Love For The Spinster (Women 0f Worth Book 2)

by Kasey Stockton

  The ball was sure to go off without a hitch. Mrs. Heybourne would be at my side to introduce the people I did not yet know, and Mrs. Overton would remain in the ballroom all evening in the event that I needed support.

  It took a moment for the implications to set in, but I breathed out, realizing one true and important fact: I was not alone.

  I did not have Rosalynn or Elsie by my side, that was true, but it had been years since I had really been able to rely on their company. With Aunt Georgina gone, it had been quite some time since I felt buoyed up by the presence of others. It was nice to feel that way again.

  Daniel stepped from his office and came down the hall toward me. I straightened, coming away from the wall.

  “Are you nervous?” he asked.

  “Whatever possessed me to throw a ball?”

  He delivered a lopsided grin, displaying his dimple. “I believe it was the dancing.”

  “I can dance at assemblies. I needn’t have gone to the trouble.”

  “I am grateful you did.”

  “Whatever for?”

  His smile, and dimple, remained in place and I could not remove my eyes from them. His grin widened to reveal uneven, white teeth. “I sometimes miss these fantastically large parties. It is fun, is it not, to dance the night away with your friends, content in the knowledge that it is entirely respectable to sleep the following day away?”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “That is partially why I love to dance. It is such a release.”

  I had found a like soul in Daniel. The thought made butterflies dance within me. He gazed at me, his visible anticipation for the night ahead infecting me with equal excitement. Gone was the anxiety of earlier.

  He bowed. “I better get in there and see if they have everything they need.”

  I nodded, watching him go. I had wondered if he might ask me to save him a dance. But alas, he did not. I ought not feel too disappointed yet, I supposed. The night had not even begun.

  For once, I didn’t try and squelch the hope stirring within me. I would be lying if I tried to pretend that I did not wish to dance with him. By the end of the night, I just might.

  Guests began arriving and I was gratified to recognize the majority of them, so far, from visits at home or introductions in the church yard. Remembering all of their names, on the other hand, was impossibly difficult. It was a blessing Mrs. Heybourne was willing to stand beside me and assist in introductions.

  Major Heybourne found Daniel immediately and I watched them from the corner of my eye as they laughed and chatted on the other side of the room. Since the conversation earlier with Mrs. Heybourne regarding her reservations about my steward, I had been watching him closely—more closely than normal, that is. To say she had credible points was valid, but I wanted to disbelieve them. Surely it was not so terrible to step into a house vacant of a master and assume the role? Particularly when he laid claim to the highest rank present. Who else was to be in charge?

  Mrs. Heybourne’s facts were indisputable; Daniel’s intentions left me skeptical.

  Mrs. Wheeler arrived with her sister, Miss Clarke, but no brother.

  “I looked forward to meeting him,” I said when she made his excuses.

  Her gaze flitted toward her sister, her mouth tightening. She appeared decidedly uncomfortable and I regretted my words immediately. I had only been trying to be polite, after all.

  Trying to regain a steady footing, I said, “I am glad you both could make it. I hope to be able to speak to you more later.”

  I was unable to decipher particularly what it was about Mrs. Wheeler that drew me to her, but I valued her kind disposition and guileless countenance. I felt that in her I could find a trusted friend, if given the opportunity to talk without making a fool of myself.

  Disconnected notes punched through the air as the musicians tuned their instruments in preparation to start the dancing. A minuet was up first and I was glad to be stuck in the receiving line for the time being.

  Couples formed in the center of the room and I listened to Mrs. Heybourne chatter with each new guest while I kept an eye on Daniel. He stepped out with Mrs. Wheeler, and the look of interest and charm on his face was enough to force me to turn away. I greeted another guest but found my gaze drawn back to the dance floor.

  Mrs. Wheeler positively shined. Her smile was genuine, and her gaze unfaltering. Whether attraction or some other force pulled the two together while they danced, it was enough to make my stomach churn.

  “Widow.”

  I turned to Mrs. Heybourne, her proximity forcing me to jump. “Pardon me?”

  She lowered her voice. “Mrs. Wheeler is a widow of war. Sad, sad business. And then to get stuck with the care of her brother. And childless, too! The woman deserves a good man, that’s what I believe.”

  “And you believe Mr. Bryce to be a good man?” That was not what I had heard from her before.

  She seemed to consider the situation. “He’ll do well with the horses. He already is.”

  “Financial success is sufficient to be considered a good man in your opinion?” I raised my eyebrows. It was an odd line of thought. Or, perhaps not so odd when one considered a woman’s job to marry. That created an entirely different perspective from which to judge men. I would like to think I was better capable of judging men for who they were, for I never considered them for their marriageable traits.

  “Not entirely,” she answered. “It is important, of course, but there are plenty of tyrants who have sufficient money. I suppose I do believe, however, that enough money can create satisfaction for most anyone. With plenty of money at one’s disposal, one can choose to see or not see their spouse however often they’d like.”

  “The man, perhaps.” I tried not to sound bitter. The tricky part of being a woman unmarried and later in years was that others always assumed I was resentful of my unmarried state. It was difficult for them to see my satisfaction and gratification in life.

  My eyes moved back to the dance floor and found Daniel once again, Mrs. Wheeler laughing at something he had said.

  I turned back to Mrs. Heybourne, convinced she did not fully know her own mind if she was going to vacillate so easily about the character of another. “What causes you to believe Mr. Bryce is already successful in his endeavors?”

  “He’s sold a number of horses, hasn’t he? I recently saw Miss Chappelle on her new acquisition and found myself a tad jealous. The beast was so lovely. But do not repeat those words. I would rather die than have her find out I wanted something of hers.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.” And it made quite a bit of sense. Of course Daniel would wish to ride out with her. He likely cared for that horse before making the sale.

  We spent another half hour meeting new arrivals before Mrs. Heybourne decided she was finished with the receiving line and would like to dance with her husband. I had seen him out on the floor twice with other women and he always looked to be enjoying himself. When he approached his wife and led her out to waltz, however, his joy eclipsed any that he had displayed earlier.

  A ball formed in my gut and I turned away from them. It was not jealousy of her, precisely, that caused those feelings within me. I was unsure exactly what they were, but I did know that much. I had refused Major Heybourne years before, emphatically, and I did not regret my decision.

  Mr. Bowen, the man who had sat beside me at the Heybournes’ dinner weeks before, approached me for the waltz. I placed my gloved hand on his arm and followed him onto the dance floor, prepared to be swept from my feet.

  He did not disappoint, entirely. The fluid motions were much the same as any I’d endured in London’s ballrooms. But the spark was missing that I typically felt in the midst of flying across the floor, grasped securely in a man’s steady arms and gliding to the beat of the music.

  The song ended, and another began. I danced four in a row with different partners before my feet began to ache and I slipped out of the ballroom and into the drawing room for a refreshin
g glass of ratafia.

  Miss Chappelle stood in the hallway when I left the drawing room. Her gown was gauzy and clung to her legs, and her hair was pulled up away from her face in a complicated creation. “You must be proud,” she said. “You’ve accomplished a great feat, for your country ball is positively a crush.”

  “Thank you, Miss Chappelle. I am gratified by the turnout. I am happy to get to know my neighbors.”

  “I am sure you are.” She stood before me, unmoving. Her lips formed a smirk and I felt the color slowly drain from my face. It was apparent she knew more about me than anyone else in the county of Shropshire—save, perhaps, Major Heybourne—and it was abundantly clear she was preparing to do something about it. Either that, or she simply enjoyed staring at me.

  I rather figured it was not the latter.

  “Is there anything else I may do for you, Miss Chappelle?” I tried to sound strong, but I was sure she could sense my growing trepidation. “Have you enjoyed dancing yet?”

  “Yes, Mr. Bryce is a fantastic waltzer.”

  I knew that. I had watched them when I could while Mr. Bowen spun me around the floor. Jealousy, pure and clean, rang through me and I tried to smile to cover up my less than ladylike feelings.

  “Splendid. Then I suppose I will be seeing you inside.” I made to move around her but she stepped in my way.

  Her voice lowered considerably and she said, “You might want to cease in your affections for Daniel. I would hate it if you were to get hurt.”

  I froze. Her dark eyes were deep and compelling and I could not look away.

  “Trust me, Miss Hurst. I have spent time in London, and I have a superior understanding. If you continue down this path, you will be the one left hurting.”

  I watched with uncertainty as she sauntered back into the ballroom. She made understanding sound as though she implied far, far more. What did she understand? My attraction to my steward? Or could it have been the scandal involving my father?

  I was inclined to believe she was referring to my father. I was not completely aware of where my feelings lay in regard to Daniel, but whatever they were, Miss Chappelle surely could not have known about them.

  An alternative presented itself and I panicked. Could I be obvious?

  The war within me was steadily raging over my feelings for Daniel and what they meant, and how advanced they were growing. I was unsure of exactly what was going on between us, and furthermore, I was unclear on precisely what sort of man Daniel was.

  If my indecision was apparent to Miss Chappelle, was it equally obvious to everyone else? To Mrs. Heybourne with her odd remarks on Daniel’s character; or Mrs. Overton and her observations about Daniel’s contentedness; or even Miss Chappelle and Mrs. Wheeler and their potential claim on him?

  If you continue down this path, you will be the one left hurting.

  I did not want to hurt anymore. I had hurt enough for a lifetime—my father made sure of that. My resolve hardened and with it, my heart. I was not going to be any man’s novelty, and I sure wasn’t going to let myself be hurt.

  Chapter 20

  My eyes fell immediately on Daniel when I entered the ballroom, as though it was their duty to search him out. I dragged them away from him and his dance partner, watching the rest of the guests and searching for a familiar face. A Mr. Bowen—one of the younger ones, I believe—walked toward me. He was likely the tallest of the brothers, and I feared I would receive a sore neck if I was forced to look up at him for the duration of an entire dance.

  The dancers parted and a set of dark eyes caught my own from the other side of the ballroom. Miss Chappelle’s intent gaze did not shy away from my own and she watched me with the precision of a hawk, her expression reminding me much of Jasper, the cat, languidly secure in his place in life, and my inability to do anything about it.

  Mr. Bowen was beside me before I had the opportunity to escape. “I would be honored if you would dance with me, Miss Hurst.”

  I curtseyed, allowing him to lead me out. We joined the ever-moving sea of waltzers and Mr. Bowen surprised me with his fluidity and finesse. I was happy to find that his height allowed for me to look anywhere but at my partner, as my neck did indeed lean back to an unnatural degree to see his face.

  My tense muscles began to relax and my gaze lazily fell on faces as we passed. It landed on Daniel and I caught his eye, a gaze so direct it startled me. It was over quickly, but the feeling he ignited remained within me until the dance ended.

  As soon as Mr. Bowen released me, Major Heybourne stepped in to take his place. His face, as he asked me to dance, was equal parts kindness and insecurity and I took pity on his nerves, accepting at once.

  The promenade for the waltz began and I scanned the crowds for Mrs. Heybourne’s face. We had not spoken of my past experiences with her husband since that night in her drawing room following dinner. I had no concerns that she felt threatened by me, but I was uncomfortable in the Major’s arms, my mind flitting back to that fateful day in my drawing room years before.

  “Are you satisfied with your ball?” he asked me.

  I nodded. “Your wife was a tremendous help. I valued her assistance immensely.”

  “She enjoys your friendship as well, Miss Hurst.”

  We continued to dance, and I watched the others spinning around us, searching for the one face I could not help but seek.

  “I waited quite a long time for you to come into residence.”

  I jerked my head toward Major Heybourne, my steps faltering.

  He corrected me and then smiled. “I do not mean to sound odd, Miss Hurst. This is not the most comfortable conversation to hold.”

  “Then please tell me what you mean,” I said. I had dealt with learning my mother was not legally married to my father but was in fact his mistress, in a sense. I had comforted Rosalynn as she learned of her father’s indiscretions. I knew of countless men who lived lives apart from their spouses, and others who were more discreet, but just as disloyal nonetheless. If Major Heybourne was preparing to offer me a proposition, I was prepared to give him a set down immediately.

  “I learned of Corden Hall’s ownership when I arrived to take over Fairlinn Court,” he said. “At the time I thought it was a cruel hand fate dealt me. I watched the pews at church on Sundays and awaited news of your arrival.”

  We continued to spin across the dance floor, my shoulders tense as I waited for him to continue.

  “Then, as a year went by without your presence, I began to assume you were giving us time to heal and move forward. It did not occur to me until years later that perhaps you would never inhabit Corden Hall and I might be the cause.”

  “I did not know you were my neighbor until I met you in the street that day.”

  A smile grew on his lips. “With Lady Cameron. I have always liked her.”

  “She is easy to like,” I agreed. “As is your wife.”

  Affection fell over his features. He clearly loved Mrs. Heybourne very much. I felt stupid for questioning him. “I am a lucky man.”

  “That you are, Major.”

  “May I be frank?” he asked.

  Had he not been frank already? I nodded, watching the spectators as we passed. I had not seen Daniel since the previous dance. I was not actively searching for him, of course. But it was strange he was gone, nonetheless.

  “I appreciate you befriending Mrs. Heybourne,” he said, “and I know she enjoys your time together. In the beginning of our marriage, she struggled accepting my friendships with other women. While I have since proved to her my fidelity, her insecurities are such that I did not go into detail about the extent of my past relationship with you.”

  “You did tell her, though.”

  “Of course I did. I mentioned I had courted you just before meeting her, but it did not amount to anything.”

  His words were honest. He merely left out his proposal and my swift denial. If I had accepted him, I would be mistress of Fairlinn Court.

  “I can
not imagine you married to anyone else,” I said.

  “Nor can I.” He smiled, looking over my head. “I suppose I should thank you for turning me down.”

  I grinned, unable to help myself as the song came to a close. “You are quite welcome, sir.”

  The evening progressed at a steady rate, but I found myself growing more and more concerned over Daniel’s whereabouts. I had not seen him since before my dance with Major Heybourne, and while I was not overly worried about his safety, I had hoped we would be able to share a dance. The ball was winding down, two dances remaining on the musicians’ list, and I was sure I would not be able to enjoy the one dance I had anticipated most in the weeks leading up to the ball.

  Mr. Morris approached. “Would you care to dance with an old man, Miss Hurst?”

  “I would be delighted,” I said, curtseying.

  When the song came to an end, I glanced to the doorway, pleased to see Daniel step inside at that moment. Our gazes locked and as the musicians transitioned to a waltz my heart began to beat rapidly in time with Daniel’s quick steps.

  “Miss Hurst, would you care to dance?”

  I spun, disappointed to find Mr. Fehr, a man I had been introduced to earlier in the night by Mrs. Heybourne. His height was less than my own, I was positively sure of it, and his eyes had a squint to them that caused me to believe he was in need of spectacles.

  I said the only thing available to me. “I would be honored.”

  He led me out and I sought Daniel’s face, upset to find him dancing with Mrs. Wheeler once again.

  Where had he been for the last hour? I could not help but feel slighted. If he had wanted to dance with me, he’d had all night to do so. He’d also had ample opportunity to request that I save him a dance before the ball even began.

  I tried to enjoy the final dance of the evening, but I could not help the disappointment which laced through me. The ball was a success, of that I could not deny. Yet my two main objectives were not accomplished. I did not get to speak to Mrs. Wheeler, and I did not dance with Daniel.