Spinster's Gambit

by Gwendolynn Thomas

  Spinster's Gambit

  A Regency Romance

  by

  Gwendolynn Thomas

  Chocolate Elephant LLC

  Published by Chocolate Elephant LLC (USA),

  101 Western Ave Suite 27, Cambridge, MA 02139, USA

  First Printing, February 2014

  Distributed in the United States of America

  Copyright Chocolate Elephant LLC, 2014

  All Rights Reserved

  Publisher's Note: This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination and are not intended to resemble any business establishments or persons, living or dead.

  Cover Design by Melody Simmons from EBookIndieCovers

  To Rhiannan, who looked up from the couch and wrote the first line

  CHAPTER ONE

  "That animal is in desperate need of a shotgun," Daniel Holcombe commented, taking a sip of his brandy and glancing at the street cat meowing piteously at his study window.

  "Come now," his sister scolded without looking up from her embroidery, "surely a pistol would suffice."

  Daniel grinned and finished off his drink. Jacoline had always been the type of woman a man would need to fall in love with to marry. Too rich for the working classes and too witty by half for the fortune seekers and the domineering, she was left with only the tiny, quickly dwindling pool of actually decent men to choose from. And they'd all proven themselves too foolish to deserve her anyway; they'd never even seemed to notice her.

  Daniel got up to refill his glass and the awkward silence settled back over the room. Over the years they'd both quietly come to accept that she would be staying in his household, but now Lord Candrow had begun courting her. An elderly, domineering spendthrift and daft to boot. Splendid.

  “I suppose this means all of society knows I'm desperate,” she said, leaning forward and reaching for his full glass. He handed it to her and poured himself another.

  “You could marry him,” Daniel said, returning to his chair. Jac shifted back in her seat, her mouth twisting. Daniel sighed, not liking the idea any more than she did. He would have trouble giving her away without punching the baron first, which would hardly be conducive to an elegant wedding. And she deserved one.

  “You do have some chance at a better offer, yet,” he lied, trying to console her. Jacoline snorted.

  “Lord Candrow looks like the unfortunate offspring of a toad and an overstuffed loveseat. How much better, precisely, are you suggesting I aim for?”

  And still she sat primly, like any other woman, holding an embroidery hoop in her thin fingers. If it weren't for her sharp tongue and her wit, she'd be married by now, he was sure of it.

  “Someone deaf, perhaps,” Daniel offered. Jac smiled, her teeth flashing. She was not a beautiful woman, at the end of the day, though her dark hair combined with her luminous green eyes gave her a striking look. She was too thin, too sharp edged. She looked like she belonged in a finishing school with her hair pulled back taut, not laughing in a dance.

  “Very well, perhaps not that, but then what are you going to do?” Daniel winced again as soon as the question left his lips. That hadn't been gracefully worded.

  “I haven't a notion,” Jacoline replied, smoothing her skirts with a gentle hand and returning to the small piece of linen in her embroidery loop. She was trying to conceal it but the subject hurt, he noted. “Tell me truly, Daniel, do you wish for me to marry?” she asked, finally meeting his gaze. She looked five years his elder. Her eyes were dim with too much disappointment. Few would believe she was only six and twenty, barely four years his junior. Daniel opened his mouth to respond but Jac held up a hand, her eyes sharp again. “Assuming no one better than Lord Candrow,” she ordered, cutting off his meaningless reassurance before he was able to utter it.

  Daniel sighed, propping his elbows on his desk, and glanced over his sister. There were a great number of things a man could do in the privacy of his own home that were not acceptable in a shared residence. That said, the reality was that the estate in Abingdon and the town house here in London were as much Jacoline’s as his. It made little sense that the law permitted him to thrust her out of it, as morality certainly did not. He was fortunate that she was immensely better company than most of the people he could think to join him.

  “I have mentioned that I do not plan to marry,” Daniel stated, raising a shoulder casually. Jac nodded, still looking uncertain. “Truly, Jac, what would I do here on my own that is not either extraordinarily unsafe or illegal?” he asked, grinning easily. Jac smiled but shook her head, apparently unconvinced.

  “That’s assuming you won’t marry,” she stated. Daniel threw back a gulp of his brandy.

  “You are welcome here,” he promised. Jac nodded, her gaze caught on the room’s tall bookcases. She had read far more of the volumes there than he, Daniel knew.

  “All the same, we must answer this, if I do not marry, what else am I to do with my time?” she asked without looking at him.

  “You could go fencing with me,” he joked, trying his best to brighten her expression. “I'd finally be able to best you at something.”

  Jacoline smiled tightly and looked back at him again, no doubt thinking back to their chess game earlier that evening. If Daniel even had the pride to call it a game. Her eyes lit up suddenly in a way he swore he hadn't seen in years.

  Uh oh. The last time he'd seen that look was at seven years old when they'd thought to ride a snow sleigh down the front stairs. That hadn’t ended well.

  “It occurs to me,” she said slowly, laying her needlework down in her lap and taking up her glass, “that I have very little to lose.”

  Daniel felt his eyes widen.

  Bring her to your fencing hall? Your sister! he heard his mother screeching from the grave.

  “You have a point,” he said, feeling a childish grin stretch across his face as he pretended to consider the idea. Surely she wasn't serious. Jac didn't smile back. Daniel set his glass back down on his desk too quickly, banging it slightly against the wood.

  “You realize this is a terrible idea,” he commented, knowing it was useless. Jac smiled at him finally, her face brightening.

  “I didn't say it was an idea,” she replied, setting aside her glass and grinning wickedly. Daniel wanted to hide his face in his hands. This was not going to end well, he thought, but Jacoline's face sobered and she sighed, reaching to swirl her brandy around in its glass. “We were quite a bit less boring as children, were we not?” she asked, looking disappointed and tired again.

  Daniel watched her slowly deflate back into her chair, her eyes dimming. He’d been gone for too many years, after he’d left his schooling. He’d left her on her own, and she’d grown into a formidable woman. Unfortunately, one no one wanted to marry or even truly befriend. She’d stood before all of society and watched them whisper and gossip about her, her eyes shining with intelligence and amusement, but she had not been able to withstand the years so well as they’d carelessly passed her by.

  Jac straightened and raised her head, her eyes burning with determination. Daniel blinked. He had not seen that light in too many years.

  “Sod it all,” she said and Daniel barked out a laugh, his heartbeat starting to pick up. He glanced back at her, checking to see if she had changed her mind in the brief moment, before glancing at the half-empty bottle of brandy waiting for him.

  He would have to find her a man’s breeches.

  “I’m going to need something more to drink,” he said.

  ~~//~~

  Aspen strode though Vanderford's hallway, following the sound of music to lead him into the ball. Women looked away as he entered, surely attempting
not to stare, and he ignored them, striding through the collection of skirts to make his way toward Lord Holcombe. At least his friend never seemed to tire of his company, as hellish as it often was. Lord but the man was preternaturally good-humored. Still Aspen was grateful for his presence tonight. He needed advice.

  “I need to get married,” he said without preamble. Daniel blinked at him for a moment before his expression changed. He bit his lip and widened his eyes, looking stricken.

  “Oh I'm honored, Aspen, but I don't know. I'd always planned on marrying for love,” he answered, smiling into Aspen’s eyes. Aspen glared and Daniel grinned at him, unabashed. Aspen turned to survey the room of dancing, jewel-coated women. They all looked the same to him, he thought, and cursed himself. Daniel must have picked up on his foul mood as he straightened seriously. “It should not be so difficult, truly. Many of the women here would make you an excellent wife. What more are you looking for?”

  Aspen's gaze scoured the room. He'd been introduced to nigh on every woman here. There were ones who spoke to his chin, some who looked somewhere beyond his shoulder and some who stared at their shoes and didn't speak at all. There was not a truly ineligible one in the bunch, except perhaps that Faring girl who was apparently as catty as she was beautiful. Of the rest, he was almost guaranteed the lady's hand after a proper courtship period. There weren't many fathers who would turn down a duke, regardless of their feelings toward him.

  “I don't want a single one of them,” he said firmly, turning toward the exit though he knew he could not leave the ball. He had to choose a girl and start his farce of a courtship.

  “You don't even know them,” Daniel admonished, his optimism still not failing him. “And Lord knows you need a woman,” he added.

  “I need an heir, not a woman,” Aspen growled. He was thirty five years old. It was time.

  “Aspen, did you ever ask your father where heirs come from? When a man and a woman are married under the eyes of-”

  Aspen's glare shut the man up. Usually he enjoyed Daniel's wit, if not his constant cheerfulness. Tonight, however, he wanted nothing more than a woman who'd meet his damn eyes. He’d hoped for a lively, intelligent wife once. Now he’d settle for 'minimally irritating'.

  Aspen let out a quiet snort at his thoughts.

  “You're right, I need a woman,” he joked and Daniel barked out a laugh.

  “Go dance,” Daniel urged him. Aspen hesitated, glancing around the room. “Oh for hell’s sake, go stand by a girl’s mother and wait for her to accost you. You’ll barely have to say a word and you’ll have the girl engaged,” Daniel pressed. Aspen cursed his pride, gazing around the room full of noisy, tittering people. Beneath the din was the vague suggestion of violin music, but he could barely make it out. “To the devil with it,” Daniel muttered under his breath, before turning to the nearest two women beside them in the crowd. Aspen felt his eyes widen, recognizing Lady Plainsworth and Lady Musgrave. Lady Plainsworth’s eldest daughter was already betrothed and her younger not yet out but Lady Musgrave was the mother of six girls, as he remembered, and four of them were already in society. The eldest Musgrave daughter, a blond, limp looking child, was standing beside her, pulling at her gloves and looking horrendously bored despite her mother's best efforts.

  “I am so sorry to interrupt, ladies. Please, do scold me if it’s anything important,” Daniel said, smiling widely as the two mothers turned to him expectantly. “Lady Musgrave, I do apologize profusely, but I could not remember, have I introduced my good friend, his grace the Duke of Aspen to you?” Daniel asked. Lady Musgrave’s smile widened until she was practically beaming at the viscount before she set her gaze on Aspen. Aspen bowed to her and Lady Plainsworth, wondering how on earth he would escape from the women now.

  “We have indeed been introduced, sir!” Lady Musgrave said to Daniel, still smiling as she curtsied. “Your Grace, it is a pleasure to see you here,” she stated, her eyes jerking quickly to her daughter. “And please, in case I have forgotten, let me be so bold as to introduce you to my daughter Marylyn. Marylyn, His Grace the Duke of Aspen.”

  Aspen bowed sharply and the girl’s eyes darted over his face. He smiled tightly and she curtsied, looking rather intimidated now.

  “Miss Musgrave. Would you do me the honor of dancing the next with me?” he asked, doing his best not to roll his eyes when she looked at her mother for confirmation. Lady Musgrave smiled rather ferally at the girl, her eyes wide and her jaw locked. The girl glanced back at him, her lip curled slightly, and accepted his hand, likely rather grateful for their gloves.

  Any wife would get used to him in time, Aspen told himself, joining the line of men on the floor for the next dance. Over the years, she would become quite accustomed to the scars as the rest of his family had done. The girl fixated on his neck, not even pretending to be unaffected. So at least she was unique, he thought wryly, catching Daniel’s eye over her shoulder. Daniel shrugged subtly, looking rather apologetic. Aspen glanced back at his dance partner as they stepped away from each other to see that her gaze had moved to his chest. Obviously she did not know that his scars were at their worst exactly where she was staring, that the skin bubbled and stretched painfully there beneath his shirt and waistcoat. Polite society was, of course, only acquainted with his face and hands, but that was quite damning enough.

  He deposited the Musgrave chit back with her cluster of concerned looking friends and started back toward Daniel. His friend had been joined by his sister, a Miss Jacoline Holcombe Aspen had met multiple times before. The two siblings were smirking together beside the punch bowl, apparently sharing some private joke. He would be unwelcome, he thought, but approached them all the same. He knew the moment he withdrew to Vanderford’s billiards room he’d never get his courage up to come out again until the musicians had packed up and left with the rest of the party.

  “Aspen, you remember my sister Jacoline,” Daniel introduced, gesturing to her when Aspen neared them. Miss Holcombe was a tall dignified woman with chestnut hair that had yet to gray, although the lines around her eyes belied her age. She was one of the unfortunate women in society who was not beautiful and not rich enough to overcome it. Still, as a viscount’s sister it was odd that she’d remained unwed.

  “I do. A pleasure,” he said, bowing. The woman smiled back blandly, looking off over his right shoulder. Aspen opened his mouth to start a conversation, only to clamp it shut again, unsure what to say in front of an unfamiliar woman. Daniel smirked at him, understanding in his eyes. Aspen glared back.

  “Excuse me,” Miss Holcombe muttered, curtsying politely before stepping back and turning away from them.

  I was rude, Aspen thought, seeing Daniel wince again. Aspen turned to apologize to the spinster but Miss Holcombe had disappeared into the crowd. Aspen sighed, secretly grateful, and turned back to his friend. Daniel raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Have you noted the recent rise in dairy prices?” Aspen asked, hoping for a change of subject. Daniel frowned, looking interested. Most of the Holcombe lands were involved in the dairy industry. This could be good news for him.

  “Not at all,” he answered and Aspen nodded, pleased, and continued.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “You do realize you are going to ruin our reputation,” Daniel commented, his voice sounding from near Jac’s bed.

  “It's that or marry the baron,” she replied seriously, pulling off her dress and wishing for a moment she could trust Sarah with this adventure. Still, as much as she had faith in her maid’s discretion, the fewer people who knew about this harebrained scheme the better. A pair of green breeches were tossed suddenly over her dressing screen and landed with an unceremonious flop over her velvet shoes. Jacoline huffed out a breath and folded the breeches onto the chair beside her. The petticoat, corset, and stockings came off after and Jac stood in her undergarments, staring at the breeches, realizing suddenly that there was no way the split legs could go on over her chemise. “P
erhaps this is ill-thought,” she murmured, picking up the breeches to inspect them. They were beautifully made, the stitching so small and the thread so well dyed that the seam was almost invisible. There was a buttoned flap in the front that Jac didn’t want to think too hard about.

  “It's that or marry the baron,” Daniel replied, sounding amused. Jac swallowed, her heart starting to race.

  “I am utterly bored with this life, Daniel,” she said, running a hand down the split fabric that was so entirely designed for a man. She stripped off her chemise quickly and threw it onto the growing pile of clothing she'd left on the floor, only to pull the tailored breeches over her legs. “My word, these are less comfortable than a broken corset,” she complained, frowning at the tight feeling around her legs and hips.

  “I wouldn't know,” Daniel called from behind the screen and Jac could practically hear his grin. They'd sent Sarah to buy new hair ribbons to keep her out of the house and Daniel had spirited in all the necessary garments. The breeches fit her height - a fact which certainly added to the mystery of her brother’s social life. Apparently he’d had the opportunity to steal a shorter man’s breeches in the two weeks since she’d thought up this ridiculous pastime. Jac pulled on the shirt, tailcoat, and waistcoat left folded over the dressing screen. They fit stiffly around her chest, weighing heavily on her shoulders.

  “What on earth would Father say? He’d turn in his grave to be sure,” Jac said, pausing for a moment as she considered how to fold the cuffs on her sleeves.

  “Let him fret about it while you learn to spar. It's only the once, and then you can retire to your horrid spinsterhood and all its conventional embroidering with at least one good memory for it,” Daniel replied. Jac laughed and bundled her gown out of the way to sit down on the dressing chair. She pulled on the stockings that stopped at her knee and buckled the breeches over them, hoping her heart would slow before it pounded its way out of her chest. Daniel had provided her with a man's boots, though how he'd found such small ones she had no idea. Despite their small size, the shoes gaped badly behind her heels. Jac pushed herself up, feeling about as properly dressed as she would standing bare to the world on Kensington Square.