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

by Rebecca Connolly

  “You are so kind, sir,” Eliza preened, crooking her fingers again. “So sweet to my poor, miserable cousin. But she cannot tolerate conversation for long. She’ll stammer up a storm and grow insensible. I don’t know what will become of her, but such a simple creature cannot hope to be worthy of an inheritance. She cannot make her own decisions; how will the estate survive?”

  Mr. Davies wandered away with Eliza, looking back at Prue with some hesitation, but she could see the glimmer of doubt that Eliza had planted, and her simpering tone would convince anyone who did not know her true motives.

  “Tell me about Tinley House, Mr. Davies,” Eliza was saying as she linked arms with him. “Prudence couldn’t tell me anything, she stammered so much, so I must hear it from you.”

  Prue closed her eyes, ignoring the dampness there, and exhaled slowly.

  “Prue? Good lord, what did the vermin say?”

  “Little lamb, are you all right?”

  Her hand was suddenly grabbed and pried from the arm of the chair she had been gripping, then rubbed soothingly between a pair of warm hands.

  “Was it horrible, dear?” Izzy asked from beside her. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see her coming.”

  Prue shook her head, exhaling once more. “Nothing w-worse than usual.”

  “And that’s what concerns me.”

  Prue opened her eyes to look up at Camden, who glowered darkly, his arms folded over his chest. She swallowed and gave him a sad smile. “She doesn’t want me talking to Mr. Davies. Or anyone. She doesn’t want me to be happy or even have a chance at it.”

  She could see his jaw working ominously and she thrilled at his defensive, protective nature.

  Rather like a brother…

  Was he? Was this? She didn’t have a sibling, she was not sure she could tell the difference, but on her side…

  That wasn’t it.

  Not at all.

  “If Mr. Davies can’t see what a poisonous reptile Eliza is, I wash my hands of him,” Charlotte spat as she dropped beside Prue and put her arm around her. “Good riddance.”

  Camden nodded in agreement but said nothing.

  “She’s been doing that with all of them,” Grace pointed out with a sigh. “Any man who tries to flatter you, she intercepts.”

  Prue smiled weakly. “That one I don’t mind so much. So many of them only want my fortune, and I don’t want all that attention. She can have it. And them.”

  Camden cocked his head. “But what if they were sincere in their motivations?”

  “Surely one interfering woman isn’t enough to prevent such a man from finding a way.” She looked at him for confirmation.

  He didn’t give it. “You wouldn’t think so, and yet…”

  “Would it stop you?” Prue asked him before she could stop herself.

  Camden seemed to stiffen. “Not a fair question,” he finally said with a shake of his head.

  “Why not?”

  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair quickly. “Because I know you.”

  Her heart began to thump against her ribs. “So?”

  He laughed once. “So my answer should be obvious.”

  Prue did not respond to that, forced her expression to remain blank, and waited.

  Hoping.

  He exhaled roughly, his lips quirking to one side. “No, Prue. No, it would not stop me. Nothing would.”

  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t react…

  “I like him,” Charlotte announced to the group. “Can we keep him?”

  Grace scoffed softly. “Just last week you called his attentions an outrage.”

  Charlotte made an unapologetic face. “I have since come to my senses.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t aware you had any,” Grace mused with a perfect smile. “What a revelation.”

  Prue only half listened to them. She was too busy staring at Camden, who was staring at her, and everything else was just accompaniment to their mutual staring.

  His soft smile brought out hers, and her heart pounded harder still.

  Rather like a brother…

  No, she thought to herself, not at all like.

  “Well, almost everyone has gone,” Georgie announced as she approached, sounding relieved.

  That shook Camden, and he turned to her. “Have they?” He looked around quickly, then grunted and handed his drink to Grace. “Hold this, will you, Grace?”

  Then they all watched as Camden strode across the garden directly to where Hugh Sterling stood with a drink in hand, and punched him squarely in the jaw, sending Hugh tumbling to the ground.

  “Yes, indeed, I like him immensely,” Charlotte said again with a dark chuckle. “We are definitely keeping him.”

  Prue swallowed harshly, her cheeks beginning to flame further.

  But she agreed. Quite a lot.

  Chapter Fifteen

  There is nothing like a ball for grand moments, eager flirtation, and secret heartbreaks.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 9 February 1818

  “Don’t think for a second that you can sit in the corner all night like you used to do. You’re an heiress now, and you’ve got to start behaving like one.”

  “Your mother is right, dear. No one will want to court a young lady who is so reserved and antisocial. Not a single beau will come of that.”

  “I h-have a b-beau,” Prue informed her aunt and mother, feeling as though her cloak would strangle her.

  Eliza barked a hard laugh from the other side of her father, situated between his wife and daughter, clearly miserable. “Camden Vale? He’s not a beau for you, he’s entertaining himself with a mouse for a toy. Surely you don’t believe for one minute that this laughable courtship of his is anything real.”

  Prue stared at her cousin, blinking unsteadily.

  Well, no, her courtship wasn’t real, and she was all too aware of it. It was a ploy to distract the bevy of suitors from overwhelming her, and to ensure she could be more protected and comfortable than she would otherwise be. It was an act to keep her from embarrassing herself with her attacks when all of this became too real for her.

  But no one else knew that.

  Eliza certainly didn’t.

  “W-what do you mean?” Prue asked, wishing she had managed a firmer tone.

  Eliza made an annoyingly sympathetic sound. “Poor Prudence, you’re too simple to even know. Camden Vale is a reprobate. Quite disastrous with women, and rather flagrant in his attentions. His last mistress died of a broken heart when he deserted her, quite perished in the streets for want of him. And he did not care, Prudence. He has no heart, and he’s amusing himself with you, pretending to court an heiress to move in better circles than he deserves. He’s manipulating you for his own ends.”

  “It’s a wonder I let him proceed in this farce of a courtship at all,” her mother grumped, shaking her feathered head. “If it weren’t for the attention you receive from it, Prudence, I would not have done. But having him pay you attention is bringing more notice of you, and that is something we must have if you are to secure a good match. Look at Mr. Davies, for example. I saw that he paid you a marked degree of attention at the Sterling’s garden party before you went all pink and flustered on him. If Eliza hadn’t saved him, you might have embarrassed him and prevented any further interest.”

  Eliza modestly ducked her chin. “I am only too glad to assist, Aunt. Dear Prudence must be at her best at all times. I shall keep a firm eye out all night to save my dear cousin from herself.”

  “Oh, such a sweet girl, such a lovely creature…”

  Prue swallowed and tried to breathe as silently as possible. She couldn’t bear to have Eliza watch her for part of the evening, let alone the whole of it. It was bad enough having her twist Mr. Davies around, as she had done at the garden party, but when one considered what she had encouraged with Simon Delaney before that…

  Eliza could make this evening nothing but torment, and Prue couldn’t have that.

  She was alr
eady ill at ease for not having Camden escorting her. He’d offered, had sent a missive to her with a plan, but her mother had intercepted it and forced her to reply that they would go to the Hawkins’ party together as a family, and he could meet her there.

  Prue didn’t know the Hawkinses well at all, but she knew they had a son in search of a wife, and she strongly suspected that was why they were invited at all. As they were wont to do, her cousin, aunt, and uncle had insisted on joining them, despite no official invitation themselves.

  Her mother had agreed, claiming it was the only way to help her poor cousin, now that she was wealthy and sought after.

  She didn’t want to meet Mr. Hawkins. She’d rather beg off this whole affair with a vile headache and remain in bed. Up until an hour ago, she had fully intended to do just that.

  Then, a secret note from Camden had arrived, and he’d asked for the first two dances.

  Bessie had been called up at once and begun preparing Prue for the evening.

  And really, she had outdone herself. Her hair was piled up elegantly, curled and twisted with lace ribbons, dotted with small white rosebuds, and quite secure, she was told, despite the looser appearance. Prue’s gown was new, commissioned only weeks ago, and it was one of her favorites. Fairly simple as far as embellishments went, but the layers of folded muslin gave it a very light, flowing look, and the pale blue fabric seemed to imitate waves of water. A ruched bodice of the same folds enhanced what Prue did not have, giving her a finer figure than she possessed, and the sleeves seemed almost draped upon her shoulders.

  She fingered the thin layer atop her skirts now, running the sheer material across her fingertips. She hoped she looked as beautiful as she felt, hoped he would notice, that he would approve…

  The cool metal of the locket about her neck pressed against her skin, contrasting the sudden heat in her cheeks and beneath her chest. Her father’s likeness was within the locket, and she’d grabbed the trinket as a last-minute addition, feeling anxious and wistful, desperate for any connection to him now.

  You’re as pretty as a picture, little lamb, his voice replayed in her mind, making her smile fondly. He’d been the first to call her a little lamb, with all the endearment in the world. The Spinsters had taken it up with the same sort of love.

  Eliza found use in it as a mockery, twisting it as she did everything else.

  Her father would have been pleased to see her tonight, and he would have borne her on his arm proudly to greet the Hawkinses and to face the room of guests.

  She prayed his spirit and grace would be with her tonight as she managed the task alone.

  The carriage rolled up, and the door was flung open by a smartly-dressed footman in gilded livery, who waited without expression for their disembarking.

  “Remind me to try for the Hawkins heir,” Eliza chortled as she got out. “This is very fine indeed.”

  Prue blushed on behalf of the footman now being openly appraised by her brazen cousin.

  They were shown into the house, their cloaks were taken, and they greeted the Hawkins family along with the rest of the guests.

  The knowing glint in Mrs. Hawkins’ eye told Prue her suspicions were correct.

  “Daniel,” she chirped in a stiff tone, “take Miss Westfall and her cousin into the ball. You don’t need to stand here any longer.”

  He smirked superiorly and offered his arm to Prue, who flushed, of course, and took it, lowering her eyes.

  “Forgive my cousin, Mr. Hawkins,” Eliza simpered. “She’s so very shy. I am sure once she gets more comfortable with you, she will be right as rain.”

  “In that case, I look forward to making Miss Westfall more comfortable,” Mr. Hawkins purred, his tone suggesting the opposite.

  Prue shivered, her ears flaming at once.

  Mr. Hawkins chuckled knowingly. “Poor Miss Westfall. Shall I set you to rights?”

  “Oh, do try, Mr. Hawkins,” Eliza teased, nudging him. “She would be so very grateful for your efforts.”

  Prue closed her eyes as another shiver racked her frame.

  “Ah, Miss Westfall, there you are!”

  Hearing Camden’s voice, she nearly gasped with relief, and her eyes sprang open eagerly.

  He was perfection embodied as he came to them, freshly shaved and groomed, appearing more a perfect, polite gentleman than half of the men in the room. He bowed with precision to their trio and even smiled at Eliza, then looked somewhat apologetic as he met Mr. Hawkins’ eyes, extending his hand to Prue.

  “I’m so sorry to rid your arm of one of its fine adornments, Hawkins, but I have reserved the first two dances with Miss Westfall.” He tsked as if this was all quite awkward, but he showed no sign of superiority or rancor. “Perhaps you may secure one yourself later?”

  Prue put her hand in Camden’s immediately, and he swept her away before Hawkins could do anything of the sort.

  “I don’t w-want to dance with h-him,” Prue insisted harshly as Camden led her to the dance floor.

  “And I’ll be damned if I’d let you,” he replied, losing the gentlemanly manner he’d just employed. “Not a chance in hell.”

  Prue coughed a relieved laugh and grinned up at him. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  He returned her smile. “Don’t take this as flattery, Prue, but you are a vision this evening. Lovely and bright. I’ll be beating the men away.”

  She blushed immediately. “Only because you like beating them,” she replied stubbornly, her pulse thudding in her ears almost pleasantly.

  “Well, there is that,” he allowed with a light laugh. “Shall we make the room envious of me by your smiles? I think we shall. Only the best of suitors for you, love. On we go.”

  He was too teasing, too facetious, and it worried Prue. Why would he need to draw other suitors to her? He was supposed to be her suitor at this moment, though it was all for show, and he shouldn’t be encouraging it. He’d known enough to steal her from Mr. Hawkins, and to not have her dance with the man later, but did he mean that he would have others do so?

  They took up the dance, thankfully not leading, and Prue forced her worries and cares to the back of her mind. Dancing was one of her lesser-known passions, and it was rare these days that she found true enjoyment in it. Only a handful of men could dance with her and not make her feel embarrassed or self-conscious.

  Camden was far and away the best of them.

  He smiled at her the entire time in varying degrees, but he also smiled at the other females he encountered in the course of the dance. She could see the amused smiles they exchanged with him and each other, could see the expressions of those watching him. No one knew what to make of this particular version of Camden Vale, who smiled and danced with ease and grace, every inch a gentleman worthy of admiration.

  And pursuit, she considered, as she saw a predatory gleam grow in the eyes of some.

  She swallowed with difficulty and smiled helplessly as he was returned to her, dancing her pattern with him, yet feeling somehow disconnected from him.

  What did smiles for her mean if there were similar smiles for everyone else?

  Did they mean anything at all?

  The first dance ended, and they applauded the musicians on the far side of the room. Prue exhaled through her nose, trying to look at Camden without looking like she was looking.

  He looked back at her, eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile.

  She smiled back.

  But she wasn’t sure she felt it.

  Camden didn’t seem to notice, and when the music began once more, he took her hand just as warmly as before, smiling with much of the same.

  He might have been dancing with any other woman at this moment. He was delighted to be dancing, it seemed, and any capable woman would have given that to him. He’d rescued her from Hawkins, but that was what he did with Prue.

  He rescued her.

  That’s what this faux courtship of theirs was. A rescue. He was rescuing her from the pressures of too
much attention, too many suitors, too many expectations. He was exerting himself to see her comfortable, but to what end?

  This would all end at some point, once he’d decided he’d had enough of playing the suitor. He’d need to spend some time looking to his own prospects and future instead of dallying in the middle of Prue’s. Those friends of his that he’d so recently reconnected with would undoubtedly like to further their friendships without the complication of her as additional baggage.

  Any of these women could make Camden smile as she was now.

  He wasn’t smiling for her.

  He was just smiling.

  Generally, Prue didn’t take anything that Eliza said as fact, knowing only too well that the truth was a fluid concept for her. But in this case, could there be enough accuracy in her words for it to be true?

  Could Camden’s interest and investment in Prue be nothing more than boredom on his side? A way to pass the time until his life was more settled? Could he be using this time with Prue to forge connections he would need later?

  He wasn’t at all villainous, she was assured of that much. He truly was helping her, and she would be grateful for it. She did not believe he would ever intentionally wound her, nor did she think his reputation was indicative of the man he was.

  But when a girl like her had a connection with a man like him, much ought to be questioned.

  Why would he want her?

  What would happen when he left?

  Prue inhaled sharply, amazed that, somehow, she was still smiling as she moved into the final pattern of the dance. Camden smiled at her, unaware of the torrent of misery currently encroaching on her state of mind. She took his hand and proceeded up the line of dancers, counting the number of ladies who watched Camden pass.

  Fourteen.

  Make that fifteen.

  Mary Wilton stood just on the outskirts of the dance and watched him move, as well.

  Courting Prue for show was giving Camden Vale a status he hadn’t had before, and she could see the effects of that.

  She couldn’t stand in the way of that. She wouldn’t. He shouldn’t be courting her for show. He should be free and available for any of the women in this room. Any of them could be suitable; far more than she was.