Smitten by the Spinster Read online

  “There you go. That’s perfect,” she said, unable to look at him anymore. “I shall introduce you. Please try not to give the poor kid a heart attack.”

  Quinn laughed and took her arm again, pulling her against his side. “Ye must stay close,” he said. “It seems I need a chaperone as much as wee Catie.”

  Oliver held his own just fine under Quinn’s fierce greeting. Lizzie unobtrusively poked him in the ribs when he thrust out his hand in an alarmingly aggressive manner, hoping he wouldn’t shake the young man to pieces.

  “An honor to meet you, sir,” Oliver said, barely wincing at the firm handshake. “My family has a property in the lowlands. My grandmother was a Dunbar.”

  Well, well. He was clearly working to impress Quinn, which meant he already had designs on Catie.

  “We dinna get to the lowlands much,” Quinn said. “Though I think I came across a Dunbar in a pub once. He liked to hear the sound of his own voice, got verra drunk and began to sing on one of the table tops. Someone tossed him into the street, and he kept on warbling, even after he got doused with a bucket of water.”

  “That’ll be one of my relatives, I’ve no doubt,” Oliver laughed.

  Lizzie had to struggle not to groan. She’d have to investigate Oliver further, but didn’t think he was suitable at all. For one thing, his family wasn’t in any dire straits, and would have no need to be grateful to her for facilitating the match. She needed to throw a wrench in soon, before Oliver got it in his head that he couldn’t live without Catie. She clearly already liked him a lot, and Quinn seemed impressed with his good natured ability to be teased. Double damn.

  Oliver kept being charming, making Catie and Quinn laugh with mild, inoffensive stories about various London families, and even cracking Lizzie up once, to her irritation. She had to remember it was early days still, and Catie would meet many more young gentleman, and hopefully one of them would overshadow this sweet, adorable pup.

  If Lizzie made anywhere near a respectable amount of money from her wages alone, she’d be perfectly pleased to let nature take its course, but she didn’t. If Lord Ashford’s rescue effort didn’t work, she needed every extra shilling she could get for her freedom savings fund.

  After an annoyingly enjoyable walk in the park, they returned to the house to find the hall loaded with newly arrived parcels from the dressmaker. They all looked at one another with various expressions. Catie, horrified and delighted at once. Quinn, a bit shocked that there were so many. Lizzie, uncertain. Now the real work began. Two footmen carried the packages upstairs and Catie tore after them, leaving Lizzie and Quinn in the front hall.

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “So it begins,” he said, as if he’d read her mind.

  “Indeed, sir,” she said.

  “Tomorrow shall be the first grand event?” he asked. “I hope she does well. Though I shouldna doubt it with ye to guide her. Ye’ve done wonders for her.”

  Stunned at his sincere compliment, she nodded stiffly. “Thank you. I assure you it’s all Catie.” She let go of his arm and climbed the stairs, feeling his eyes on her as she went.

  Chapter 7

  Catie practically rolled on the bed in the midst of her new gowns, she was so excited. Lizzie knew she should say something, but let her have her fun for the moment. Her first ball was that evening and she’d have to sit quietly in a chair to get her hair done, then get tugged and yanked into the chosen gown, then have to be scrutinized the rest of the night.

  “I still dinna understand how she got them all done so fast,” Catie said, finished prodding at them.

  Lizzie shuddered to think about that, and prayed it wasn’t orphans. If she got stuck here, she planned to adopt at least one unfortunate child, and take him or her away from the workhouses to run and play in the sun at her cottage in the country.

  “She’ll want you to remain her customer, so had all her assistants working non-stop, no doubt.”

  “Which one, Miss Burnet?” she asked, holding up a beautiful cream and rose gown, her arms shaking under the weight of all the rich fabrics.

  Lizzie nodded to the pale blue one that lay on the bed. “That one brings out your eyes, which are your loveliest feature. This will be your debut.”

  Catie swallowed hard and dumped the pink one. “Verra well. I like them all. I’ve never had this many gowns all at once, and never any so fine.”

  “Better get used to it if you decide to stay in London. The ladies here get new gowns several times a year.”

  “I canna wait,” Catie breathed, twirling with her gown as if it was a dance partner. Lizzie was glad to see she was light on her feet. “May I see what you’ll be wearing?” she asked shyly when she stopped suddenly, blinking with dizziness.

  “I shall be wearing the dove gray dress I wore to dinner night before last,” she said, trying not to sound begrudging.

  She knew it shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter. But she would have liked to wear one of the gorgeous fancy gowns of this era, and danced every dance at one of the balls. Instead, she’d be sitting on the sidelines, nodding and having polite, tense conversations with irritable mothers, and hoping her charge didn’t bring shame on her family or Lizzie’s good name as a chaperone.

  “That’s a verra nice dress,” Catie said politely, but looked a little disappointed.

  “I’m not there to attract a beau, sweetie,” she said. “I’ll be there to look forbidding and keep the wolves away from you.”

  At that, she erupted into laughter. “No wolf would ever be after the likes of me,” she said. “My brother would likely fit that description. Perhaps ye should chaperone Quinn as well.”

  Lizzie tried not to blush or blink, keeping her face perfectly still. She hadn’t yet seen Quinn today, he’d left before anyone else got up for breakfast. But she knew he would be accompanying them tonight and it had been giving her shivers all day long. Stupidly. There was no reason to get shivers, she told herself. She must have had a look on her face that Catie misunderstood, because she jumped to his defense.

  “I’ve spoken with him, Miss Burnet. He willna get drunk or embarrass us, I promise ye. And he also swore not to scare any potential husbands away.”

  “Catie,” Lizzie said firmly. “Your brother has been nothing but a perfect gentleman. I have no doubts about this evening.”

  Catie perked up. “Perfect gentleman? He’ll be glad to hear ye think so.”

  Oh, dear. She had to put a stop to this. “He will not, because you will not tell him we discussed him. In fact, it’s highly improper to speak of your guardian in such a manner.” Lizzie forced herself not to look away from Catie’s hurt face.

  As much as she liked her, this young girl was not her friend. Her brother was not her friend, or anything else to her. Most definitely nothing else. At last Catie nodded and looked away.

  “Of course, ma’am. I’m verra sorry. Ye’re right.”

  Lizzie sighed inwardly and told her she should try to get a nap, using all her willpower not to pat her shoulder as she left the room.

  ***

  Catie paused at the top of the stairs, clearly embarrassed to be the object of attention. Lady Amberly clung to Lizzie’s hand and gazed up at her niece, which caused Lizzie to have feelings she struggled to squash.

  “She’s actually a beauty,” Lady Amberly said.

  Indeed, Catie looked stunning with her hair twisted and cajoled into a fashionably intricate style, all interlaced with baubles and ribbons. Her dress was a work of art, and it never failed to impress Lizzie how much money really did talk, that such an extravagant gown could be finished in two days, and all of it hand sewn.

  Catie’s cheeks glowed as she let herself be hugged and needlessly adjusted by her aunt.

  “You’re going to be the brightest one there tonight,” Lizzie assured her.

  “Indeed, lass, I’ve never seen ye look so well,” Quinn said from behind them.

  Lizzie turned to see his proud expression, feeling quite proud herself, and n
early dropped dead at the sight of him. If she’d thought having him swathed in miles of plaid fabric was going to lessen his impact on her, she’d been wrong. So wrong. The dark red and deep greens only accentuated the bronze waves of his hair, and instead of being swallowed up, he seemed even bigger, stronger and more confident.

  “Good evening, ladies,” he said, that wicked twinkle in his eye as he bowed to them.

  Lady Amberly whipped out her fan and waved it in front of herself. Lizzie had the urge to either wrap her arms around him or smack him. As if once again reading her thoughts, he winked at her over Lady Amberly’s head. What was even worse was Catie caught him winking at her and now she had a knowing smirk on her face. God, these Scots.

  “Miss Burnet, a message for you.” The footman cleared his throat and handed her a crumpled note. “He said it was urgent or I’d not have interrupted. He bobbed apologetically at Lady Amberly before fleeing the front hall.

  “Oh dear, I hope all is well with your uncle, Miss Burnet. We really cannot do without you tonight,” Lady Amberly said, her voice laced with concern but her face disapproving.

  Lizzie took a step away, her heart sinking as she unfolded the wrinkled piece of paper, noting with some alarm that it was another scrap of notebook paper from her own era, though the blue lines were almost completely faded. It was a tersely scrawled demand to meet that night, in an area that seemed shady in the light of day, downright dangerous after dark. She didn’t recognize the handwriting as Lew’s and furthermore, he always had her meet him at Belmary House. The very thought of meeting in such a spot would have sent him into a tizzy.

  She nervously tucked the note away to analyze it later, pretty sure it wasn’t from Lew, but uncertain who else would want to meet her clandestinely. Could it be from Lord Ashford? She felt dizzy and blinked up at the three faces before her, all ranging from true concern to slight irritation.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, too flustered to come up with a cover story. “It’s really not urgent. The messenger must have been mistaken. It’s nothing that couldn’t have waited until morning.”

  Lady Amberly scowled after the footman, but quickly recovered when Quinn offered his arm. Lizzie took Catie’s arm and followed them, trying to relax and not obsess over what the cryptic summons meant. She rested her eyes on Quinn’s back, which just riled her up in a different way. How could she have thought a kilt could tame his wild masculine beauty?

  Lady Amberly got into the carriage first, followed by Catie, who sat next to her, which left Lizzie wedged in next to Quinn, their legs and shoulders bumping at each grinding turn of the wheels. She felt exhausted from holding herself stiffly away from him, clinging to the side of the carriage like a barnacle, all while trying not to be obvious about her discomfort. When they rolled up in front of the townhouse and were helped down by elegantly dressed footmen, she breathed a sigh of relief to be out of Quinn’s dangerous gravitational pull.

  Both Catie and Lady Amberly were agog at the sumptuous party. It was a large affair, at one of the nicest houses, and would serve well to get Catie acquainted with society while not putting too much pressure on her as a more intimate setting would have done.

  “Don’t be nervous,” Lizzie said as she hustled her into the thick of things.

  Catie beamed from ear to ear at all the newness and sparkle that surrounded her, the complete opposite of nervous as introductions were made. People began noticing her, whispering to themselves that she must be the mysterious Scottish heiress everyone had been talking about. Before Lizzie could even fully manage anything, Catie had three dances lined up. Things were moving impossibly fast.

  Deciding that nothing too untoward could happen if she let Catie have a little fun, she sank into a chair on the sidelines and eyed the buffet. There were probably some delicious offerings but her dove gray dress was impossibly laced tonight. She didn’t know why, but she’d had a flash of vanity and really sucked it in while Tessa helped lace her up.

  She blushed and waved her fingers in front of her face in the crowded room, knowing why. When Quinn had looked her up and down, she’d seen a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes, even without her being able to have a complicated hairstyle or any jewels. That brief look was worth the discomfort she’d have the rest of the night.

  For the moment, everything seemed fine. Lady Amberly found the one person she knew and was already deep in the throes of gossip, occasionally waving at her niece and wiping her brow as if being out in public was the worst possible strain on her constitution. Lizzie had no idea where Quinn had gone, he’d stayed close at first, but soon melted away, probably to a card game. She hoped he wouldn’t get in any trouble, but then reminded herself she only needed to worry about Catie, and Catie was doing perfectly well.

  As Lizzie relaxed, a sharp featured matron weighted down with diamonds swooped onto the chair next to her like a glittering hawk. Lady Hollingsborn fanned herself, wafting heavily perfumed air onto Lizzie, before leaning over and getting cozy for a chat. It was all Lizzie could do not to recoil.

  “Your new charge is darling, Miss Burnet,” she said. “So quaint. I believe my son heard her talking about goats.”

  Lizzie turned to face her, smiling her brightest stage smile, scrolling through her mental lists of the nobility. Lord Edwin Hollingsborn was twenty-four, would be the fourth Marquis of Hollingsborn one day. Soon, based on rumors of his father’s ill health. It was a good title, and gobs of land, but she knew one of their estates was crumbling under the weight of Edwin’s gambling debts as well as literally crumbling due to poor management. Lady Hollingsborn had probably sold a painting just to have a dress to wear tonight.

  “Well, she was raised on a farm, Lady Hollingsborn,” Lizzie answered. “I’ve never met such a hardworking and capable girl.”

  “Hardworking and capable are two very fine qualities indeed,” she said, snapping her fan. “I wonder if it’s enough for a future Marchioness.”

  “My goodness, has your son expressed such an interest in Miss Catriona already? After just one dance?”

  Lady Hollingsborn peered at her over the end of her scissor sharp nose and Lizzie continued smiling. This was it, she was about to be made an offer. And after less than two hours.

  “Of course Edwin thinks she’s as charming as I do. And I’m certain he’d want to get to know her better, discover some more of her fine qualities.” She patted her coiffure. “Of which she has many, I’m sure.” She deigned to look down her predatory beak at Catie, sizing her up and judging her.

  Lizzie fumed, but shook off the unwonted surge of anger on Catie’s behalf. It didn’t matter that she was worth twenty of this old bat and her dissolute son. She had to get married and it may as well be to a marquis.

  “Many indeed,” Lizzie said. “I can think of at least thirty thousand. But he will want to discover them all on his own, just as you say.”

  Lady Hollingsborn made a less than dignified noise and Lizzie sat back in her chair. It looked like she was going to be able to relax for the next month. She’d keep an eye out for a better offer, but as of now, she’d just hooked Catie a marquis. Of course, if she was able to go home she wouldn’t be around to get her kickback from facilitating, but she decided to do this one for fun. A last hurrah. If Catie was as clever as she thought, she could make a good marriage of it, maybe get Edwin to quit his bad habits. She’d spend her last days in this time schooling her on how to manage. A final good deed to make up for her not so good ones up until now.

  As Lady Hollingsborn gathered her wits, Lizzie surveyed the room. Catie still appeared to be having a good time, but she noticed Quinn coming from a back room, looking a bit smug, with two disgruntled gentleman following behind him, giving him the stink eye. She glanced at Lady H, then back at Quinn. Something seemed amiss, and as much as she wanted to hammer out details, she felt the overwhelming urge to make sure Quinn was all right.

  “Please Lady Hollingsborn, you must excuse me. Catriona and Lady Amberly will be delighted
to receive you any morning this week.” She stood and bobbed apologetically, while trying to maintain the upper hand. “Of course I’d love to speak more with you as well, and pray I’ll be able to offer my counsel to her. She is such a sweet, simple girl. She relies heavily on my advice.”

  Lizzie could barely restrain herself from punching the air in triumph as she strode away to speak with Quinn.

  “I’ve just won Catriona a new fortune,” he said, pleased with himself beyond measure. His radiant, open smile made him look extremely huggable, and very young.

  “How old are you?” she asked abruptly, about to beg his pardon the second the words were out. It was none of her business, yet he answered her anyway, without a hint of embarrassment.

  “Two and twenty,” he said, leaning closer to her.

  He was so young. Four years younger than her. It depressed her, wondering if he viewed her as an old maid. She must seem ancient to him, dried up and alone. She remembered Catie blurting out that she didn’t look like a spinster and her heart sank further. Catie must have gotten that notion from someone and it was probably Quinn.

  If they’d grown up in the same neighborhood, she might have been his babysitter! Depending on his birthday, they might not have even gone to the same secondary school. She couldn’t picture Quinn as anything other than the virile man who stood before her, and almost laughed thinking about him in her old school uniform. Well, here she was about to reinforce her advanced age by chastising him.

  “They won’t be pleased with you,” she said, glancing over at the losers who continued to glare at him. “Have a care where you walk at nights.”

  “I’ve had more and worse try to do me harm,” he said with a careless shrug. She could see it wasn’t a boast and felt a bit sad and protective of him that he’d had a tough lot of it, up in the wilds.

  “Still,” she said, not backing away, when she knew she should. “Best not to underestimate them based on their accents, aye?”