A Spinster for the Earl: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel (The Hale Sisters Book 3)
A Spinster for the Earl: Chapter 10

Hyde Park was perhaps even lovelier this time of year. The water’s surface in the gardens was still and calm. Tall ornamental grass and beautiful bushes of purple flowers lined the path. Bees and butterflies fluttered around every fragrant flower and blooming tree. A light breeze rained cherry blossom petals over the path. And somehow, despite all of this, Lucy was still hyper-fixated on the feeling of Isaac so close by.

The kiss they had shared at the Clifton ball still lingered in her mind. Her lips had felt red-hot ever since. Already, she wished he could do it again. They had hardly done anything, according to him, and she was already willing to risk her reputation just to feel his lips on her neck again.

“I have not been here this season yet,” he said.

Admittedly, Lucy was taken aback by the small talk. She had assumed they had moved far past that. There were so many other things to talk about like philosophy, or freedom, or—seeing as far as the chaperone was trailing behind them—most anything they wanted.

“Me neither,” Lucy returned.

She didn’t have the confidence yet to turn the whole conversation back. It was so strange to worry about rejection when he had touched a lot more of her than she ever thought a man would.

“Although, I suppose we will be here throughout the Season. There is always some kind of event going on here.”

“Yes, the rest of the…” he trailed off, offering a fake smile.

“Is something on your mind?” she asked.

He blinked, his eyes trailing down to the path at his feet. “Not at all.”

Lucy’s nose twitched. He was lying. Part of her understood what it was like to have something on your mind and you just want to do your best to drown it. Over her life, she had kept a lot of things hidden. It seemed like all too often, every step that she took was well-documented by the watchful eye of Society. Even now, here she was with Lord Ramsbury, and all the stares and whispers were not lost on her. They probably wondered what he saw in her or why she had even agreed to go anywhere with him.

Sometimes, the only secret place was the one in your head.

Even so, Lucy wished that he might be vulnerable with her too. If an illicit affair was dangerous enough, then wishing for vulnerability was even worse. Emotions complicated things. As much as she wanted to know him, maybe some things would be better kept a secret.

She bit her cheek lightly and decided to change the topic. “Do you still study, even now that you’re out of school?”

Within a moment, his body relaxed. Lucy could feel it in his arm. Maybe being the reason why someone could relax a little was better than knowing why they needed to relax in the first place. She had never thought of herself as someone who could put others at ease, but seeing him acting more like himself made her feel good too.

“No,” he said, lips pressing together tightly. “I could certainly brush up on my knowledge, but I simply haven’t had much time to read as of late.” She glanced at him furtively out of the corner of her eyes, noticing how he seemed to get tense on that response in particular. “Nor do I even know where to start,” he added.

“What subject do you find most interesting?”

He shrugged lightly. “The humanities.” He paused. “Although, I am not sure I appreciate art the way I am supposed to.”

“Really?” she asked. “I have to admit that I’m surprised.”

He made a small hum at the back of his throat. Lucy glanced up at him and tilted her head to show she was thinking. She wasn’t entirely sure why she had expected him to like art better.

“I always love art,” she said. “My sister is so much more artistically inclined than me, but I’ve always enjoyed looking. Symbolism and the subjective nature of beauty is an exercise in philosophy, isn’t it? There is no greater pursuit for truth or clarity, I think.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Lord Ramsbury smiled. “I do not think anyone has ever described it to me like that,” he admitted. “I never gave much thought to why people create in the first place.”

“Sometimes I have the inclination to just pick up a pen or a paintbrush and just turn my problems into something beautiful,” Lucy said.

She had been bitten by the bug many times. When she had been younger, sometimes she would sit in the grass and peek over Emma’s shoulder and watch her sketch the world around them. It had always been so satisfying to watch a few messy lines turn into something so intentional.

“And what stops you?”

“I am not artistic.”

He nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. He grinned as if he was privy to a secret that she would never know. “Are you a perfectionist, Lucy?”

Lucy started slightly and craned her neck. It wasn’t very often she heard her name. Whenever someone had called her Miss Hale, she had always imagined one of her sisters, but to hear him call her by her Christian name… it made her chest flutter in a way she couldn’t explain. A lifetime of invisibility seemed to vanish just like that.

“Is that okay? May I call you—”

“Yes,” she interjected quickly. “I like it.”

His eyes drifted down, looking at her lips for no longer than a heartbeat. Lucy felt a pang of excitement and nervousness in her chest when she remembered the way he had kissed her before.

She blushed, eager to change the subject. “Uhm, yes, yes, I am a perfectionist.”

He chuckled softly, keen on how flustered he had made her. “I can tell,” he murmured. “Me too. If not for my fear of being terrible at things, I might see the appeal in sculpting one’s problems away.”

“Well,” Lucy said, taking a deep breath, “if anything, we can live vicariously through the tragedies of others. I find myself particularly obsessed with this painting at Terrel Estate of Icarus falling out of the sky. Something so triumphant and heartbreaking all at once.”

“And you imagine that your obsession with the painting is more about the lesson and less about the attraction?” He leaned in just a little, close enough that she could feel the heat coming off his body. “I never took your vice to be ego.”

“It’s not,” she insisted. “Balance, I think. Isn’t that why Icarus ended in tragedy? The decision to fly and to seek freedom was not an act of hubris but of humanity. His father warned him not to fly too high for fear of melting the wax, or too low to avoid drowning his feathers.”

“Ah,” he said, his eyebrows raised. She swore he pulled her arm a little closer toward him. “Miss Lucy Hale needs balance, doesn’t she? Either she’s glued to the wall or kissing a rake on the balcony. I suppose that makes sense.”

Lucy felt her cheeks growing hot again. “Stop that!” She couldn’t help but laugh at her own embarrassment. “It’s always been all or nothing for me. When I commit to learning, I wish to know everything. If I need independence, then I opt for solitude.”

“Knowing the problem is the first step toward a solution.”

Lucy shook her head. Everyone went to great lengths to hide from their vices, but not her. She knew the problem, and she liked the thrill of extremes too much to stop.

“Maybe it is simply a beautiful painting,” she said. “Or maybe I just like to watch his fall from grace, knowing full well that one day I will look just as elegant.”

The path narrowed. The gardens here were her favorite part. Most of all, she enjoyed seeing all the flowers so full of life. It was rewarding to see the world looking so alive after such a cold winter. The gardens were filled with huge bushes and trees and tall hedges that rose above their heads.

“As beautiful as I imagine that painting must be,” he stated, “I don’t want to be the one to melt your wings.”

Lucy stilled, stopping and looking up at him. The tone of their conversation had taken such a sharp turn. He seemed to have gotten serious, and she had a lump in her throat, as if he was about to say something important.

“I hoped that I might continue to fly, regardless.”

He nodded. “You have put a great deal of trust in me, and I will prove to you that I can take care of you,” he promised.

“Take… care of me?”

Lucy felt her chest twist up, but she wasn’t entirely certain why. She admitted that she enjoyed the way he looked at her, like he was lucky to just to be around her. She even liked the way he had defended her in front of Lord Langley at the Clifton Ball.

Equality always meant being as strong as a man and being completely self-sufficient with or without him, but she wanted him to protect her. She knew she could take care of herself, but thinking that maybe in the time they spent together she could let her guard down and just exist was more liberating than she had ever expected.

He shook his head quickly. “I mean…” He grimaced. “I do not suggest that you cannot take care of yourself. I know you can. I just—”

“Isaac… I really…” She swallowed hard. “I did not realize how much I needed to hear that.”

His chest deflated a little, and he laughed, scratching the back of his neck. Maybe if anyone else had said it, Lucy would have been offended, but when she was with him, there wasn’t a part of her that felt judged or inferior. He knew she was capable of taking care of herself. She didn’t have anything to prove.

His offer had made her feel understood. Before she had even realized how vulnerable their agreement left her, he had already done things to make it more equitable.

If there was anyone she trusted to fly too close to the sun with, it was the Earl of Ramsbury.

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