Spinster Ever After

by Rebecca Connolly

  “Your wife told you,” Michael stated without inflection.

  Hugh tilted his head ever so slightly. “Told me what?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Marvelous. Now you both have learned the value of reserve?”

  That earned him a rueful smile. “It’s a wonder, is it not? Marriage has matured both of us.”

  “I doubt marriage is the reason for it,” Michael muttered. He took a quick sip of his beverage. “Has Elinor told you what Charlotte has decided?”

  “Oh, that?” Hugh’s smile remained, and he nodded once. “Yes. Took me by surprise, but Charlotte usually does.”

  Michael snorted in derision, opting to keep further remarks to himself.

  “It must have been quite a shock for you.”

  Michael’s nod was slow, and it was also a blessed relief. “Yes. She’d never said anything about actively pursuing marriage, though it was always possible, and after all this time…”

  Hugh grunted softly. “Is she in earnest? She loves a laugh, you know.”

  “Oh, she’s in earnest,” Michael assured him, “and when Charlotte sets her mind to something, she’ll make it come to pass. I have no doubt she’ll be wed by Michaelmas.”

  Saying the words aloud made the whole fearful scenario real, and Michael swallowed with some difficulty.

  Charlotte being wed.

  He’d had nightmares about this, but he’d always been able to comfort himself that the dreams had not been real. There was no comfort now.

  “And this is a problem for you.” Hugh offered a sympathetic look. “I take it you have feelings for her.”

  Michael laughed limply. “Feelings would describe it well. I was the first to propose to Charlotte Wright, Sterling.”

  Hugh’s expression did not change. “I knew that.”

  “You knew that?” Michael blinked, his mind struggling to process a single thought. “How did you know that?”

  The sympathetic smile turned almost pitying. “Everybody knows that, Sandford. It’s the most well-known secret about you that exists.”

  Responding to such a revelation was almost impossible.

  Almost.

  “Do people know that I meant it?” Michael countered in disbelief.

  Hugh’s eyes widened, and, while his lips remained pressed together, his jaw clearly went slack.

  Michael nodded once. “I’ll take that as a no. Good.”

  “I don’t know that we are close enough friends to have this discussion,” Hugh managed, scratching at the back of his head, averting his eyes.

  “I haven’t had any quality male friends in ages.” Michael sat up and folded his hands across the tabletop. “None that come to mind, as it happens.”

  Hugh fully gaped at Michael now. “What the devil have you been doing when you aren’t with Charlotte?”

  Michael’s hands parted just enough to feign a shrug. “That would be the question I wrestle with now. Had I the answer to that, I would be much better off.” He sighed and barely avoided dropping his head to the table. “I haven’t had friends. I haven’t had interests. I haven’t done anything of note. I don’t even know what I enjoy anymore. I’ve just gone and done things because Charlotte was going and doing them.”

  “You lost yourself chasing her?”

  “So it seems.” Michael shook his head, frowning at the thought. “I haven’t even been chasing her, Sterling. I’ve been revolving around her in a near-constant pattern because I didn’t want to do anything else. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

  “Tragic, I think,” came the low reply.

  Michael only shook his head again. “I’ve wasted so much time. Time I mean to get back now.”

  Hugh’s brow furrowed. “How’s that?”

  “You.”

  A bark of incredulous laughter erupted from his companion, but a plan began to form in Michael’s mind that made the situation anything but comical.

  His lack of reaction stifled Hugh’s laughter creditably.

  “You’re not serious,” Hugh protested, remnants of amusement lingering in his features.

  “And yet…” Michael grinned easily, which surprised him to no end.

  Hugh sat forward, creases forming in his brow. “I am quite possibly the most unlikely candidate for your efforts, Sandford.”

  Michael held up a finger, his grin turning crooked. “You were the most unlikely candidate. Previously, not presently. You are a changed man, are you not?”

  “Well, yes, but…”

  “And you do feel that the change is permanent, yes?” Michael went on.

  “Of course I do, however…”

  “Then I see no reason why you should not be my new friend of the male persuasion while I try to distance myself from Charlotte.” He cocked a brow and folded his arms, daring Hugh to find a reason to protest further.

  Hugh’s eyes narrowed. “I am not saying I will do whatever it is you are thinking about, but I would like to know… What, exactly, are you thinking about?”

  Michael parted his hands again. “Think of me as… as a lad fresh out of his education. Imagine that I know absolutely nothing about moving in Society. That I am in need of a mentor to guide me through its navigation so I may be a success.”

  “Forget being a lad,” Hugh muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re naught but the male illustration of a young miss in her very first Season. Shall I find you a string of beaux as well? Arrange for your first dance to be with the most eligible partner? Purchase new trimmings to display you at your very best for all to see? Or perhaps you might wish to attend every ball, musicale, assembly, and spend every third day at the theater, all to see and be seen, and spread your name about?”

  Slowly, heat seeped into Michael’s cheeks as the mockery sank heavily into the pit of his stomach.

  Every word Hugh said was exactly what Michael needed. Oh, he wasn’t so very like a young miss, but as for the rest… It was precisely what Michael would require in order to break off the bindings that years of being Charlotte’s lackey had wrapped him in.

  The recreation of Michael Sandford. Gads, it was the stuff of nightmares, wasn’t it?

  “The fact that you look resigned instead of horrified has me scared witless.”

  “I’m not so comfortable at the moment, either.” Michael glanced up at Hugh limply. “I think we may have to do exactly what you said. Though a line of… I’m not sure how I feel about courting.”

  Hugh blinked once, then cleared his throat, his brow snapping down. “Right… Well, unfortunately, that is the main objective of anyone in Society that isn’t independently wealthy, driven to rise among its ranks, or scheming to bring the whole thing down. So despite the lack of general interest, you ought to at least pretend to be pursuing it.”

  “Why? I don’t want to compete with Charlotte for who can get married first.” The entire idea was distasteful, and his throat tightened at the thought of someone taking her place in his affections, in his life.

  “Because you will undoubtedly be pursued once you become more visible.” Hugh flagged down a footman for a drink, which was quickly brought. “And you will find yourself married in spite of yourself when the right one crosses your path.”

  The idea soured further. The right one had always been Charlotte. How could he ever imagine anyone else?

  “There are worse things, you know,” Hugh told him softly. “And if you are distancing yourself from Charlotte, who has vowed to marry, you will eventually need to do so yourself.”

  “I know.”

  He did know that. He’d known that from the moment Charlotte had announced her plan. He hadn’t admitted it, hadn’t exactly thought out each word in turn, but he’d known. But doing something towards that effect seemed wrong, somehow.

  “You might as well start practicing for when you are ready for it. What’s the harm?”

  The harm was that there wasn’t any harm. There was absolutely nothing wrong with making it known that he was an eligible bachelor who would be wil
ling to marry the right young lady. It was exactly what he should do, what he was expected to do, and what his mother had begged him to do for years. There wasn’t a single iota of harm, danger, or error in the thing at all.

  Which meant he should do it.

  Which meant he was giving up.

  Which meant…

  “Fine,” he heard himself say. “Consider me an eligible, looking bachelor.”

  Hugh grunted once. “Marvelous. I’ll see what I can do about improving your social schedule.”

  Michael grimaced at that. “I’m really not very social.”

  There was no inkling of concern or sympathy on Hugh’s face. “Unfortunately, you have to be social to get a wife, even if you are only pretending to find one.” He paused, his mouth curving into a rueful smirk. “Unless you get stranded at her estate at Christmas, but that’s too far off for your purposes, and the logistics would be a nightmare.”

  “What?”

  Hugh only shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind. You just need to be social enough to find someone who interests you. Then your attention can be on her, and the rest of the world can socially go to hell.”

  That didn’t sound too awful. “That’s it?” Michael asked warily.

  “That’s it. If the courtship thrives, so much the better. You can propose. If it does not, so long as no understandings or promises are made, all may part amicably, and the whole charade starts over again.” He let that sink in, then tilted his head in invitation. “So, shall we?”

  Fearing the insanity of his plan might actually form into being, let alone work, Michael barely managed the nod. “We shall.”

  Hugh frowned. “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming me. Truly. Do contain yourself.”

  Michael sneered as though he and Hugh had been friends a great deal longer than fifteen minutes. “Give me time.”

  His new friend nodded, a hint of a smile quickly flitting before he turned serious once more. “One stipulation.”

  Already? “All right…” Michael answered in a slow, measured tone.

  “My sister.” Hugh shook his head with finality. “She cannot be your target, but you may use her as an ally.”

  Michael’s jaw dropped. “What? Why would I…?”

  “Alice is beautiful, lively, and brilliant. You’d fall for her if you’d let yourself.”

  He wasn’t about to deny the possibility, but the advanced warning was a little ridiculous. “So why warn me off?” He grinned across the table. “Don’t want me in the family?”

  The smile was not returned. “Charlotte would bloody kill me, and I’ve just gotten her to stop spitting venom when I enter a room.”

  Michael’s smile vanished at once, and his gaze lowered to his still mostly full glass. “She won’t notice.”

  “If you think that, you’re an idiot.”

  No, he wasn’t an idiot, but he did think it. Charlotte would be so engrossed in finding her heart’s desire that Michael’s quiet courtship in the background wouldn’t even cross her mind. Oh, there would be whispers, but nothing she would seriously concern herself with. After all, Michael was not a candidate for Charlotte’s hand. Why would she look in his direction at all?

  Hugh sighed heavily. “We’re not going to agree on that topic, are we?”

  “No, we are not.” Michael smiled weakly. “Well, what do gentlemen do in their free time?”

  A wince flashed across Hugh’s features. “I don’t know that I’m a particularly good source for what a proper gentleman does with his free time, but I’m a very good one for what he does not.”

  Michael laughed once. “That’s good enough for me. I think there might need to be more than two of us to consider me a man of friends, though, and isn’t that a good sign in a potential husband?”

  “Naturally.” Hugh’s lips twisted, then eased into a smile. “Well, I’ve got a brother who might give you the time of day, but surrounding yourself with married men might add to your feelings of insecurity. I’ll round up a bachelor or two of some breeding and fortune, which should give you some connections worth your time.”

  “Much appreciated.” Michael raised his glass towards Hugh’s, the knot in his stomach not easing any less than when he walked in here, but it looked as though his situation was about to improve. “To the recreation of Michael Sandford.”

  Hugh snorted once and touched their glasses together. “May he have a rather marvelous debut.”

  Chapter Five

  Any well-laid plan must be, in fact, well laid before it can commence.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 27 November 1818

  “Charlotte, my lamb, what are you about?”

  Charlotte glanced up from the list she had been composing, and the last Best Bachelor column she’d written alongside it. “Good morning, Mama. How was your breakfast this morning?”

  Her mother did not react to the pleasantry, knowing Charlotte far too well. She pursed her lips and entered the parlor more fully, looking almost regal in her morning gown, her dark but greying hair pulled tightly back, cap in place. There was something majestic about the woman, and always had been.

  Yet there was a conniving streak of mischief in her as well, and very few people knew that about Mrs. Arabella Wright, or that Charlotte took after her more than made her father comfortable.

  “Tolerable for a tray, but that is not why I’m here, so forgive me if I do not inquire as to yours.” She gave her daughter a wry look. “I mean what are you doing there? I’ve seen you scribbling away, and you haven’t been to three events this week. Either you are ill, or you are planning something, and you are never ill.”

  Charlotte frowned at that, scowling down at the sheets before her. “At the present, I am attempting to identify suitable candidates for marriage. Elinor will bring her reports shortly with the Spinsters, but I would like to think I might have some insight myself before she arrives.”

  Silence was not the anticipated response, and Charlotte glanced up at her mother in near horror, images of her mother having an apoplexy springing to mind.

  But her mother was well and whole, staring at Charlotte with a fully gaping mouth, and blinking unsteadily. “You… You said…” She wet her lips and then cleared her throat. “Marriage, Charlotte. You said marriage.”

  Charlotte’s cheeks colored and she resumed her task. “You needn’t be so very shocked. I am not a child; I do know the word exists.”

  “Yes, but you never use it.” Her mother moved to take a nearby seat, clasping her hands in her lap. “Lottie, are you certain?”

  “That I want to marry?” Charlotte laughed softly. “No, it would ruin everything. I’ve always known that. No, marriage is not a sensible course for a woman like me, but I would very much like to find love. And, in good circumstances, marriage should follow love. I’m not accepting a proposal, clearly, but I am opening myself up to the idea.” She paused in her writing, then glanced at her mother. “The only thing I am certain of is that I should like to find love, Mama.”

  There, that was simple enough, and rather succinct. Why had it been so difficult to admit for anyone else? Marriage was not the point. Love was.

  Her friends had found love, and here she sat.

  Even Emma Asheley, now Mrs. Partlowe, had found some sort of affection in her marriage, though she had done the thing rather backwards, which was what the Spinsters and their Chronicles had been striving to avoid.

  But not so for Charlotte Wright.

  “Love is all that your father and I would wish for you, Lottie,” her mother assured her tenderly. “There would be no cause for you to marry at all without it, not in your circumstances.”

  “I know, and I understand how fortunate I am.” Charlotte grinned at her mother quickly. “Not many girls in England can say they’ve had no pressure from their parents to marry, so I thank you for that.”

  Her mother laughed merrily. “Oh, Lottie, my love, you think we have not attempted to pressure you? Or that your father has not longed f
or you to be married afore now? He’s only had a restraining hand from me to keep him from harping on you.”

  Charlotte sat back, her grin spreading. “I wondered about that. Poor Papa.”

  “He would have disapproved of any beau you had, at any rate,” her mother insisted. “He’d be so very particular, I’m not sure you’d have been married by now had you tried.”

  The grin faded just a touch as the words sank in. “That’s just it, Mama. I’m not altogether sure that I have tried. I’ve never really come round to the idea of being courted, despite entertaining a great many fellows. Rather far too many, I should think, considering none of them were serious. I’m not altogether sure that I have behaved my age, if you can believe that.”

  “Darling, you haven’t behaved your age since you were three, but it was usually for the better.”

  There was a wry sort of truth to that, and Charlotte tilted her head in consideration. “Yes, I suppose, but beyond the age of twenty-five, one ought to possess a little more wisdom and severity than I have done.”

  Her mother scoffed haughtily, shaking her head. “Wisdom, perhaps, but severity I will never agree to. You are a bright woman, and severity would not become you.”

  Charlotte made a face. “Discretion, then. Surely I could do with more discretion.”

  The lack of reply was answer enough.

  “There, I see I am correct.” Charlotte hummed and set her pen down, quirking her brows.

  Her mother smiled indulgently. “Who is on your list, then?”

  Charlotte handed the document over, twisting her lips. “I’m afraid I’m none too pleased with it. Nobody on that list strikes me as being more interesting in any way than anyone else.”

  “The point, my love, is that you are to try and find them interesting in spite of your first impression. Your father was a notorious bore before I got to know him, make no mistake.”

  “Mama!” Charlotte laughed, clapping her hands. “Was he really?”

  Her mother shuddered and grinned. “Oh, Lottie, he droned on and on. I was determined that I would feel nothing for him despite my mother’s wishes. But then I got to know his heart, see his mind, and suddenly the things he was saying were more interesting to me, and far more valuable.”