Secrets of a Spinster

by Rebecca Connolly

  She was slightly caught off-guard at being so suddenly addressed, but she somehow managed to stay composed. She offered a delicate smile, which she had been told was always an excellent way to stall for time. This was supposed to be her opportunity for exposing a harsher side, and she was fairly quaking beneath her carefully constructed outer shell. Mary allowed her smile to grow and she tilted her head in the manner her sister had praised as being ‘positively regal’.

  “I find I tend to be accepting of literature in general. I happen to be a great admirer of books and the literary arts, much to my mother’s dismay. She thought I would become a blue-stocking, so often had I my nose in a book.” She tucked her chin in a bit and fluttered her lashes as if in embarrassment.

  The gentlemen in the room laughed in a sort of befuddled adoration, which Mary thought was positively idiotic.

  “This does not mean, however, that I want to discuss any literature at great length,” she said, turning her gaze slightly severe. “I could care less about the wild beasts of Africa or the growth cycle of a hibiscus in Paris or the history of Prussian rulers, and every time I have to sit and bear such tedious sermons on any other appallingly tiresome topic, I feel tempted to faint clear away so as to avoid the discussion altogether.”

  The room fairly erupted with laughter now, save for a few suddenly pale-faced men in the back.

  “And so I am left to wonder,” Mary continued, avoiding the eyes of those particular men, “if they even realize that such topics will not only bore their listener to within an inch of insanity…”

  More laughter, more pale faces.

  “…but will also make it so impossible that they will ever marry that the majordomo at Almack’s will neglect to even announce them, not even for the fortune of the Duke of Ashcombe.”

  Guffaws and chortles exploded from the remaining men, some of them laughing to such excesses that they were incapable of remaining upright. Mary glanced over at Marianne, who was laughing, but also winked at her in approval. It should have made Mary feel extremely pleased, but the sight of four men slipping out of the room kept her amusement at bay.

  “Oh, I quite agree,” Marianne sighed when the volume had returned to a more acceptable level. “If I must endure conversation with a particularly learned man, the conversation ought to be short and never vary from topics I am well versed on; dancing, music, and beauty.”

  Applause rang out, and a few shouts of “Bravo!” and “Well said!” echoed in the room.

  Mary barely avoided rolling her eyes, and was impressed that she didn’t succumb to her impulse to give Marianne an incredulous look. Why in heaven’s name would the girl want the entire world to think of her as being shallow and vain when she knew otherwise? Mary could still remember the venomous thrill that had lit the girl’s eyes that night at the theater when she told them what she had done to Mrs. Smythe in their honor.

  But here she was, content to be thought nothing more than a pretty face without heart or feelings.

  “I heard tell, Miss Bray,” one of Mary’s most devoted suitors began, “that, as we are speaking of those who bore rather than court, you at one time received the attentions of Mr. Gerrard.”

  There was no hiding the lurch that Mary felt at those words and she only barely managed to avoid actually whipping her head around to look at Marianne.

  Mr. Gerrard? As in… Christopher Gerrard? Or, as Marianne herself had called him just last night, Kit…

  Marianne’s face paled and her smile froze into more of a grimace. “I…”

  “I further heard,” the man, whose name still escaped Mary at the moment, continued, “that he was so distraught by your treatment of him that he fled London, and you remain the single reason he has for avoiding the season and London altogether.”

  Marianne swallowed, her throat visibly constricting. Her hands, so calm and collected before, were twitching and fidgety and wringing with each other so tightly that Mary feared she would do them harm. Her cheeks, so elegant in their prominence and location, now appeared almost gaunt with the sickly pallor they were rapidly adopting.

  “Pray, tell us, Miss Bray,” the man almost sneered. “Is that so?”

  Mary had no idea what truth there was in the gentleman’s statement, if any, and she didn’t need to. If anyone had told her they could make Marianne Bray look like the small, delicate, helpless creature before her, she would have laughed in disbelief.

  But there was absolutely nothing humorous about the situation at present. She needed no other excuse.

  In an instant, the man’s name returned to her memory.

  Mary assumed the most severe expression she could and employed every ounce of her strength behind it. “Mr. Townsend,” she said, her tone icy cold, “you will cease your abuse of my sweet friend and swallow any further falsehoods you may have swirling about in that miniscule brain of yours.”

  The previous buzz of interest in the room stuttered to absolute and stunned silence, and all eyes were upon her.

  Mr. Townsend looked as though he had just been slapped in the face by his mother. His mouth gaped, his eyes were wide, and all color had drained from his skin.

  “You will furthermore remove yourself from my home at this moment and permanently,” she continued, fury boiling in her veins. “And the next time you will be permitted to approach Miss Bray or myself in any capacity at all, you will present Miss Bray with an apology so sincere it would make confession look like a masquerade liaison.”

  She could have dropped a pin on the carpet and it would have rung like a gong. Several other men in the room were swallowing with difficulty.

  “And make no mistake, Mr. Townsend,” Mary said, lowering her voice to a darker tone, “I will be informing Mr. Bray about your comments just now.”

  If possible, Mr. Townsend’s face went a shade paler, and he faltered slightly. Someone in the back of the room gasped.

  “And given that Mr. Bray is a very dear friend of mine,” she went on, fibbing slightly, “I have no doubts he will believe every word I say. And I would expect him to pay you a visit in the very near future.”

  Really, the way his face could be completely devoid of color was impressive. She could sell tickets to such a spectacle.

  Satisfied that he had received quite enough torment for one afternoon, she raised one brow and picked up her teacup as if she had only corrected his grammar. “You are dismissed,” she said in a sweet voice as she sipped.

  Townsend fled from the room without a word. Mary chanced a look at Marianne, whose expression was rapidly regaining color, but whose eyes remained downcast.

  Mary set down her cup and looked at the gathering. “We quite tire of the lot of you. Leave us be, and kindly mind your tongues about what you’ve heard here.”

  There was a stampede of men for the door, all of whom vowed repeatedly that they would be silent. When the last man had vacated the premises, Mary sighed and dropped her shoulders and her act.

  “Thank you,” Marianne murmured softly from her side.

  Mary turned to her and saw that, much to her surprise, the girl was flushed and looking very young. She reached out and gathered Marianne into her arms, holding her close.

  She was stunned to find Marianne clinging to her tightly, resting her face in Mary’s shoulder, and taking slow, deep breaths. There were no tears, for which she was grateful, but then, Marianne Bray was far too composed to ever let tears be shed in public.

  After a few minutes, Marianne released her and sat back. “I’m sorry about all of this,” she said, her voice regaining its usual, confident air.

  Mary eyed her carefully. “Not at all. I think I handled it well enough.”

  Marianne grinned broadly, which was, again, unusual. The girl never exposed all of her teeth when she smiled, stating that it was too eager and not flattering. Mary disagreed. Her smile when it was full and unrestrained was a wonder to behold.

  “I daresay you did!” Marianne exclaimed, bringing Mary out of her sudden stupor.
“I’ve never seen men move that fast in all my years.”

  She thought it best to refrain from mentioning that, in this case, the phrase “all my years” really didn’t add up to very much.

  “What was that, Marianne?” Mary asked as gently as she could.

  Briefly, Marianne’s face faltered, but in an instant it was controlled again. “Oh, just some rumors. You know how Society can be.”

  “Marianne.”

  She met her eyes and sighed heavily. “Very well, I suppose I can tell you, but only if you promise not to tell Duncan.”

  Mary shook her head. “I will tell him what happened today, Marianne. He’s your brother and your guardian and he…”

  “I don’t care about that,” she interrupted with a wave of her hand. “Tell him what Townsend said, by all means. But don’t tell him what I am about to tell you. He… he would think less of me, and I couldn’t bear that.”

  Mary considered that for a long moment, and then nodded. “Very well, I agree.”

  Geoff sat at his usual table at the club, surrounded by his friends, not hearing a word they said. Ever since he had risen this morning, his head had been positively ringing. He felt as if he had imbibed too much the night before, yet he was as sober as he had ever been. He stared off at nothing, too tired to even think. The only thing he had processed was that Nathan was at home with Moira and their new son. Again.

  “Hello, Geoff?”

  “He is looking a bit peaky, isn’t he?”

  “You look peaky, Colin.”

  “Shut up, Derek.”

  “Geoff!”

  “What?” he asked suddenly, shaking himself out of his stupor.

  His friends all stared at him in confusion.

  “What?” he asked once more.

  “We have been trying to talk to you for nearly five minutes,” Derek said with a rise in one very ducal brow.

  “Thought you had off and left us for the next world,” Colin offered as he sat back in his chair, sending it to the back legs.

  “Aside from the fact that he is still breathing,” Duncan said with a roll of his eyes. He looked back to Geoff. “Where are you at the moment, anyway?”

  “Probably back in my bed,” he admitted with a heavy exhale.

  Colin grinned, as only Colin would.

  “Mind out of the gutter,” he growled to Colin, who only shrugged. Geoff turned back to Duncan and Derek. “I slept horribly. Had this dream…”

  Again came Colin’s grin.

  Duncan cuffed Colin on the back of the head, sending his chair crashing back down on all four legs.

  “Go on,” Derek said as if nothing had happened.

  Geoff quickly recounted everything he could about the dream, and found himself unable to infuse the story with the same depth of panic and emotion he had felt. As a result, the whole thing came out sounding wholly pathetic.

  He looked up at them with a slight wince when he finished. Derek and Duncan looked confused, and Colin pretended to be asleep.

  “That’s it?” Derek asked finally.

  “Why wasn’t I there?” Duncan asked, wearing a puzzled expression.

  Colin let out a particularly loud snore.

  “I can’t explain it,” Geoff told them in frustration, rubbing a hand over his face.

  “Obviously,” the sleeping Colin said.

  Geoff gave him a look that he would not see. “It was the most panicked I have ever felt in my entire life,” he told the others. “I was just running and all I could think about was that I was going to be late… Too late…”

  “Where were you?” Derek asked, the wrinkles disappearing from his brow as his concern abated.

  “I don’t know,” Geoff admitted.

  “What were you late for?” Colin asked on a would-be patient sigh.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Were you looking for someone?” Duncan asked him.

  “I don’t know.” Geoff gave them all a weak smile.

  Duncan huffed and gave him a look. “Well, what do you know?”

  Geoff shrugged and sat back in his chair, suddenly just weary of the whole affair. “I was late and I was panicked… no, more than panicked, I was absolutely terrified. As if my life depended on my being on time. No idea why.”

  “You need to get out more,” Colin announced, opening his eyes. “I thought after you started being Mary Hamilton’s permanent escort for the season…”

  “I don’t want to talk about Mary,” Geoff muttered, shaking his head. In fact, he had spent the majority of his morning avoiding the topic altogether.

  Now it was Derek who grinned. “Not having fun, Geoff?”

  “You know what they are saying, don’t you, Geoff?” Colin jumped in, leaning forward eagerly.

  He didn’t want to know. He did not.

  “They are saying even with your history, Mary doesn’t want to spend time with you.”

  Geoffrey felt his jaw drop as he continued to stare at Colin in disbelief. Out of his peripheral vision he saw Derek and Duncan do the same.

  Colin nodded, his smile fading slightly, because, really, this was not that humorous. “They say that you cannot keep her sufficiently entertained and that you have actually become a devoted follower that she won’t give the time of day to.”

  Geoff closed his eyes and released a slow breath through his nose. He didn’t care what Society thought… He didn’t…

  Who was he kidding? He did.

  Over the noise of his friend’s uninhibited sniggering, he cleared his throat. “Did you know that Mary is talking with Marianne this morning about how to be a better debutante?” he said suddenly, turning to Duncan.

  That got the attention of the entire table. Mouths gaped.

  One of Duncan’s thick brows rose. “Excuse me?”

  “Marianne has agreed to help Mary ‘thin the crowd’,” Geoff told him, his voice sounding a little petulant.

  Derek and Colin looked at Duncan without saying anything.

  “Has she now?” Duncan said slowly, his low voice seeming to rumble from the middle of his chest outward.

  Geoff nodded with a shrug. “Mary told me herself. She was quite pleased. She wants to be able to act as Marianne does when she chooses, apparently.”

  Duncan winced, and he wasn’t the only one. “Not sure that is such a good idea. It will work, I’m sure, but my sister has no idea what people actually say about her.”

  “I know,” Geoff said morosely as he set his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands. “I don’t want Mary becoming like her.”

  Silence met his ears and he moved his fingers. Duncan was frowning deeply, and grimaces graced the faces of the other two.

  Geoff realized his error and looked at Duncan with a cringe of his own. “No offense?”

  “Right…” Duncan said with a snort and a shake of his head, “Well, I can talk with Marianne, but it hasn’t done any good yet. She doesn’t listen to anybody, let alone her overprotective and overbearing big brother.”

  “I always thought Mary was a girl with sense and judgment,” Derek said, turning serious. “It would disappoint me, and I know Kate as well, if she were to suddenly become less than what she is.”

  Geoffrey nodded slowly. That was his chief concern as well. This trick of Mary’s, as entertaining as it had begun, was fast losing its appeal.

  “She won’t talk to me anymore,” he confessed to them. “Not the way we used to. She’s hiding things, she’s changing her mind, she’s…”

  “Treating you like any other woman might?” Colin finished, giving him a raffish grin.

  Geoff opened his mouth, then closed it again. Was that what it was? Their connection was fast becoming a thing of the past because she was losing what made her stand out to him. What exactly that was he could not put his finger on, but he found himself wishing that things would go back to the way they were, when she was largely ignored and only he knew who she really was.

  He wasn’t even sure he knew her anymo
re.

  “Tell you what,” Colin said, holding up a finger. “I’ll go over to her house today and pretend to be a candidate. I’ll keep an eye on the men that are there, see what Marianne has got up her dainty little sleeves for Mary, and report back to you all everything I find.”

  Geoff looked at him with skepticism. He knew Colin too well. “Will you be a suitor or a spy?” he asked slowly.

  Colin shrugged. “Whichever gets me the better outcome. I can be very charming,” he added with his best roguish grin.

  Geoffrey Harris did not glare often; he was too polite and considerate for that. And so it didn’t come as much of a surprise to him that when he cast a very unexpected, very long, very dark glare at one of his oldest friends, there was an equally unexpected reaction.

  Colin’s grin faded and he cleared his throat, hastily standing up. “I, uh, I have just realized that I am… late… for something…” He threw a few coins on the table and left without looking at any of them.

  “Bravo, Geoff,” Derek commented with a smile of his own. “He hasn’t moved that fast since Clara Maxfield learned he could waltz.”

  Derek and Duncan chuckled, but Geoff found that his sense of humor was not in full bloom. His glower remained fixed in place.

  “Stop worrying, Geoff,” Duncan said with a hand on his shoulder and a rough shake. “Mary is too smart to become a complete debutante, and Marianne won’t be able to change her beyond hope.”

  “It’s true,” Derek offered. “And as for what the gossips are saying, who cares? They think Colin is an angel, and we all know what a load of rubbish that is.”

  That, at least, managed to coax a smile from him, and he found himself starting to relax a bit. They were right; he was worrying for nothing. He would see Mary on Friday for the theater, and underneath her disguise, she would still be his same, wonderful, dependable Goose.

  As she always was.

  Chapter Twelve

  Geoffrey paced in the foyer of Mary’s home absently, hiding a yawn behind his gloved hand. He had had the exact same dream twice more and each time he got a bit further down the blasted corridor, but never saw the finish, never knew what he was running for, or why it was so important. He never felt refreshed after that dream and he couldn’t sleep again after waking from it. The lack of sleep was starting to get to him, not to mention showing on his face. His brother had let him in on that point of fact none-too-gently this morning at breakfast.