Smitten by the Spinster

by Cassidy Cayman

  Lizzie apologized for her delay and blamed it on a headache, which she assured everyone was gone and they mustn’t fuss. Her headache actually still pulsed painfully behind her eyes and she was starving. She nibbled dejectedly on the biscuits that were mostly being ignored by everyone else, and tried to pour herself some tea without rattling the cup.

  Lady Amberly was droning on about her country residence to Lady Hollingsborn, who in turn blathered on about her own, dropping a weighty hint at a possible afternoon excursion, which of course they were to be included. Lizzie wagered it wouldn’t be a party worth having if Catie didn’t attend, and wondered meanly how many rooms now stood empty of furniture in order to fund it.

  “That sounds marvelous,” Lady Amberly said, fluttering her fan.

  Lizzie felt a bit sorry for her. She only had one son, who was off in the military somewhere, completely uninterested in settling down any time soon. It seemed a niece was a good enough replacement for a daughter, and Lady Amberly, who’d been nervous of coming to town for the first time in so long, now basked in all of Catie’s reflected glory. When the invitation actually came, Lady Amberly would most likely be too overcome with anxiety to accept it.

  The butler cleared his throat in the doorway, announcing yet another visitor, Mr. Oliver Cliffstone. Lizzie found it interesting and a bit disconcerting to see Catie’s eyes light up when he entered, and she sighed inwardly, not counting on competition for her front-runner. She made a point to find out more about him.

  The first thing she noticed, with some amusement, was that he wasn’t shy at all, and sat right next to Catie, effectively blocking her from easily conversing with Edwin. If her head hadn’t hurt so much, it would have been fun to watch, as Edwin’s face turned an unattractive shade of purple. When Catie immediately began animatedly talking to Oliver, Edwin looked as if he might stand up and throw down his glove.

  “I enjoyed our stroll the other day, Miss Catriona,” Oliver said to her. He had a sweet face and was closer to Catie’s age, probably twenty at the oldest, and Lizzie thought he might end up quite handsome when he filled out a bit. “I pray you’ll make it a habit to walk there again?”

  “I am verra much hoping to take another turn in the park,” Catie answered, glancing hopefully at her aunt and then Lizzie.

  “Then we must set it up immediately,” Oliver said. “Merely name the time and date and I shall be there.”

  Lizzie’s glance flew to Edwin, whose eyes shot daggers at Oliver’s back. Catie nearly swooned at Oliver’s attention. It was clear to everyone who she favored at the moment. Lizzie knew she had to take control of the situation, confirmed by Lady Hollingsborn staring pointedly at her.

  “I-I think that sounds …” Catie trailed off.

  “Of course, daily exercise is important for all young people,” Lady Amberly filled the space. “I take great pleasure in the outdoors when I’m at home. The city air seems quite the opposite of healthful though.”

  “The city air is quite poor,” Edwin agreed, leaning around Oliver’s back to try to catch Catie’s eye. “My covered carriage is at your service, Miss Catie, whenever you’d care to see the sights.”

  Lizzie almost choked that he used her nickname so boldly, and when Catie answered that taking a carriage defeated the purpose of exercise, she nearly laughed out loud at his discomfort. She had to get it together before she lost Lady Hollingsborn’s offer. Although, the way Edwin looked at Catie, it seemed that he might actually be interested in her for more than just her money. He was a competitive sort apparently, for as soon as Oliver showed up and tossed his hat in the ring, the prize seemed all the shinier.

  Before she could manage to agree that a carriage ride sounded lovely, Quinn filled up the doorway, stealing the small shred of mental capacity she’d been trying to nurture by sipping her tea. What she wouldn’t give for a Bloody Mary and a plate full of bacon right now.

  Instead she got assaulted by a combination of nerves and vague embarrassment, not sure exactly how embarrassed she should be about what happened last night. Quinn entered the room and his quick smirk in her direction told her the answer was plenty. Plenty embarrassed. Damn Scot. He probably mixed his oats with whiskey.

  His eyes were clear and sparkling with knowledge as he leveled his gaze on her before greeting everyone else. Oliver jumped up to shake his hand, seeming more at ease in his presence than the first time they met in the park. Edwin must not have met Quinn at the party the night before and was plainly ill at ease with the realization that his target had a massive, steely-eyed older brother.

  Quinn quite irritatingly played up his fierce facade, towering over Edwin and probably nearly breaking his hand when Lady Amberly made the introduction.

  Things went downhill from there. Oliver valiantly continued on as if the giant spectre of Quinn didn’t hover menacingly near, but Edwin was badly thrown, much to his mother and Lizzie’s disgust. Really, if he was going to marry the girl, this was going to be a regular visitor to his home.

  “So these are suitors for my sister’s hand,” Quinn said quietly, sitting down shockingly near to her. “How’s your head?”

  She turned to him with an arrogant look. “My head is quite well, thank you for the unnecessary concern. And yes, it looks as if Catie is already quite popular.”

  “She seems to like that one. We’ll have to keep an eye on him.” He turned to her and let his gaze roam over her face.

  She felt warm that he’d included her as a partner in keeping an eye on his sister, then felt ridiculous. It was precisely what she was getting paid to do, not any special bond she’d forged with him. She’d never gone so brain dead around any man before and needed to stop doing it now. She forced herself to make eye contact, thinking if she could just acclimate herself to his extreme good looks she might not get so flustered around him. It would also help if he stopped being likeable.

  God, he was so unreasonable. Where was the brutish mountain man who could barely string two intelligible words together? How had he turned out to be a charming man who loved to read and dance, saved her life from a mad hooligan and carried her drunken ass up three flights of stairs, then kindly enquired after her health the next day. Well, that hadn’t been all that kind. He was clearly teasing her a bit with that.

  Oh crap. Did she like Quinn Ferguson? It was one thing to be wildly attracted to him, any woman with a pulse would at least be a little attracted to such a man. But did she just now start to like him as a person? If so, she needed to knock it the hell off. And quickly.

  “Mr. Cliffstone comes from a nice family and is closer to Catie’s age,” she said. Why was she defending Oliver? She needed to be leading them in Edwin’s direction. “That’s probably why she seems more comfortable around him,” she continued, trying to salvage her mistake. “Lord Hollingsborn is better suited, I think, in that he’s more settled. Serious about finding a wife.”

  Quinn grimaced as if the whole notion turned his stomach and she felt a pang of longing. She missed being part of a family. When she’d met Trent, she’d thrown herself into that relationship, certain that being with a stable man was what she needed after her grandma died. He’d been even busier than her, giving her time to work on her career, but very little of anything that might have resembled a family.

  “She’s taken to it all like a fish to water,” Quinn said wistfully. “She looks so like her ma did, but I always thought of her as one of us.”

  “Don’t be daft,” Lizzie said, putting her hand on his again. Her heart hurt for him and for her own situation. And she was hungover and hungry and lacking sleep. She reminded herself to be careful, but didn’t take her hand away. Poor man had just lost his brother, and now faced losing his sister, too. He could use a little comfort. “She’s as Scottish as she is English, and anyone she chooses will be wrapped around her finger. Perhaps she’ll persuade them to move up there.”

  Quinn furrowed his brow in disbelief, then glanced at her hand, which she guiltily slid back into her la
p. “I suppose I shall have to be nice to them,” he said, looking even queasier at that concept.

  “No,” she assured him. “Keep giving them dirty looks and looming over them. It’s fun to watch them squirm.”

  “Ah well, for ye then, I’ll be extra fierce.” He leaned closer and smiled. “I could probably make one of them cry if that’ll amuse ye.”

  “Perhaps another day. Catie seems a bit tired today. Better not make it worse.” Lizzie had been trying to catch Catie’s eye for the past several minutes, but after the initial greeting, she’d not looked her way once. She seemed frazzled, her attention bouncing back and forth between the two warring suitors. It was probably all she could do to keep up.

  “Aye, she’s angry with me again, and I dinna know why. During breakfast she barely spoke a word to me.”

  “It’s hard work to be charming and lovely all the time. She’s most likely not wanting to waste any of it on you,” Lizzie said, trying to keep a straight face.

  She didn’t know why she should like teasing him so much. Even still feeling like crap and through her worry about Catie’s mood and prospects, even being driven almost mad with fear that Lord Ashford wouldn’t be able to get her home, she still wanted to make Quinn smile. Or scowl, which is what he did.

  “She must have a verra small reserve then, for I got nothing,” he said. “How long until one of them proposes and we can be done with all this?”

  Lizzie clapped her hand over her mouth at his audacity. Not two minutes earlier he’d been bemoaning losing her to an Englishman and now he couldn’t wait to be rid of her.

  Three weeks or less, she hoped. For some reason she wanted to see their story through, see Catie make a good match and gain her inheritance before she went back to her own time. She looked up at Quinn’s face some more, to try to get used to him, she told herself, but also to commit him to memory.

  He grew serious. “I suppose I should at least know a bit about them,” he said begrudgingly, nodding at the suitors. “What can ye tell me? I’ve already got them mixed up.”

  She looked over at them. She’d at first been impressed at Oliver’s fortitude in Quinn’s presence, but the grim solemnity in his dark blue eyes told her he’d be wise to watch his step where Catie was concerned. Edwin was smart to be wary around Quinn. It was clear he would settle for nothing less than his sister’s complete happiness.

  “Well, the taller one is Edwin—” she began.

  “The one who wouldna meet my eye?” he interrupted.

  “Yes. Lord Edwin Hollingsborn will be a marquis one day. Two very good properties.”

  “So, we wait for the father to drop before they marry or can they get it done with before?” he asked with a frown at Edwin’s back.

  Edwin seemed to know he was under scrutiny and stiffened his spine, still trying to get Catriona to notice him over the radiance of Oliver.

  “Well, either way should be fine,” Lizzie said, ignoring his sarcasm.

  “What about the skinny lad who’s sitting far too close to her?” he asked. “And are they all lords? Are the titles that easy to come by down here?” Quinn seemed truly disgruntled and she patted his hand without thinking, quickly pulling away and giving him a look.

  “One could argue that you’re sitting rather too close to me,” she said primly.

  His eyebrows shot up and he laughed, causing every eye to briefly rest on them before he recovered his stormy face. He leaned in even closer. “I beg your pardon,” he said, his husky tone nearly causing her to ooze off the settee.

  But he didn’t move away, which both pleased and discomfited her. She struggled to remain business-like around him and straightened up.

  “The titles aren’t all that easy to come by,” she explained, pretending he wasn’t having a profound effect on her blood pressure. “But the Amberlys are titled, and quite rich. So’s your sister, you know. It just comes with the territory.”

  As he continued to look at her interestedly, she adjusted her sleeves and hammered on, half wishing he’d grow bored and leave, and half wanting him to lean in even closer. It was really more like seventy five percent wanting him to lean closer, but a glance at Lady Amberly told her she needed to lean back.

  “You probably know Catie’s grandfather was titled, which unfortunately didn’t transfer to her mum or Lady Amberly. Lady Amberly’s a lady also because she married a baron. Some of them are just courtesy titles or don’t pass down. And a title doesn’t always mean money.”

  “How do ye keep up?” he asked, looking like he really wanted to ask why she cared.

  She felt a little silly that she’d begun to take it so seriously, but it was quite a rush playing matchmaker, learning who was who and who had what, and always trying to grasp a little higher. It wasn’t as if she had television. Quinn didn’t seem to be looking down on her though, and Lizzie felt warmly toward him for not bringing up last night, for not questioning her about Solomon Wodge. She felt she could trust him.

  “Honestly, it’s all a bit flummoxing to me. Here’s how I keep it straight for my girls.” She took a deep breath and began to recite. “A viscount is very good, and for an earl you may be eager, but a marquis is much better than either. If a duke’s interested, you’re done.”

  The look Quinn gave her when she finished made her regret confiding in him and her stomach turned. She cursed herself for letting down her guard. Now he was sure to see through her and denounce her for the fraud she was.

  Instead he burst out laughing again. His laugh was infectious but far too loud for the crowded sitting room, and every eye turned their way again, Lady Amberly’s distinctly narrowed. Before anyone could say anything, Quinn stood up, quickly taking all the scrutiny off of her.

  “It’s a verra nice day, far too pleasant to stay indoors,” he said as imperiously as any duke.

  Lizzie had to hold in a shiver at his commanding presence and saw that Lady Amberly and Edwin’s mother blinked at his brightness, their jaws practically in their bosoms.

  “Shall we take a turn in my carriage?” Oliver asked, earning him a look of approval from Catie and a dire glance from Edwin, who had been the original carriage offerer.

  “A brilliant suggestion, lad,” Quinn boomed. “We shall be grateful to take ye up on that offer, shall we not, Catie?”

  Catie hurried to agree and ran off to change while Oliver left to give orders to ready the carriage. Edwin and his mother tutted and fluttered, not sure they were invited, and consternation over Quinn’s and her coziness from a moment before was forgotten.

  Lizzie marveled at his ability to so easily deflect their attention and wondered how he’d gotten so good at such a skill. As she passed by him to gather her shawl and hat, he turned so their hands brushed, feather light but anything but accidental, a definite gleam in his eyes.

  Chapter 11

  The Hollingsborn estate was absolutely lovely, the lake positively glistened in the early afternoon sunlight, and the little rowboats with the brightly dressed guests paddling through the gently rippling water added to the peaceful, charming scene. That Catie could one day be the mistress of this place didn’t cheer her one bit.

  Her mood over the last week hadn’t been close to peaceful, and it was a strain to continually act charming to everyone around her. Ever since she’d read the terrible letter from her brother Lachlan, and seen the frightening, confusing instructions hidden under Miss Burnet’s bed, she’d been watching Quinn and her chaperone like a hawk.

  The first morning after her spying activities, all the distressing information barely sorted in her mind, she’d decided she needed to pretend she hadn’t learned any of it. She shouldn’t have gone snooping around, and it served her right to be upset by things she didn’t understand, and clearly wasn’t supposed to know about.

  But when Miss Burnet and Quinn started whispering to one another, noses practically touching, all while continuously glancing her way, she’d become paranoid and angry. She was done being lied to and kept in the da
rk. Something was definitely sinister about Miss Burnet’s letter. The intense and specific instructions were very different from the scary mish mash of chants and blood-letting she’d read in Lachlan’s letter but both their intents were the same. To travel to the future.

  It was madness, but the fact remained that her brother was gone. Missing. She’d been told he was killed, but now all evidence said that wasn’t the case. The one thing she knew about her oldest brother Lachlan was that he valued responsibility above all else. He constantly berated Quinn about his lack of it, and always tossed in a few sermons to her on the occasions they were together.

  If the madness about traveling to the future was true, and it made her dizzy to entertain the notion, then her brother was in trouble. There was nothing short of death that could make Lachlan leave his family and all the people who counted on his decisions, in the hands of Quinn.

  Quinn gambled too much, was a bit loose with women, raided around the countryside and forgot birthdays— really the list of reasons not to put him in charge of a henhouse was longer than the road to London. To put him in charge of their clan had to be nothing short of desperation. Something worse than death.

  Catie rubbed her sleep deprived eyes when a sudden gust of wind almost knocked her into the lake from the little dock she stood on. She realized she’d been obsessing again, holding her breath and tensing her muscles, probably pulling an unpleasant face on top of it all.

  Edwin looked at her quite oddly and she forced herself to relax and smile. She shook out the fishing line she held and tried a tinkling laugh she copied from a popular girl she’d met at a different party a few nights before. In truth, she was exhausted from all the smiling and laughing and dancing. She knew Edwin was only after her money. She’d found out from listening to gossip just exactly how much she was worth, another log to throw onto the rage fire she’d been stoking against her brother. Why couldn’t he be honest about anything?