Spinster Ever After

by Rebecca Connolly

  Well, then…

  Michael could have smiled, but somehow managed to maintain his polite expression. “And you, Miss Anne?”

  Anne Lawson was far less snobbish than her sister, if the way she looked at him was any indication, and she curtseyed with grace. “Well, Mr. Sandford, thank you. Are you finding the ball to your liking?”

  “I am, yes,” he replied, his smile appearing now.

  Tyrone nudged him hard in the side, nearly puncturing a lung with the sharpness, though his expression did not change.

  “But,” Michael added quickly, “it would be all the better if you would take the next dance with me, Miss Anne.”

  The eyes of both Lawson sisters widened, and Anne grinned without reserve. “I would be delighted, Mr. Sandford, so long as you do not insist on being the lead couple.”

  “I would never insist on such a thing, Miss Anne,” he assured her.

  “My sister does not dance well, you see,” Miss Lawson interjected with false sympathy. “Poor thing, such weak ankles, and she has such trouble remembering the steps.”

  Anne gave her sister a cold look. “I remember well enough to practice with you at your command.”

  Miss Lawson was not put off. “But confidence is best for the lead couple, is it not? And Anne has no confidence when it comes to dancing.”

  “Nor do I, Miss Lawson,” Michael replied, not bothering to keep with the cool politeness he had begun. “I dance for enjoyment, not attention.”

  “Thank heavens for that,” Tyrone said with a laugh. “Then all the snobs would flock to dance with you instead of refusing.” He nodded at Miss Lawson, then at Michael before leaving the group.

  Michael turned to Miss Anne as the music commenced. “Shall we?”

  Tension ran along Miss Anne’s jaw, but she nodded all the same. “Please, Mr. Sandford.”

  Without a single word to Miss Lawson, the two of them moved out to the dance floor, lining up with other couples.

  “I cannot apologize enough, Mr. Sandford,” Miss Anne half-whispered, her cheeks red. “My sister…”

  “It is entirely unnecessary, Miss Anne,” Michael told her, offering a smile. “If I may say so, I know a bully when I encounter one, and I have yet to find one that I like. I only hope this dance may bring you pleasure enough to be worth her spite.”

  Anne laughed once, though seemingly without humor. “I doubt it. Roslyn hasn’t had anything but spite for me since we were children. Is it horrible to say such a thing about one’s sister?”

  “Not to me.” He bowed over her hand, backing up to his spot.

  “You’re too kind.”

  The dance began and Michael found his attention drawn to just behind Anne, where Charlotte stood.

  Watching him.

  If she suspected what he was up to, she gave no indication. At the present, those around her were talking with each other, leaving her without conversation, yet not without company. Her dark eyes were on him, her lips curved in a relaxed, contented smile that was rarely seen in public. Oh, she smiled regularly, always wore a bright expression, and surely thrived upon the energy, but this private moment, this private smile, was not something one saw often outside of her home. Why did the sight of it affect him as much as seeing her arrive had?

  Her smile spread just a touch as she caught him watching, and she tilted her head, spreading her hands out just a little. How do I look? The question was an obvious one, and he would have given the world not to answer it.

  Thankfully, the dance permitted brevity, which she would understand. She needn’t know there was nothing more he would want to say.

  Michael swallowed once, then nodded once, barely a dip of his chin, but enough to be considered an answer. He saw Charlotte nod in return but did not look long enough to know much else.

  He returned his attention to his partner, someone he already liked more than he’d expected after a five-minute acquaintance, and waited for their turn to join in. “Would it help if I laughed during our dance, Miss Anne?”

  Anne snickered, her thumbs rubbing against her fists at her side. “Probably not. The last man who laughed during a dance with me found himself shamelessly pursued by Roslyn, all the way into the army.”

  “Good heavens,” Michael coughed in surprise.

  “It’s all for the best, though,” Anne whispered with a quick grin. “He and I still write, and I think he may offer for me when he returns.”

  Well, there went any potential suit for Anne Lawson, but at least he could enjoy a dance with a reasonable girl.

  “So I may consider myself safe from you, then?” he asked, laughing with her. “And you are safe from me?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Anne said, glancing up the line of dancers before looking at Michael again. “But not, I trust, from Roslyn.”

  He shuddered. “If the way she looked at me was any indication, she’d rather offer for that footman on the east wall.”

  Anne looked where he indicated and pretended to consider it. “Well, he is mightily good looking…”

  Michael coughed a laugh, then reached for Anne’s hand as they finally joined the other couples in the dance.

  Chapter Nine

  Surprises are a part of life, so one must become adjusted to the unanticipated. Accept the good, adapt to the bad, and move forward in preparation for the next unanticipated event.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 24 November 1817

  “So how were things at the Preston ball? I’m ever so sorry to have missed it.”

  Charlotte wrinkled up her nose, picking up her tea. “Well enough. I didn’t get on with the Prestons’ son, but I got the impression that no one particularly cared. Julian Bruce doesn’t talk when he dances, which is not a crime, but it certainly made the whole thing less enjoyable. I met a lovely fellow named Mr. Riley, but only for a moment. If I see him again, I may inquire further.” She shrugged, sipping slowly. “It seemed a lot of fuss for precious little results.”

  “Results that you could see,” Grace murmured with a hum. She winked at Kitty Morton, who snickered at it. “The gossips were delightfully unsettled by it.”

  “They were?” Charlotte sat up and slapped a hand on her arm rest. “What did they say?”

  Grace rolled her eyes and set her own tea down. “Let me see if I can recall.”

  “I think you’ll find you can,” Charlotte demanded, hating when her friends intentionally put her off for their own enjoyment.

  “Give her a moment,” Georgie told her without much sympathy. “It can be very vexing to recall so many details in the days following.”

  Charlotte threw her a glare. “It has been barely two, and the only reason we did not gather yesterday was because my head ached after the lateness of the hour at which we departed. Or rather, the earliness.” She returned her attention to Grace. “What was said, Grace?”

  “Oh, the usual shocked fuss,” Grace said dismissively, eyeing Charlotte with delight. “What a beauty you were, how marvelous it was that you had come, what a fine catch you’d be, and what a credit you were to your parents.”

  “They said what?” Charlotte clapped her hands together, squealing in delight. “It worked!”

  Izzy shook her head in disbelief. “Charlotte, they said the same thing about you three weeks ago. This is what they always say about you.”

  “Yes, but the occasion is different, don’t you see?” Charlotte grinned at her, determined not to lose her enthusiasm in the face of logic. “I will be talked about with new interest! Isn’t that so, Grace?”

  Suddenly the center of their attention, Grace looked around, her expression not quite so mischievous. “I suppose…”

  “It’s not going to change in one night,” Elinor reminded them all, though Charlotte knew well enough it was meant for her. “It will take repeated exposure to Charlotte as we should now see her in order for her to be taken seriously as a candidate for matrimony.”

  “I’ll do it,” Charlotte vowed with determination, nodding firmly
. “Every night, I’ll put myself through the gamut and become that same beauty they saw.”

  Georgie snorted softly. “Not every night, surely.”

  Charlotte ignored that, thinking quickly. “I wish now I hadn’t given Edith the lavender silk. It would be beautiful to wear to the Bond family’s dinner party. There is sure to be dancing there, and the skirts of that gown move so beautifully.”

  “I am sure you’ll find something,” Elinor mumbled, looking at Kitty with exasperation.

  “How was the theater, Kitty?” Grace asked as she smiled at her. “Was the music as divine as you hoped it would be?”

  Kitty beamed, reaffirming to the entire room what a beautiful girl she was. “Oh, yes! It was breathtaking, and the actors so very talented. I couldn’t take my eyes from the stage!”

  Izzy giggled to herself, drawing Charlotte’s attention while the others went into more detailed questions with her.

  “What’s so amusing?” Charlotte asked her friend quietly. “Was it dreadful?”

  “No, not at all.” Izzy shook her head, copper hair dancing as she did so. “No, she’s quite right; I thought I had seen all possible renditions of Cinderella by now, and yet Mr. Rossini surprised us all. Delightful show, you should attend.”

  Charlotte frowned, scooting closer. “I’ll tell Mama, but why should that be amusing?”

  Izzy bit her lip, snickering softly. “It isn’t. Kitty saying she couldn’t take her eyes from the stage is quite amusing.”

  “Because it’s incorrect?”

  “Because it is utterly correct.” Izzy put a hand over her eyes, giggling further still.

  Charlotte stared in abject confusion, wondering if her friend had truly lost all sense of herself, or if married life had softened her intelligence. She could only wait for Izzy to recover enough to speak coherently.

  There had never been occasion in her life to think those words where Izzy was concerned, but she had learned to never set absolutes in life. They were almost always upset.

  She glanced over at the rest and found them still in conversation about the beauty and imagination in La Cenerentola. Charlotte had no interest in the discussion, so she returned her focus to Izzy, who by now had put her hand at her throat.

  “So Kitty stared at the stage,” Charlotte stated. “What of it?”

  Izzy’s bright eyes met Charlotte’s dark ones. “There was someone who happened to be at the theater also. Someone who joined our box, at our invitation. Someone who clearly wanted Kitty’s attention to be somewhere other than on the stage.”

  Charlotte’s mouth slowly dropped open, then spread into a wide grin. “Oh dear. How terribly upsetting for him.”

  Izzy nodded her head slowly. “Indeed. He was terribly disappointed when we left, but by pretending he paid attention to the music, he was at least able to converse with her. Which, I think, was better than nothing.”

  Now it was Charlotte who giggled uncontrollably. “Oh, I can just imagine his face! The poor man, he must have thought it such a clever scheme!”

  “I think he must have, but he underestimated Kitty’s love for opera.” Izzy pressed the back of her hand to a cheek as though to cool her face. “I cannot wait to see what he attempts next.”

  “So you and Sebastian know, then,” Charlotte said, choosing to avoid naming the man in question, on the chance she was incorrect in her assumptions. And to keep Kitty from hearing a name that might turn her attention to their conversation rather than her own.

  Izzy nodded again, this time just once. “Oh, yes. He was rather upfront about it, wanted to be sure there would be no misapprehensions or strain between friends in this. He insisted that both Sebastian and I be present for the conversation, which I said was not necessary, but I think it may have helped his case where my husband was concerned.” She smiled ruefully. “There is something to be said for giving honor and respect to the wife of the man whose sister has caused an interest.”

  “Put that into a Chronicles article,” Charlotte suggested dryly. “It will revolutionize the whole nature of courtship.”

  Glancing over at her sweet but shy sister-in-law, Izzy sighed. “He would be so good for her, Charlotte. Trouble is that she has grown so used to him, so comfortable with having him near, that she cannot see him for what he could be. What he wishes to be. I worry that she never will, and if that should be the case, she will miss out on an utterly perfect match.”

  Charlotte grunted once and reached for a biscuit, munching it softly. “I wouldn’t worry so very much. If I know him, and I daresay that I do, he won’t give up. He’ll try again and again and again until there is no mistaking him. And Kitty was such a skittish thing when we first met her. It’s no wonder he spent so long getting her comfortable with him, it was the only way to be near her. She might have hated or feared him had he spoken before this.”

  Izzy shook her head again. “He could have spoken in the fall. It would have been perfect timing.”

  “Don’t judge him too severely,” Charlotte urged her friend. “He knows very well how he feels, but I think you will find him just as insecure as any woman would be about a man we love. What if she doesn’t return the feeling? What if she cannot see him that way? What if he is wrong?”

  “Has he said something?” Izzy asked her, eyes wide. “Charlotte…”

  Charlotte looked away with a sniff, taking another bite of biscuit. “No, I am sworn to secrecy. Have faith and give him room to maneuver. If she is not engaged to him by Christmas, it will be neither his fault nor my own.”

  “Are you assisting him?”

  “Of course not.” Charlotte glanced over at her with a smirk. “But we may have a wager, the pair of us.”

  Izzy closed her eyes in dismay, slumping back. “Oh, Charlotte…”

  That caught the attention of the others. “What?” Georgie demanded. “What have we missed?”

  Charlotte settled herself rather cozily in her chair. “Izzy objects to my wagering on matters of the heart.”

  Georgie blinked, then her brow furrowed. “I object as well, though I daresay I should not be surprised. Are we permitted to know the details of the wager?”

  “No,” Charlotte replied. “But the first step was the Prestons’ ball, and that went rather well.” She chewed her lip a moment, then looked at Elinor. “Would you do me a very great favor and look at Mr. Riley as a candidate? I’ve never met him before, and I liked the look of him.”

  “Of course.” Elinor nodded, stirring her tea. “Do you know his Christian name?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  Elinor waved a hand. “No matter. Eugenia Preston will know. I have no doubt she oversaw the invitation list, not her mother.” She pursed her lips a moment, then added, “I think Roslyn Lawson may try to outdo you for eligible matches, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. “What? That venomous cow?”

  “Are venomous cows real?” Kitty asked mischievously, playing at some confusion. “Amazing.”

  Grace scoffed and shared a longsuffering look with the girl. “Charlotte is mistress of all mythological creatures, you know. If she says it, the creature exists.”

  “Why would Roslyn Lawson compete with me?” Charlotte demanded, her attention still on Elinor. “She has neither my fortune, nor my affability. Nor my looks, if I may be momentarily vain.”

  “You may,” a few of them said together.

  She ignored them all.

  “I don’t know,” Elinor admitted. “All I know is what Tyrone Demaris told Hugh, which was that she disapproved of Michael until he offered to dance with Anne. Suddenly, he was far more interesting, and she wished to discredit Anne in his eyes.”

  Charlotte grumbled incoherently for a moment. “Snide envy between sisters is no cause to alarm me. She is a dreadful snob, which she has no position to be, and the very idea that Roslyn wants what Anne has is laughable. Roslyn would have to sell her soul to amount to Anne’s good sense, which would defeat the purpose.”

&n
bsp; “Did Michael enjoy dancing with Anne?” Kitty asked softly, eyes wide. “She would be a good match for him, if he liked.”

  Anne? A match for Michael?

  “I don’t know,” Charlotte admitted, staring back at the girl as she realized how long it had been since she had really spoken with her closest friend. “I really don’t know.”

  Michael was not a man prone to profanity, nor was he one to blaspheme or say anything other than what was right, proper, and gentlemanly.

  That could all very well change in the next five minutes.

  It did not help that this small man stared at him with the same distaste and disappointment that Miss Lawson had a few nights before.

  “No,” the man said with an almost-but-not-quite-French accent. “I cannot do it.”

  “I didn’t ask if you can. I asked if you would.”

  Tyrone’s question did not make a difference; the man continued to shake his head.

  “I cannot work with a country bumpkin. I refuse.” To emphasize the point, the man strode away and sat in a chair against the wall, folding his arms and staring at Michael as though he ought to be scolded.

  Michael looked down at himself, then at Tyrone. “Country bumpkin?”

  Tyrone shrugged. “He’s my valet, not my scholar.”

  “You ought to sack him,” Lord Sterling muttered behind Tyrone, sipping Madeira. “That sort of arrogance will end in a revolution in your house.”

  Tyrone grunted and held his glass out for a refill. “I’ll give them the run of the house if they’ll give me an occupation that will shut Eden up.”

  Hugh tutted nearby, looking up from his book. “Your brother pestering you again? I know something of that.”

  Lord Sterling threw something at his brother, but Michael, standing as he was in the center of the room, arms still outstretched, could not see what it was.

  “Apparently, a gentleman bachelor is not an appropriate situation for the brother of Lord Eden.” Tyrone scoffed darkly. “I had hoped that Martha would be able to keep him out of my business for a good year or so, but it seems even her charms are not enough to call a halt to his efforts.”