The Spinster Bride

by Jane Goodger

  “I can’t believe that’s true. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

  Marjorie felt a small spark of anger. “And have you seen how he looks at Lady Caroline? I daresay his smiles are more brilliant than when he looks at me. He’s a cad, really. Boorish and loud. I haven’t the faintest idea why I like him at all.”

  “Men can be confusing,” Katherine said.

  “Confusing? Confounding!” Marjorie felt a rush of tears and quickly dashed them away.

  “What is wrong, Marjorie? Tell me.”

  Marjorie swallowed heavily, trying to get her emotions under control. “I must tell you something,” she whispered. “If I don’t tell someone, it will fester inside me and kill me for certain.”

  “Go on.”

  “We’ve kissed,” she said on a rush. “More than kissed, actually.”

  “How much more?” Katherine asked cautiously.

  Marjorie gave her friend a look of apt misery. “Quite a bit more. And it’s my fault.”

  “You didn’t,” Katherine said on a gleeful rush. “Oh, and after all the lectures you gave me. Shame on you.”

  Marjorie was momentarily confused before she realized what she’d said. “No, no. We didn’t do that. But we came very close.” She let out another gusty sigh. “I went to see him to discuss Lady Caroline.”

  “Alone?”

  “I brought my maid, of course. But I didn’t only go to discuss Lady Caroline. That was merely the pretense of my visit. His servant brought Alice to the kitchens for tea and then led me to his study and he was, um, rather unclothed.”

  “He was naked?”

  “Very nearly so. He wore only his drawers. And his injury, it’s just awful, poor man. I should have left, but I didn’t. And then, well, his thing, his man thing, it was . . .”

  “Big?”

  Marjorie buried her head in her hands and nodded, mortified beyond all being that she was having such a conversation. But there wasn’t another person on earth she could tell this to.

  “You’re not going to believe what I did, what I said. I still can’t believe it. It’s so unlike me. So against everything I’ve been brought up to be.”

  “What did you do?” Katherine said breathlessly, and Marjorie could tell she was caught between horror and curiosity.

  “I asked to see it.” Marjorie looked up at the blue sky and shook her head. “Can you believe I would say such a thing?”

  “No,” Katherine said with a small laugh, “I can’t. And did he? Let you?”

  “No, not at first. He demanded his trousers. He was in such pain he was unable to get them himself. They were across the room, you see. I got them and wouldn’t give them to him.” She said this last in a mortified whisper. “Then he did as I asked. Quickly. I called foul and he, well, he dropped his drawers so I could get a better look. Odd things, aren’t they?”

  “Men?”

  “No, their man parts.”

  “Oh, yes, quite,” Katherine said, blushing.

  “Then things got a bit out of hand and we kissed and . . . other things. The next day, I accompanied him and Lady Caroline to the zoo and he acted as if nothing had happened between us at all.”

  “He is a cad.”

  “I know!” Marjorie walked a bit farther, hands fisted by her sides, before spinning about to face her friend. “And even though I know he’s a cad—and believe me I do know it—I still find myself thinking about him and wishing he felt even the smallest bit of what I feel for him.” She crossed her arms angrily. “I love him. I love a cad.” She threw her arms up in surrender. “To make matters worse, my mother wants me married this year. To Lord Shannock.”

  “Who is Lord Shannock?”

  “My father’s old friend and neighbor. He’s onerous. And old. He’s in his fifties.”

  Katherine touched her wrist. “Can your mother force you to marry a man you don’t wish to?”

  “Of course. She can throw me from the house, and then where would I go? And don’t you dare say to you.” Katherine snapped her mouth shut. “Besides, I don’t like going against her. She has been so patient with me. I’m nearly twenty-four and have had all kinds of opportunity to marry. Now I fear it’s too late.”

  Katherine let out a laugh. “Yes, because you are so ancient and pruney.”

  Marjorie couldn’t bring herself to laugh. “Most women my age are well married and mothers by now. You’re married and you’re younger than I. Don’t think that didn’t stick in my mother’s craw. My unmarried state is something my own mother points out to me daily. I see girls like Lady Caroline and they seem so very young.” She looked at her brother and smiled sadly. “I didn’t think I’d ever marry. I was convinced of it. But now . . .”

  Katherine followed Marjorie’s eyes. “If George marries, there is nothing to stop you from marrying. Is that it?”

  Marjorie nodded. “I suppose I thought he wouldn’t find anyone who understood him as I do. But I do believe he’s found someone who understands him more.”

  The young couple turned just then, their faces alight with pure happiness, and waited for Marjorie and Katherine to catch up to them.

  “Marjorie,” George blurted, “I’m going to talk to Lilianne’s father this very afternoon. We hope to marry.”

  “That’s wonderful,” she said, grabbing her brother’s hands and giving them an affectionate tug. Then she did the same with Miss Cavendish. “How wonderful it will be to have a sister.” Miss Cavendish gave her a shy smile before looking at George, and it was more obvious than ever that she adored him.

  “May I speak with Miss Cavendish privately a moment, George?”

  Marjorie could have asked her brother to jump over the moon and she had no doubt he’d at least attempt it. She’d never seen her brother so utterly happy.

  Marjorie continued down the path, Miss Cavendish by her side. “I love my brother wholeheartedly, Miss Cavendish, and I would not ever want anything to hurt him.”

  “I would never hurt your brother, my lady. I love him. And please call me Lilianne.”

  “Yes, I can see that you do. How do your parents feel about this courtship?”

  “They approve,” she said, with just enough hesitance that Marjorie’s worry grew. “They know George is a bit different from other men his age. But they trust my judgment. I think they fear for me, that I will regret my decision, that I don’t know my own heart. That what I feel for George is the same as I would feel for a poor, wounded puppy. But it’s not like that at all.”

  Marjorie wondered if the girl was just fooling herself. “George can be difficult at times. He’s very set in his ways and can spend hours working on his research. You will not be able to pull him away and it can be frustrating.”

  “I understand him. I’m very much like him in many ways. I think that’s why we suit. I have never felt comfortable with girls my own age and I’m frightened to tears of most men. But when I met George, it was like meeting the second half of myself, as if he were this missing piece of me that fell into place.”

  Marjorie’s eyes burned from unshed tears and she impulsively grabbed Lilianne’s hand. “That was beautifully said. There are very few of us who find that person. I’m so happy for you and George that you have.”

  As they walked back to the hotel, the young couple chattering happily, Katherine said, “I don’t think you understand the seriousness of what happened between you and Mr. Norris. Do you know what would have occurred had you been discovered? Scandal, that’s what. You would have been compromised and Mr. Norris would have been forced to marry you. And that would have been disastrous. Just look what happened with Graham and me. Found out, shamed, forced to marry. And living happily ever after.”

  “I don’t find you at all amusing,” Marjorie said dryly. She had said very much the same thing—without the happily-ever-after part—to Katherine not all that long ago. She’d suspected the couple had been acting indiscreetly and had warned Katherine that a forced marriage would be the worst outcome po
ssible. “Yours was an entirely different situation,” Marjorie said, sniffing.

  “Oh? How so?”

  “Lord Avonleigh was clearly intended for another.”

  “They weren’t engaged. At least not at first,” Katherine added a bit sheepishly. “Though when we were caught together, he was engaged.”

  “See? Entirely different.”

  “Should you wait until Mr. Norris is engaged before you tell him you love him and throw yourself at him? It worked for me.” Katherine let out a delighted giggle.

  “You are ridiculous,” Marjorie said, but couldn’t help smiling a bit. “And it is different. Avonleigh loved you.”

  “You don’t know how Mr. Norris feels about you.”

  “Of course I do. He’s asked me to help him court another woman. If he were in love with me, would he ask such a thing?”

  Katherine frowned. “I don’t see how he could. Perhaps you’re right. But if he does love you, being compromised could be the perfect solution.”

  Marjorie shook her head. “He doesn’t, so it makes no sense to even think about such things.” But for the rest of the walk back to Brown’s, it was all she could think of.

  “You know, Charles, your situation isn’t that much different from mine,” Avonleigh said, lazily twirling his brandy.

  The two men sat in Charles’s study, enjoying their brandy and each other’s company. Graham was fascinated by the artifacts Charles had collected over the years he’d been gone from England, but more fascinated by the stories that accompanied each item. Charles’s glass was empty and he gave a longing look to the half-full bottle on the sideboard. “Oh?”

  “You need a wife—”

  “Want a wife. Far different.”

  “Fine, you want a wife, though I can’t fathom why you think that’s so. Still, it all worked out for me in the end.”

  Charles gave in to temptation and heaved himself up to retrieve more brandy.

  “I wonder how you would feel had you married that Von Haupt chit instead of Miss Wright.”

  “I daresay I’d feel quite different, at least about marriage. The money, now, that would have been grand.”

  Charles let out a sharp laugh. “I have found, sir, that money cannot buy what one really wants. A leg, for example. Or a title.”

  “What need do you have of a title? It’s a mantle around one’s neck, I say. Duty and worry and worry and duty.”

  “If I had a title, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I’d be well on my way to be married right now.” He cursed under his breath. “Where’s John when I need him? He’s much better about this sort of thing.”

  “You mean he’s better at thinking like a woman? He’s counting all his children. They just had their fifth, you know. Good God.”

  Charles smiled. He’d come from a family of three and had always been a bit jealous of larger families. He couldn’t imagine being an only child. The loneliness must be crushing. Perhaps one made up for lack of siblings with friends.

  “For God’s sake, get that ridiculous grin off your face,” Graham said in mock anger. “If you didn’t have a beard, I’d think you were a woman.”

  Charles poured a large splash into his glass. “Why, because I want to marry?”

  “No, because you want to fall in love.”

  “You did.”

  That shut Avonleigh up for a time. “Didn’t do it on purpose. Just happened. In fact, I didn’t want it to happen at all. Wasn’t a very pleasant thing, you know.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Avonleigh leaned back in his chair and gave his old friend an even look. “Do you, now. Lady Caroline? No, not her. Too chatty. Too young. Let’s see, who does Charles love now?” He tapped his head as if massaging his brain for an answer. “Title. Woman. Woman who wants title. Man who doesn’t have one.” He snapped his fingers. “Lady Marjorie.”

  “You should work for Scotland Yard,” Charles said dryly. “Of course Lady Marjorie. But she has no interest in a man without a title and her mother would kill me if I courted her. Have you met that woman?” Charles gave a mock shudder.

  “You’re afraid of her mother?”

  “Who isn’t? I do believe it’s one of the reasons the poor girl is not married.”

  Graham smiled, his eyes on his swirling brandy. “You know,” he said softly, “there’s more than one way to propose to a girl who’s entirely unsuited to you.”

  Charles furrowed his brow and walked back to his chair. “What do you mean?”

  “I would never condone such a thing, believe me. But it worked out quite well for Katherine and me. Quite well indeed.”

  “She’d murder me if I compromised her.”

  “Lady Summerfield?”

  “No, Lady Marjorie. I could never put her in that position. I care for her far too much to bring that sort of scandal upon her.”

  Graham placed his still full glass aside. “You misunderstand what I’m saying. What if you both were agreeable to being compromised?”

  Charles was stunned by the suggestion. “You mean a planned compromise? One in which we’d both be culpable? She’d never agree.”

  “Would you?”

  Charles was silent for a long minute. Would he forge such a plan if Marjorie agreed to it? It did seem quite like the only way they could be married with her mother’s reluctant blessing. Still, the scandal. Charles studied his friend, his very happy, married friend, who had suffered no ill consequences from society for his forced marriage. Indeed, even the most hardened old curmudgeons looked at the match fondly because it was so obvious the two of them were happy. “If she agreed, then, yes, I would. Happily. But Marjorie would never agree to such a thing.”

  “And how do you know she wouldn’t agree to the plan?”

  “For one, she told me just the other day that she hated me,” Charles said, chuckling. “So you see, I’m fairly certain her heart is not engaged. No more than any other woman I’ve managed to foolishly fall in love with. I swear I’m cursed.”

  “I wouldn’t be so hasty in your assessment of Lady Marjorie’s feelings toward you. Something Katherine said to me makes me think she wouldn’t at all be opposed.”

  That brightened Charles’s mood a bit. “Something Lady Marjorie said?”

  “Yes.” He tapped his head again. “What was it? It was rather obscure and open to interpretation, of course. Oh, yes, I have it. She told me Lady Marjorie was in love with you.”

  Now it was Charles’s turn to set aside his glass. “What? Did Lady Marjorie actually say something to your wife? Or is it supposition?”

  “Supposition. But when she accused Lady Marjorie of having such feelings, she did not deny it completely.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Actually, she did deny it,” Graham admitted, “but Katherine is convinced she wasn’t telling the truth. Apparently she couldn’t keep her eyes off you the other night at the opera. And since you cannot ask for her hand with any hope that her mother would agree to the match, you really have no alternative, do you?”

  Charles picked up his glass again and took a deep swallow. No, actually, he could think of no other way for them to marry. But Marjorie would have to wholeheartedly agree. And if she loved him as he loved her, then it was the perfect solution.

  “You what?”

  “I’m engaged, Mother.”

  Marjorie’s heart nearly broke at the way her brother was standing there, looking unkempt and uncertain, his head down. He was a different man when he stood before their mother.

  “What girl would say yes to you? Some greedy little thing only interested in your title, no doubt. I can tell you right now, I’ll put a stop to it.”

  “It’s Miss Cavendish, Mother.”

  “The squire’s daughter?” She let out an ugly laugh. “Oh, ho, they do have high aspirations, don’t they?”

  “She loves me,” George said, lifting his head in a small show of defiance. His cheeks were flushed and Marjorie wanted nothing more than to hav
e this interview over. “She told me. She loves me. I went to her father and he gave us his blessing.”

  “I’m sure he did. He’s not a fool. I can tell you one thing, young man, you will not marry that girl. She doesn’t love you, she loves the title, the idea of being an earl’s wife. I will not allow it. It will not happen.”

  Marjorie couldn’t take another word. “You cannot stop him, Mother,” she said gently. Despite the awful things her mother was saying, it was clear Dorothea was concerned that George would be hurt. Frankly, Marjorie was surprised her mother was championing her son so ardently. “He is of age and is the head of this family. You cannot prevent him from marrying whom he chooses. I understand your concerns, Mother, truly I do. For I had them myself.” She shot George a look of apology. “But I firmly believe Miss Cavendish loves George, that she would marry him even if he were a commoner. And you know you have no power over George and no say in whom he marries.”

  Dorothea looked at her daughter as if she’d sprouted a second head. “How dare you contradict me in front of your brother? Women who want something can be very clever. Just look at your American friend.”

  “You like Katherine.”

  “I admire her cleverness, if that’s what you mean. One must, I suppose. But I will not allow an equally clever woman to marry my son for self-serving reasons. A squire’s daughter, indeed. Really, George, why not simply marry a shop girl or a scullery maid? Certainly not.” She looked at George with sympathy. “It’s best that you get any ideas of marriage out of your head.”

  “No, Mother. I love Lilianne and I will marry her. I have her parents’ blessing. I would like yours, but if you cannot give it, I will marry Miss Cavendish. I love her. We will marry September twentieth of this year. I love her and I will marry her.”

  “Don’t get hysterical, George,” Dorothea said with a long-suffering sigh. “You know it gives me a headache.”

  George clenched his fists by his sides, and Marjorie knew he was struggling to remain calm. “I love Miss Cavendish and I will marry her. We’re to be—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, shut up,” Dorothea screamed. “Leave me, both of you, now. You’ve given me a headache.”