Chapter Fourteen
Men are not useless creatures, despite any evidence to the contrary. They do have a purpose in this world, and can offer something of value, if they so choose. They have thoughts, feelings, and impressions, same as the rest of us. Whether or not they decide to employ any of those things is entirely up to them.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 23 October 1817
“I have a very bad feeling about this.”
“Hush, it will be fine.”
“You can say that? You, who knows Miranda personally.”
“It will be fine, Tony. Janet is in there, so you are safe.”
Tony barked a hard laugh. “Janet is in there with Miranda and you find that comforting.” He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have absolutely no idea, Francis.”
Francis grunted softly, moving around the corner of the billiards table, eyeing the balls carefully. “How bad could it possibly be? You like Miranda.”
Tony leaned his head against his stick, sighing. “I adore Miranda. She was both mother and friend to me after Mother died, and she brought Father back to life. She’s eccentric, she’s refined, she’s witty… Miranda is wonderful. But even I can admit that Miranda can be too brash, too bold, too inquisitive, too rough around the edges…”
Francis leaned over the table and looked up at Tony with a quirk of his brow. “And all of that reflects on my wife how, exactly?” He struck his cue ball, narrowly missing Tony’s, but sending the red ball into the pocket easily.
“Janet has a sharp tongue, which is what I like about her,” Tony told his cousin as he moved to fish the balls out of the pocket. “She’ll say exactly what she thinks, no matter the consequence, and argue her point to the death.”
Francis went to the sideboard and picked up his glass, taking a quick drink. “Tell me about it. We’ve been having a discussion on the same topic for three months now, and absolutely no progress has been made one way or the other because she refuses to budge.”
Tony found that to be an amusing thought and wondered what the topic of discussion was, and whether such discussions belonged more into the class of arguments. He couldn’t have said one way or the other, nor was he about to inquire. The dealings of a married couple within the walls of their home were certainly no concern of his, especially when he happened to be related to them.
But Francis had never been very good at arguing, so he was willing to bet a great deal that the only reason the discussion, or argument, had gone on as long as it had was because Francis was actually right this time.
“And who will win that discussion?” Tony asked, setting up the cue balls once more.
Francis smiled, leaning against his cue stick. “Probably Janet, though she’d be wrong. Makes no difference, really.”
Tony shook his head and leaned across the table to align his shot. “So, she’s stubborn and opinionated. Just what Miranda needs to start a fire.” He took his shot but missed the red ball and hit Francis’s cue ball instead. He hissed as Francis chuckled.
“Poor strategy, Captain,” Francis said as he fished his ball out. “It’s a wonder you ever hit your mark. Ten to nine.”
Tony scowled, straightening. “I’d be happy to prove my skills with firearms at any time.”
“Not in London, you won’t.” Francis grinned and took his shot, missing both balls completely. “Save it for your invitation to Crestley Ridge later in the year. We are overrun with pheasant.”
“Happy to oblige.” Tony looked towards the door, unease gnawing at his stomach.
Just a few doors down, Georgie was taking tea with his favorite female relations. They’d not come to Sterling House together, as he’d wished to, because Georgie had insisted that they approach this event as if they were nothing more than acquaintances.
It made no difference to her that Francis knew Tony was attached to her in some way, which meant that Janet probably suspected more than that, and that all would be sniffed out by Miranda sooner rather than later. There was nothing to tell, she’d insisted, and nothing to lose, so why should they be worried?
Nothing to tell? There was certainly a great deal to tell. Miranda did not need much information to make a fuss, and make a fuss she would if she discovered that the woman who had captured Tony’s affections was having a second helping of cake.
Nothing to lose? Nothing could have been further from the truth. One wrong word from Miranda, and Georgie could be hurt or offended, insulted, appalled, and who knows what else. There was no guarantee that she would like Miranda as much as he did, or that she would understand her the way he did.
He couldn’t lose Georgie. Without having a definition to place on what exactly he felt for her, or what she meant, or where this all might go, he could not lose her.
But Miranda wasn’t going anywhere. She was his stepmother, and he would not be able to wound her by cutting off his association with her.
Just down the hall, two of the most important women in his life were meeting.
One of them knew of the significance.
The other had no idea.
Yet with her rested all the power to make Tony’s future all the more secure, or all the more uncertain.
And Francis thought he had no cause for concern? His wife could sway the meeting one way or the other as her tastes and preferences would allow. She liked Georgie already and was disposed to make this gathering a rather fortunate one.
But what if Janet liked Miranda more than Georgie?
“Are you planning on taking a shot or would you rather go press your ear to the door of my wife’s parlor?”
Tony glanced at his cousin, who looked all too smug in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, grinning at him.
“You find my discomfort amusing, do you?” Tony asked as he took up position again for his turn.
Francis shrugged nonchalantly. “Always have. It’s one of my favorite sights.”
Tony grunted under his breath, sending the cue ball ricocheting off Francis’s to hit the red ball squarely into a corner pocket. “Then I hope Miranda asks Janet about the arrival of your firstborn child and when she should prepare for the christening.”
He straightened and looked at his cousin to find Francis staring at him with wide eyes.
“Janet’s not with child,” Francis stammered. “She’s… and I…”
“Then she will ask about that,” Tony commented in an offhand manner as he moved to take a drink from his glass on the sideboard. “She’s really very interested in the progression of the Sterling family, but you’re the only cousins she cares about.”
Francis swallowed with difficulty and completely botched his next shot. “That’s not her business.”
Tony turned to his cousin. “That’s never stopped her before.” He took another drink and set his glass down, coming back to the table. “Or perhaps she will ask her about Hugh. That’s undoubtedly a much safer topic.”
He knew he’d hit upon a sore spot, but he didn’t particularly care at the moment. He needed to deflect the questions and focus from Georgie and his anticipation for this meeting of theirs to quite literally anything else. Or else he just needed Francis to understand the true gravity of the situation as it stood.
Either outcome would suffice.
Francis glowered as Tony surveyed the table. “I might actually prefer the other topic to that of my brother. He is determined to ruin himself in any possible way, and if he had more money, he would lose that as well.”
Tony shook his head and aligned his cue stick. “Hugh never was much of a card player.”
“And he cannot hold his liquor.” Francis snorted softly and watched as Tony sank the red ball again. “I can only be grateful he has yet to debauch anyone, so at least we don’t have indignant fathers banging on our door demanding satisfaction.”
That wasn’t much of a comfort. “Is it as bad as that?” Tony asked with a wince.
Francis exhaled and took another drink from his glass. “He’s been spending most of his time with Simon Delaney and George Hastings and Daniel Lyman. I rarely see him now, but when I do, he smells of the gaming tables and looks like a drunkard. His funds are his own, and he never gets in too far over his head. I can only hope that he still has some sense and retains some shred of dignity.”
Tony stared at him for a long moment, then felt himself smile. “I’d wager he is rather enjoying my involvement with the Spinsters, eh?”
That earned him a groan and dramatic roll of the eyes. “Please. If I’d known what he wanted you to do, I’d have stopped him long before it got anywhere. The Spinsters may be an annoyance with their popularity, but they’ve never done anybody harm, and it’s certainly not anybody’s business if they want to continue writing. Their Society commentary is usually spot on.”
“You read them?” Tony laughed aloud, covering his eyes briefly.
“Of course, I read them!” Francis countered hotly. “It’s sometimes the best part of the newssheets! And once I’d spotted your name in the Society Dabbler, I had to keep reading to see if you appear often.” He looked at Tony thoughtfully. “You really don’t. Is there some reason for that?”
“If you’re implying that I somehow have any kind of power over what goes into those columns, you are sadly mistaken.” Tony shook his head and gestured for Francis to take his turn. “I am not permitted entrance on Writing Day, so I don’t see the articles until the rest of London does.”
Francis chuckled easily, moving back to the table. “Ah, so you are still an outsider to them, eh? And what does Miss Allen think of that?” He sank Tony’s ball easily, missing the red.
Tony smiled at his cousin’s ignorance. He obviously did not know Georgie at all, and he was to be pitied for that. “It seems to be at Georgie’s insistence, actually.”
“I knew I liked her.” Francis cast a teasing grin over at him. “So, if Miranda approves of her, will you court her officially?”
“That is my business, not yours.”
“I could say I’ve got an interest, having met the girl and danced with her.” Francis leaned on his cue stick again. “You haven’t even danced with her yet, have you?”
Tony scowled at that. No, he hadn’t, and Francis knew it well. He hadn’t danced with her the night she’d confided her thoughts about disbanding the Spinsters, and he hadn’t danced with her that night he’d kissed her. All the other events they’d been at together had been too small to consider doing so, unlike the safety of a grand ball. He wasn’t sure he could dance with her and be safe from himself.
Enough was said about her already, why enflame things with a different sort of talk?
But if he courted her, that would stir things up as well.
He could court her quietly, he supposed, and take care not to attract attention by it.
Except he wanted to court her for all the world to see. He wanted everyone to know that he was not afraid of their opinions of her, that he would take her just as she was and not find anything wanting, that they were all fools for having missed it. He wanted to be done with the secrecy and pretending he only admired her for the attitude with which she had managed her spinsterhood.
Georgiana Allen was an impressive woman who had chosen to get on with her life despite not having it turn out the way she had wanted, and without any of the bitterness and spite that other women in her situation might have done. She might not have had an alternative future set as a precaution, nor would she be able to manage a comfortable living on her own, should she never marry. But she had come to terms with her situation in life, and with her own temperament, and she was making the best of things. She did not simper or whine, and she did not look to anyone else to find completion in her life.
There wasn’t another woman like her, he was sure of it.
He was feeling very much that he was on the edge of something, though what it was escaped him.
So again, he would seek safety in distraction.
“Your wife,” Tony began as he took his shot, “my stepmother, and the woman widely believed to be the leader of the Spinsters are all having tea together. Three very determined, very unusual women. Either they are going to battle with each other vehemently, or they are going to get along splendidly. Which outcome would you find more comforting, Francis?”
His cousin suddenly seemed to blanche and looked towards the door with a great deal of apprehension as Tony watched his cue ball sink both Francis’s and the red ball into the far corner pocket.
“Your turn.”
“So, Miss Allen, you are a spinster.”
Georgie turned to Mrs. Sterling with a bland sort of smile. “So it seems.”
Mrs. Sterling narrowed her strikingly blue eyes and lifted her teacup to her lips. “Do you disagree?”
She shook her head slowly. “Not at all. At twenty-seven, there really is no better way to define me. I own up to it, ma’am, though it sounds rather dreadful.”
Lady Sterling… Janet, she reminded herself… choked back a laugh and set her own teacup down. She smiled at Tony’s stepmother, who was still a woman of astonishing beauty at her age, and dressed perhaps too finely for this occasion, but only in the most tasteful ways. Both women were impressive to Georgie, and far more refined.
They were also far better dressed, but as their fortune was substantial by comparison, that went without saying.
Besides, Georgie had neither the coloring nor the figure to look half so well in the same clothing. Dark colors had never been a friend to her, but both women had dark hair, very richly so, in Janet’s case, and they looked simply marvelous.
Mrs. Sterling seemed to smile without actually smiling. “I was married at twenty-five, dear, and I never considered myself a spinster before I was wed.”
Georgie considered that, wondering just how honest she ought to be with Tony’s stepmother. She was a different sort of woman than Georgie had expected, and yet somehow fit the part perfectly. This was the woman who had helped to raise Tony to be such a perfect gentleman. She was every bit as fine as Georgie had anticipated, but without any of the airs. There was a light in her eyes that Georgie liked very much, though she was fairly certain it was also capable of a great deal of mischief.
“I didn’t consider myself a spinster of my own volition, madam,” Georgie informed her politely. “I was informed that I was one. Rather resoundingly so.”
“And what is wrong with you, dear?” came the quick retort.
Janet coughed again, this time without any laughter. “Miranda!”
Mrs. Sterling held up a hand. “It is a legitimate question. This woman, who is still young, I might add, is rather pretty. Her clothing is in neat condition, suits her well, and she arrived promptly in a rather fine coach. Surely there is a fault I am not seeing, or else she would be married by now.”
Janet clamped down on her lips and closed her eyes, obviously mortified by her guest’s behavior.
Georgie wasn’t, however. She found it to be very refreshing. “I’ve never been entirely sure what is wrong with me, Mrs. Sterling. I have always gone about my life with the determination to make the best of any situation, and to devote myself to the future I imagined would lie ahead of me.” She shrugged a shoulder and sipped her tea. “This isn’t exactly what I’d thought it would be, but it seems a poor use of my time to wallow in despair.”
Mrs. Sterling’s brow wrinkled, and she frowned a little. “Yes, but why, Miss Allen, are you unmarried?”
Georgie smiled at her. “If I knew that, Mrs. Sterling, I’d have changed it by now and be on my way to church this instant.”
Mrs. Sterling suddenly broke out into a grin, then laughed rather heartily. “Oh, you were so right, Janet, I adore her.” She reached out a hand to cover Georgie’s free one. “You must call me Miranda.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Georgie replied with a dip of her chin. “You may call me Georgiana. Or Georgie, if it pleases you.”
“It certainly does,” Miranda said as she sat back and reached for a cake. “Now who was idiotic enough to inform you that you were a spinster? That’s nigh unto a death sentence for a young lady.”
Georgie shook her head. “Just a passing gentleman, ma’am. He had come over to meet me, and was introduced by a cousin, who felt it polite to announce my age as well, at which point the gentleman said, ‘What? A spinster? Not worth my time,’ and he promptly left to find a girl of considerably fewer years to acquaint himself with.” She smiled forcibly at them both. “He married her two months later.”
“Good riddance,” Janet said with a disapproving shake of her head. “He’d have made you a worthless husband, I am sure.”
“But is a worthless husband better than no husband at all?” she asked them, looking between them.
Miranda sighed a little, seeming to consider the notion. “I don’t think so. You might be more secure in having a husband than not, but it wouldn’t add to your happiness. Is there peace of mind in being secure if you are miserable?” She frowned again. “When I married Thomas, Tony and Ben’s father, I did not love him. He was a very good man, and I was fond of him, certainly, but it was not love until years later. Yet I was never happier than in marriage to him, even more when there was love.”
“But Thomas was not worthless,” Janet pointed out.
“Well…” Miranda said with a wince, though her eyes twinkled.
Georgie laughed aloud, as did Janet.
“I jest, of course,” Miranda explained, smiling at them both. “He was never worthless, though there were times I wondered at his intellect or common sense.”
“I have the same trouble with Francis,” Janet sighed, sipping her tea. “That man…” She shook her head.
Georgie chose that moment to take a bite of crumpet, as she had nothing to offer about men. She wasn’t about to say a word about Tony, knowing what sort of a mess that would bring about. Besides, Tony wasn’t her husband. It was hardly the same thing.
But she was honest enough with herself not to deny that the thought of him as such made her heart quiver just a little.
“Now, Georgie,” Miranda said, breaking into Georgie’s sudden imaginations of veils and bells, “Janet has told me of your Spinster Chronicles and I have read the most recent issue.”
“Did you?” she responded, grinning in outright delight. “And which part was your favorite?”
“The main article, to be sure.” Miranda nodded quickly. “It was witty and tactful, yet contained all the wisdom in the world. I’ve had similar thoughts on the idiocy of vapid women, but never had the talents to put it into words. Were you the author of it?”
Georgie was pleased to deny it, shaking her head. “No, I wrote the Fashion Forum this week.”
Miranda looked at Janet in thought. “Was that the piece about lace gloves?”
“It was,” Janet confirmed, smiling at Georgie. “They are pretty enough, I agree, but as far as functionality goes, they are perfectly useless. I had a pair some months ago and they were quite done for within three uses.”
“Exactly,” Georgie stated with a firm nod. “If one is only to be decorative, then by all means, wear them. But if any sort of activity is to be engaged in, they are hardly worth the price.”
“Sound judgment,” Miranda praised. She leaned forward a bit, looking intrigued. “How did you all manage to get a printer to agree to articles written entirely by women? That’s hardly a good inducement for a businessman.”
Georgie shook her head, grinning. “No, it is not. But my uncle Lambert has a cousin that is a printer in town, and my uncle has always been very indulgent with me. He got us a meeting with his cousin, who refused to publish anything unless it was worth reading. When we showed him our articles, he accepted at once and published them in the paper three days after.”
“It’s a wonder one of you does not become a writer,” Janet offered. “It is possible to be published as a woman, as Mrs. Radcliffe and Miss Austen have proved.”
“Oh,” Georgie protested, raising a hand, “none of us would ever claim to have their level of talent, even collectively. My cousin may consider such a task, though, if she doesn’t marry. She enjoys it very much.”
“And you?” Miranda pressed none-too-gently. “What will you do? If you do not marry?”
Georgie grew restless in her seat and fought the urge to shift. “I’ve thought about going to be an instructor at a girls’ school, if they’d have someone as stubborn and opinionated as I.”
“You should have met some of the teachers I had at finishing school,” Janet told her with a grimace. “You would be a breath of fresh air compared to those trolls. And any school would be hard pressed to find anybody who did not have a face of worn wood applying for their positions.”
Miranda eyed Georgie carefully, saying nothing.
“Georgie,” Janet said suddenly, not noticing Miranda’s behavior, “everybody says that your group interferes with the nefarious intentions of certain gentlemen with young ladies. Is this so?”
“No,” Georgie replied at once. Then she winced a little. “Well, it is not entirely true, I should say. There have been two or three times, perhaps, where one or more of us has been able to prevent something that could have been disastrous. But it is not as though someone in London is being compromised every five minutes.”
“That we know of,” Janet scoffed.
Miranda still said nothing.
“We have taken some girls aside that we had noticed certain behaviors in,” Georgie went on. “We’ve given them some council, either on the man they were choosing to be so free with, or with their behavior in general, but they have always had their own way. Nothing has ever been forced, we are not knights of feminine virtue in petticoats.”
Miranda’s lips curved into an amused smile, but she was still silent.
“All I can say for us,” Georgie said, sighing a little, “is that we are trying, and have been trying, to give young women more to consider, more to think about. We’d known a few girls that had been married under less than ideal circumstances, either due to their desperation to marry or their naïveté about a man’s intentions. Or his character. We didn’t want to lose any more girls that we cared about just because marriage seemed the only way to have a fulfilling life.” She swallowed with a little difficulty, wondering at her emotions. “It isn’t. There can be a very fulfilling life regardless of one’s marital circumstances.”
“Why do you intervene?” Miranda asked quietly, her eyes fixed on Georgie. “Why do you make it your business?”
Georgie smiled back at her. “Someone has to look out for them. I know that not every girl we stop wants to be stopped, or lectured, or influenced. But if I can give her a chance to reconsider, to choose better, to think just a little, maybe it will be enough.”
Miranda nodded slowly. “And while you are running around giving second chances and finding happy endings for them, who is finding yours?”
“I think this is mine,” Georgie told her without any of the despondency those words once might have carried. “Or it could be. Not exactly what I had in mind, but there it is.”
Janet smiled at her proudly, then turned to glance at Miranda with a coy grin. “Well, Miranda, what do you say to that?”
Miranda fiddled with one dangling gold earring absently, still staring at Georgie as if for analysis. Then she lowered her hand back to the table with a firm nod. “You’ll do.”
“Do?” Georgie asked with a laugh, looking at Janet in bewilderment. “Do for what?”
“My stepson,” Miranda said simply.
Janet, having taken up her teacup again, coughed none-too-delicately. “I beg your pardon?” she managed to squeak out.
Miranda ignored her. “I have it in mind to see that my stepsons are situated well in their lives, and as neither of them have any interest in taking up the house we lived in while I was married to their father, I am left to meddling in some other way. So, tell me if you would prefer Dorset or the great unknown for your future?”
“What’s in Dorset?” Georgie laughed, finding this all terribly amusing, despite the quick lurch of her heart at the initial suggestion.
“Benedict,” Miranda told her. “He’s the elder of the two, but only by a year and a half or so. He’s a doctor, trained at the Royal College of Physicians. Top marks. He’s a sweet lad, very considerate and noble, the perfect gentleman, though he moves in lesser circles by choice. A fine rider and a great reader as well. You’d liven him up creditably.”
Georgie had to fight hard to avoid bursting out into giggles. She wanted her to marry Tony’s brother? Oh, he would perish the thought!
“Not as handsome as Tony, though,” Miranda mused, drumming her perfectly manicured nails on the table. “And Tony is in London at present.” The drumming stopped, and she looked at Georgie again. “But I forget! You know Tony already.”
Georgie nodded, biting back a smile. “I do, yes. A fine man. A credit to his family, to be sure.”
Well, it had sounded like safe enough praise in her head, but at her words, Miranda gave her a slow and very devious smirk of a smile.
“Yes,” Miranda replied in a tone Georgie wasn’t sure she cared for. “Yes, he certainly is. Very well, then, my dear. I will see what I can do to make Tony forget whoever is running around in his head and vie for you instead. And if I don’t see you married by autumn, one of you is a very great idiot.”
Janet looked beside herself, but it could not possibly compare to what Georgie was feeling.
Miranda wanted Tony to forget the woman in his head, who was Georgie, so that he could devote his attentions to Georgie, officially, so that he could marry Georgie before the summer was over.
He was never going to believe this.
Then again, considering the way Miranda was looking and knowing what Tony had said about her, perhaps it would not surprise him at all.