Aubrey waved it off with a quick expression of dismissal. “Not in the least. I am married to Grace, so waiting for the appearance of resplendence is quite a normal thing for me now.”
Charlotte sputtered and turned to Grace. “Is he always like that?”
“No,” Grace said simply, smiling sweetly at her husband. “He is showing off at present.”
“To answer your question,” Aubrey went on, ignoring his wife’s commentary, “no, you are not the last ones down. Your father kept me company, but when it was clear it would be some time, he retired to his library. Your mother was down but forgot something so went back up. Your brother, I have yet to see.”
There was no surprise in anything he had said, and Charlotte could only sigh. “All that fuss and bother, and still Charles takes more time than I do to be presentable for Society. I do not understand it, nor will I. What can he possibly have to prepare?”
“You would be surprised, my dear sister.” Charles strode down the stairs, smug expression on his face, her mother on his arm. “There, we are all looking our finest. Would you send for Father?”
“No need, no need,” came the sound of their father’s voice from further down the corridor. “The sound of your footfall on the stairs echoed into the library, so I felt myself summoned.”
Grace snickered and looped her hand through Aubrey’s. “Oh, I do love spending time with the Wright family.”
“Happy to oblige,” Charlotte muttered, moving over to the waiting maids for her cloak. “If nobody minds, I’ll ride over with the Ingrams. More room for us all.”
“Don’t impose, Charlotte!” her mother protested. “And don’t invite yourself! Lord Ingram, forgive her…”
Aubrey chuckled with some warmth and bowed. “Mrs. Wright, I can assure you that I rarely see a need to forgive Charlotte for anything. I am well aware of her nature and her antics, and I have no qualms about allowing her to ride with Lady Ingram and myself to the Prestons’ home this evening.”
“You’re a better man than I,” Charles informed him as he retrieved his hat for the evening.
Charlotte glared at him. “That was never in question.”
Before the siblings could properly spat, they were all ushered out to the carriages and loaded in, and then they were off.
There was not much conversation in the Ingram coach, as Charlotte preferred to look out of the window in anticipation of what the evening could bring. She did not anticipate finding her husband and falling in love in one night, but she hoped that she could make a good start, at the very least. She could not properly set a true plan in motion without these first steps.
She’d accept anything as a beginning. Finding one of the men on her list intriguing. Dancing more than once with him. Flirting mutually. Catching scattered looks throughout the night.
Anything more than the unknown would be of great comfort.
“Do you need me to function in any sort of assisting capacity this evening, Charlotte?” Aubrey offered kindly, as though he could sense her inner nerves and turmoil. “Or protective?”
Charlotte smiled at him, shaking her head. “Only if you see me suffering from boredom or unable to escape someone tiresome. I would be most grateful for a rescue under those circumstances, but I think I should be quite able to manage otherwise.”
“Good,” he said simply, “because we are here.” He quirked his brows and scooted to the edge of his seat, preparing to disembark as the carriage rolled to a stop.
Heavens. Charlotte looked up at the house, nothing too fine by appearances, but certainly lit up enough to be inviting. So why should her pulse begin to race, and her throat dry up?
“Oh, and Charlotte…”
She swallowed. “Aubrey?”
He grinned in his usual mischievous manner. “The Prestons have a son, you know. He is back from the Continent, and apparently very keenly interested in finding a wife.” With that, he pushed out of the coach and held out a hand for his wife.
Grace scowled at him, but placed her hand in his, giving Charlotte a meaningful look. “Are you ready, dear?”
Charlotte nodded even as Grace was pulled gently from the coach, then nodded privately to herself. “Yes,” she told herself, jumping in near fright as Aubrey’s hand reappeared for her.
She cleared her throat and took it. “Yes,” she said again, this time for their benefit. “I am ready.”
Chapter Eight
Avoidance is not always cowardly.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 15 October 1816
Charlotte was a vision.
It was the worst possible luck.
Michael knew she would attend the Prestons’ ball, but the sight of her struck him more powerfully than any sight of her ever had.
She was going to marry someone else, he reminded himself. Anyone else, really. Any eligible man in this ballroom could become her husband one day.
He suddenly hated them all.
It was not fair, seeing her so elegantly arrayed, increasing the effort she put into her appearance and apparel right when he had decided to give her up. But this was never going to be easy nor comfortable, so it might as well be acutely painful from the start.
“Stop glowering, Sandford,” Tyrone muttered, shoving a drink in his hand. “That’s an obvious sign to anyone in the vicinity, and questions will be asked. If you wish to illustrate a natural distance between the pair of you without anyone questioning an actual rift, you need to master your expressions.”
Michael turned away from the entrance to the ballroom, facing Tyrone while trying to adjust his features appropriately. “Why does she look like a goddess, Tyrone? Why? I was prepared for her usual appearance, what I am much accustomed to, but this…?”
Tyrone cut him off, shaking his head and looking almost disgusted. “If I had any question about why you were doing this, I do not now. Love for Charlotte Wright is your downfall. Can we move past it now? I do not intend to discuss this for the rest of the Season.”
“Please,” Michael begged. “I would very much enjoy not discussing her. Sterling is still tied to her through his wife, so cannot be my true ally, though he may try.”
“I thought we were simply finding you a life to live,” Tyrone said with a suddenly halting hand. “I am not committing to wage war against Charlotte Wright. I would like to live to see Christmas, if you don’t mind.”
Of course Michael didn’t mean to wage war against Charlotte. Why would he do such a thing? He adored her, still wanted her with an intensity that made his teeth ache, and though she could not see him as any different from the eight-year-old boy who interrupted her tree branch swinging, he had no desire to punish her in any way, shape, or form. Hurting her would kill him.
No, war was not the plan, nor was it the aim.
Feeding his resentment, however…
An odd wave slowly rolled over him, starting from the crown of his head and unfurling down his body. A cool, crisp composure he had never known in his entire life but had seen in the face of every bored gentleman forced to stand in ballrooms and drawing rooms and music rooms for ages of time. A distance that neatly removed him from the present distress ravaging his chest. A perfect, pristine aloofness.
Oh, what blessed relief.
“Of course, not war,” he said simply, surprised that the tone of his voice had not changed as well, so different was his present feeling of existence. “Only separation. So find me a string of young ladies to dance with, and let my life begin.”
Tyrone snorted once. “Steady on, this isn’t some Shakespearean play, and you have no lines. More than that, I am not your nanny.”
Sensing his new friend was not at all inclined towards romantic sentiment, Michael nodded and thought it best to move on. “Very well. I will still require your assistance. I haven’t been particularly social at a ball in years.”
“You don’t say,” Tyrone replied without concern, the lack of surprise in his tone bordering on the impudent. “How astonishing.”
&nb
sp; “You needn’t make me sound like a bore,” Michael muttered as he downed the remnants of his glass and handed the empty vessel to a nearby footman.
Tyrone smirked at him. “You’re only a poor git who never got past being a puppy, but never you fear. The Sterlings and I will correct your course.”
“How very reassuring.” Michael shook his head and looked around the ballroom with some curiosity.
He hadn’t really looked about a ballroom before. Likely not ever, unless he was looking for Charlotte. But now, he could freely look and act as he saw fit.
But why would a gentleman without any particular interest dance with any lady? Michael had no interests at present, would need several rounds of introductions before he could dance with anyone worth pursuing, and he wasn’t entirely convinced he wanted to pursue anyone at all for now. So what did he do?
Why in the world had he come?
“Gads,” he grumbled to himself, wishing the situation were less formal so he might slump against the wall. “This would all be so much easier if Charlotte were ordering me about. She could strategize the way in three minutes without leaving me lost and uncomfortable.”
“Oh, stop whining and ask a lady to dance,” Tyrone groaned mercilessly. “Or find someone for me to introduce you to. Either way, you decide. I am perfectly content to remain here and do nothing all evening.”
That did not sound very promising, and Michael wondered about the wisdom of having Tyrone Demaris as his friend at a time like this. He wasn’t sure the man would have stopped him gambling away his fortune, if the opportunity arose.
“Ah, Mr. Sandford!” a young and bright voice chimed in, turning his head.
A tall young woman with hair the color of gold and eyes the shade of rich chocolate approached him, the warm smile on her face almost startling him. He bowed quickly, his mind spinning for her name, though the pure beauty in her countenance was rendering him more than a little befuddled.
“Have you already forgotten that you engaged me for this dance?” She laughed and put her hand on his arm. “How many ladies have begged for your partnership already? Come, I insist on my claim.”
No fool to an offered opportunity, Michael went where he was tugged, forcing a smile on his face for the benefit of any watching, given that this woman had taken no trouble to keep her voice down while addressing him.
“I do hope you don’t mind a quadrille,” his partner said in a lower, much more companionable voice. “Hugh only said to dance with you, and I didn’t see a need to wait.”
Alice Sterling.
Of course, why hadn’t he remembered?
In an instant, he knew that Hugh had been precisely right in warning him away from any intentions where she was concerned. Any man with a working set of kneecaps would have fallen for Alice if left alone and unawares with her for more than ten minutes. Less, if she had an interest herself. Fortunately, Michael was well aware, and thus they were both safe.
In theory.
“I do dance the quadrille, Miss Sterling,” Michael assured her as he was finally able to draw a full breath. “Thank you for the rescue.”
“Rescue?” She laughed once. “Mr. Sandford, I was just as in need of a partner as you, and any excuse to have one without going through the trouble of waiting to be invited is welcome here.”
Michael grinned at her as they took their position on the floor. “I give you the freedom to claim any dance you please with me at any time. No invitation required, no commitment expected.”
Alice’s smile turned crooked. “I think you might call me Alice for that, Mr. Sandford. Unless it will shock you.”
“Not in the least.” He inclined his head at the start of the music.
“We’re going to be great friends, Mr. Sandford.” Alice glanced over at her brother, now joined by Lord Sterling as well. “But I think we had better tell my brothers that we have no intention of starting rumors or being lovers in truth.”
Michael chuckled as he began to promenade with her, following the lead couple. “We had better. They would kill me otherwise; I’ve already been forewarned.”
Alice shrugged and parted from him to move to her next position. “At this rate, everyone they know will be forewarned, and I’ll be the next generation of the Spinsters with a capital S.”
“That would serve them right.” Michael smiled at the woman he crossed to, bowing before her and taking her hands as they moved in a circle before retreating back. “Though I must say, I have some sisters myself, and we really cannot help our protective natures.”
“So long as I am not protected into a glass box for eternity, I should not mind that.” She mirrored his action to the gentleman beside him, turned with him, then returned to her spot.
Crossing to her now, Michael felt himself relaxing more than he had done in some time. “Are you eager to make a match for yourself?”
“Not particularly,” she replied, surprising him with the ease of her answer. “I would like to, eventually, but at the moment, I would simply like to enjoy myself.”
“That seems reasonable to me.” They turned together, and Michael cocked his head. “Now that you mention it, those match my aims as well.”
Alice narrowed her dark eyes at him. “Don’t agree with me to be agreeable. That’s not at all enjoyable.”
Michal sighed as they moved in line behind the other couples. “I’m not. No designs, remember? We are friends, and an alliance would see that we both enjoy ourselves for the next few weeks. What say you?”
“I won’t pretend that having a gentleman I am not related to and in whose company I’ll feel no pressure to behave well would not be a great relief…” She mused, an impish smile appearing. “Very well, I accept. What’s more, I’m going to give Hugh a sound bit of advice as to how to best help you make a splash.”
“Make a splash?” Michael repeated in some dismay. “I have no intention of…”
“A quiet splash,” Alice overrode as they parted, turning about their opposites. “Hardly any noise, barely a drop in the pond.”
Michael shook his head, feeling more and more trapped with every new connection he made. “That sounded entirely too much like Miranda for my liking.”
Alice giggled prettily and curtsied as part of the dance, though it seemed she would have done so anyway. “My aunt Miranda and I have grown particularly close in the last few months, and I may say it does me credit.”
It was all Michael could do not to run from his partner in terror. Miranda Sterling, lovely though she was, could frighten and intimidate any general, admiral, or monarch into behaving how she thought best. The relationship between her and her stepson Tony, Georgie Sterling’s husband, was one of the fondest he’d seen outside of the true maternal bond, but even Tony feared her.
He suddenly had a very clear idea of what exactly Alice might propose to her brothers, and he didn’t like it at all.
“Please don’t…” he groaned as they continued to dance.
“Oh, it is too late for that,” Alice said on a laugh, nearly skipping in the next dance motions. “She heard Hugh tell me to dance with you, so she’s already planning something. We’re all done for now!”
Michael made a face but managed to finish the dance creditably. He returned Alice to her brothers, neither of whom would meet his eyes, then quickly went in search of Tyrone, possibly the only one who wouldn’t feed him to Miranda.
Unless she had gotten to him first.
A laugh he knew too well floated across the heads of the guests and met his ears. An accompanying shiver shot both up and down his spine, scattering in a thousand different pieces about his body.
Someone was amusing Charlotte. It was a true laugh, not a pretended one, and he was one of the few people in the world who could tell the difference.
Who amused her? What had amused her? Had she been amused all evening or just now? Was someone new amusing her or was it one of her regular chaps who wasn’t worth a ha’penny?
Why did he bloody we
ll care?
“Michael?”
Mrs. Wright’s voice stopped him, forced him to turn, could not be ignored, nor could it be spurned. She had been near as much a mother to him as his own, and whatever he might feel towards Charlotte, he could not extend the same to her mother.
“Mrs. Wright, good evening.” He smiled as genuinely as he could, taking her hand and bowing over it. “My, don’t you look wonderful.”
Her returning smile said far more than he expected, and he was curious how many other people knew more than he expected.
More than Charlotte did, at any rate.
“It is so lovely to see you,” she insisted, squeezing his hand tightly. “We haven’t seen you at home for a few weeks.”
Michael nodded once. “I’m afraid I have taken up my mother’s wishes to start establishing a life for myself, Mrs. Wright, and that takes up a good deal of my time. I’m sorry if I… if I have been missed.”
“You have been, but all is well.” Her smile warmed him as much as it saddened him. “You must certainly look after your own concerns and interests, as you have looked after some of ours for so long.” Her smile spread, then she patted his hand and stepped away, moving past him to other parts of the ballroom.
Why did he suddenly feel as though some great farewell had just been made or that he’d been released from a shackling he hadn’t been aware of? Whatever it was, however it happened, Michael had to fight to complete a swallow, and, blinking twice, turned to continue his search for Tyrone. Or anyone, really, who might improve his evening from what it presently was.
He caught sight of Tyrone, being oddly social, and headed in that direction.
With perfect timing, Tyrone turned at Michael’s approach, grinning in welcome. “Sandford, what a chance. Do you know Miss Lawson and her sister, Miss Anne?”
“By sight, I believe, but not officially.” He bowed to the pair of ladies, eerily similar in their fair looks. “How do you do?”
“Tolerably well, Mr. Sandford,” Miss Lawson told him with a dip of her chin, though her eyes seemed to not particularly care for what she was taking in. She raised a dubious brow, her expression approaching distaste.
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