Page 12 of An Offer for a Spinster
Katherine stiffened. “What? Why did you tell him?”
“I trust him completely, Kat. In fact, I have more faith that he’ll keep the secret than I do that Henry will.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “Perhaps so, but I don’t like him knowing that sort of thing about us. Still, he’s your friend, and I suppose Timothy is a good sort.”
“He certainly is. I’ve put him next to you at dinner. Do talk to him, won’t you?”
“I’m hardly going to ignore the person who sits beside me at dinner, am I?” Katherine muttered. She was conscious of a feeling of disappointment, now that she knew for sure she wouldn’t have Lord Barwood beside her at dinner.
Stop it,she warned herself.Don’t get in too deep too soon. This is a mercenary business, no point pretending it isn’t.
Still, this was a promising start, was it not?
Katherine and William took their places at the head of the set. Glancing down the set, Katherine noticed plenty of familiar faces. She saw her friend, Lady Elizabeth Morrison, was standing up with a genteel-looking man. Elizabeth was plumply pretty, with a sweet round face and vivid red hair. She caught Katherine’s eye and smiled, and Katherine made a mental note to speak to her later.
Henry was standing up with an older-looking lady – some dashing widow or another – and Alexander was leading out a white-gowned debutante, who seemed to be afflicted with a fit of nervous giggles.
“They’re all dancing. That’s good,” William murmured. “But that Mrs. Harrison is simply not suitable, I’d better warn Henry away.”
“That sounds like the ideal way to get Henry to propose to her immediately. I should let them get on with it, if I were you. What about you, Will? You saw me talking to Lord Barwood – and he seems pleasant, at least – and Henry and Alexander are being proactive. What aboutyou?”
“I’ve talked to everybody and nobody tonight,” William muttered. “I have to greet everyone or else they’ll take offence,and that means I haven’t time to conduct a proper conversation with anybody. A host of hopeful mammas have introduced me to their daughters, nieces, and so on, and I daresay when it’s time to choose a bride, I can pick one.”
“Don’t talk about choosing a spouse as you would choosing a biscuit,” Katherine objected. “For all we’re being forced into it, marriage isserious. I want to marry for love, Will.”
Her brother smiled sadly at her. “Oh, Kat. You still believe that you can, don’t you? I think perhaps it’s time to grow up a little, don’t you?”
Before Katherine could respond to that, the music started in earnest, and they were obliged to start dancing.
Chapter Four
Timothy was not dancing. Of course he wasn’t dancing. Dancing would require having to ask a lady to dance. For a gentleman like him – nice and personable enough, but with few prospects, asecondson who was known to live in a shabby apartment – ladies would not exactly be queuing up to get his attention.
Perhaps it was for the best. His dancing was serviceable, but not exactly elegant.
Lord Barwood, on the other look, looked like some sort of fairy prince. He moved elegantly around the dance floor, with Lady Katherine in his arms. Was this the third dance of the evening, or the fifth? Timothy had lost track. The dances started one after another, with very little pause for breath, and the couples clashed and milled around on the dance floor between each set, entering or leaving the dance floor, looking for their next partners.
“I thought I might find you here,” said a familiar voice, pushing through the crowd to stand at Timothy’s elbow. “Why are you not dancing, Timmy?”
He smiled faintly down at his aunt. “Please don’t call meTimmyin public, Aunt Amelia, I beg you.”
Miss Amelia Spencer was somewhere in her thirties, a confirmed spinster, but hardlyold. She lived with her sister and brother-in-law, Timothy’s parents, and had all but raised her two nephews and niece. She had never been consideredpretty, not in the way her older sister waspretty, and Timothy had always thought that unfair. Miss Spencer had a round, kindly face, which could be described as plain if a person was particularly cruel, and had dull brown ringlets kept back with a ribbon and done up in a simple style. She was warm andfriendly, and had been described as ‘maternal’, which was likely intended to be a compliment. She had lived with her sister and brother-in-law since the death of her parents, which came only a few years after her older sister’s marriage.
Timothy had wondered, more than once, whether his aunt really was content with her life. If she wasn’t, she never let on. Now, he slipped her arm through his, and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Timothy, then. I forget that nickname is only for at home.”
And not even then,Timothy thought grimly. The only people who still used his childhood nickname were his aunt, and occasionally his younger sister. Speaking of which…
“Are Rebecca and Christopher here tonight?” he asked, as casually as he could. “And Lord and Lady Rustford?”
“Lord and Lady Rustford,” Amelia repeated, with a snort. “Would it be too much trouble for you to refer to them as Mother and Father?”
“Father said it’s more proper. You are aware of his strict adherence to propriety and politeness.”
“Yes, I do know.” There was an edge in Amelia’s voice, and he didn’t risk pushing any further. “No, none of them are here tonight. They received invitations, of course, but they’re all dining with Constance’s family tonight. My attendance was never particularly important, so Arthur decided that I should come here on behalf of the family.”
Timothy pressed his lips together. “Yes, that sounds like something Father would do. He always had a penchant for sending people here and there at a whim. You’re entirely too obliging with him, Amelia.”
