to her.

  They tended to thrust themselves into her mind with startling frequency.

  “Miss Lambert,” a kind-faced gentleman greeted as he bowed before them, “might I have the next dance?”

  Izzy smiled politely, ready to decline, but Prue squeezed her hand. Izzy glanced at her and Prue nodded quickly.

  “Of course, Mr. King,” Izzy replied, smiling in earnest. “I’d be delighted.”

  She rose and left with her partner, and Prue looked down at the gloves in her lap. It was fine that she was by herself with Lady Hetty. It was. She needed her friends to live their lives as they would have done, not stop everything just because Prue needed some assistance. She would never forgive herself if one of them had a chance worth taking and they were prevented from it due to tending to her at this time.

  She could sit here vulnerably.

  She could.

  The jaunty tune began, and Prue glanced at the dancing to find Eliza now dancing with Mr. Gardiner, of all people.

  It occurred to her then what was happening. Somehow, Eliza knew who had been at Tinley, and she was taking great care that those men who had tried for Prue there were not permitted the slightest chance to pay her any particular attentions. Which meant that, among others, Mr. Davies, Mr. Andrews, and…

  …Camden.

  They would all be targets for Eliza’s manipulation and intervention, and Prue knew only too well how skilled and devious Eliza could be when she had the proper motivation.

  She could not let Eliza get within ten feet of Camden Vale. Anyone else was a minor detail, although she would have hated to see Mr. Andrews fall victim to her, as he really was a fine enough man and had treated Prue with great respect. He needed to be warned as well, though Prue knew at once that
she could not be the one to do it.

  Amelia could tell him, assuming she could find Amelia amidst this melee. She was here, undoubtedly, but she could not be restricted to the corner as Prue was. She was too young, too fresh, too fair to be a wallflower, and deserved to dance and enjoy all of the delights of the Season.

  But this was imminent danger, and Mr. Andrews had to be warned.

  She scanned the room quickly, her heart pounding in her ears. Mr. Andrews was certainly here, but she had seen no evidence that Camden was. He could be safe tonight, but any other night in any other public place, he would be at risk. And he didn’t know Eliza, had no experience in dealing with her, and Prue’s need for privacy had kept her from sharing any of those crucial details with him at the house party.

  Please don’t let him be here, she thought furiously.

  Her breathing began to quicken, and she tried to find something, anything, to resemble calm. Not finding him would be a good thing, right? Seeing him would make her panic more… It would mean Eliza could have a chance to meet him, talk with him, influence him…

  Would he listen to her? Would she infuse her conversation with enough truth to gain his trust? Would he like her vivacity and wit because it was more on display than Prue’s had ever been?

  Images of Cam and Eliza waltzing together, laughing uproariously as they glided smoothly about the room, flittered through Prue’s mind rapidly. The pair of them speaking together apart from anyone else. Cam’s sly smirk of a smile being exchanged with Eliza’s superior smugness as they both looked at Prue while she was inundated with fools.

  Baa for me, lamb. Go on.

  Prue bit back a whimper as her imagination took hold, Eliza’s favorite taunt filling her ears.

  “Miss Westfall? If you are not engaged for this dance, might I persuade you?”

  A dance… Yes! She could see much better from the center of the room than from her chair here. If Cam were here, she would be far more likely to see him there.

  Without thinking, she put her hand into the gloved one before her and let herself be led, looking around with as much thoroughness as she could.

  Her mother saw her and smiled indulgently, which was an unsettling sight and feeling, but Prue pushed all that away. There wasn’t time to worry about what her mother would think of her dancing with whoever this was.

  She caught sight of Izzy, standing just outside of the dancers, watching her in stunned bewilderment, and she let her gaze move quickly past. The Spinsters were not used to Prue dancing with men she did not know extremely well, but things were different now. Georgie and Tony were in line with her, albeit further down, and they, too, took notice of her. Eliza was now partnered with Alderton, which was no great loss to Prue, though Eliza seemed pleased enough with herself.

  “Miss Westfall.”

  She looked straight ahead at her partner and blanched to see Simon Delaney standing there. He was not the sort of man she would have danced with under any circumstances.

  Ever.

  And that had been decided before he had tried to seduce young Lucy Wilton a few months ago. That catastrophe had only been prevented by quick thinking and action from Tony and Georgie.

  No one else knew that, of course. They only knew that Simon Delaney was a younger son of a wealthy family and a bit of a rogue, but in all other respects perfectly acceptable.

  But not for Prue.

  Never for Prue.

  And a quick glance to either side of her told Prue he had put them in the lead position.

  Her throat constricted painfully, and she did her best to hide a distressed gasp.

  Delaney noticed her conflicting emotions and smirked at it, evidently knowing precisely what she was thinking and feeling.

  “Smile, Miss Westfall. And if you cannot manage that…” He broke off and bowed with the rest of the men while the women curtseyed, and then he proceeded around her in the pattern. “… then perhaps you might baa…”

  Prue inhaled sharply, her lip trembling at the derogatory bleating.

  Eliza.

  Her eyes burned as she moved as was required, desperate to keep whatever composure she could while her cheeks turned scarlet with her humiliation. The other men she had to interact with as part of the dance seemed concerned with what they were seeing in her face, but their stares and grimaces only made things infinitely worse.

  Tony was not in her circle, but she could see his expression, and she knew he knew her well enough to know what was transpiring. He couldn’t save her without causing a bigger scene, and he would know well enough to avoid that.

  Mr. Alderton seemed amused by it, though he, too, was not directly in contact with her.

  Prue tried to search for Cam amidst those watching the dance. Delaney bleated whenever he came near her, and each one chipped away at Prue’s resolve and calm. He had never been cruel to her before, had hardly interacted with her in the years she had been out, and yet now he was tormenting her for sport.

  It was unbearable, and she had half a mind to feign a swoon on this dance floor just to end it all. But even that image made her lightheaded with anxiety, and she continued through the dance as she had been.

  Laughter reached her ears, and she could see it in Delaney’s face, in his eyes, in his manner. Suddenly, it was as if she heard it from everyone. All around her. Somehow swirling about her and filling her, dark, menacing laughter…

  Mercifully, the song ended, and with the briefest curtsey known to mankind, Prue moved directly from her position back to her chair beside Lady Hetty, who immediately clasped her trembling hand.

  Izzy sank down beside her with an arm about her shoulder, and through the haze in her mind, still echoing with laughter, she heard Amelia’s voice.

  “Prue? Oh, Prue, are you all right?”

  “Miss Westfall, you dance like an angel.”

  “Miss Westfall, the waltz?”

  “Miss Westfall…”

  “Miss Westfall?”

  Prue squeezed her eyes shut, clenching Lady Hetty’s hand as if it could somehow make all of this disappear.

  “No, lads, this dance has already been claimed. By me.”

  The clenching tension in Prue’s chest suddenly released with a mighty whoosh of air.

  That voice…

  Prue looked up with her burning eyes to see the face of Camden Vale before her, perfectly groomed, perfectly attired, perfectly present. His white-gloved hand was extended just out of her reach, but his eyes were filled with the steadiness she craved.

  “You do remember, don’t you?” he asked in the most polite, perfect tone she’d ever heard from him. “You haven’t forgotten.”

  “N-no,” she heard herself whisper. “No, I h-haven’t.”

  Izzy gasped beside her as Prue reached out her hand and laid it in Camden’s, letting his warm fingers curve around hers, the pressure anchoring her to him.

  She released Lady Hetty and rose from her chair, keeping her eyes squarely on his, finding her torrential emotions settling markedly.

  “Why is it that you always need saving in the dance?” Camden asked her in a low voice, smiling slightly. “I happen to know you are a most graceful and light dancer.”

  “Y-you…” she managed, choking on the stammering words.

  Camden shook his head slowly. “Alas for lack of privacy. Why don’t I talk, and you simply enjoy the dulcet tones I’m about to pour out upon you? I promise not to flatter or flirt and will only say shocking things that will make you laugh. Everybody will wonder what in the world that disreputable man has done to make her look so very pleased, and I shall assure them all that I had very little to do with any of it. That it was all you, and I simply danced my way about.” He raised a brow as he bowed before her. “What say you?”

  Prue could not have spoken even if she wanted to, though stammering would not have been her prime concern at that particular moment.

  She managed a watery smile at him as she curtseyed, nodding as best she could.

 
“No tears,” he whispered as he came to her and took her hands, turning her in the dance. “No tears.”

  “N-no promises,” she whispered back, inhaling shakily.

  He smiled at that and winked surreptitiously. “There she is. Welcome to the dance, Prue Westfall. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  Prue shook her head in disbelief, too overcome to properly contemplate this miraculous turn of events. “The pleasure is all mine,” she assured him, without any stammer at all.

  Chapter Eleven

  There is a fine line between insufferable and irresistible with regards to the nature of friendships. And quite a lot of dancing occurs along that line.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 1 December 1815

  Camden Vale was apparently the saving sort of man.

  He hadn’t ever lumped himself in with men of that sort, but the proof was there before him. When faced with an unpleasant situation wherein someone other than himself had been in dire straits, he had acted for their benefit, taking no thought for himself.

  What a selfless and noble endeavor that had been!

  He snorted in derision at himself. Noble and selfless were not words that could be used to describe him in any way, shape, or form. It hadn’t been something that he had actively decided upon, he’d only acted on his instincts.

  Which had driven him to Prue.

  He hadn’t known the particular cause of her distress the night before, only that she had been mortified beyond human reason, even for her, and the strain in her features had been clear for all to see. Her partner in that dance, Simon Delaney, was an insolent puppy of a man more adept at cards than in anything else, though he was known as a notorious cheat there. He’d been surprised by her standing up with such a man, but he’d attributed it to her mother’s determination to see Prue married off.

  Enduring that dance had been almost as painful for Camden as he imagined it had been for Prue. He’d been near to interrupting it several times just for the sake of Prue’s pain and embarrassment. But he was satisfied that in dancing with her afterwards, clearing off the others who had come to beg for her hand, he had turned the tide for her, at least temporarily.