Smitten by the Spinster (13 page)

As it was, Mrs. Biddle took the pin and almost a week’s worth of wages. If Lizzie hadn’t counted on being gone in a few weeks it might have depressed her. But she needed the cook to keep quiet if she wanted a place to live until Lord Ashford arrived for her, and if that didn’t work out, she at least knew she could get her cut from Lady Hollingsborn after the match between her son and Catie was settled. The cook’s greed rankled her though, exacerbated by her irritation with herself for getting caught. Going to such a dangerous area late at night, by herself, on the summons of someone she didn’t know, had been stupid in the extreme. The fact that she really might have been killed began to sink in.

Her spirits sank even further when the guests who’d arrived that morning were none other than Lady Hollingsborn and her mercenary son. They certainly didn’t waste any time in staking their claim, which she supposed should make her happy to have so little work to do, but it somehow annoyed her to see Edwin fawning over Catie. She reminded herself that Edwin Hollingsborn had a good title, good land, and it was a good match despite his debts. She couldn’t help but think Catie deserved better, much better. But she herself wouldn’t benefit from a more honest match, so she pushed aside her scruples, though she found it harder than usual.

Catie looked up when Lizzie entered the drawing room where she and Lady Amberly were being courted. There was something off about Catie’s demeanor, her smile seemed forced and her eyes were overly bright, almost hard, when she nodded her greeting. It was likely she’d been too excited to sleep last night after her great social success and was probably flustered by the sudden attention. Lizzie felt ashamed for not being there to help her when the guests had first arrived.

Lizzie apologized for her delay and blamed it on a headache, which she assured everyone was gone and they mustn’t fuss. Her headache actually still pulsed painfully behind her eyes and she was starving. She nibbled dejectedly on the biscuits that were mostly being ignored by everyone else, and tried to pour herself some tea without rattling the cup.

Lady Amberly was droning on about her country residence to Lady Hollingsborn, who in turn blathered on about her own, dropping a weighty hint at a possible afternoon excursion, which of course they were to be included. Lizzie wagered it wouldn’t be a party worth having if Catie didn’t attend, and wondered meanly how many rooms now stood empty of furniture in order to fund it.

“That sounds marvelous,” Lady Amberly said, fluttering her fan.

Lizzie felt a bit sorry for her. She only had one son, who was off in the military somewhere, completely uninterested in settling down any time soon. It seemed a niece was a good enough replacement for a daughter, and Lady Amberly, who’d been nervous of coming to town for the first time in so long, now basked in all of Catie’s reflected glory. When the invitation actually came, Lady Amberly would most likely be too overcome with anxiety to accept it.

The butler cleared his throat in the doorway, announcing yet another visitor, Mr. Oliver Cliffstone. Lizzie found it interesting and a bit disconcerting to see Catie’s eyes light up when he entered, and she sighed inwardly, not counting on competition for her front-runner. She made a point to find out more about him.

The first thing she noticed, with some amusement, was that he wasn’t shy at all, and sat right next to Catie, effectively blocking her from easily conversing with Edwin. If her head hadn’t hurt so much, it would have been fun to watch, as Edwin’s face turned an unattractive shade of purple. When Catie immediately began animatedly talking to Oliver, Edwin looked as if he might stand up and throw down his glove.

“I enjoyed our stroll the other day, Miss Catriona,” Oliver said to her. He had a sweet face and was closer to Catie’s age, probably twenty at the oldest, and Lizzie thought he might end up quite handsome when he filled out a bit. “I pray you’ll make it a habit to walk there again?”

“I am verra much hoping to take another turn in the park,” Catie answered, glancing hopefully at her aunt and then Lizzie.

“Then we must set it up immediately,” Oliver said. “Merely name the time and date and I shall be there.”

Lizzie’s glance flew to Edwin, whose eyes shot daggers at Oliver’s back. Catie nearly swooned at Oliver’s attention. It was clear to everyone who she favored at the moment. Lizzie knew she had to take control of the situation, confirmed by Lady Hollingsborn staring pointedly at her.

“I-I think that sounds …” Catie trailed off.

“Of course, daily exercise is important for all young people,” Lady Amberly filled the space. “I take great pleasure in the outdoors when I’m at home. The city air seems quite the opposite of healthful though.”

“The city air is quite poor,” Edwin agreed, leaning around Oliver’s back to try to catch Catie’s eye. “My covered carriage is at your service, Miss Catie, whenever you’d care to see the sights.”

Lizzie almost choked that he used her nickname so boldly, and when Catie answered that taking a carriage defeated the purpose of exercise, she nearly laughed out loud at his discomfort. She had to get it together before she lost Lady Hollingsborn’s offer. Although, the way Edwin looked at Catie, it seemed that he might actually be interested in her for more than just her money. He was a competitive sort apparently, for as soon as Oliver showed up and tossed his hat in the ring, the prize seemed all the shinier.

Before she could manage to agree that a carriage ride sounded lovely, Quinn filled up the doorway, stealing the small shred of mental capacity she’d been trying to nurture by sipping her tea. What she wouldn’t give for a Bloody Mary and a plate full of bacon right now.

Instead she got assaulted by a combination of nerves and vague embarrassment, not sure exactly how embarrassed she should be about what happened last night. Quinn entered the room and his quick smirk in her direction told her the answer was plenty. Plenty embarrassed. Damn Scot. He probably mixed his oats with whiskey.

His eyes were clear and sparkling with knowledge as he leveled his gaze on her before greeting everyone else. Oliver jumped up to shake his hand, seeming more at ease in his presence than the first time they met in the park. Edwin must not have met Quinn at the party the night before and was plainly ill at ease with the realization that his target had a massive, steely-eyed older brother.

Quinn quite irritatingly played up his fierce facade, towering over Edwin and probably nearly breaking his hand when Lady Amberly made the introduction.

Things went downhill from there. Oliver valiantly continued on as if the giant spectre of Quinn didn’t hover menacingly near, but Edwin was badly thrown, much to his mother and Lizzie’s disgust. Really, if he was going to marry the girl, this was going to be a regular visitor to his home.

“So these are suitors for my sister’s hand,” Quinn said quietly, sitting down shockingly near to her. “How’s your head?”

She turned to him with an arrogant look. “My head is quite well, thank you for the unnecessary concern. And yes, it looks as if Catie is already quite popular.”

“She seems to like that one. We’ll have to keep an eye on him.” He turned to her and let his gaze roam over her face.

She felt warm that he’d included her as a partner in keeping an eye on his sister, then felt ridiculous. It was precisely what she was getting paid to do, not any special bond she’d forged with him. She’d never gone so brain dead around any man before and needed to stop doing it now. She forced herself to make eye contact, thinking if she could just acclimate herself to his extreme good looks she might not get so flustered around him. It would also help if he stopped being likeable.

God, he was so unreasonable. Where was the brutish mountain man who could barely string two intelligible words together? How had he turned out to be a charming man who loved to read and dance, saved her life from a mad hooligan and carried her drunken ass up three flights of stairs, then kindly enquired after her health the next day. Well, that hadn’t been all that kind. He was clearly teasing her a bit with that.

Oh crap. Did she like Quinn Ferguson? It was one thing to be wildly attracted to him, any woman with a pulse would at least be a little attracted to such a man. But did she just now start to like him as a person? If so, she needed to knock it the hell off. And quickly.

“Mr. Cliffstone comes from a nice family and is closer to Catie’s age,” she said. Why was she defending Oliver? She needed to be leading them in Edwin’s direction. “That’s probably why she seems more comfortable around him,” she continued, trying to salvage her mistake. “Lord Hollingsborn is better suited, I think, in that he’s more settled. Serious about finding a wife.”

Quinn grimaced as if the whole notion turned his stomach and she felt a pang of longing. She missed being part of a family. When she’d met Trent, she’d thrown herself into that relationship, certain that being with a stable man was what she needed after her grandma died. He’d been even busier than her, giving her time to work on her career, but very little of anything that might have resembled a family.

“She’s taken to it all like a fish to water,” Quinn said wistfully. “She looks so like her ma did, but I always thought of her as one of us.”

“Don’t be daft,” Lizzie said, putting her hand on his again. Her heart hurt for him and for her own situation. And she was hungover and hungry and lacking sleep. She reminded herself to be careful, but didn’t take her hand away. Poor man had just lost his brother, and now faced losing his sister, too. He could use a little comfort. “She’s as Scottish as she is English, and anyone she chooses will be wrapped around her finger. Perhaps she’ll persuade them to move up there.”

Quinn furrowed his brow in disbelief, then glanced at her hand, which she guiltily slid back into her lap. “I suppose I shall have to be nice to them,” he said, looking even queasier at that concept.

“No,” she assured him. “Keep giving them dirty looks and looming over them. It’s fun to watch them squirm.”

“Ah well, for ye then, I’ll be extra fierce.” He leaned closer and smiled. “I could probably make one of them cry if that’ll amuse ye.”

“Perhaps another day. Catie seems a bit tired today. Better not make it worse.” Lizzie had been trying to catch Catie’s eye for the past several minutes, but after the initial greeting, she’d not looked her way once. She seemed frazzled, her attention bouncing back and forth between the two warring suitors. It was probably all she could do to keep up.

“Aye, she’s angry with me again, and I dinna know why. During breakfast she barely spoke a word to me.”

“It’s hard work to be charming and lovely all the time. She’s most likely not wanting to waste any of it on you,” Lizzie said, trying to keep a straight face.

She didn’t know why she should like teasing him so much. Even still feeling like crap and through her worry about Catie’s mood and prospects, even being driven almost mad with fear that Lord Ashford wouldn’t be able to get her home, she still wanted to make Quinn smile. Or scowl, which is what he did.

“She must have a verra small reserve then, for I got nothing,” he said. “How long until one of them proposes and we can be done with all this?”

Lizzie clapped her hand over her mouth at his audacity. Not two minutes earlier he’d been bemoaning losing her to an Englishman and now he couldn’t wait to be rid of her.

Three weeks or less, she hoped. For some reason she wanted to see their story through, see Catie make a good match and gain her inheritance before she went back to her own time. She looked up at Quinn’s face some more, to try to get used to him, she told herself, but also to commit him to memory.

He grew serious. “I suppose I should at least know a bit about them,” he said begrudgingly, nodding at the suitors. “What can ye tell me? I’ve already got them mixed up.”

She looked over at them. She’d at first been impressed at Oliver’s fortitude in Quinn’s presence, but the grim solemnity in his dark blue eyes told her he’d be wise to watch his step where Catie was concerned. Edwin was smart to be wary around Quinn. It was clear he would settle for nothing less than his sister’s complete happiness.

“Well, the taller one is Edwin—” she began.

“The one who wouldna meet my eye?” he interrupted.

“Yes. Lord Edwin Hollingsborn will be a marquis one day. Two very good properties.”

“So, we wait for the father to drop before they marry or can they get it done with before?” he asked with a frown at Edwin’s back.

Edwin seemed to know he was under scrutiny and stiffened his spine, still trying to get Catriona to notice him over the radiance of Oliver.

“Well, either way should be fine,” Lizzie said, ignoring his sarcasm.

“What about the skinny lad who’s sitting far too close to her?” he asked. “And are they all lords? Are the titles that easy to come by down here?” Quinn seemed truly disgruntled and she patted his hand without thinking, quickly pulling away and giving him a look.

“One could argue that you’re sitting rather too close to me,” she said primly.

His eyebrows shot up and he laughed, causing every eye to briefly rest on them before he recovered his stormy face. He leaned in even closer. “I beg your pardon,” he said, his husky tone nearly causing her to ooze off the settee.

But he didn’t move away, which both pleased and discomfited her. She struggled to remain business-like around him and straightened up.

“The titles aren’t all that easy to come by,” she explained, pretending he wasn’t having a profound effect on her blood pressure. “But the Amberlys are titled, and quite rich. So’s your sister, you know. It just comes with the territory.”