The Perfect Spinster: A Regency Romance (The Not So Saintly Sisters Book 2)

by Annabelle Anders

  “Miss Shipley has gone to work at Miss Primm’s Seminary full time. Apparently, she came into a small fortune and was able to invest in the school and become part owner.”

  Which, from what Olivia had seen of the girl, sounded like something that would make her very happy. She never had expressed much enthusiasm when it came to her nuptials. At the time, Olivia had thought this was simply her natural reserve, but upon hindsight…

  Poor Gabriel. And then a tingling danced down her spine.

  “There’s the jilted groom now. Doesn’t he look tragically handsome with his cane?” Lady Lillian exhaled on a sigh.

  Olivia slowly turned around.

  It took not even a second for her hungry eyes to locate him.

  Leaning on a magnificent-looking cane, he had come to the ball dressed to the nines. White cravat and waistcoat, black jacket and even lace at his wrist. His hair had been styled with pomade—Fritz’s handiwork, no doubt—but that wayward lock of hair had fallen to rest along his jaw.

  He looked thinner, his eyes a bit more sunken than usual, and a pallor remained.

  But he was here.

  And he did not look as though he’d been crossed in love. No.

  Gabriel was smiling at her.

  Nothing could have stopped her from smiling back.

  He lifted the cane and walked purposefully in her direction, his gait only a little halting,

  He looked magnificent. Especially considering the last time she’d laid eyes upon his dear foolish self, he’d been resting peacefully, his fever only just having broken.

  When he was still four or five feet away from her, he stopped and bowed. “Miss Redfield. Am I too late to claim the next dance?”

  Had she always been this beautiful?

  But Gabriel knew the answer to that. Absolutely. And yet, she was more beautiful to him every time they met.

  “I’m told it’s a waltz.” He lifted a fist to his breast.” Alas, don’t tell me it’s been promised to another.”

  Her delicate brows furrowed. “You never dance.”

  “But you said I had promise, remember? You said there was hope for me yet.” He took one step closer to her. “Please tell me there’s still hope.” His voice came out ragged.

  He did not deserve her. He knew that.

  “You don’t have to dance with me, Gabriel.” She looked as though she wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry.

  “Yes, Olivia. I do.” And then he rested his cane against one of the chairs lined up against the wall. His leg had been getting stronger and stronger. He sent up a silent prayer that he would not embarrass them both.

  “Dance with me?” He reached out a hand.

  And then she laughed, sending something light and warm and wonderful flowing through his veins. “Of course, you fool.”

  “Take my elbow and it will look as though I’m escorting you to the floor, when in fact you’ll be keeping us both from falling.”

  And again, she laughed. But she took his elbow and he managed to lead both of them to the center of the parquet dance floor. And it was not his imagination. The room fell nearly silent.

  “Everyone is watching,” she whispered when he turned her into his arms. “Is it because you never dance?”

  If she only knew. “It is because everyone is wondering how I am lucky enough to be holding the most beautiful woman here tonight.” Oh, his sweet Olivia.

  When she lifted her lashes, tears swam in her eyes. Her exquisitely wonderful eyes. “Please, Gabriel. Don’t say something you don’t really mean.”

  But he would be deadly serious with her. The orchestra poised to play but he needed to say this. “I’ve only ever lied to you when I pushed you away. And I’ve lied to myself to imagine I could spend the remainder of my days without you.”

  The musicians lifted their bows, drew them across the strings of their instruments and a lilting melody ebbed into the room.

  Gabriel lifted his left foot and led her into the steps. Halting at first, but with her assistance, he managed to get them halfway around the floor without incident.

  Why had he thought he could do this? What ought to be something romantic and elegant, he feared he’d turned into a bumbling stumble.

  “You are counting.” She tilted back her head and smiled.

  A smile that had him renewing all his efforts.

  “You were saying?”

  He grumbled under his breath but gathered the thoughts he’d lost as soon as the orchestra struck up.

  “This isn’t all about me. What I want. What I need,” he managed while avoiding a potted plant that seemed to have jumped into their path. “What I love.”

  Her breath hitched at his last words.

  “It’s all been about me. Up until now.” He cleared his throat but at least had not crushed her toes yet. Toes encased in the most feminine of slippers, he’d noticed earlier.

  She tilted her head. “But—”

  “What do you want, Olivia? Not what you expect, but what do you want?”

  And thank heavens, his feet seemed to be catching on, because at that moment, holding her in his arms, he was terrified to look away from her eyes.

  What if she—?

  “You,” she said. “Just you.” And then she shyly dropped her stare so that she was examining his cravat.

  And he ought to have waited until they were alone. But he could not.

  Just as the music ended, he purposefully drew her to a halt, dropped his arms so that he could take her hands in his, and painfully lowered himself onto one knee.

  “Miss Olivia Redfield,” His voice sounded surer than it had in over a year. “Will you make me the happiest of men by consenting to be my countess? Will you be my wife, Olivia?” And knowing he was making an utter spectacle of himself, of both of them, gazed up, hoping…

  She searched his eyes, both of hers intent upon only him. “You are not afraid?”

  “Only that you will say no.” Ah, there it was, that smile again. And he would be the happiest of men if he awoke every morning to it. “Are you afraid?”

  She shook her head. “No.” And then, “Yes.” She nodded firmly, laughter dancing in her gaze. “I will marry you, Gabriel Fellowes!”

  He would not stay kneeling on the floor like this a second longer. Not when all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms.

  The clinking of metal against glass reminded him that they were not alone. In fact, they were far from alone.

  Crawford and his duchess were standing on the edge of the ballroom floor and were demanding the attention of all their guests.

  A handful of servants scurried quietly around the room, handing out glasses of champagne.

  “I’d like to propose a toast.” Crawford raised his glass halfway. “Just a little over a year ago today, I returned from having spent nearly a decade aboard ship, engaging in battles, fighting various wars. But even here in England, we can lose those who we love on any given day.

  “But this evening is not a time to dwell on our fears or the tragedies of our past. But to celebrate love. And so, I lift my glass in a blessing. To the betrothal we have been so very lucky to witness here tonight, of one of my dearest friends, Gabriel Fellowes, most honorable Earl of Kingsley, and dear sister of my beautiful duchess, the lovely Miss Olivia Redfield. May they know love, and joy in the years, nay, the decades to come.” And then he lifted his glass high, in Gabriel and Olivia’s direction. “Felicitations to my sister, and to my dearest friend.”

  “Here! Here!”

  And everyone in the room echoed with, “Felicitations.”

  Exactly as Gabriel had planned.

  “You wouldn’t rather sit down?” Olivia held tightly to Gabriel’s arm as he led her out to the terrace behind Crawford’s Mayfair mansion. After spending the last hour receiving the congratulations and best wishes from most of Crawford’s guests, Gabriel wanted nothing more than to be alone with Olivia.

  His fiancée.

  The Dowager Duchess of Crawford had
given him a long stare and distinctly suggested he not take longer than thirty minutes when he’d excused them both to take some air.

  He would have liked to place his other hand over hers but needed it to use his blasted cane. “You’re getting a sorry bargain, Olivia.”

  “Oh, I think not.” The laughter in her voice warmed him, and she leaned into his side. “Is this a dream?”

  They stepped onto a flagstone path, walking in a direction that seemed to lead to relative privacy. “Knowing you has been a dream. I am only too happy to make you my reality.”

  “And to think I nearly lost you last month.” They strolled slowly, in no hurry and with no particular destination. “What of the promise you made to your father? I don’t want you feeling guilty for all of this in the future. I don’t want you to feel as though you have failed him.”

  Ah, the promise.

  “He was happy in the end. He was at peace. I spoke with my mother yesterday. She said she never felt quite right about it, but since I never complained, she did not wish to alter my course. I told her about my plan to ask you to marry me. She bestowed her blessing, by the way.”

  “You knew Miss Shipley was going to jilt you?”

  He would have no lies between them. Only truth. “I asked her to.”

  “Oh! Gabriel! I hate to think I will gain my happiness at her expense.” She exhaled a small sad sigh. “I like Miss Shipley.”

  He chuckled. “As she does you. She was more than happy to release me.”

  “She was?” He could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m so glad! I must admit that I never was quite convinced she held you in great affection.”

  “You wound me, my love.”

  Olivia laughed. “But it is a wonderful thing!”

  “It is.” He could not argue with such a manner of thinking, especially with the prospect of a life with this minx.

  “But wait, you planned all this? Crawford knew?”

  “As did your sister. And my brothers. And the dowager duchess.”

  She stopped and stared up at him looking really, very adorably stunned. She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say!”

  “Say you are happy?” She would be his to protect, his to make happy.

  His to love.

  “Oh. Yes!” And then she turned, and they continued walking.

  “Promise me two things?” she asked in her lilting voice.

  “What would you have me promise you?”

  They took several steps before she spoke again. “I shall not live my life in fear.” Her voice had taken on a particularly somber tone. “After you left Misty Brooke, I’m not proud to admit that I began questioning every bad thing that ever happened in my life, thinking I had been the reason for those things.”

  “Because of your father?”

  “Partly,” she admitted. “But also because I’d kept myself closed off from much of the world. And marrying Mr. Smith, I believe, was a part of that. A way to keep hiding. To imagine that I am not worthy, I think perhaps it was an excuse for being afraid. But I have realized something.”

  Gabriel waited quietly for her to go on.

  “I am not a curse, no more than that mine was.”

  He could hardly have been happier with where this discussion was going.

  “There is bad luck. There are bad people.” She tilted her head to rest upon his shoulder as their steps slowed. “Bad things happen but so do good things.”

  “Of which I am eternally grateful for.” Gabriel snaked his arm around her tiny waist, just above the gentle flare of her hip. “But what are these two promises you ask of me?”

  “One, that you do not go deep into any mines in the near future.”

  “On that, you have my word.”

  She stopped and turned. They’d reached a small folly that was surrounded by some large oaks and boxwood.

  Gabriel took her into his arms, allowing his cane to fall. “And two?” He was having a hard time thinking about what she would say. In fact, he wanted so badly to kiss her that he would likely promise anything at that moment. “Have I mentioned how much I love your eyes?” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

  “And two.” She focused upon his lips. She seemed to be having difficulties concentrating as well. And then she lifted her gaze to his eyes. “If you decide to fight one of those bad people, make certain he isn’t hiding a pistol.”

  He smiled. “I think I can manage that.” He pulled her tighter. “Olivia.” Searching her eyes, he knew that everything he’d ever wanted was within his grasp.

  “Yes, Gabriel?”

  “Oluvia.”

  Heaven. Sheer heaven.

  When his lips settled upon hers, the magnitude of his joy exploded inside him. Nowhere on earth was there a luckier man, because he had his one of a kind, his most beautiful love.

  Olivia.

  Epilogue

  “We ought to have a house party, Gabriel. Over Christmastime!”

  Resting his head on his elbow, Gabriel watched in delight as his wife of less than four months lay back on her pillow, eyes dancing in excitement as she stared up at the ceiling.

  Away from her father and mother, away from Misty Brooke, away from the ‘curse’ nonsense, she’d literally blossomed.

  Unwilling to delay their wedding, Gabriel had forgone having the banns read and purchased a special license and he and Olivia took their vows exactly three days after he’d proposed. Crawford and his duchess had served as witnesses.

  The ceremony had been held in a small church outside of Mayfair. It had been quiet, simple, and very private. Walking out into the sunshine, with Olivia on his arm, Gabriel had never felt more satisfied or proud in his life.

  Or happy.

  How this woman made him happy.

  “A house party during the holidays? At Sky Manor?” It wasn’t a bad idea only… “Are you certain you’ll be up to it?” Of course, he’d do whatever she wished, but…

  Her violet eyes flicked away from the ceiling. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Her lips tilted up in a questioning smile. Gabriel lazily studied her flawless complexion, her small, pert nose, the elegant line of her neck to where it met her collarbone. She’d drawn the sheet up to cover her nakedness.

  Making love in the mornings was his favorite new way of waking up.

  Making love to his wife.

  “Are you bored with just me already?” Gabriel chuckled without answering her question.

  In response, she turned and pulled him down for a long, slow, lazy kiss. “Does this feel like I’m bored with you?” She arched her back so that his teeth could drag down the sheet covering her.

  In a matter of mere seconds, she was writhing beneath him. It was always like this between the two of them. She was not only his wife; she was his lover––his best friend.

  Several minutes later, he was tucking her into his side again, both of them breathing heavily.

  “I have had a wonderful time here.” Olivia sighed, her breath sending a warm breeze across Gabriel’s chest. “Everyone… well, almost everyone… has been so nice to me!”

  “Why would they not be nice to you?” Of course, he knew what her answer would be. Her father and mother’s words had cut her deeply, and despite her newfound confidence, he knew she held onto her self-doubts.

  She burrowed into him, her hair caressing his arms and chest. “You know,” she mumbled.

  “So, a house party?” He felt bad for squashing some of her exuberance. “Who would you want to invite?”

  “Your mother and Priscilla, Nathaniel and Gilbert, of course. They’ll be at Sky Manor anyway. Louella and Crawford, and the children. Crawford’s sisters and Her Grace.” Olivia lifted one hand and began drawing little circles on Gabriel’s skin, where her head rested.

  “What do you know of Lord Crestwood?” she asked a little too casually, causing Gabriel to raise his brows.

  “He’s too old for you,” Gabriel answered only partly in jest. But then understanding dawned. “A little
old for Priscilla, don’t you think?”

  But Olivia was shaking her head. “I think he was once acquainted with Eliza.”

  “Miss Cline?” Odd, that a baron would have any occasion to become acquainted with a vicar’s sister.

  Olivia was nodding. “He broke her heart. A very long time ago.”

  His wife was full of all kinds of surprises this morning. “And now he is widowed. But, Olivia,” he had to point out the problem with her matchmaking idea, “their stations are quite different.”

  Olivia sat up and stared down at him. As she did so, the sheet fell away again, giving Gabriel the full view of her plump breasts, normally creamy but flushed from their recent bout of lovemaking. “She is a woman of gentle birth. They are not so very far apart in station. Gabriel?” She drew his attention back to what she was saying. “It would not be an impossible match.”

  Considering what the two of them had gone through, Gabriel could only shrug. “If what you say is true, and he broke her heart, will Miss Cline wish to see him again?”

  Olivia bit her lip. “She would never admit to it. But If she happened to come to my Christmas house party, as did Lord Crestwood, at least then, they would have the opportunity to… become friends again.”

  Gabriel couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Being friends is never a bad idea.” His voice grew husky as the truth of his words struck him.

  “So, you do not mind? If I host a party at Christmas?”

  Gabriel pulled her down for another kiss. “You may host a party whenever you like. So long as you don’t overtire yourself.”

  Those little brows of hers puckered up in confusion. “Why…?” She trailed off as Gabriel’s hand settled on one breast. “

  “You’re more sensitive than usual.” He squeezed gently, his thumb tracing the puckered pink skin at the tip. And then his hand dipped to her abdomen. “You’ve been queasy in the mornings. For nearly three weeks now, you’ve been leaving most of your food at breakfast time.” And Olivia was not one of those ladies who merely picked at her meals. She usually enjoyed every morsel.

  Her lovely eyes flew open wide with understanding. “I hadn’t been paying attention…”