novelxo A Spinster for the Earl: Chapter 9
Isaac watched his grandmother as she nibbled on her toast. She stared at him, her eyes narrowed as if she was preparing for the duel to begin.
He set down his coffee cup. “What is it?” he asked.
“Well,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her, “we have been sitting here for roughly five minutes, and yet you have not said a word about yesterday’s soiree.”
He clenched his jaw. Last night, he had lain awake in his bed, unable to sleep. He had only kissed Lucy, and she was already on his mind all the time. They had four more promenades left together, and he would have to make them memorable.
Of course, Lucy was the last thing Isaac wanted to talk about with his grandmother.
“There is nothing to say. It was largely forgettable,” he lied.
“Forgettable,” she repeated.
“Completely.”
His grandmother nodded, her bottom lip protruding a little, like it always did when she was annoyed. Some mornings she was less cranky than others. Luckily, today was one of those days.
She popped a grape into her mouth. “Try to remember,” she said, her voice dulled by the fruit.
“I danced maybe… twice? I drank some wine. Spoke with some friends.”
“Twice?” She raised an eyebrow. “Only twice?”
Isaac nodded. He had only done so to be polite. Some of the mothers there had been very insistent that their daughters be escorted to the dance floor by him. The women he had danced with had been nice enough, both of them beautiful, but he had found himself thinking about Lucy the entire time.
This was not the ideal state of mind for finding a wife. How could he give anyone else a chance, when he was merely focused on the next time he’d see Lucy?
“Miss… uhm…” He furrowed his brows. The name of the woman he had danced with first was trapped on his tongue. “Miss… Barrington!”
His grandmother looked less than impressed. “Pretty girl, but it sounds to me like she didn’t make an impression.”
Isaac opened his mouth to respond when he heard a shuffle of feet at the threshold of the dining room. When he saw his mother standing there, her hands on either side of the archway, looking in, his heart dropped. She usually wasn’t awake by breakfast time. It was certainly a rare occasion, but he wasn’t sure how welcome it was.
He was having enough trouble contending with his grandmother. The last thing he needed was two generations of women quizzing him about who the next Countess would be.
“Arabella,” his grandmother said, “come. Your son is telling us about the Clifton Ball.”
“Good morning,” Isaac said, his lips tightening into a cramped smile.
His mother floated into the room and took her seat, her brown hair hanging down to the small of her back. It seemed it had gotten longer every day. Despite her age, it never seemed to slow down. Isaac was thankful that she was eating breakfast. She rarely ate enough.
“He says Miss Kitty Barrington was boring,” his grandmother said, enunciating the last word as if she was trying to talk to someone hard of hearing.
“I didn’t say she was bor—”
“Boring?” Arabella huffed. “She is very accomplished from what I hear. She knows several languages, a few instruments, and—”
“I did not call her boring,” Isaac interjected, already feeling like throwing his napkin on the table and heading out for the day. This was the very worst way to start one’s day. “I simply did not feel a connection.”
“Isaac,” his grandmother called in a sing-songy voice that sounded more exasperated than cheerful. “Did you dance with the spinster?”
“The—” He huffed. “Miss Lucy Hale?”
His grandmother turned toward Arabella. “See? He has no trouble remembering her name.”
Arabella quartered a strawberry on her plate. “Why would you dance with a spinster?” Her nose twitched, but she was trying her hardest not to show her frustration.
Isaac might have told them he hadn’t danced with Lucy—because he didn’t—but it still felt dishonest. He had done a lot more than dance with her, but he wasn’t about to admit that.
“She is a friend,” he said.
“And why is she a spinster?” his mother quizzed. “What scares her matches away?”
“Nothing. She simply does not wish to marry.” Isaac took the last bitter sip of his coffee and scrunched his nose. He wasn’t particularly fond of coffee, but it was medicine for a night owl like him.
“That is even worse.” Arabella leaned on the arm of her chair dejectedly, as if she had just received news of a crushing blow. “She is not just unsuitable, she is completely unattainable.”
That was what they called her. Unattainable. But Lucy hated that because it made her sound more like an object than a woman. Isaac hadn’t known her long, but she was exactly the type of woman to do what she wanted when she wanted.
“She is not halting my search for a wife,” he muttered.
“That is not true,” his grandmother countered. “These promenades are time that you could spend courting a young lady of good standing.”
Arabella set her fork down and curled her hands around the edge of the tabletop. Her chest rose and fell with a breath. “Promenades?”
“You do not know?” his grandmother asked. She looked back at him. She was plain-faced at the moment. That must have meant she wasn’t the slightest bit surprised that he had concealed his auction bid.
“It is not a secret.” Isaac put a hand up. The last thing he needed right now was a lecture about the auction.
The irony was not lost on him that he had just claimed that he wasn’t concealing information at the very same time he attempted to censor his grandmother.
His grandmother shook her head and clicked her tongue in disappointment. “Your son spent five hundred pounds for five promenades with a known spinster.”
“It was a donation for—” Isaac stopped talking at the disappointed look on his mother’s face. Her mouth was downturned, somewhere in between sadness and disgust. “For women’s education,” he finished, swallowing hard.
“I cannot believe you lied to me,” Arabella said softly, pushing her plate away.
“I did not lie, Mother. I am looking for a wife. Miss Lucy Hale, however, is the Duchess of Radford’s sister. The donation I made was for a worthy cause, and to support some close friends. Nothing more.”
“You cannot make a wife out of a spinster,” Arabella muttered. “Why do you want what you cannot have?” Dejectedly, she leaned back in her chair, giving up completely on the food that she had barely even touched.
Isaac got out of his chair and tossed his napkin on the seat. “Please stay out of it. I am not trying to make a wife out of Miss Lucy. That is my final say on the matter.”
It felt like his fault that his mother acted the way she did. She stayed in the house, she never ate, and she could not even hold a proper conversation without being accusatory. It almost felt like a punishment. He could either take care of his mother or follow his own path, but never both.
His grandmother shook her head. “Do not be mad at our Isaac. He is only acting so foolish because she’s pretty and pert, or so I’ve heard.”
Arabella shot an annoyed glare at her mother. “It is different,” she argued.
“It is not that different,” the older lady said, popping another grape past her wrinkled lips. “I would have described you the same way. Did you ever wonder why he insisted on seeing you time and time again?”
“We are not talking about Simon,” Arabella whispered back cuttingly.
“No, no, we certainly aren’t.” The older lady smiled. “We are talking about you.”
Isaac’s grandmother had a point. While his mother had never been intent on remaining unmarried, she had very openly and vehemently rejected his father. His grandmother loved to tell the story about the late Earl and his insistence on a woman that wanted nothing to do with him. Simon had ended up winning Arabella’s heart, and while they had had a rough beginning, they had found themselves truly in love with each other.
Isaac might have appreciated his grandmother’s words, but he wasn’t going on these promenades for love. In fact, he very likely deserved some of the vitriol if they knew the real reason.
But his grandmother had been convincing nonetheless, and still, his mother refused to sympathize. It was sad because he found that he completely agreed with his mother. There was no point in courting a woman who does not wish to be courted.
Luckily, Isaac wasn’t courting Lucy, but that would have to remain a secret. The truth would upset his mother just as much.
“I am going out for the day,” he said sharply.
Why should he marry anyways? He could only pity the women he brought back to uncomfortable breakfasts and late-night arguments. It seemed like the tension had increased tenfold in the last several days alone. It made him wonder what triggered all of this.
“Give Miss Barrington a chance,” his mother said. “She’s a perfect young woman. Very marriageable, and considerably forgiving.”
“Thank you,” Isaac said, trying his best to smile politely, but Arabella saw right through it and grimaced back.
In the foyer, he took his coat from the footman and walked to the front doors. Outside, his carriage was waiting. He took a deep breath. Hopefully, the day would prove distracting enough for him to forget about his family’s incessant nagging.