Mr. Riley grinned at her, outdoing the sun with its splendor. “You call me rare, Miss Wright. But I think you might be somehow even rarer.”
“Oh, I doubt that very much,” she scoffed, averting her eyes to glance around the park. “I’m the same sort of bird that flits around every ballroom in London.”
“If you say so, but I’ve never seen a bird quite like you. Not ever.”
Charlotte felt her cheeks warm and glanced up at him again, smiling with more warmth than she thought she could muster at this hour of the morning, or on this particular walk. “Would you like to accompany Mama and I to Bond Street, Mr. Riley? I should very much like the continued pleasure of your company.”
“It would be my pleasure entirely, Miss Wright. I am quite at your disposal.”
Chapter Thirteen
Balls are the perfect opportunity to meet new people, get better acquainted with those you know, and to experience new things. Mind you behave, however. There is nothing like a ball to start rumors.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 24 January 1820
Two weeks in Miss Palmer’s regular company, and Michael thought he might just be the happiest he had been in four or five years.
What an unusual feeling.
Not that he’d seen her every day, or officially claimed courtship, but he had called on her three days last week and two this week, and were they not attending the same ball this evening, he would have called tomorrow, as well. He’d have to make his suit official soon, or speculation would do the thing for him.
If he did take on a courtship, and he was quite sure he would, he could have been at the Greensley home at this moment waiting to escort them all here. Instead, he was standing by and watching the entrance to the room, waiting for them.
At least Lord Eden provided well, and the supper would prove exquisite when it was time.
Tyrone had begged Michael to come early, though as yet, Michael had not seen his friend to inquire as to why the request had been made. It was most unfair. The musicians were still tuning their instruments, so there was not even dancing as yet to distract him from what seemed to be endless waiting.
He caught sight of Lieutenant Henshaw striding by and smiled. “Henshaw.”
The man turned at his name, then returned his smile with a quick one of his own. “Sandford, good evening. You haven’t seen the Mortons yet, have you?”
“I have not, but we are among the early arrivals, you and I.”
“True, true, I suppose,” Henshaw muttered distractedly, tugging at his pristine cravat. “Waiting is torment.”
Michael nodded in agreement. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
Henshaw looked at him with some interest. “Who are you waiting on?”
“Miss Palmer,” he said without shame, not seeing a need to keep the truth from a friend like Henshaw. “She’s a cousin of Mrs. Greensley.”
“Are you courting her?” Henshaw asked, smile returning.
“Not yet, but…” Michael trailed off with a shrug.
Henshaw now grinned. “Very good, Sandford. About ruddy time you courted somebody proper.”
Michael lifted a brow. “I could say the same for you, Hensh.”
“I know,” Henshaw grumbled as he averted his eyes. “Believe me, I’m doing what I can about that.”
“Are you?” Michael nodded in approval. “Is it who I think it is?”
Henshaw’s thick brows snapped down. “How should I know who you think it is, Sandford?”
Michael pressed his lips together, understanding all too well the irritability that came with being too directly questioned about romantic intentions that were not yet to fruition. “If your intentions are not clear or obvious, Henshaw, you’re going to have to adjust things. Trust me, lack of understanding can hamper everything, and leave you with nothing.”
Henshaw blinked at him, his expression clearing. “Why do I suddenly believe every word you say?”
“Because I know of what I speak.” Michael smiled bitterly, a twisting sensation in his stomach returning after weeks without it.
Silently, Henshaw continued to watch him, then slowly nodded. “Right. I’ll take that into consideration.” He looked around, frowning again. “Why in heaven’s name did Demaris ask us here early? I hope he hasn’t promised Eden we would lead the dancing. I don’t mind dancing, but I do prefer to choose when and where I do so.”
“And with whom,” Michael concurred, eyeing the ladies present. None of them were truly objectionable, but neither were they ladies he would have thought to seek out. “If we can convince him to keep the first dance short, perhaps…”
“You both came. Good.”
They turned as one to see Tyrone approaching, his brother, Lord Eden, just behind him.
“This isn’t good,” Michael muttered to Henshaw.
“No, it is not.”
Tyrone and his brother bowed quickly. “In an attempt to promote dancing this evening,” Eden started, “I would ask the two of you, as well as my brother, to dance the first three dances. After that, I don’t care if you take yourselves off to the card room. My wife is worried there will be no dancing tonight, and I ask you to help me assuage those fears.”
Michael stared at Lord Eden, who looked exactly like Tyrone, only taller and but for the brighter shade of his waistcoat was dressed identically.
He’d have told off Tyrone for doing this, and would have told off Eden, too, however…
“You had to bring Lady Eden into it, didn’t you?” Henshaw said in the blandest tone known to man.
Eden smiled without humor. “I know I hold little sway anywhere, but if I mention my wife…”
Michael shook his head, sighing heavily. “For Lady Eden’s comfort, I will dance the first three dances.”
“As will I,” Henshaw added. Then there appeared a devious quirk to his mouth. “Provided you and Lady Eden dance the first with us.”
Eden grimaced in response. “That was already determined, thank you. In exchange for your sacrifice, you all get a half a crown lead on any gambling you do in the card room.”
Michael snorted softly. “Can I just get half a crown? I’ll lose it in the first hand if I gamble.”
They all chuckled and Eden thanked them again, before moving to the musicians.
“You were supposed to refuse!” Tyrone hissed when out of his brother’s earshot.
Henshaw gave him an incredulous look. “When he asked us to help make Lady Eden more at ease? Just how heartless are you, Demaris?”
Tyrone scowled and shook his head. “Just enough for my own self-preservation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to procure my partners for these ridiculous dances to ensure I survive them.” He bowed dismissively and strode away.
Michael and Henshaw watched him go, then looked at each other. “Is Annabelle Wintermere here?” he asked Henshaw.
“No,” Henshaw replied with a confused frown. “Why?”
“No reason.” Michael glanced at the door to the ballroom, seeing Sebastian and Izzy Morton entering, followed by Sebastian’s sister, Kitty. He smiled to himself and indicated them with his head. “The Mortons are here now, Hensh. If you’re still in search of them.”
Henshaw left him at once, moving directly for them, leaving Michael laughing to himself.
Unfortunately, Diana had not arrived yet, so he would not have the same pleasure as Henshaw in the dancing of the first three dances.
“Right,” Michael muttered, looking around at available options. “Better see to it.”
An hour later, his duty done, Michael exhaled and desperately wished for a chair to rest himself for a while. But supper wasn’t for a time yet, and gentlemen did not generally sit at a ball. He’d have to increase his endurance where dancing was concerned if he would be expected to continue in this vein.
Three dances in a row was not his usual routine.
“You look quite done for.”
Michael laughed to himself and glanced at Hugh Sterling
, now nearing him. “I feel quite done for. But my duty is discharged, so I can be satisfied with that.”
Hugh nodded and handed him a drink. “Well, you did garner some attention for yourself, you know, doing those dances at the beginning of the evening. Several young ladies are asking questions about you.”
“Are they?” Michael toasted to that with his friend, then surveyed the dancing, now that his help was no longer needed to ensure it went on. “Have you seen Miss Palmer this evening?”
“As it happens, yes,” Hugh said with a knowing chuckle. “She’s chatting with my wife. Piqued your interest, has she?”
Michael only smiled. “I’ve called on her a time or two. I may venture to court her in truth.”
“Really?” Hugh queried, sounding impressed. “Well, well. What do you know of her family?”
“Not all that much,” Michael admitted with a wince. “Outside of Mrs. Greensley’s family, none at all. Our conversations have been more on interests than on personal details.”
Hugh sipped his drink, cocking his head. “How very modern of you. Most men wouldn’t dream of calling on a woman without knowing exactly how her dowry is settled.”
“Did you ask Elinor’s dowry before you ventured?” Michael countered without missing a beat.
“My situation was different,” Hugh insisted. “I was stranded at her family estate at Christmas.”
Michael’s expression turned dubious. “You could have kept to your rooms or kept a polite distance, but you still romanced her.”
“This is not about me!” Hugh laughed, grinning at him. “But I take your point well enough.” He sobered suddenly, eyes widening. “Would you let Elinor look into Miss Palmer? She’s been rooting out information on bachelors for years for the Chronicles, it would be no trouble to find details on her.”
The offer was a kind one, but Michael could not help but feel uncomfortable with such an intrusion into Diana’s life. He knew it would not be that invasive, all things considered, but what difference would it make? He already liked Diana, thought of her by her Christian name rather than the more formal address Society would prefer, and was ready to offer her courtship.
What would change if he knew her dowry or how her family was set up? He had no need to marry a fortune, so money was of little matter. His family was already respected enough, so he did not need to marry into an established bloodline. All he needed was to marry a woman he would enjoy spending the rest of his life with. Diana could fit that quite nicely.
Two weeks of association was not long enough to be sure of such things, of course, but he knew enough to desire to know more. To know if she could fit. To know if he wanted her to.
“If she likes,” Michael settled on, a simple smile remaining on his lips. “It won’t sway me one way or the other, but if she would feel more comfortable knowing the information, I’ll not stop her.”
Hugh gave him a careful look. “She only wants you to be happy, you know, and to see you well situated in that happiness.”
Michael’s smile spread with fondness as he glanced over in Elinor’s direction, though he couldn’t see her clearly for the dancing. “I know. She is kind for caring so, but, as I said, it will change nothing for me.”
“And that, I think, will make her even happier to do it.” Hugh thumped him on the back in encouragement. “Shall we go to them?”
“Lead on.”
The pair of them moved about the onlookers in Lord Eden’s ballroom, nodding at several people and pausing for brief words of politeness with some. And Michael could not fail to notice that several young ladies watched him move, eyeing him in a far different manner than Roslyn Lawson had some weeks before.
“What in heaven’s name is so fascinating about me now?” Michael hissed when he and Hugh had escaped yet another pause for short words. “I feel as though I am on display and about to be bid upon.”
“You might as well be,” Hugh replied with a light laugh. “And for all our whining about it, Miranda’s efforts have not been in vain with your apparel. Quite smartly dressed, you are. A marked improvement.”
Had they not been in public, Michael would have thrown his hands up in exasperation. “Nearly all the men in here are dressed the same, Sterling.”
Hugh held up a finger. “There are many differences, Sandford, if you would really take a look. And it is your failure to notice such things that led to her interference anyway. But all is mended, and you are undoubtedly the best dressed gentleman in the room.”
“I feel so comforted by that,” Michael told him dryly.
They reached the ladies then, and Michael bowed to Elinor and Diana as one. “Ladies, I hope your evening has been enjoyable thus far.”
Elinor smiled up at him. “It has, Mr. Sandford, thank you. Though, shockingly, Miss Palmer has not danced a single dance yet this evening.”
Michael looked at Diana for confirmation and found the lady blushing just enough to be even more maddeningly attractive than she already was. “Is this true, Miss Palmer?” he demanded.
“I’ve not been here long,” Diana insisted in her soft manner, “so it cannot be so very shocking.”
“It is shocking,” Michael insisted playfully, forcing himself not to smile. “I must see this remedied at once. Will you dance the next with me?”
Diana smiled prettily and dipped her chin, her golden hair plaited into a sort of crown around the top of her head, small white flowers interspersed throughout. “I thank you, yes, Mr. Sandford.”
He smiled in return. “And, if it is not too bold, the supper set as well?”
Her fine lips parted in surprise, then formed a beaming smile that stole his breath. “I would be pleased to, Mr. Sandford.”
Pleasure spread from the center of his chest to the tips of each finger and toe as he nodded. “Good.”
Michael and Diana clapped with the rest of the dancers as the supper set finished, grinning at each other with the breathless amusement that comes from exuberant dancing.
He’d never enjoyed a dance more; he was convinced of it.
He’d speak to Greensley about courting her tomorrow. Perhaps the day after, if the ball went far into the early morning hours. But he was determined now that he would do it, and the anticipation of it was exhilarating.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you will please proceed into the dining room, we will have supper momentarily,” Lord Eden announced from somewhere in the room.
“Good,” Diana gushed, moving a golden ringlet from her brow to behind her ear. “I am famished. Is that improper to confess?”
Michael shook his head, grinning. “Not to me.” He offered her his arm, and she took it, the feel of her hand on his arm so natural it ought to have been a sign.
A sign of what, he couldn’t say. That she was perfect for him? That he was right to pursue courtship? That all of this had been worth it to have her in his life? It could have been any of these things, or all of these things. Only time would tell.
The dining room was full of splendor, the plates and bowls rimmed with gold and the cold meats already set out for their consumption. Crystal goblets waited pouring for the guests, and a dozen or more footmen stood at the ready along the walls.
Michael gestured to a chair for Diana, pulling it out and helping her to sit before sitting beside her and looking at the meal before them. “White soup. That’s quite a treat indeed!”
“Perfection,” Diana murmured as she discreetly inhaled the scent. She glanced up and down the table shaking her head. “Ham, goose, salmon, cheeses, glazed vegetables, fruit… How will anyone be able to dance after this?”
“And we are destined to have desserts, too,” Michael pointed out. “What can I get you to drink, Miss Palmer?”
She pursed her lips, considering the options. “I think ratafia, if I may.”
Michael chuckled and gave her a look. “I think you may.” He reached for the decanter of ratafia to find another hand there first. “Oh, pardon me.”
The gen
tleman across smiled and gestured. “Please, you first.”
He nodded and filled Diana’s glass before handing the decanter across the table, freezing as he caught sight of the woman directly across from him.
Charlotte.
She was already staring at him, eyes wide and round, the white ribbon with a cameo at her throat bobbing with a swallow.
He would have given anything not to have seen her.
But dash it all, she was stunning. A little pale at the present, but her dark hair had been dressed in the most attractive manner known to man, and the gown she wore blended white and blue together across her bodice and sleeves in a perfect impression of the sky itself. The heavens literally wrapping themselves around her.
He couldn’t look away.
“Miss Wright,” he said in a too-rough voice, dipping his chin in a nod.
Again, the cameo at her throat moved tremulously. “Mr. Sandford.” She cleared her throat, then smiled, although it looked a bit forced. “Do you know Mr. Riley?” She gestured to the man beside her, who had offered Michael the ratafia decanter first.
The man was certainly good-looking and had none of the airs the dandies of the day usually possessed. More than that, he was giving Michael a welcoming smile of introduction.
That called for politeness.
“I do not,” Michael admitted, returning the smile. “A pleasure.”
Mr. Riley nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
“This is Miss Palmer,” Michael said quickly, indicating her. “Miss Palmer, this is Mr. Riley, and Miss Wright.”
Diana nodded at each, then froze, her eyes fixed on Charlotte. “Miss Charlotte Wright?”
Charlotte’s brows rose, and she flicked her eyes to Michael before returning to Diana. “Yes…”
The gasp that escaped Diana startled Michael to such an extent that he jumped, but somehow, Charlotte and Mr. Riley maintained composure.
“I never thought I would get to meet you, Miss Wright!” Diana said in a voice higher than her natural one. “I’ve read every issue of the Spinster Chronicles from the very first edition. We get the London papers at our home in Derbyshire, and I adore every word. I find them extraordinary, and I cannot begin to tell you what an honor it is to sit across from you.”
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