A Spinster for the Earl: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel (The Hale Sisters Book 3)
A Spinster for the Earl: Chapter 7

Lucy had known for most of her life that she would not marry. She didn’t want to, she certainly didn’t need to, and she didn’t have to. It might have been an unconventional choice, but she had always prized her education and her dreams of educating children far above her desire to be loved. After all, marriage always looked so romantic and idyllic in the beginning, but two people would rarely find themselves that blissfully happy forever.

Maybe that was just nihilism, but it was better than idealism. That said, Lucy did see the irony that the ever-idealistic Harriet had found what looked a lot like true love and that she, herself, was still attached to the wall of every ballroom, clutching her champagne like it was the only thing keeping her sane.

And although she was certain that marriage wasn’t a good idea, it hadn’t been until Lord Ramsbury that she had ever considered how much she could desire passion. It had kept her awake for the past several days. She hadn’t stopped imagining what it would feel like. Would she be happy to experience it only once, or would she dream of it for the rest of her life?

“Lucy!”

Lucy jumped, lucky that her champagne glass was empty. She looked up to see Rose standing in front of her looking amused, with her arms crossed over her satiny pink dress.

Rose reached out a hand and placed it on Lucy’s shoulder. “What makes you jump like that?” she asked.

“No—nothing,” Lucy lied. “I was simply deep in thought about something I read.”

“Hmm.” Rose frowned. “It is the first ball of the Season, Lucy! Can you put aside your academic pursuits for one night? We are meant to dance and be frivolous!”

Lucy deflated just a little. How could she possibly concentrate on having fun when she had so much on her mind?

“Are you not supposed to be dancing with your betrothed?”

“We have already danced twice,” Rose said. “I could not do it again. It would be gauche.” She held her chin up.

Rose Weston was, by relation, one of the most proper, perfect women to have debuted in recent history. Her brother was the charming Duke of Radford, and she had always been expected to be a pearl. No one ever had any doubt that she would find a great match. She deserved everything she had and more.

Lucy had always wondered if Rose had ever dreamt of doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Despite that, she would never ask her. Rose adored her so much she would forgive her for anything, but at the same time, the thought that Rose could potentially be disappointed in her for even a minute was a crushing blow. Anyway, Rose was so perfect, she had likely never thought of going against the grain. She didn’t have to.

Rose scanned the ballroom. It was the first ball of the Season, and it was extravagant. All of the candles and lights cast a warm glow over the ballroom. There were glittering chandeliers suspended from the ceiling and lush vases of pink flowers and garlands placed around the room.

“Did Lord Ramsbury ever stop by for a promenade?”

“He did,” Lucy replied.

Rose gasped, pressing a gloved hand over her lips. “Did he—How did he act? Is he as impertinent as I’ve heard?”

“Impert—” Lucy sighed. “No, Rose, he is ordinary in all respects. We went for a short walk and spoke of academics, and then he made sure I got home safely. That was it.”

It wasn’t as difficult as Lucy expected to lie through her teeth about the nature of her promenade. After all, the arrangement proposed was no one’s business besides her and the Earl’s.

Rose frowned. “Do you think… Do you think he wants to marry?”

“I know he does,” Lucy said.

“What?” Rose paused, looking around the ballroom back and forth like she might be able to catch a glimpse of the Earl, but he was still seemingly nowhere to be found.

“He told me so,” Lucy said. “This season, he plans to find a bride.”

“Oh my God,” Rose gasped again. “Do you think he plans to court you?”

“Me? No.” Lucy waved her hands dismissively, trying to shut Rose’s theory down as quickly as possible. “He seems very supportive of my choice not to wed.”

“But why else would he be going on all of these promenades with you?” Rose had a big, honey-sweet smile on her face. “He hopes that you’ll change your mind.”

Lucy grimaced, unsure of how to convince her friend that she had interpreted the situation completely wrong. “Well, if that is true, then I will have to set him straight.”

“If you’re certain,” Rose drawled. “Who knows, maybe he could make the perfect husband.”

“Maybe,” Lucy muttered. “But not for me.”

“Oh, is that—” Rose paused, leaning to the side so that she could see in between some groups of attendees. “It’s him!”

Lucy’s heart pounded hard against her chest. This had to stop. She hated the way she was constantly on edge and her heart felt so volatile. It was as if one wrong move and the entire thing would fly out of her chest. She couldn’t die at the first ball of the Season. That would be mortifying.

She moved to get a better glimpse of him. The Earl was just as popular as always, making his way across the room, waving and saying his greetings to all the attendees he crossed paths with. Despite so many distractions and so many acquaintances, he was looking around for someone. Lucy could only hope that she was on his mind. But then again, maybe he had already forgotten about his proposal. Maybe he realized better of it once he’d returned home. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Miss Lucy Hale,” a voice said.

Lucy turned around to see Lord Langley standing confidently beside her, his arms folded behind his back. He was considered a perfect gentleman, but he had an ego. It was funny that she felt safer around a rake like Lord Ramsbury. At least Lord Ramsbury had been honest about his motives, while Lord Langley only seemed to take interest in her now that she had captured the attention of a rake.

That was the way it was supposed to be done. If a man asked you to dance, you were just to assume his attentions were based on your merits and nothing else. Lucy, however, knew that most people had ulterior motives. She had never been able to even entertain anyone’s interest solely because she hated to be made a fool of.

What did Lord Langley want? Status? Her father’s money? An enviable match? At least Lord Ramsbury had made his intentions clear.

Lucy curtsied, eyeing Lord Langley suspiciously.

“You look radiant tonight,” Lord Langley complimented. “Would I be so lucky as to reserve a dance?”

“Oh.” Lucy smiled as politely as possible. “I am afraid I am completely booked tonight,” she said, swinging the dance card attached to her wrist. She opened it briefly to show it was filled with names before closing it.

“You cannot be serious,” he said. “Not one dance left?”

She shook her head, glancing at her dance card. “Completely booked. Not a single dance. Shame.”

Lord Langley’s forehead wrinkled with annoyance. “Well, allow me to write over someone, then.” He reached out a hand, grabbing at her dance card. Lucy instinctively snatched her wrist away.

“Langley,” a voice said.

Rose, Lucy, and the aggressive suitor turned their heads to gawk at Lord Ramsbury.

The Earl put a hand on Lord Langley’s back. “She said her dance card is full. Leave her be.”

“How many times did you sign it?” Lord Langley sneered.

“Not even once,” Lord Ramsbury said. “If we wished for a dance, then it would have suited both of us to arrive earlier, don’t you think?”

Lord Langley shot one more annoyed look at Lucy before walking away without so much as another word. Lucy looked up at Lord Ramsbury, surprised he had come to her aid. She couldn’t help but admire him. If she told him her answer tonight, what would he do?

“You are incredibly popular this evening, are you not?”

“Me?” Lucy blinked, pulling herself out of her trance. “Well, yes. I have saved myself for only the most accomplished suitors.” She extended her arm.

The Earl cradled her hand gently in his, his touch sending waves of desire through her. She parted her lips.

“I should…” Rose offered a tight-lipped smile that was markedly uncomfortable. “I should see my brothers.” She walked away.

Before Lucy could stop her, Lord Ramsbury opened the dance card on her wrist. “Lord Locke,” he read, his voice slowing down suspiciously. “Lord Diderot… The Baron of Montesquieu… Oh my, a lot of Frenchmen on here. Would your mother approve?”

“I would not dare tell her,” Lucy replied.

“Lady Wollstonecraft. Interesting. And, last but certainly not least, the Viscount of Plato. Is he a viscount now? I had no idea.”

Lucy smirked, pleased that someone had found her ruse amusing. As much as she loved Rose, she would have not even realized. “Oh, I am terribly excited about my dance with him.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but I do not think he will make it in the door in just a toga.”

Lucy took a deep breath, surprised at how natural talking to him felt. “Oh goodness,” she said, “I will have to meet him elsewhere, then.”

Lord Ramsbury raised his brows slightly and nodded. “And where would a young lady like you steal away with such a fine gentleman?”

“The library,” she replied. “Obviously.”

“Oh, obviously, of course.”

Together, the two laughed softly, trying to hide their amusement.

He smiled at her, his hands behind his back, rocking slightly as if he were impatient for something. “I do not know if I can apologize on behalf of all men, but I do not think Lord Langley capable of realizing his own faults.”

Lucy shook her head. “I used to be the wallflower at every ball, and now I am the subject of gossip and discussion after our promenade. I suppose this has worked well for you. Now, every young debutante in this city believes you to be finally in search of a wife. They are positively foaming at the mouth,” she muttered, looking around him, noticing the stares directed their way.

Lord Ramsbury had the eyes of every young marriage-minded woman in the room on him. The first ball of the Season was a big deal. What one did and whom one spoke with tonight set the tone for every other event moving forward.

He sucked through his teeth, looking rather frustrated by the attention. “They can wait. I have found myself more interested in you than in courtship right now. I have the entire Season to find a wife.”

Lucy felt her cheeks redden. “I have admittedly been looking forward to seeing you as well.”

He nodded, his movements slowing down. “So, you have thought about what I said?”

She nodded, swallowing hard. “I did.”

“Well, I should leave you to your busy dance schedule.” He leaned in closer so that there was no chance anyone might hear him but her. “But how about you pass up your final dance and meet me in the library instead?”

“I suppose I can spare the time, Lord Ramsbury,” Lucy said with a hint of a smile. Inside, her chest was boiling with anxiety.

“I look forward to it, then,” he murmured.

Just a week ago, Lucy never would have expected herself to agree to something so forbidden. But at this point, she didn’t believe she could stop herself. She wanted Isaac in a way that she had never wanted someone else as long as she had lived. That had to count for something. She shouldn’t be outlawed from pleasure just because she had academic pursuits.

If what she was doing was wrong, then why was it so decidedly human to feel this way?

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