A Night to Surrender (Spindle Cove #1)(56)

“Right. Did you come armed this evening? With something other than those dagger-sharp looks, I mean.”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“In that case”—he extended a hand to Diana—“Miss Highwood, I believe this dance is mine.”

When Diana didn’t immediately accept, their mother intervened. “What are you waiting for, Diana? Permission? Of course you may dance with Lord Payne.”

As the pair proceeded to the center of the floor, Minerva nudged her mother. “You cannot allow her to dance. Not like this. What of her asthma?”

“Pish. She hasn’t suffered an attack in ages now. And Miss Finch is always saying healthful exercise will do her benefit. Dancing is good for her.”

“I don’t know about dancing, but Lord Payne is not good for her. Not in any way. I don’t trust that man.”

One of the Bright twins stepped into her line of vision, drawing her notice away. He made a nervous bow to Charlotte. “Miss Charlotte, your hair is a river of diamonds and your eyes are alabaster orbs.”

Minerva couldn’t help but laugh. “Charlotte, do you have cataracts?”

The poor youth flushed vermillion and stuck out his hand. “Care to dance?”

With a brief glance toward their mother for consent, Charlotte launched from her chair. “I’d be honored, Mr. . . . Er, which one are you?”

“It’s Finn, miss. Unless I accidentally tread on your toes, in which case I’m Rufus.” He grinned and offered a hand. The two joined the dancers.

Minerva stared at her mother. “You’re letting Charlotte dance now? She’s barely fourteen!”

“It’s all in good fun. And it’s just a local dance, not a London ball.” Her mother clucked her tongue. “Be careful, Minerva. Your envy is showing.”

She huffed a breath. She was not envious. Although, as more and more couples paired off around her, she did begin to feel conspicuously alone. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation.

“I keep telling you, Minerva. If only you’d give your cheeks a pinch and remove those spectacles, you’d be—”

“I’d be blind as a bat, Mother.”

“But an attractive bat. They’re only spectacles, you know. You do have a choice whether or not to wear them.”

Minerva sighed. Perhaps she would like to catch a gentleman’s attention someday, but not one whose entire opinion of her could be swayed by a minor alteration of appearance. If she married, she wanted a man with a brain in his head and some substance to his character. No vain aristocrats for her, no matter how slick their words or how devilishly handsome their smiles.

It just rankled, to always feel rejected by men like Lord Payne without ever having the chance to reject them first.

She lifted the flagon of ale in her hand and took a long, unladylike draught. Then she rose from her chair, determined not to sit and play the wallflower.

“Where are you going, Minerva?”

“As you say, Mother. I’ve decided to take this unplanned interruption as an opportunity.”

Pushing through the increasingly raucous throng of dancers and drinkers, Minerva made her way to the exit. She’d left off in the middle of composing a most important letter that afternoon, and she might as well take this time to finish it. The members of the Royal Geological Society required adjustment in their thinking.

They were, after all, men.

Sixteen

Susanna raced from the house, picking up her skirts and dashing down the lane.

“We could take a carriage,” Bram said, catching her on the first turn. “Or ride.”

“Not enough time,” she said, gulping the cool night air. “This is faster.”

Truth be told, she was glad of a chance to run. There were too many questions between them, so many emotions she felt unprepared to face. She slid a glance in his direction, wondering if his knee was paining him. She knew better than to ask. He would never admit to it, if it were.

But she slowed, just a little.

As they neared the center of the village, a dull roar reached her ears. There was no question about the source of the din. Together they raced the last distance past the church, and across the village green.

“I’ll be damned.” He halted beside her, panting for breath.

She clutched her side, staring up at the sign above the tea shop door. “The Rutting Bull? What’s the meaning of this?”

“I know what it means. It means the men have taken back their tavern.”

“Our tea shop, you mean.”

“Not tonight.” He grinned, shaking his head. “Ha. This scheme has Colin written all over it. But it’s good to see them taking some initiative.”

“This isn’t amusing.” Her hands flew to her hips. “Did you know they were planning this?”

At her accusing tone, his posture became defensive. “No, I didn’t know they were planning this. I’ve spent the past thirty hours knocked cold. Someone dosed me with enough laudanum to drop a horse.”

“No, Bram. Someone dosed you with the appropriate amount, and your battered body took the much-needed opportunity to rest. I was looking out for your well-being. And now I’m looking out for the well-being of my friends.” She gestured toward the tea shop. “We have to put a stop to that scene. Those girls in there, they’re unused to this sort of attention. They’re going to make more of it than they ought.”