The Spinster's Beau Read online

  THE SPINSTER'S BEAU

  Caylen McQueen

  Chapter One

  As soon as her brother stepped into the foyer, precocious Anne Cockburn shook her head so fast, her blonde ringlets swirled around her head like serpentine tendrils of Medusa. The disapproval in her eyes was impressively thunderous.

  “Please...” Her small pink lips pouted as she spoke. “Please tell me you did not intend to venture into society looking like that.”

  Shrugging, Robin Cockburn looked down at his haphazard cravat and wrinkled greatcoat. “I fail to see what's so disagreeable about my appearance.”

  “Honestly? Truly?” His younger sister punctuated her disbelief with a tremendous sigh. “You look as if you wandered into a brothel... or some such unsavory place... after having spent the better half of the day in a barn!”

  “Your exaggeration is amusing.” Belated concern suddenly pinched his brow. “And what could you possibly know about a brothel and its patrons, Annie?”

  “I know enough.” Anne's pinched countenance mirrored her brother's. “Have I not asked you to cease calling me Annie. It's a child's name!”

  “A child's name is appropriate... for a child.” Robin reached down and patted her downy curls, as if using her diminutive size to fortify his argument. “You are eleven years old, Annie.”

  She snorted and huffed when she heard the sobriquet. “I am... nearly twelve. And regardless of my age, I have more sense than you!” She reached toward her brother and plucked a piece of lint from his greatcoat. “How could you possibly hope to woo Miss Dawson if you look more like a beggar than a gentleman? If you ever wish to be married--”

  He interrupted. “If I ever wish to be married, I should set my sights lower than Harriet Dawson. Her beauty is astounding, and her popularity befits her. I'm enamored by her, of course, but I hardly stand a chance.”

  “Ahem,” Anne lifted her chin and continued, “If you ever wish to be married, you will have to be more mindful of your appearance. If you want to capture her interest, you should be dressed to the nines!” His sister extracted another piece of lint that was embedded on the lapel of his coat. “At present, you are dressed to the twos.”

  “I suppose I am a bit... shabby.”

  His sister nodded in agreement. “What happened to your valet? What on earth are you paying him for if he's just going to send you off looking like that?!”

  “Poor Theodore is half-blind and heartbreakingly old. I haven't the heart to replace him.”

  Anne made a minor adjustment to her brother's crooked cravat. “You do want to find a wife, do you not?”

  “Y—yeees.” His answer arrived with hesitation. “But why are you so eager to see me married, Annie?”

  Annie made her cringe, but she tried to ignore it. “Well... someone will have to take care of you after I'm gone.” The crushing significance of her words made them both go silent for several seconds. “That is to say, you... you are completely incapable of taking care of yourself! And... why shouldn't you find a wife? You're four and twenty. Surely that isn't an unreasonable age to settle down? If you were a woman, you would very nearly be a spinster!”

  “Indeed... I am four and twenty.”

  “Compared to me, you're practically ancient!”

  “As of late, I've thought I looked too boyish for my age.” He gave his shaved chin a thoughtful stroke. “I've been wondering if I should grow a mustache. What say you to that, Annie?”

  Even before she spoke, he could see the answer in her wrinkled nose. “Are you serious? Goodness, no! I've never been too fond of fur on a man's face, and I am sure most women would agree with me.”

  “Women,” he scoffed at the word. “Are you trying to count yourself among them? Are you trying to say you're a woman? You're a poppet, Poppet.”

  Anne might have balked, if not for the fact that their familial teasing was a constant occurrence. “Nevertheless, I shudder at the idea of my brother wearing a dead animal over his lip. On your face, a mustache would look horrid and awkward.”

  “Well... you know I appreciate your honesty.” He held out his arms. “Do I look presentable now? Or are there more specks of dust you need to pluck from my person?”

  “Turn around.” As soon as her brother obeyed her command, she reached up and removed a small white feather from the back of his greatcoat. “Heaven help me. Why do you have feathers on the back of your coat? Did a pillow explode? Were you sleeping before you ventured down here? You certainly look disheveled enough!”

  “You are certainly in rare form today, Anne!” When he turned to face her, his lips were stretched by the widest of smiles. “Rare form indeed. Oh, how you make me laugh!”

  “Winning the heart of the woman of your dreams is hardly a laughing matter!”

  His sister was correct. Harriet Dawson was the woman of his dreams, although winning her heart sounded like a fiendishly impossible task. “Very well. You seem very passionate about this. I submit myself to your advice! What other tidbits of wisdom might you impart to me?”

  “Your hair leaves something to be desired.” She stood on the tips of her toes to reach the top of his head, where she tried to flatten his wild blonde curls. “It's so untamed. It looks like an old broom has taken up residence on your head.”

  “Our grandmother used to say I had an angel's hair.”

  “Very well. Because I adored our grandmother every bit as much as you did, I will concede to her assessment. You have hair like an angel's broom.”

  “Your hair is every bit as wild.”

  Anne tugged on the frazzled ends of her hair. The golden mass of curls was indisputably similar to her brother's. “So it is. At least I have no one to impress!” Anne reached up and removed his spectacles. “You shouldn't wear these. Your blue eyes are one of your best features. You should let her see them.”

  Everything went hazy as soon as she removed them. “Perhaps this could be my problem. Without those spectacles, I am every bit as blind as my valet.”

  She slipped the spectacles into the pocket of his coat. “I suppose you can wear them if you need them. But... if you can, be sure to give her a glimpse of those eyes. I am sure she won't be able to resist them.”

  “I believe those might be the nicest words you've uttered.”

  “Well, it isn't as if I'm incapable of granting a compliment!” She dipped into a playful curtsy. “And now that we're on the topic of compliments, do not forget to rain praise on your Miss Dawson. Nothing captures a woman's heart like a confidently uttered compliment.”

  “W-what should I say? I never know what manner of compliment would be appropriate.”

  “You should tell her how well she looks. Compliment her on the warmth of her smile, or the radiance of her hair.”

  “Are you sure that wouldn't be a bit much?”

  “You should be bold and assertive. If there are other men lurking about, she will be drawn to the one who is the most self-assured.”

  “But I'm not very self-assured.”

  “Then you will have to pretend.” Anne circled around him, checking him one last time before giving him a nod of approval. “Ask her to dance! The last time you were in her company, I believe you failed to do so.”

  “I can do it,” Robin tried to encourage himself. “I can. I don't want another embarrassing failure on my hands.”

  “You don't have to be afraid to approach her. She's just another human being, just as you are.”

  “Indeed. She's only human...” Under his breath, he added, “She happens to be a goddess, but yes... she's only human.”

  Anne prodded her brother in the direction of the door. “It seems you are prepared.”

  Robin leaned down, kissing the crown of his sister's head. “
And I have you to thank for it.”

  “I wish you the very best of luck!”

  Anne's heart swelled as she watched him go. In some strange way, she felt like she was sending her child off to battle. Even though he was twice her age, Robin relied on her for nearly everything.

  And that is why it hurt so much. Tears filled her eyes as she watched him climb into the carriage. Robin needed her. He needed her for a mother. For a friend. For a companion. Sooner than later, another woman would have to take her place. Her brother's future mattered more to her than anything.

  Anne hoped she lived long enough to see him happy.

  Chapter Two

  “Oh, Aunt Em, I am uncontrollably excited!” Harriet clasped a hand against her heart and tossed back her head.

  “Well, you will have to control it, as we have almost reached our destination.” When Harriet's aunt peered out from the carriage window, she could see the Assembly Hall coming into view. “Pray tell, what has you so excited?”

  “The fact that you are here with me!” Harriet exclaimed. “I've always wanted you to be my chaperone. Only... I'm a bit surprised Mama agreed to it. It's a bit unconventional, seeing as you are unmarried yourself.”

  “I am perfectly capable of controlling the behavior of these young men. If one of them steps out of line, I will put him in his place!”

  “And I wouldn't doubt it for a moment! I am fortunate to have such a kind, doting chaperone. If I'm lucky, you'll be an honest chaperone as well. Do I look well enough?” Harriet tugged on one of her copper curls. When she released it, it bounced back into place. “When we were walking in the garden yesterday, I'm afraid my nose got too much sun. It is nearly as red as my hair!”

  “You look resplendent, Harriet,” her aunt said. “Even you must know you are always, always the most beautiful woman in the room.”

  “Hm. But would I be vain to admit it?” Rouge flooded Harriet's cheeks as she studied her aunt's expression. “Oh dear. I think I just inadvertently admitted I would admit it! Goodness, I am vain!”

  “You're not vain,” Emily defended her niece, “You are simply being honest. Every young lady could benefit from a bit of pride and confidence.”

  “I am afraid overconfidence is my fault,” Harriet sighed. When the carriage stopped in front of the modest Assembly Hall, another sigh escaped her lips. “As much as I hate to say it, these country fetes have gotten tiresome. I wish I was in London!”

  As they were being handed down from the carriage, Emily said, “But London is so vast and overrated.”

  Harriet ignored her aunt's opinion. “I am already twenty. I thought Papa would have taken me to London by now. I will be forced to settle on a husband soon, which is a terrible shame. As pretty as I am, I am sure I would have a better selection of suitors in London.”

  “As pretty as you are, I'm sure you would.” Though she agreed with Harriet, Emily started to wonder if she should retract her opinion of her niece's vanity. At times, the girl could stand to be a bit more modest.

  “I know I should control my emotions, but I am really so thrilled!” Harriet clutched her aunt's arm as she squealed. “I want you to meet all the handsome men I've been telling you about!”

  “In particular, Mr. Turnbull and Lord Bernick?”

  “Indeed. Oh... wait until you've seen them! Mr. Turnbull only recently arrived in town, but he already has a reputation for being the handsomest of men. And he showers his attentions on me... me! I am a very lucky girl, Em.”

  “Seeing as you have such a high opinion of him, I am sure he is a very lucky man as well.”

  As they made their way into the Assembly Rooms, Harriet asked a question that raised her aunt's brow. “Do you smell me?”

  “P-pardon?”

  “Oh dear. I'm sure that question sounded very strange. Perhaps I should rephrase it.” Arm-in-arm, they ventured into the crowded room. “I was wondering if you could smell my new perfume. It was imported from France. Granted, I am not a lover of the French, but they do have impeccable taste when it comes to fashion and fripperies.”

  “I did detect a note of vanilla when we were in the carriage,” her aunt confessed. “Perhaps even a bit of citrus and--”

  “Oh lord!” With a gasp, Harriet flicked open her fan and used it to conceal her face. “I would try to hide, but I'm afraid he's already set his gaze on me.”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Cockburn,” Harriet uttered the name with a groan.

  “And what is it about this poor man that you find so disagreeable?”

  She whispered to her aunt from behind the fan. “Everything! Well... nearly everything. He's less than handsome, he's a bit clumsy, and he's... well, he's a bit of a looby, if I'm being honest. It wouldn't be wrong to say he's a simpleton.”

  “Well... I do believe your looby is heading in our direction.”

  A tiny squeal escaped Harriet's throat. “Please, Em! Please tell me you jest!”

  “I'm quite serious.”

  “Cockburn. Cockburn! Who ever heard of such a name? I pity the woman who ends up with the name Mrs. Cockburn. Is it too late to hide? Perhaps we could disappear behind a stout pillar, or... or...”

  “Surely this poor man isn't so intolerable?” Emily puffed out her chest, determined to defend a man she had never met. “Perhaps if you were to give him the benefit of the doubt?”

  “He deserves no benefit, or anything of the sort. Is he really so daft to believe I could possibly be interested in him? What if he flirts with me? W-what am I supposed to do then? What am I supposed to say?”

  “You could try to be polite,” her aunt suggested with a sigh.

  But her words were lost on Harriet, who continued railing unabashedly. “Or worse! What if he asks me to dance?”

  “Then you will have to dance with him.” Under her breath, Emily added, “the poor fellow...”

  “I cannot. I will not!” Harriet was silenced by Robin's approach. She lowered her fan, faked a smile, and softened her tone. “Good evening, Mr. Cockburn. How very pleasant to see you.” She could hear her aunt snickering beside her.

  “The sentiment is mutual. You look very well, Miss Dawson.”

  She looked well? Mr. Cockburn was squinting at her so comically, Harriet doubted he could even see her. He lacked his usual spectacles. “Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Cockburn.”

  “I read the novel you recommended, the novel by Miss Austen,” Robin told her. “I liked it very much. I thought it was rather refreshing to hear a woman's voice.”

  “Oh... did I recommend that? I can hardly remember.”

  “Nevertheless, it has become one of my favorites. Now... who, might I ask, is the young woman at your side?”

  It was Emily who answered him. “Young?!” she cackled. “Now you will surely win my favor, Mr. Cockburn, for I am hardly young! That's not to say I would call myself old, but I am hardly what any sane person would describe as youthful.”

  Robin smiled as he squinted. “Well, you look very young to me.”

  His vision was obviously impaired, but Emily didn't dare to mention it. She didn't want to insult the young man—her niece had already insulted him enough. “It is very kind of you to say that, but I assure you, I am well beyond the first blush of youth. Goodness... I think I'm beyond the fifth blush of youth!” Her own words made her chuckle.

  Harriet finally spoke up. “This is my aunt. Aunt Emily.”

  He couldn't possibly call her Aunt Emily. What on earth was he supposed to say now? “It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs... Dawson?”

  “Miss. Weaver. Emily Weaver. I am a sister of Harriet's mother.” Emily politely corrected him.

  “I see. Well then, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Weaver.”

  “Likewise.” As she stared at Mr. Cockburn's friendly countenance, she couldn't understand why her niece detested him. True, he was a fresh acquaintance—too fresh to judge—but he seemed amiable enough.

  “So... Miss Dawson,” he began. Ask her to dance
. Ask her to dance. Ask her to dance. His mind was begging him, but his lips betrayed him. “The rain has been incessant as of late.”

  “So it has.” Harriet was peering over his shoulder, waiting for one of her other beaux to appear.

  “I would like to ride, but the rain has made it impossible. I don't like to subject my poor horses to such a thing. Their feet get too muddy.”

  “I do not think horses have feet, Mr. Cockburn. They have hooves.” Harriet saw Lord Bernick step through the door and silently willed him toward her.

  “It isn't acceptable to call them feet?” With an eyebrow hoisted, he turned toward Emily. “What is your opinion, Miss Weaver?”

  “I'm afraid I haven't given it much thought.” She rubbed her chin. “If pigs can have feet, I don't see why the same cannot be said for horses.”

  When he heard Miss Dawson sighing, Robin knew he was losing the young lady's interest. He needed to be brave, to gird himself against the possibility of rejection. He would never win her affection if he never made an attempt. “Miss Dawson, would you care to--”

  “Lord Berwick!” she sounded elated as she uttered the other man's name. “Lord Berwick, it is so wonderful to see you!”

  “Likewise.” Tall, dark and handsome, Lord Berwick's domineering presence obliterated his competitor's faltering confidence. The viscount captured Miss Dawson's hand, raised it to his lips, and held it against his mouth a bit longer than necessary. In fact, had his lips made contact with her skin a moment longer, Emily would have been forced to intervene. “You're looking lovely, Miss Dawson. As usual.”

  “You are too kind, my lord.”

  “Would you dance with me, Miss Dawson?” Lord Berwick asked.

  “Of course, my lord.”

  “Would it be improper to secure two dances straightaway?”

  “Not at all.”

  Robin's stomach was in knots as he watched her fill her dance card with Lord Berwick's name. Ask her now, his mind beseeched him. Ask her now, or you will regret it. What would Annie say?

  “M-Miss Dawson,” Robin stammered quietly. “Miss Dawson, I--”