The Spinster & The Coquette (4 page)

“Oh!” Cordelia gently touched her hair. “Do you like it? I must say, your compliment is a relief. In London, a maid attended to my hair. Since I have been living with my aunt, my hair is my own responsibility, and I’d feared I was inefficient.”

“If only every young lady was so inefficient!” Mr. Snowley chuckled. “You look lovely. Absolutely lovely.”

“You are far too kind.”

“I offered to arrange Cordelia’s hair,” Hester spoke up, “but she ignored my offer.”

And she would be ignored yet again. Cordelia and Mr. Snowley were too busy gazing at each other to hear what Hester said.

Alexander held out his arm to Cordelia. “Shall we head out for the dance, Miss Waverly?”

“Certainly!” Cordelia smiled at her sister, accepted her beau’s arm, and allowed herself to be escorted away.

Before Hester could properly appreciate the moment of silence, her aunt appeared at her side. Hyacinth said, “My dear, I have just realized something. I have spent the entire night introducing your sister to a great number of gentlemen, and yet I have completely neglected you. It is truly inexcusable.”

“It matters not,” Hester said with a shrug. “I have no particular interest in meeting anyone. I am not as affable and social as my sister.”

“Nevertheless, it was a very cruel slight on the part of your aunt. If you can forgive me, I would like to introduce you to a man I have known for many years.” When Hyacinth turned her head, Hester noticed, for the first time, there was a man standing at her aunt’s side. He was closer to her aunt’s age, perhaps fifty, with graying sandy hair and a bristly, unshaven chin. Tall and broad, and with a furrowed brow, he looked very stern. If not for her aunt’s cheerful introduction, he might have been a man she would approach with caution. “This is Cecil Hargrave, a very old friend of mine.”

“
Very
old?” Cecil exclaimed. Hyacinth’s words made him laugh—it was a very deep, rich laugh. “You make us sound ancient, Hyacinth! But then… I suppose we
are
ancient to a young woman like your niece.”

“If you feel ancient, Cecil, imagine how I must feel!” Hyacinth exclaimed. “I am even a decade older than you.”

Hester did not speak for some time. Was her aunt introducing her to Mr. Hargrave because she believed they would be a good match? If so, Hester thought it was a bit depressing to be matched with a man who, in all likelihood, was old enough to be her father. However, despite his years, and despite the deep lines on his forehead, Cecil Hargrave was still a remarkably handsome man. His face, while a bit weathered, was undeniably striking. His hair was a bit long and unkempt, which gave him the appearance of a rogue.

When Hester failed to speak, Mr. Hargrave asked, “You are Miss Waverly?”

“Ah… yes! My apologies, Mr. Hargrave. I’m afraid I was woolgathering.”

“You disappoint me, Hester,” her aunt said, “I never thought you would be the absent-minded sort.”

“I am very sorry,” Hester apologized again. “Truly.”

“Perhaps you were so handsome, Cecil, you rendered her speechless.”

“That, I strongly doubt!” Again, he roared with laughter. “Miss Waverly, your aunt said you were from London?”

“Indeed. I am.”

“Plymouth must seem very dull in comparison to that grand city.”

“Not at all,” Hester objected. As they conversed, her aunt flitted away without a farewell. Hester assumed it was Hyacinth’s plan to leave them alone—her intentions for them were suddenly obvious. “Being so close to the coast is very refreshing, and the landscapes are breathtaking.”

“But the gentlemen are very few in number. That must be rather disappointing to a young woman such as yourself.”

Hester nervously twisted her hands in front of her. Mr. Hargrave made her a bit uneasy, as handsome men often did. She was certain it was only a matter of time before she said something silly and off-putting. “The number of gentlemen does not concern me as it does my sister.”

“Why do you say that?”

“For one, I am not particularly young,” Hester explained. “I have been a spinster for some time.”

“Somehow, I doubt the veracity of that claim. You look very young.”

“So I have been told. People expect me to rejoice in that fact, but I would not mind looking older. A wise face earns more respect.”

“And yet… age does not always equal wisdom,” Cecil countered. “For example, I am much older than you, but I am not immune to puerile behavior.”

“I do not consider that a fault, Mr. Hargrave. I’ve often wished I could be more spirited. I’m afraid I am a very boring person. I cannot socialize, I’ve never flirted, and I do not dance. I would have rather stayed at home with my cousin, but my aunt insisted.” Hester shrugged indolently. “He is a very friendly young man, and would have been pleasant company.”

“This cousin…” Mr. Hargrave scratched his bristled chin as he considered her words. “He is… a suitor?”

“Oh, heavens no!” The thought of it made her giggle a bit too loudly. “He is much too young for me! In the beginning, I thought he might be a match for my sister, as he seemed to form an attachment to her very quickly.” Hester searched the room for her sister. In a distant corner of the room, Cordelia was standing with Mr. Snowley, inappropriately stroking his lapel. Hester made a mental note to chide her—yet again—for her brazen behavior. “Unfortunately, I do not think my sister’s interest in him is genuine.”

“Why not?”

“He is… hm… how shall I say it without sounding offensive…?” As she considered her words, Hester crossed her arms and heaved a sigh. “My sister is a very vivacious young woman, full of life and energy. And Frank is—”

“Ah. Frank! You needn’t say another word,” Mr. Hargrave interrupted. “I have known your aunt for many years, and I am very aware of your cousin’s condition.”

“But he is, as I said, a very friendly young man. He deserves to be happy.”

“As do we all,” Mr. Hargrave echoed. “Miss Waverly… did I hear you say you do not dance? I was going to ask if you’d care to dance with me, but I’m afraid I already know the answer.”

With a slightly mischievous smile on her lips, Hester replied, “If I ever felt compelled to dance, I assure you, I would
only
dance with you.”

Cecil grinned at her. “I thought you said you did not flirt? And yet… you seem perfectly capable of it to me.”

“Perhaps I
can
flirt after all.” Hester’s smile broadened as she spoke. “If and when the situation demands it.”

Hester heard a dreamy sigh from Cordelia—it was the sort of sigh she had heard a dozen times before. Her sister’s fresh infatuation was as obvious as the disappointment on Frank Boswell’s face. The three of them were in the sitting room together, trying to assuage the boredom of the day. Dim light from an overcast sky poured through the window, illuminating the room just enough for Hester to read her book. Cordelia was sewing—or pretending to sew. Her needle had not so much as grazed the fabric for many minutes. Her thoughts were preoccupied by a certain young gentleman. Frank did not even pretend to be busy, nor did he bother to hide his adoration of Cordelia. Every time he attempted to turn his gaze elsewhere, his eyes always found a way back to her.

Cordelia sighed again, longer and louder. Finally, she said, “Is he not the most beautiful man you have ever laid eyes upon?”

“Of whom do you speak?” her sister inquired.

“Mr. Snowley, of course! He is unbelievably handsome and charming. I never thought I would say this, not in a million years, but I am glad we were sent to Plymouth. I would not have met him otherwise.”

“That is quite a change of heart.” Hester surreptitiously turned her gaze to Frank. He had been silent for most of the day, but she was curious to see his reaction. Though he feigned disinterest in their conversation, she saw him clench a fist—so tightly, in fact, that his knuckles turned white.

“What was your opinion of him, Hester?” Cordelia asked. “His good looks are undeniable, but what was your impression of him? Was he clever? Did you think he was amiable?”

“We barely spoke. It is too soon to form an opinion.” Hester leaned closer to her sister and whispered in her ear, “Perhaps you should not have flirted with Frank quite so much?”

“What? Why?”

“He looks very… down.”

“Does he?” Cordelia put her needle and thread aside and turned her full attention to the young man sitting across from her. “Frank, are you feeling down?”

When Frank met her gaze, he tried to pretend he hadn’t spent half of the afternoon gazing at her like a lovesick mooncalf. “Hmm?”

“My sister seems to think you are blue-deviled,” Cordelia said. “Have I done something to distress you?”

“Not at all.”

“See, Hester? You worry far too much! You always believe things are more dramatic than they are! Perhaps you read too many novels.”

“Right now…” Hester closed the book on her lap and shook her head. “I cannot read. It is too dark, and I need my spectacles.”

“Frank would love to see you in your spectacles, I am sure. They transform you into a beautiful bookish bluestocking that no man can resist.”

Hester disagreed with a snort. “No man likes a bluestocking. They prefer silly little flirts… like you, Cordelia.”

“I am not silly!” the younger sister protested. “But… I suppose I
am
a flirt.”

“Much to our father’s dismay…” Hester sighed. Under her breath, she added, “And Frank’s, I am sure.”

A moment later, Maisie entered the sitting room with the calling card of a guest: Alexander Snowley. When faced with the possibility of receiving a visitor, Hester said, “But our aunt is in town. Perhaps we should not—”

“Send him in!” Cordelia spoke louder than her sister, ensuring her opinion would be heard. “We cannot turn away such an honored guest.”

“But Hyacinth is away!” Hester tried to be the voice of reason. “And we are also her guests. It is not our place to accept visitors on her behalf!”

“I am sure she would not mind. Besides… Frank is with us.” Cordelia smiled at her cousin as prettily as she could. “You will not abandon us, will you, Frank?”

“I…”

Before Frank could think of his answer, the door opened, and the painstakingly handsome Alexander Snowley entered the sitting room. His perfect hair was darker than a moonless night, and his black eyes were intense and piercing. As he stepped inside, he brandished a large bouquet of flowers, which he offered to Cordelia with a bow.

“Good afternoon, Miss Waverly,” he greeted her. “You look every bit as lovely as I remember.”

“And you look even more handsome, Mr. Snowley. How is that possible?”

Cordelia’s compliment made him chuckle. “Surely you jest!”

“Not at all! You look very handsome indeed. Oh, and the flowers are lovely! You are too kind.” Cordelia paused to stroke the flowers’ soft petals. “You remember my sister, do you not?”

“Indeed. It is a pleasure to see you again as well, Miss Waverly,” he said to Hester, who held his gaze ever-so-briefly. He immediately turned his attention back to Cordelia and awaited her next words.

“This is my cousin, Frank Boswell,” Cordelia cheerfully said. Naive girl that she was, she failed to recognize the sneer on Frank’s face.

“It is very good to meet you.”

“Mm…” Frank acknowledged the other man with a grunt, then forced himself to mutter a single word. “Likewise.”

“Do sit, Mr. Snowley. You may stay as long as you would like. Should I ask Maisie for some tea? Oh, but she is such a sweet girl… I hate to trouble her so. There are still a few biscuits, if you would like one.” Cordelia spoke so quickly, she could barely catch her breath. There was something about Mr. Snowley that unsettled her. He made her nervous, and when she was nervous, she had a tendency to ramble.

Alexander sat beside Frank on the sofa, across from the sisters. “I am quite alright. I came to see you, Miss Waverly, and that was my only reason for coming. Tea is not necessary.”

Hester sighed. Just once, she would have liked to be the Miss Waverly who attracted the attention of the handsome young gentleman. As Cordelia and Mr. Snowley conversed, Hester’s gaze met Frank’s. He must have understood her feelings, at least to some degree, because he frowned.

“If you painted a portrait of me as I am right now, it could be summed up in three words,” Cordelia mused. “Freckles, frocks and flowers.” She held the bouquet beneath her nose and inhaled deeply. “So fragrant!”

“Fine, fair, and fetching,” Mr. Snowley was grinning as he described her. “As for your freckles, they are adorable.”

“My sister would say I am flippant, frivolous and fractious.” Cordelia waited for her sister to disagree, but an objection never came. “And I will have to disagree with you, Mr. Snowley,
as my freckles are anything but fetching. They ruin a perfectly good complexion.”

“And I will have to disagree with
you
, Miss Waverly,” Alexander echoed her sentiment. “Your freckles are irresistible!”

“You spoil me with compliments.”

“Every woman should be spoiled with compliments, provided they are worthy of them,” Mr. Snowley said. “And you are most certainly worthy.”

Hester was rescued from her growing feelings of envy by the arrival of a second guest. He did not come with flowers, but Cecil Hargrave looked every bit as handsome as the gentleman who came before him—in Hester’s eyes, anyway. A very tall man, Mr. Hargrave had to stoop to enter the room. His once-unkempt hair had been brought to order, and his wide shoulders displayed his tan greatcoat to perfection.

After seeing both gentlemen, Frank groaned into the palm of his hand. He assumed Mr. Hargrave was a second suitor of Cordelia, and was a bit surprised when he addressed the older Miss Waverly.

“Good day, Miss Waverly,” the older gentleman said. “I hope I find you in good health?”

“Quite good. I am pleasantly surprised to see you again so soon,” Hester said. Nearby, her sister and Mr. Snowley were engaged in their own conversation.

“Is it
too
soon?”

“Not at all. You are always welcome.”

Frank, who had been excluded from both conversations, was now clenching both of his fists until he was white-knuckled and shaking. Frank eyed his walking sticks and considered making an angry exit, but he knew his flight from the room would only attract attention, pity and sympathy. He closed his eyes and listened to parts of both conversations.