The Spinster and I (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 2)

by Rebecca Connolly

  But her mother was a gossip. Would she know him?

  “Oh, never mind,” her mother snapped, mistaking Prue’s silence for an inability to speak. “Ridiculous girl, we must go down to breakfast. Let me look at you.” She eyed Prue up and down without any sort of warmth. “We desperately need that blue muslin from the shop. You are so washed out, it’s a wonder you’re alive.”

  It seemed impertinent and rather pointless to suggest that the dress Prue wore now was nearly the same shade, and that Prue’s paleness had not changed from two days ago when she was so dark she looked “like a farmer’s wife”.

  There was just no pleasing her mother, aside from the day she had gained her inheritance.

  Prue had never been more terrified of the woman than in that moment when she had hugged her repeatedly.

  It had taken her half a day to calm herself after that.

  Dutifully, she followed her mother out of their rooms and down the corridor to the stairs, taking great care to descend gracefully for all the guests who could be watching, of which there were none, much to her relief.

  Still, her pulse quickened at the thought of the guests. They could be in the breakfast room waiting for her, which would have seemed the most ridiculous idea in creation before all of this. But after she’d returned from the terrace last night, two men had been waiting near the chair she had been occupying before, and neither of them had been in the original group.

  Their flattery had started the moment she had arrived, despite saying nothing to them, and their queries for dances soon followed. Never one to be rude, Prue tried her best to answer them, though their volley of words provided her with little opportunity to do so. She’d grown flustered and flushed, stammering so much she could hardly stand to hear herself, and she could see the tension seep into their expressions the more she struggled.

  It was bad enough to be the one so vocally handicapped, but to see the impact it had on others made things infinitely worse.

  But then Camden had come, as he had promised, and while Prue would never say that her situation was resolved completely or that her difficulties faded, she did feel a strong sense of relief.

  Which seemed rather odd now.

  She knew almost nothing about him. At all. They hadn’t asked any questions beyond what they were doing at this house party. She had no idea what his situation was, what exactly his supposed reputation consisted of, or whether he could be trusted. He had done what he had promised the night before, so it appeared he was a man of his word, despite whatever reputation he possessed.

  And surely the Davieses would never have invited someone truly disreputable to their event.

  Even so, if they had the opportunity to speak today, she would try her utmost to get some useful information out of him. It wouldn’t help her cause at all to find her name so tied up with that of a blackguard.

  He didn’t seem to be a blackguard, but she supposed most blackguards behaved that way.

  There were only a few guests in the breakfast room, and all of them were female. Two girls and their chaperones, and one of them seemed rather sour despite having a rather impressive spread on her plate.

  Either she was not the sort who enjoyed mornings, or she had behaved in a way that had prompted some kind of scolding.

  Prue wished Charlotte was here to investigate that for her. Charlotte had ways and means that she suspected the Home Office would have loved to acquire, and absolutely no reluctance or reticence when it came to personal inquiries. Despite being terrified of Charlotte when she’d first met her, she had, over time, found Charlotte to be fiercely loyal, good-hearted, and quite charming, in her way.

  She did take some getting used to, but so did Prue.

  “Miss Fairbanks,” her mother greeted the sour one, speaking more warmly than she had ever spoken to Prue. “I must say, you are looking particularly lovely this morning. That shade of muslin does suit you so.”

  Considering the gown was cream-colored, Prue wasn’t sure that compliment was worth giving.

  Miss Fairbanks offered a wan smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Westfall. Miss Westfall looks very crisp today. Calico does lend itself to much wear, doesn’t it? But one would never know to look at her.”

  Prue barely avoided scowling at the fair girl, not seeing anything amiss with her calico, considering they were destined to be out of doors on such a beautiful day. Muslin was all well and good for finer wear, but it would fray easily on the smallest bit of brush.

  Just because Prue had a fortune did not mean she was going to be walking around in silks all day.

  “Oh, I know,” her mother was saying to Miss Fairbanks now, and Prue took it upon herself to skirt around them and take up some of the breakfast spread for herself. “I have been telling Prudence for ages now that she needs to be on the front end of the new fashions instead of clinging to outdated and rustic trends.”

  Prue closed her eyes as the spoon in her hand began to tremble.

  “Mrs. Westfall, for shame!” the other girl in the room protested with a laugh. “Calico is hardly rustic, and it is quite suitable for the country. And the pattern is lovely on Miss Westfall.”

  Prue opened her eyes and glanced over at the girl, surprised at the easy defense. She had a miserable time with names and faces, but she tried desperately to remember hers now. She was young, but so was every other young woman here compared to Prue.

  Amelia Perry, that was it. Her father was someone important in Society, though Prue could not recall why, and Amelia was more of an heiress than Prue, which gave her some comfort.

  She was prettier, wealthier, younger, and spoke perfectly.

  She ought to be more pursued than Prue was.

  Mrs. Westfall simpered loudly. “What a sweet creature you are, Miss Perry! So good and kind to my poor girl. It will be such a pleasure when her new gowns are finished so she may look just as fine as the pair of you, especially now that she has the fortune to sustain some lovely things. If only she had her cousin Miss Howard’s taste.”

  Prue sat down in the nearest chair and tried her best to block out anything and everything her mother was saying, knowing she wouldn’t be able to succeed entirely. Her mother tended to talk incessantly, and she was used to that, but did she have to do so at such a volume? And to boast of Prue’s fortune while criticizing her choice in gowns in the same breath? And to further praise Eliza, who did not have the status to secure an invitation, nor the taste of which was boasted?

  It was ridiculous. Her mother hadn’t found any fault with the dress when they were in their rooms, but once in the view of others, she suddenly spotted so many flaws she was blinded by them.

  Miraculously, her mother suddenly grew much quieter, and, fearing she may have perished on the spot, Prue looked up to find her. The briefest bit of relief hit her when she saw her mother now conversing with the other two chaperones, who kept their conversation at a much more appropriate level, leaving the girls to enjoy whatever silence they wished to maintain.

  “I really do admire your calico, Miss Westfall,” Amelia Perry suddenly said in a low voice, leaning closer to Prue. She smiled warmly, displaying a pair of bright dimples. “It’s a good color for you. And I wear calico all the time at home, so I don’t know why your mother thinks it inappropriate.”

  Prue licked her lips quickly, trying to think of a proper response.

  Amelia covered her hand gently. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to respond. I know it can be difficult for you. I just wanted you to know I meant it.” She smiled again and went back to her breakfast without a word.

  Prue stared at her in wonder.

  She had never spoken more than three words to Amelia Perry in all her life, though it may have sounded more like twelve when she did so, and still, this girl was willing to defend her to her mother, and be kind to Prue without any witnesses?

  A lump of emotion lodged itself in Prue’s throat, and she tried in vain to swallow it down. Her eyes misted over, and she turned her attention to her plat
e, blinking hard.

  Her mother would never forgive her for becoming emotional in the public setting of a breakfast room.

  It took her the entirety of her small meal before she was free of the temptation to cry, and somehow, her mother had managed not to scold her once during the eating.

  Thank goodness for appropriate table manners.

  “Good morning, ladies!” boomed a too-jovial voice from the entrance to the breakfast room.

  Prue jerked slightly and looked towards him with the others. He was one of the flattering fools the night before, and he beamed at the entire room.

  “It is a fine morning, and if you fair maidens have finished your breakfast, we gentlemen would love your company to walk the grounds and take in this fresh air.”

  A walk? In a small group and with two men already showing a penchant for paying her too much attention? Her refusal could not have flown to her tongue more swiftly.

  But she hesitated and looked past him to see the other two men, one of whom was another of her admirers from the night before, and the other…

  Her stomach settled considerably when she saw Camden’s face poking out from behind the shoulder of the other.

  He gave her the slightest of smiles but showed no other signs of familiarity, which she appreciated.

  Her mother would have sniffed that out in three seconds in this small company.

  As it was, Prue suddenly found herself pinned with a death stare from her, so she knew what she would be doing regardless of the answers from the other two ladies.

  Amelia looked over to Miss Fairbanks, then at Prue, who met her gaze with the smallest smile known to man and then turned back. “We accept, Mr. Applegate. Will you permit Miss Fairbanks and me time for a change of clothes? Only Miss Westfall had the foresight to dress appropriately for a walk in the countryside.”

  Mr. Applegate, whose named Prue would never have remembered, bowed with considerable flourish. “Of course, Miss Perry.” He looked at Prue directly. “Miss Westfall is as wise as she is fair.”

  Huh. Not particularly wise, then.

  All right.

  Camden’s expression was difficult to see, given that Mr. Applegate was rather squarely in the way, but the compliment fell flat in the room.

  The short but awkward silence lent itself to Prue’s habit of blushing, and Amelia rose quickly, Miss Fairbanks only moments behind.

  “We’ll return momentarily,” Miss Fairbanks announced airily, sliding from the room. “Mrs. Gates, will you be our chaperone on the walk?”

  Her chaperone smiled indulgently, though Miss Fairbanks was gone. “Of course!” She gave Prue a warm look. “Come, Miss Westfall, let us fetch a wrap and bonnet for you.”

  Prue pushed back her chair and nodded, following without a word.

  Her mother grabbed her wrist when she passed. “Be polite and agreeable,” she hissed.

  “Yes, M-mother,” she whispered.

  “Don’t stammer!”

  Prue nodded once and trailed behind Mrs. Gates back up to her room. Mrs. Gates rambled on rather kindly, but Prue was not paying any attention. It was clear Mrs. Gates knew about her difficulty with speech and treated her as though she could not speak at all. But she was kind about it, if overdoing things, so Prue indulged her.

  Wrap and bonnets set, they returned down to the gentlemen, and Camden smiled when she approached, gesturing towards the door.

  “Shall we wait for the others outside, Miss Westfall?”

  His gentlemanly tone was so perfect, so pristine, that Prue had a hard time reconciling his supposed reputation with the man before her.

  Mrs. Gates tutted in fond admiration behind her, and Prue barely avoided rolling her eyes. Well, if she didn’t want to spend time with Camden before, she certainly did now.

  “Y-yes, please,” she replied, lifting her chin. “Thank you, M-Mr. Vale.”

  She proceeded out of the door, and he followed, Mrs. Gates coming behind at a polite distance. They all waited on the gravel drive for the others, and Prue leaned her head back a little to feel the sunshine.

  “Good morning, Prue,” Camden greeted in a quiet voice.

  Prue sighed heavily, making him chuckle. “Good m-morning.”

  “Did you take a dislike to Applegate’s flattery just then?” he inquired, looking up into the sky at the few clouds. “It was difficult to see your face, but I know I nearly clocked him from where I stood.”

  “It was r-ridiculous,” she said without shame. “As if I could be as w-wise as I am fair. O-one has to be f-fair at all to be as w-wise as they are fair.”

  Camden made a noise of disapproval and Prue opened her eyes to look at him. He stared at her with a furrowed brow.

  “What?” she demanded.

  He shook his head. “That’s not the point I was going to argue, but we don’t need to get into all that. Suffice it to say, I do not agree.” He smirked at her and raised a brow. “And what did your mother say when you walked by her? Did she tell you which gentleman to walk with?”

  Prue snorted softly. “N-not at all. She told me to b-be polite and agreeable, and not to st-stammer.”

  “Pity,” Camden replied, his voice suddenly filled with disappointment. “Thirty seconds in, and you’ve already failed in all three. So much for obedient daughters.”

  She scowled over at him. “Am I not p-polite and agreeable, Camden?”

  “Not to me.” He shrugged easily, his broad shoulders somehow more pronounced now than they had been in the dark eveningwear the night before. “I’ve only ever known abuse at your hands, and it’s really a miracle I agreed to walk with you at all today. It will take me the rest of the day to recover, I am quite sure of it.”

  Prue stared at him, torn between amusement and confusion. He was an intriguing puzzle of a man, that much was clear. He teased her so easily, just as he had the night before, despite knowing almost nothing about her. It was natural, relaxed, and set her at ease faster than anything else she would have expected.

  And this from a sort of man who should have been paying her no mind at all. He was starkly handsome in a classical way, but something about him seemed wrong. Well, perhaps not wrong so much as dangerous. His hair was dark, his eyes a shade darker, and he had a commanding presence that drew others in, including her. He was utterly impressive in his attire, though it was not nearly as fine as the evening before, yet at the same time did not seem at all overdone.

  It was all perfection there, and Prue envied him his flawlessness.

  “That was a joke, Prue,” Camden told her softly, his voice breaking through her reverie.

  She flushed quickly, though without her usual fervor and panic. “I know,” she assured him. “Just lost in thought.”

  Thoughts of him, but he didn’t need to know that.

  He gave her a fond smile. “Can I get lost in your thoughts, too?”

  Prue frowned a little, unsure if he was trying to be amusing or flirtatious. She needed him to be the comfortable man from the night before, not another one of the suitors making her uncomfortable.

  “It seems a better place to be lost than this,” he went on, oblivious to her confusion and gesturing at the house. “At least your thoughts would make sense.”

  Relief had never tasted so sweet, and Prue smiled at the sensation. “I thought you said I wasn’t a creature of s-sense.”

  He looked back at her quickly. “No, I said you were a creature of sense, you goose. Don’t make me more of a villain than I already am.”

  “You don’t even know how much of a villain you are,” she reminded him.

  “True, but I imagine it sometimes, and that gives me entertainment enough.”

  Prue laughed a little as the others finally came out of the house, Miss Fairbanks and Amelia looking far more attractive than Prue ever could. Mr. Applegate and the other gentlemen came out with them and gestured towards the gravel path leading away from the house.

  “That way, if you please, Mr. Vale,” Mr. Applegate called.


  Camden looked at it, then turned back politely. “I think you had better lead, Applegate. You know the grounds better than me, I may prove a terrible leader.”

  Applegate chuckled and tipped his hat at Miss Fairbanks. “Miss Fairbanks, if you will lead with me…?”

  Pleased, Miss Fairbanks curtseyed and moved to the front with him, Amelia and the other gentleman following.

  Camden waved at Mrs. Gates then. “Come along, Mrs. Gates, I’ll follow with Miss Westfall. We wouldn’t want you tripping over a stone and having no one to help you.”

  Mrs. Gates colored in delight and did as she was bid, smiling at Prue with the pitying smile one might give a simpleton in the streets as she passed.

  Prue watched her as she retreated in front of them, scowling a little.

  “Gracious, Prue Westfall,” Camden muttered as they finally walked together. “What’s that for?”

  How to explain the torment of being in her situation to a man who could not hope to understand? She exhaled audibly, choosing her words with care.

  “It’s c-complicated.”

  “So am I, but that doesn’t change anything,” he returned, clasping his hands behind his back. “Tell me anyway.”

  She gave that some thought. “I understand that c-conversing with me is difficult,” she began.

  “Not so difficult,” he broke in. “I’m doing it without any effort at all, and I hate difficult things.”

  Prue gave him a hard look. “D-don’t brush it off. It is harder than speaking to anybody else.” She returned her gaze to Mrs. Gates’s back several paces ahead of them. “I don’t expect anybody to go out of their way to engage me in conversation. But I don’t want to be pitied for it, either. Do you have any idea how many people talk at me instead of to me, thinking I cannot respond at all?”

  “I have some, yes,” he admitted, surprising her.