A Spinster for the Earl: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel (The Hale Sisters Book 3)
A Spinster for the Earl: Chapter 3

Lucy grimaced lightly, stepping out of view of Adam and Lord Ramsbury to steal a moment to pull herself together. She had survived twenty-three years without much trouble. She was clever, she had a great family, she had avoided the marriage mart for as long as possible, and she had never once been terribly impressed by a man.

Were there attractive men? Most certainly.

Adam himself was quite handsome. Even her brothers-in-law had many handsome friends and business partners. Lucy had never felt that those men were anything more than aesthetically pleasing. Lord Ramsbury was intriguing to her eyes, but he had also made her feel something—a heat in her chest and a restlessness in her legs.

Even now, she didn’t know what he had done to her. Perhaps it had to do with more than just his looks, but also the way he had spoken to her. She hadn’t expected him to sound so intelligent. She had seen so many men, but never did she imagine what it would feel like to kiss them, or be held by them, or to be laid down and—

Lucy choked on her breath. She was already feeling flustered by the Earl of Ramsbury. It was obviously only a momentary discomfort, but still, the feeling was strong and sudden. How could she go twenty-three years without a single weak moment or crass thought and then buckle under the gaze of a well-known rake?

It was probably very easy to explain. It was the first day of her courses, and the power of suggestion was an immense force. If she hadn’t been told he was a rake, would she have even felt the same way? Within three days, the tricks that her femininity was playing on her would be nothing short of laughable.

She took a deep breath and scanned the room. She felt some relief when she spotted Rose and her betrothed laughing over a glass of champagne. Anything to keep Lord Ramsbury far away was welcome. With any luck, she would not run into him again.

“Rose!” Lucy exclaimed, then wrapped her friend in a hug. They hadn’t seen each other in a few months, but whenever they reconnected after time spent apart, it was as if nothing had changed.

“How are you?” Rose shouted, wrapping her arms tight around her best friend.

Rose was short and curvy, with beautiful eyes that changed color in the light. Sometimes, they appeared green, and others, a golden hazel that looked ethereal. Her betrothed was the Viscount of Hartley, a tall and strong-looking man who had always come across as very quiet and well-mannered. With Rose, though, he seemed to never tire of conversation and laughter. The two had been inseparable since their first meeting.

“I will go get us each a glass of champagne,” the Viscount said, excusing himself to give the two women some privacy.

“Oh, life is mundane and uninteresting,” Lucy said.

“Just the way you like it.” Rose smiled. She had always seemed so shy, but over the past years, especially after her engagement, she had grown to be more self-assured.

“Precisely,” Lucy said. “Although, my parents are displeased to learn that I am serious about remaining unmarried.”

“Do you think they will come around?” Rose asked.

Lucy bit her cheek. “I hope so.”

A soft smile spread across Rose’s cheeks. “It is such a shame. I think you would make a great wife and mother.”

Lucy crossed her arms.

Rose meant the best, but Lucy was getting tired of all the women in her life doubting her. It seemed everyone knew what was best for her besides her.

“I have such a great opportunity. That summer I spent with Harriet at our aunt Bridget’s estate taught me so much. I wish to be further involved in young women’s education, but a husband and children would not allow me the opportunity to pursue that.”

“If you are certain and pleased with your decision, then you have my support.”

“And your love match is all you hoped for?” Lucy smiled.

“And more.” A cherry red blush crept across Rose’s cheeks.

“I am so gla—”

“Lady Rose.” The Viscount arrived back at Rose’s side and offered her a glass of champagne. She accepted it with a smile before looking back at his hands and watching him drink from the remaining one.

“You didn’t get one for Lucy?”

“Oh.” The Viscount’s eyes widened. In a panic at being perceived as anything less than accommodating, he offered his glass, but Lucy declined.

“It is okay, I will go get one myself,” Lucy said.

Rose gave her an amused look. The Viscount was wonderful in a lot of ways, but he happened to be very forgetful. Lucy left the two and headed to the back of the room to the laid-out buffet table.

Lucy never truly felt like herself at events, but tonight was even more nerve-wracking, considering the interactions she’d had with Lord Ramsbury. If she’d been left to her own devices, she could have convinced herself that she hadn’t been the reason he had bumped into the waiter. It was easy to brush things off if she could assure herself that she was overthinking things, but he had implied just as much when they had spoken.

She had never known herself to be particularly beautiful. His interest could have been a mystery, but it wasn’t lost on her that maybe he was only interested in her because she posed more of a challenge than most ladies.

She reached out and took one of the glasses of red wine off the table. There were only a few left, but hopefully, it would calm her nerves a little. She lifted it to her mouth and wet her lips. Immediately, a warm glow crept across her chest. She closed her eyes, savoring the notes of sugared orange peel that lingered on her tongue.

“I didn’t take you for a wine drinker.”

She jumped slightly, turning to the side. Her heart plummeted when she noticed Lord Ramsbury. She had been hoping she wouldn’t have to talk to him again. She was usually so calm and collected, but he had such an effortless way of making her feel like misbehaving.

He winked, his blue eyes captivating. She frowned. Something about him seemed a little different now, heavier, like he was trying too hard to come across as likable.

“If no one is watching you, you can have as many glasses as you like,” Lucy mumbled, looking across the room to where Adam was holding up his paddle in a bid.

“You really think no one sees you at all?”

Lucy raised her brows slightly and turned her attention to the room. It didn’t seem like it. She was used to the feeling of being ignored. She could do anything she wanted, and she didn’t feel like anyone would notice. Even her sisters were too caught up in their husbands.

“I have mastered the art of blending in.”

Isaac huffed out a breathy laugh and rolled his eyes slightly. “That is not true,” he said. “I notice you.”

Lucy took a larger sip of wine than was ladylike in the hopes that it might seem like the reason her cheeks were glowing with heat. “Why?”

He looked down at her with half-lidded eyes and made a noise in the back of his throat. He looked back up at the auction. “I don’t know why women like you insist on pretending they’re not beautiful.”

Lucy breathed in sharply. She glanced at him and then back down at her wine glass. Getting a compliment never felt as good as she hoped it would. It almost felt like the twist of a knife designed to remind her that she was pitied so much that he felt the need to lie.

“You are acting fake,” she said matter-of-factly.

Lord Ramsbury pulled back, his eyes widening before his mouth set into a thin line. “In what way?”

“Everything,” she replied. “It’s all a bit much. I preferred you when you got water spilled on your coat.”

“I did mean what I said.” Lord Ramsbury stared at her for a moment longer before exhaling sharply. “I want to make a good impression. Is that such a crime?”

Lucy set her glass on the table and leaned back against it with one arm. “You do not have to make an impression on me. I have nothing to offer you.”

He studied her face for a moment. She looked up at him, swallowing hard as she stared back into his blue eyes. The façade had dropped. His brows were furrowed, his lips parted, and his body angled toward her as if he was struggling to make out the words on a page.

He crossed his arms. “I do not think I can remember the last time someone wanted me to act like myself,” he said, his voice quiet.

Lucy nodded. She could at least sympathize with that. If ever she had encouragement to act a certain way, it was to be more like Emma, the most responsible Hale sister.

Emma was so perfect, and Lucy was the antithesis of her. Emma was beautiful in the right way—her eyes alluring, but her smile sweet enough not to make her look intimidating. She was educated, but while Lucy was interested in Philosophy and History, Emma was well-rounded and talented. She was the perfect wife, daughter, and mother, and Lucy was just imperfect.

Lucy envied that everyone fit so perfectly into Society, while she deflected all her insecurities with negativity.

She tilted her head, trying not to look as sympathetic as she felt. “I get tired of pretending,” she muttered. “This entire room reeks of insincerity.”

“How’s that?”

“Look,” she said, motioning with a nod toward the men raising their paddles high in the air. “Lord Warrington just bid two hundred and fifty pounds on a theater box,” she scoffed. “Every time his daughter opens her mouth, he scolds her, and yet here he is, donating to women’s education?”

“I do not think he knows what this auction is for,” Lord Ramsbury said, forcing out a disbelieving laugh.

Lucy nodded, taking a sip of her wine. “I was so excited that everyone was finally donating to a cause that meant something more than new theater seats or more unnecessary luxuries, but it still feels so shallow.”

“You cannot force anyone to care, it is a losing game,” he said. Slowly, a smile crept onto his face. “But either way, Miss Hale, they donated to an important cause.”

Lucy tapped her fingernail against the wine glass in her hand. She glanced around the room as paddles swept in and out of the air and the auctioneer called out numbers and winning bids. The Earl was right, she couldn’t force anyone to care, and even if they did, might they replace other ways to make her feel alone?

“Do you really even care?”

“About… women’s education?” He waited for her to reply before he set his champagne glass on the table. “Let me put it like this,” he said. “Why shall I be more deserving of an education than you? I am clearly not even half as bright or clever.”

Lucy smiled. Men were often at the greatest fault over their egos, and she had unintentionally damaged many by knowing things that they didn’t. If she would have expected anyone to have an ego, it would be a rake. However, it seemed she had read the Earl wrong.

“Big words,” she said, her tone teasing. “Considering that you haven’t donated yet.”

“I—” He frowned. “I am waiting for something worth winning.”

“Of course,” Lucy said. She took her glass off the table. “Maybe I will see you throughout the Season.”

He nodded, his cheek creasing with smile lines.

Lucy looked away and set her sights on Rose again. As she walked across the floor, she tried her best to control her heart rate and will it to slow down. Hopefully, she wouldn’t see him that much throughout the Season. She couldn’t believe anyone craved these feelings of attraction or desire. The flutter in her chest was uncomfortable and irritating.

Rose glanced at her, her chin tucked toward her neck and her brows raised with concern.

Lucy crossed her arms. “What?”

“What were you doing speaking to Lord Ramsbury again?” Rose asked, looking furtively out of the corner of her eyes at the Earl, who was standing beside Adam several yards away.

Lucy tried to look unbothered. Rose was her best friend, but the truth was that Lucy sometimes felt like even she cast a looming shadow in her life. Rose, Emma, and Harriet were so dear to her, and yet all the same, their perfections made her feel like she had failed. Rose would never spend more than a minute speaking to a known rake.

“He only meant to ask about the purpose of this evening’s donations.”

“Be careful,” Lord Hartley warned. “The Earl is no gentleman.”

“I know,” Lucy said, her voice short. She was eager to change the conversation. “Did you see—”

“And sold!” the auctioneer boomed. “For one hundred and seventy pounds to the Duke of Stanton!”

Morgan, Harriet’s husband, raised a triumphant fist as Harriet grinned from ear to ear, hanging off his arm.

Cheers erupted from the audience, the sound magnifying against the tall, vaulted ceilings.

“And that,” the auctioneer said, “brings this auction to a close.”

Lucy’s eyebrows lowered, and she turned to look at Lord Ramsbury. Although he was standing far enough away to even notice her, he was somehow already turning, fully aware that she was probably frustrated by his lack of a donation. And after he’d claimed to be so sympathetic to the cause. He looked sheepish, however, as if he hadn’t meant for the entire auction to pass him by.

“Wait, wait!”

Just then, the sound of Emma’s voice commanded the attention of the bidders. She hurried up to the landing, holding up the hem of her skirt so she didn’t trip. The auctioneer examined her dubiously as she came up. The room stilled, waiting for her to take her spot.

“This has been such a fantastic evening,” the Duchess said, looking around the room nervously. Everyone was silent, intent to hear why she had interrupted the auction’s end.

“Before we wrap the evening up, I would like to make one last offer,” she explained.

A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Emma smiled, her eyes suddenly cutting through the crowd. Lucy straightened up stiffly as if she was just struck with a bolt of lightning.

“My youngest sister, Lucy, has graciously offered her willingness to aid in our auction in any way possible,” Emma said.

Lucy glanced around, reddening when she realized that everyone’s eyes were on her. She attempted to offer a smile that looked more like a grimace.

“So, without further ado, Miss Lucy Hale, the unattainable spinster, would like to offer five promenades to the highest bidder!”

Lucy’s face blanched. She felt as scrutinized as a caged animal. Her heart pounded in an attempt to break free. Her hands shook furiously. “What is she talking about?” she hissed.

“Did you really offer that?” Rose asked.

“No, I offered… any… help…” Lucy paused, realizing that she had walked right into this. “Oh my God.”

Emma raised a hand. “May we start the bidding off at one hundred pounds?”

“One twenty-five!” an older man called out, raising his paddle.

“Rose.” Lucy gripped her friend’s arm. “You have to help me.”

“What must I do?”

“One fifty!” a lanky gentleman called out.

“He is not so terrible,” Rose said, gripping onto her friend’s arm.

“One seventy-five!” The older man raised his paddle once again. Lucy held onto Rose even tighter.

“Two hundred!”

Lucy felt her pulse thundering in her throat. She was too shocked to even be angry and too embarrassed to even consider running out the door. This seemed like such a cruel joke, especially when Emma knew how much she hated fending off suitors. With money involved, some of these men would expect her to be everything that she wasn’t: cordial, polite, and obedient.

“And to the Viscount of Langley, two hundred pounds going once, going twice, and—”

“Five hundred pounds!” a voice called out.

Lucy bent over slightly as if she had been punched in the gut. She, along with the entire room, rubbernecked to the source of the bid. When she spotted the Earl of Ramsbury with his paddle raised in the air, she felt a terrible mixture of panic, excitement, and dread. She pushed her fingers into Rose’s arm.

“The Earl?” Rose whispered.

Emma paused, taken aback. “Pardon me. Five hundred pounds?”

Lord Ramsbury kept his paddle raised high. “Going once.” He nodded.

Emma smiled. “Going twice!”

The room was silent.

“And sold to the Earl of Ramsbury! Thank you for your generous donation!”

Quiet conversations began amongst the guests, with most of them looking just as flabbergasted as Lucy was that anyone had dared spend five hundred pounds on a woman that most people had spent the night mistaking for a statue.

“The pursuit of women’s education is worth every pound,” the Earl said, glancing at Lucy with a challenging look.

She immediately snapped her head away. She covered her mouth with her hand.

“At least he’s handsome,” Rose whispered. “Very… very handsome.”

Little did she know, that was the very problem. He was handsome enough to distract Lucy. Maybe he would spare her the obligation. This was just about her insistence that he donate, after all. He probably just wanted to prove her wrong. There was no way that a handsome rake could want anything to do with her, a self-identified spinster who had never desired a man before.

But she was starting to worry that even that was untrue. She couldn’t help herself. She wanted him.