Secrets of a Spinster (12 page)

Insufferable man, she thought viciously as she watched his retreating back.

“Miss Hamilton,” no less than three male voices said at the same time.

Mary sighed inwardly, cast one more very brief, slightly longing glance in Geoff’s direction, then slipped into her debutante form again with a polite smile and turned once more to her newfound admirers.

C
hapter
E
ight

M
ary sat at the edge of her bed, still in her nightgown and wrap, hair blissfully ignorant of its current woebegone state, and rubbed her tender feet with a wince. She had arrived home very late last night, or this morning, rather, and until she had removed her shoes, she’d had no idea how sore they were. A restless night’s sleep was not helping matters.

This was what she should get used to? She would never survive.

She groaned and closed her eyes as she gripped a particularly tender part of her foot. She danced nearly every dance last night, which she’d never done. It had never happened in her entire life, and she couldn’t honestly say that she was sorry for it. But she also couldn’t deny that the change was… rather nice.

Cassandra had crowed the entire carriage ride home about Mary’s victorious entrance and how lovely she looked and who stared the most, who said the vilest things, and who was most likely to begin to court her first. Mary had ignored her as her head throbbed and her toes begged for a reprieve. Geoffrey had said nothing either, but he did watch her. Not in the way that the other men at the ball had, but with a sort of concerned amusement.

“Geoffrey,” she’d said sternly as she closed her eyes, “staring is rude.”

“You had fun.”

One eye pried itself open and glared. “Is that so shocking?”

He smiled his favorite, most mischievous smile. “No denial? You must have had a grand time indeed.”

Cassandra clapped her hands and squealed. “I knew you would! I simply knew it.”

“Cassie, do shut up.”

Her sister smirked and sat back, looking rather satisfied.

“You did have a good time, didn’t you?” Geoff asked, leaning closer.

Mary gave him a bit of a smile. “If you promise not to say anything…”

“On my life and that of my greyhound.”

“…I had a good time,” she admitted with a small smile. She yawned and covered her mouth with the back of her glove. “But must it go on so long? I could have been in bed hours ago.”

Mary shook her head with a smile now as she remembered. Geoffrey had been a rather good escort the night before, excluding his ignoring her plea for help. He had danced with her twice, the second being a true rescue as she was nearly forced to dance a third time with Mr. Newton, who, while semi-attractive, was also notorious for his ability to bore cattle.

She regretted not being able to converse with Mr. Burlington any further. Despite Derek’s rather weak warning, she was curious. He had been rather polite with her, hardly superfluous, and someone she’d expect Derek and Geoff to approve of, elaborate waistcoat notwithstanding. Burlington had maintained a safe distance from her most of the night, despite always watching, and had done nothing to make his intentions known. Provided he had any intentions at all. She could hardly imagine he had when she had no proof.

One night in and already she was having grand assumptions.

“Keep your head, Mary,” she scolded herself. “Pretend the debutante, don’t become one.”

A soft knock came at the door, and Mary jerked. “Come in.”

Mrs. Evansdale, their sweet and overprotective housekeeper, entered her room with a confused look on her face.  “Miss Hamilton, I believe you have company.”

Mary felt her brows shoot up to her hairline. “At this hour? I haven’t even had breakfast.”

“I know, Miss. I’ve told them such, but they are insistent.” Mrs. Evansdale shrugged, then started wringing her hands together.

“If Diana and Kate expect me to behave this season,” Mary huffed as she quickly pulled out her plait and got to her feet, “then they ought to wait until after I am fed before starting an inquisition.”

“Erm…” Mrs. Evansdale hummed anxiously, her fingers nearly clawing at each other.

Mary looked over with concern. “Are you all right, Mrs. Evansdale?”

The plump woman bit her lip, cheeks as red as her hair. “It is not Lady Beckham or Lady Whitlock, Miss.”

Mary folded her arms and peered at her. “Then who is it?”

Mrs. Evansdale stepped aside and waved behind her. Josephine entered, bobbing quickly, looking far more delighted than the housekeeper. Her bright eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Winston says it is gentlemen, Miss,” Josephine whispered gleefully.

Mary rolled her eyes and turned to the wardrobe. “Oh, bother, don’t tell me Geoffrey is calling for a ride this early. I won’t venture out of doors at all until I…”

“Pardon, Miss, but it is not Mr. Harris,” Mrs. Evansdale interrupted as she pushed Josephine over in Mary’s direction.

Mary froze and met her maid’s eyes. “Then…”

“He only said gentlemen, Miss,” she replied with a shrug.

“Wait. Men? As in… plural?” She clutched at her throat, which suddenly had constricted and become very dry.

“Indeed, Miss,” Josephine said with a happy nod as she began helping Mary out of her night things.

Mary took an unsteady breath and released it slowly. This was all part of being a true debutante. Callers would come, and they ought to be informed that she wouldn’t take calls before breakfast. Some things she would not bend on, and they needed to know it.

Josephine dropped a dress over her head and helped it on, and Mary looked at herself very calmly in the mirror. She caught sight of Mrs. Evansdale by the door, still looking uncomfortable.

“How many?” Mary asked slowly.

Mrs. Evansdale met her eyes in the mirror, suddenly terrified. “Wh… what, miss?”

“How many gentlemen?”

“Oh, we can’t say for certain,” Josephine said absently as she did up the buttons. “How many gentlemen do you think can fit in the sitting room?”

Three minutes later, Mary slipped carefully down the stairs, keeping her back to the wall the entire time. Thankfully, the sitting room happened to be situated directly off of the staircase, so she should be able to sneak a peak in without too much of a risk of being seen. But having never attempted to sneak anywhere in her own home before, she had no idea if it was even possible. Did her stairs creak? Were her slippers soft enough to avoid making noise? Would the door to the room hide her enough to allow her more than a cursory glance?

Her buttons scraped against the wall and she froze, hoping against hope that the sound, horrendously loud in her ears, would be indistinguishable to others amid the sounds of whomever was in her sitting room.

No sounds other than the low murmur of voices were heard, and she relaxed, ever so slightly and kept moving. Total relaxation was not possible at this point, not when there was a roomful of men downstairs.

At last, she reached the bottom stair and she drew in a long, silent breath. Then she very carefully leaned forward and peered into the room as surreptitiously as she could.

Josephine had not exaggerated.    

Mary could see almost a third of the room, as well as the gaudy mirror her mother had put in that room years ago. She had never been so grateful for something she hated in her entire life. In her line of sight, there were at least six men. In the mirror, at least four others were visible. They all seemed preoccupied, whether with their own attire, hair, or teeth, or with discussing important topics, horses it seemed, and so she was unnoticed in her observations.

She felt her heart pick up its pace and her breathing followed suit. She couldn’t do this. She could not do this.

Forgoing her previous desire for silence, she raced up the stairs. Already panting, she turned the corner down the hallway, threw open Cassandra’s bedroom door, and slammed it behind her as she entered, plastering herself against it. Cassie was still in bed, but stirred at the sound, blearily opening her eyes.

“Mary?” she mumbled sleepily. “Wha-er you doing?”

“Men,” Mary gasped.

Cassandra blinked in confusion, rubbed her eyes, then pushed herself up to a sitting position. “Maybe I was too hasty to push you out into Society so early. You have clearly lost your mind.”

Mary shook her head quickly, swallowing. “There are men in the sitting room.”

“Really?” Cassie said slowly as a sly smile crossed her face. “How many?”

“Ten.”

A deep furrowed formed between Cassie’s brows. “That’s all?”

Mary looked at her in disbelief. “That’s all? That’s ten times what I have ever had put together! There’s no room for them all to sit down!”

“No, nor should there be.” Cassie yawned, stretched, and got out of bed, padding barefoot over to her mirror. “Sitting down makes them more comfortable. Maybe we ought to remove one of the sofas,” she mused as she sat down and began undoing her plait.

“Oh, Cassie. What am I supposed to do?” Mary moaned. “I’m not prepared for something like this. I don’t… I can’t… I think I may be ill.”

Cassandra sighed, but showed no other sign of concern. “Not on my carpet, if you please.”

“Cassie! What do I do?” Mary asked, her voice rasping in her dry throat. Now was not the time for her sister to be indifferent.

Her sister cast her a look in the mirror. “Go down and greet your callers, of course. What do you expect?”

“Not this!” Mary put a hand to her head and slouched against the door. “Definitely not this.”

Setting down her brush, Cassandra turned and faced her. “Mary, you’ve never shied away from a challenge before. This whole scheme was your idea, remember. Yes, ten potential suitors in the sitting room before breakfast is more than you expected, but don’t you see? This means you are a success and those men want to know more! Your task now is to weed out the ones not worth your time. You enjoy gardening. Go pull out the weeds.”

Mary stared at her younger sister, who knew so much more about this sort of thing that she did. How, in all of Mary’s twenty-seven years, had she learned so little? She swallowed hard, and stood up straighter. “Right. I can do this. I can be myself and still be a debutante on short notice.”

“Yes, you can,” Cassandra agreed, smiling slightly. “You look lovely, especially since it’s before breakfast. Perhaps you might wish to scold them for it?”

“I plan to,” Mary said darkly. “That is, if I can find a way to politely scold a roomful of men without offending any. The last thing I need is bad gossip going around and taking all the fun out of things.”

Cassie adopted a would-be innocent expression. “Oh, are you having fun right now? I thought you were panicked.”

Mary made a face at her. “Don’t mock my pain.”

“Oh, the sheer agony of success,” Cassie muttered dryly as Mary exited. “Be graceful, dear!”

“Yes, Mother!”

Mary could hear her sister snicker as she closed the door behind her. She waited a long moment as she collected her thoughts, settled her breathing, and could manage to swallow easily. Finally, she took in a breath, released it slowly, and then made her way down the stairs. Gracefully, of course.