Charlotte giggled softly. “True. I am your only friend.”
That wasn’t exactly accurate, but it might as well have been. He’d devoted enough of himself to her to make it so.
“I thought,” he began, returning to the subject with as much tenderness and tact as he could, “that you were looking for love. A great, sweeping love that sent you to your knees.”
“I am,” she replied with a firm nod.
He shrugged as if that should have been her answer.
She frowned at his gesture. “I’m afraid that I missed it, Michael.”
“I don’t think that sort of thing is easily missed,” he retorted, scrunching up his face for effect. “You’d have to be really thick to miss the lightning bolts and singing angels and feelings of imminent death.”
A sharp thump across his chest nearly set him off balance, but he recovered swiftly enough, pushing to his feet and moving back a safe distance.
Charlotte skewered him with a dark look. “You are hopelessly unromantic.”
“I’ve heard.” He smiled blandly and folded his arms.
She watched him for a long moment, then slumped on a resigned sigh. “I wanted love to find me, Michael. I don’t need marriage, not in the way others do, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to be alone with my money.”
It sounded so cold when she put it that way, but the reality was that she’d summed it up neatly there. Unpleasantly, but neatly.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she went on. “Love was supposed to happen to me, not be hunted for. Did I miss it?”
“No,” he said before he could stop himself. “No, you didn’t miss it.”
She didn’t reply, but her attention was on him still. As though he hadn’t finished. As though he had more of an answer or explanation.
He could have. He had answers aplenty, and he’d waited years to give them. He could end all of this right now, end it for them both. He wasn’t a man of speeches, but he’d do his damnedest to be one now.
It was time. It had to be.
He stared back at her, willing the words to come.
“It might be that you’re meant to be the huntress, Charlotte, rather than the hunted.”
Michael blinked at the words, wondering what idiot was saying them at a moment like this. And why they were said in his exact way of speaking and tone of voice.
Oh. His voice.
Idiot.
Charlotte stared at him as though she were thinking the very same thing, though Michael knew full well she was not. She already knew he was an idiot; there was no need to hash it out again. This was not directed at him at all. It was a realization too late and feeling ridiculous for that fact.
“Bloody hell, Michael,” Charlotte hissed, her gaze turning to the window as she shook her head. “Why didn’t you say this before?”
“I don’t tend to consider the reasons for your lack of marital state on the regular, you know,” he told her with as much indignation as he could muster. “You never said much bemoaning the subject, so why would it even occur to me?”
She didn’t seem to hear him, her brow furrowing as she considered his words. “A huntress. You think so?”
She was going to torture him again and again if he didn’t somehow put an end to this conversation. Telling her to look for love? Knowing she would never look where he wanted her to?
Michael watched her for a long moment, making the decision he told himself he never would, and soaking in the sight of her as though he would never see her again in his life.
“You said so yourself,” he answered, surprised his voice was as clear as it was. “You’re an heiress. Marriage would actually hinder your independence, factually speaking, so if it is something you want in spite of the logic there, you are going to have to do the work to find it.”
“A marriage of love is what I want,” she replied, still not looking at him, “not a marriage for the sake of it.”
The words lashed across his heart, and he inhaled sharply, but silently. “Then find it, Charlotte. If you want it, go and get it.”
As though he had spoken to a soldier before battle, Charlotte rose to her feet, her brow clear and her expression set. “Yes. I intend to.” She nodded and began to stride from the room, pausing as she passed him to look in his eyes and smile with all the warmth she had ever done. “What would I do without you, Michael?”
With a quick stretching of her smile, she continued out of the room, her fingers briefly grazing his hand as she did so.
His skin burned fiercely at the contact, and the feel of it was all the more poignant for the silence in the now empty room.
“We’re about to find out,” he murmured in reply, though there was no one around to hear it.
He ran a hand over his face, exhaling heavily, and sank into the closest chair with the weight of the last few minutes pressing him further into it.
He wouldn’t stand by and watch while Charlotte actually conceded herself to someone else, no matter how worthy the man might be. He wanted her happiness, it was true, but at what cost to himself would that happiness come? Years of lingering at the edges of her circle, practically the one who tended her flock and shooed the strays away from her, and for what? He hadn’t found amusement in it but for her own wit, and all he could say he had done was furthered her own interests of absolutely nothing useful.
He’d never encouraged her behavior, but it wasn’t as though he had done anything about it. She had never behaved badly, though she was a novelty when compared with other young ladies in Society. He’d spent years ignoring his own life for the sake of remaining in hers.
It was time to end that. End this. If she would begin searching for love in earnest, then so would he. He would not hover at the edges of her courtship as a spectator.
He could not.
“Sandford, why is my sister whistling and skipping down the corridor?”
Of course she was.
Michael groaned, not bothering to remove his hand from its position, pressing as it was against his brow. “You would think after all these years, you would stop asking any questions at all about your sister’s behavior.”
“Skipping, Sandford. And whistling.” A rustle of clothing was heard, and the tread of footsteps approached. “Either she has just bested you in something, or she has an idea. Kindly relieve my curiosity.”
Michael’s hand dropped, and he stared up into the speculative face of Charlotte’s brother, so like her in coloring but with but with the hard angles in features of their father. While Charlotte’s glower was powerful and impressive, her brother had the firm countenance that demanded submission without a word. Where Charles had inherited the height of his maternal relatives, Charlotte had to fight for every inch of her stature.
Repeated exposure to both Wright children over the years had given Michael some insight into each of them, and while he wouldn’t have said Charles was among his more intimate friends, he shared a near-familial bond that didn’t exactly set him outside of that circle.
“Charlotte has decided she is going to marry,” Michael said flatly. “Husband to be determined.”
Charles blinked at the announcement, folding his arms after a moment. “I’d say it’s about time, though I’m more inclined to say I’ll believe it when I see it. What the devil does she have in mind?”
Michael shrugged and began drumming his fingers on the armrest. “I believe she is going on a hunt for love.”
Charles snorted. “Where in the world did she get that idiotic notion?”
A wince flashed across Michael’s features. “I may have given it to her.”
The long moment of silence might as well have been a gong against his head in punishment.
“I know,” Michael said before he could be scolded, waving his hand. “I know.”
“You’re a bloody idiot, Sandford,” Charles told him as if it were helpful. “I’ve thought so for years, but this trumps everything else. How many times have I told you to leave t
his madness? You had to know it was pointless once she refused you; she never goes back on her word. Yet you stayed. Never understood why, it had to be torture if you had feelings for her. But this? From a lapdog to a romantic advisor, what the hell have you done to your manhood?”
He had endured ribbing and teasing from Charles over the years, and usually brushed it off with a laugh, but this…
He was wondering the same thing himself. How had he let himself waste so much time in his life on the smallest hope?
Not that time spent in Charlotte’s company had been a waste, for her friendship had been the most important in his life. From the moment he’d met her, swinging as she had been on the low-hanging branches of a willow over a flooded pond, he’d been drawn to her side like no connection he’d ever known. There was no friend like Charlotte Wright anywhere in the world. He’d loved her within three years and had never stopped.
And that was a waste.
“I don’t know,” Michael admitted for the first time in his life. “But enough is enough. I’m finished.”
Charles became almost startled in a single blink. “You agree?”
“About my being an idiot? Absolutely.” He nodded for emphasis. “Very much so.”
There was no response as Charles processed that. “You have never agreed with me. You usually change topics or tell me to shove off. What’s changed?”
Michael snorted a soft laugh, anything actually resembling humor nowhere in sight. “Opening my eyes. It’s over.” He pushed to his feet and met the derisive look of his companion. “I’ve nailed my own coffin shut, and I have to find a way out.”
Charles winced with some sympathy. “To be fair, I tried to tell you that…”
“I wouldn’t have believed you before,” Michael admitted, smiling ruefully. “I know better now. She’ll never see me that way, I’ve simply been denying it naïvely. But I’m not going to be one of her Spinster friends in this. They can speculate and laugh about suitors all they like, but I will not hear a word of it.”
“Does my sister know?” Charles asked, his brow lowering slowly.
Michael shook his head. “Of course not, don’t get so protective.” He gave him a scolding look, then went on. “I don’t intend to abandon her entirely from this moment. I will gradually ease away and find a natural reason for doing so. Trust me, she’ll hardly notice.”
For a moment, he thought Charles would express further concern, disdain, or some other brotherly emotion that belied his affection for and bond with his sister.
But Charles only nodded and uttered a low laugh before clapping Michael on the shoulder. “Well, it’s about time you walked away from her and lived your own life. Good man. Billiards?”
Michael shook his head, feeling no satisfaction in the praise. “Thank you, no. I’ve got business to attend to. I was on my way there when Charlotte commandeered me.”
Charles chuckled ruefully as he gestured for them both to leave the room. “No doubt it will be a pleasant change to have that end for you, eh?”
Somehow Michael’s silence was acknowledgement enough, though he didn’t agree. Pleasant it would not be, but a necessary change it was. It would be vital to his survival.
And his sanity.
Chapter Three
One can always count on one’s true friends to be honest, supportive, and loyal, even when one’s idea is an unconventional one.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 1 May 1818
“Thank you for coming here today. I know you’re all wondering why I’ve asked you here.”
“Not really, no.”
Charlotte glared at Elinor Sterling, who was smiling back at her with the sort of impudence that was maddening in its inconvenience. “That was not a question that required an answer, Elinor.”
Elinor raised a pale brow. “It wasn’t a question at all, and I didn’t answer. Only commented.”
“She’s going to throttle you,” Georgie informed her as she calmly sipped her tea.
“Eagerly,” Charlotte added with a menacing hiss.
Elinor only shrugged. “Well, it was a beautiful life while I had it. Kindly tell Hugh what happened to me, and that I adored him to my last breath.”
Grace, Lady Ingram, rolled her eyes dramatically as she sat on the sofa in a flurry of elegant skirts. “Oh, please, Elinor. You’ve been married nearly six months; it is high time the glow of the thing faded.”
“And yet…” Elinor smiled to herself as she brought her tea to her lips.
Charlotte shook her head and looked around the room. “I don’t understand at all how she can be so desperately in love with a villain while the rest of you simply tolerate your grand husbands.”
“Tolerate?” Izzy Morton echoed with a laugh.
“Villain?” Elinor replied with her usual sharpness.
“Yes, Tony is rather grand,” Georgie allowed with a bemused smile. “I shall endeavor to amend my ways to be more glowing about him, as Grace would say.”
The tension in the room broke as laughter sounded from them all, even Charlotte.
Tony was the first of the truly admirable Spinster husbands, and he’d seemed to set the precedent for the rest of them. They had all met and matched the quality with each subsequent husband, growing their influence and enviable states markedly.
Apart from Hugh Sterling.
Charlotte glanced at Elinor, who was sitting with her eyes lowered to her lap.
For the first time in the six months of her marriage, Charlotte felt something crack in her heart as she saw the effect her opinions had on Elinor. It was easy enough to combat her roaring indignation about the thing, given her own temperament bordered on the fiery. She had yet to see Elinor anything but angry over her opinions. It hadn’t exactly occurred to Charlotte that such things might hurt her friend.
Elinor had hated Hugh as much as Charlotte had before all this. She’d been even more vocal about it, and more violent in her threats. It had been almost a betrayal in Charlotte’s eyes when she had suddenly announced her engagement to the man.
Surely it had been manipulation and delusion, Charlotte had been convinced of it. Surely Elinor had been naïve and accepted lies under the influence of charm and attention. Surely she had fallen victim to the same ploys they had spent ages warning other young ladies of.
No one could love a villain like Hugh Sterling, and no villain of such a caliber could repent enough to truly be redeemed.
And yet…
As though she could hear Charlotte’s thoughts, Elinor looked up, her attention going directly to Charlotte.
Hurt shone through her pale eyes, and the glimpse into such a raw, vulnerable feeling in someone as bold as Elinor was disconcerting. Charlotte couldn’t leave well enough alone. Not this time.
“Elinor…” Charlotte said softly, smiling with some hesitation.
“He’s not a villain,” Elinor murmured, her gaze direct, even if her tone was not. “I of all of us should know. And yes, I do love him.” Her eyes turned almost misty, but there was no quiver in her voice or her chin. “I know there have been comments as to why he has not come around or tried to become part of our group. He’s not avoiding you because of shame or superiority. He just doesn’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable about being seen with him.”
Charlotte stared at her in silence, her mind struggling to spin on the thought.
Georgie sighed softly. “I was wondering why he wouldn’t come to our dinner party last week.”
Elinor nodded, though continued to keep her focus on Charlotte. “He’s finally accepted that his family supports him and wants him among their number, but if there are others, he will not venture out. He doesn’t want it to affect my friends and my reputation, and I’ve told him I don’t care, but he is determined.”
“Poor man,” Izzy remarked in an almost choked voice. “I have a reserved husband, as you know, and he often chooses to politely decline invitations, but not for anything like this.”
“Why do you think Hugh did
nothing for Edith?” Elinor asked the room in general. “He was terribly concerned for her, wanted to know everything about the situation and privately advised Tony and Francis, but he did not think it would help Edith for him to be seen as involved. Not when Society still sees him as the man he was rather than the man he has become.” She lifted her chin slightly, her eyes shining somehow brighter for the tension in her jaw. “And especially not when my friends do.”
Charlotte fought for a swallow, a strange lump having formed in her throat.
“I didn’t know that,” Georgie murmured to no one in particular. “Why did Tony not tell me?”
Elinor managed a small, bitter smile. “Hugh wasn’t sure where your opinions lay, so he begged Tony to keep it secret.”
Georgie shook her head, returning the smile. “I wouldn’t have cared, dear. Please, please tell him so. Come to supper tomorrow. Tonight. Any time, we’ll be delighted.”
“Steady on, Georgie,” Grace told her with wide eyes, smiling mischievously. “She didn’t say Hugh was desperate, either. The poor man doesn’t want to be fawned over in so obvious a fashion. He might suspect you’re making up for something.”
“Aren’t we?” Georgie shot back without concern.
Izzy made a face and looked at Elinor with sympathy. “I’m afraid you will have several invitations arriving this evening. I’ll wait and send mine next week, if you don’t mind.”
Elinor didn’t seem to hear, still watching Charlotte.
Charlotte wished she wouldn’t. Being so neatly called out without having her name said was unbearable; she was guilty of prejudice where Hugh was concerned, just as Society was. She could not offer a defense, as no real accusation had been made of her. And she had not laid eyes on Hugh Sterling in a full year now, let alone conversed with him, so she had no proof that he still was the man she had always known him to be.
Ignorant assumptions, and arrogant in those ignorant assumptions. It was no wonder she was a spinster. What man of quality would want a wife like that?
Spinster Ever After Page 3