Michael frowned at her, though the generosity in her words touched him greatly. “I didn’t realize this was your parish in London.”
Her mouth quirked to one side. “It isn’t. Mr. Jenkins is a cousin’s son, so I pay him a special attention. Don’t tell the Lord, I daresay we aren’t permitted favorites among his shepherds.”
“I’ll keep your secret, if secrets from the Lord do not damn us.”
She chuckled and nodded in approval. “Brava, Michael. Now, will you tell a friend what brings you to the hallowed halls of the church so often? Not family cares, I hope.”
Michael sighed, knowing that Miranda was as wise as she was eccentric, but also knowing her devotion to the Spinsters, and therefore to Charlotte. It would be a risk above anything to confide all, and he dared not do it. Only Miranda could pry so personally and not offend.
“No,” he told her simply, “my family is well. This is…” He twisted his lips, searching for words. “Seeking guidance, I suppose. Forgiveness. Inspiration. Motivation.”
“That seems a great deal for the Lord to do at one time,” Miranda tsked. “Is He accustomed to so fervent a list from you?”
Michael had to laugh at that. “No, actually. I was just considering that. I attend services as often as any good Christian, but my devotion is certainly lacking.”
Miranda harrumphed softly. “Then I hardly think this would be the place to find the answers.”
“Are you telling me to cease my diligent prayer?” Michael inquired dryly, feeling more relaxed by the second as they sat here, which was astonishing in and of itself.
“I would never,” she vowed solemnly, crossing herself in dutiful fashion. “But I’ve always thought the Lord expected us to act as well as pray, and you seem to only be doing the one. Rather difficult for the path to be made clear if you are not walking.”
There was an idea, and a rather sound one. He had felt quite trapped by his indecision, and by his guilt, so he had chosen to do nothing for fear of making another false step. Yet what good would that do him? Nothing would change if he did not move, and change was what he sought.
Michael turned to the woman beside him with a warm smile. “You are a wealth of wisdom, Miranda.”
She dimpled with an almost matronly pride. “Yes, I do try to tell people so, but alas…” She winked and rose, gracefully stepping out of the pew and moving towards the front of the chapel. “Go do something, dear. It will do you good.”
He smiled after her, watching as she moved to the rooms off of the chapel to meet with Jenkins. The moment she disappeared, he slid out of the pew himself and walked out of the church, wearing a true smile for what had to be the first time since attending the theater.
He could have gone home and changed, and probably should have, but he had a sense that if he returned home before his errand was complete, it would not, in fact, get completed. Besides, he was dressed finely enough. It was part of his habit now, which would have delighted Tyrone’s valet to no end. He was fully presentable to meet with Greensley for the appropriate conversation, and it was not as though Greensley would judge him for what he wore even if he had not had his entire wardrobe exchanged for finer things.
“This is excellent timing. I was just coming to your house to call on you.”
Michael glanced at the approaching Hugh Sterling with wry amusement. “I’m beginning to think I am being followed by the Sterlings.”
Hugh’s high brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Nothing,” Michael muttered, shaking his head. “And it is rather good timing, as I would not have been home when you called.”
“Are you not going home now?” Hugh asked, gesturing the way. “It is the right direction.”
Michael laughed once. “I’m aware of that. But we are turning, you see. Here.” With great emphasis, he turned the corner and continued down the street, Hugh walking along beside him.
“Where are you off to, then?” his friend inquired with mild interest.
“Greensleys,” he stated. He grinned at Hugh quickly. “I’m going to request permission to court Miss Palmer.”
Hugh’s mouth dropped in surprise before spreading into a smile. “Are you, indeed? My felicitations, old fellow. She’s a beautiful lady, to be sure, and I hear only praises of her.”
Michael nodded in agreement. “She is lovely in every respect. I cannot say yet if it will lead to marriage, but…”
“You have hopes?” Hugh prodded, his smile turning teasing, if not suggestive.
“I do, I’ll not deny it.” He shrugged a shoulder, a sense of pride welling within him. “I think she likes me, Sterling.”
Hugh guffawed without shame. “I should ruddy hope so! I’d heard the pair of you had been seen together, but nobody could make heads or tails of it. A courtship would certainly do the trick.”
Michael frowned at the phrase and glanced at him. “For what?”
“Well, for my wife, for one.”
“Elinor? What does she need convincing of?”
Hugh rolled his eyes but continued to smile. “Nothing. She’s just battling Charlotte and her foul mood.”
Michael’s stomach squeezed into a tight fist within him. “What’s Charlotte upset about?”
Fleeting prayers ran rampant as he considered that Elinor could know exactly what transpired at the theater, that all the Spinsters could know.
Oh, gads, how would they work a reference to his behavior into the next issue, if that were the case? They would put it in, he had no doubt. They were just the vindictively creative sort to allude to the event in such a way that only he would understand, but it would be all too clear for him.
“Hang me if I know,” Hugh admitted with a sigh, shaking his head. “Elinor comes home three days a week speaking of nothing but Charlotte’s sour mood, and how she offers a dozen explanations, but nothing seems to make sense to any of them.”
There was some relief in that, but Michael still wasn’t satisfied.
“Why would my courtship with Diana have any bearing on Charlotte’s mood?” he asked sourly, the prickles of discomfort intensifying in his chest and extending into his arms.
Hugh gave him an odd look. “Jealousy, I should think. She’s terribly determined, you know. Don’t you think it would irk her to no end that she had decided to marry and then you entered into a courtship before she managed to? Blimey, she’d bring down thunder from the heavens, I’d expect.”
Relief was so sweet it was almost sickening, and it was all he could do to place one foot in front of the other. If that was all Hugh thought that would give Charlotte fits about the situation facing them all, Michael was safer than he could have imagined.
It appeared that Charlotte truly was not sharing the details of what had happened, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever appreciated discretion more. He’d do the same, of course, and would have had she been the only one with a potential courtship to hand, but he’d have thought Charlotte would tell the Spinsters, at least. Charlotte was all well and good where secrets were concerned with other people, but the Spinsters…
Well, it would not surprise him if they knew everything about their relationship from the very beginning, including Charlotte’s very clear and concise thoughts on the matter.
“It would, you’re quite right,” Michael managed around the odd taste in his mouth. “She was livid when Elinor married before her, so why should it not be the same with me?”
“I thought we weren’t extending to marriage yet,” Hugh teased.
Michael’s face flamed, making his friend laugh and wave him on as he approached Greensley’s home. His cheeks seemed to cool with each step towards the door, even as his heart pounded further.
If he wasn’t sure of his course before, he was now.
The door was opened at once, and he was let in with all due politeness as he extended his card to the butler. It wasn’t but another moment or two that Greensley appeared from his study and walked with him to a drawing room.
“What c
an I do for you, Sandford?” he asked with a friendly smile. “You find me all alone this morning.”
“That is just as I would hope, Greensley.” Michael inhaled, hesitating only a moment, then ventured, “I would like your permission to court Miss Palmer.”
“What lovely flowers, Charlotte!”
“All six bouquets of them.”
“I thought we weren’t entertaining all the men anymore.”
Charlotte smiled rather smugly as she raised her tea to her lips. “We aren’t. Those are all from Jonathan.”
“Jonathan?” Grace repeated with wide eyes. “Since when do we call the man by his Christian name?”
Charlotte sipped slowly, then placed the cup on its saucer rather demurely, if she did say so herself. “Since I have agreed to his courtship.”
There was a long pause as her words sunk in, and she watched the expressions of each of her friends as they began to have an impact.
“What?” Georgie cried first, her hands slapping in her lap.
“Courtship?” Izzy followed with a squeal of delight.
“You agreed?” Grace repeated in abject disbelief.
“Finally!” Elinor crowed as she raised both hands in the air.
Charlotte laughed at that one. “Finally?” she said with a look at her friend. “Have you been waiting for me to do so?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Elinor replied without hesitation, grinning at her. “He’s simply marvelous. Handsome without being distracting, wealthy enough to not be a fortune hunter, and charming without being insincere. And I think he’s rather amusing, which would follow if he’s got an interest in courting you.”
Charlotte made a playful face, but allowed that, as it was undoubtedly true. A man would not get far with her if he did not possess humor and wit, and he would have to have a decent quantity of both in order to take her on. She would not deny that Jonathan possessed a sort of natural perfection, which, rather than distance himself from mortals, brought him to a more believable level. He was as genuine a person as she had ever met in her life, and what flaws he could possibly possess were beyond her imagination. Of course, he was not perfect in truth, but neither did he have any faults of such a magnitude as to make him an improper suitor.
It was rare that Charlotte could not find a particular mark against a man, particularly when considering them in a more romantic sense. She was harsh in her judgments, and rarely changed her mind when one was made. With Jonathan, she hadn’t been able to do so.
He was patient, but he was no saint. He was polite, but he was no paragon. He was clever, but he was no scholar. He was a gentleman, but he was anything but stuffy.
He might not have been perfect by Society’s standards, yet he was perfect according to Charlotte.
What was more, she liked him.
It was astonishing how free she felt in having accepted his courtship. Liberated, really. In a simple answer, she was able to relate to him that she had enough romantic interest to wish to know him on a deeper level. She was able to express her wishes, which Society usually discouraged, not that Charlotte obeyed. She was able to claim the man as hers, for the time being, and the more possessive side of her thrilled with that victory. For however long it lasted, Jonathan Riley was hers.
Was it so very selfish to have that delight her?
“Did he meet with your father?” Izzy asked as Georgie began pouring tea for them all and handing cups around. “How did it happen?”
Charlotte smiled at her, bringing herself back to the moment. “He came for supper and asked to court me between courses.”
“While you and Charles were sitting there?” Grace laughed. “Rather unconventional, but I like him more for it.”
“So do I,” Charlotte admitted, wrinkling her nose in a faint giggle. “I had an inkling he would, he’d hinted around it on our last walk of Hyde Park, so it wasn’t a terrible surprise.”
Elinor shook her head, taking her teacup and saucer from Georgie, leaning forward, and plucking a biscuit from the tray. “How did your father respond to that?”
The memory made Charlotte grin once more. “It’s my father, Elinor. He looked at Jonathan, looked at me, drummed his fingers on the table, then asked if I wanted him to say yes.”
Snickers and giggles resounded in the drawing room, and Charlotte sipped her tea as they did so, feeling quite satisfied with herself. There was something quite gratifying about knowing that a man she was intrigued by, that she was growing to like and admire very much, felt the same way about her. She hadn’t had the pleasure of mutual affection in her life, not in the romantic sense, so this first adventure was full of surprises and secret pleasures.
Whether she and Jonathan would wind up making matrimonial vows with each other remained to be seen, and she refused to anticipate any such thing for fear of ruining things. She was determined to enjoy each moment of this courtship as it happened, not wish for more or for different. She may only get the one courtship, and would it be so terrible to be ignorant as to what it could have been?
Sudden flashes of memory and sensation lit her mind, and her lips tingled as images of Michael’s kiss replayed. She could recall the taste of him on her tongue, the feel of his hands against her cheeks, the heat of his body pressed to hers. Her lungs began to burn as they had then, her head swam and her fingers itched to cling further, to pull him in, to drag them both into the spirals of anticipation coiling in her.
Charlotte cleared her throat, forcing herself to sip her tea again, if only to wash the taste of him out.
Would kissing Jonathan be a more delicious experience than that?
Surely it would be, given how different her emotions were with him. Perhaps he would be a gentler sort, his kisses more ticklish, or his attentions more focused. Perhaps he would prefer to let her have her way, generously accepting whatever she saw fit. Perhaps he would prove a masterful tutor, and the pair of them would have the sort of romance to rival and overshadow all loves of tales, myths, or poems. She could have a child every year or so just to prove to the world that their affections were rather histrionic, and wouldn’t that shock Society?
The more she thought on the topic, the more amusing it became, yet the anticipation of it seemed rather pale compared to the entertainment of it.
That could not be the way it was supposed to be.
But then, their courtship was new. The more passionate aspects would develop as their mutual admiration did.
How could any woman not be passionate where Jonathan Riley was concerned upon growing closer to him?
“What does Michael say to all of this?” Izzy asked, laughter still adorning her features.
Charlotte’s eyes snapped to her, cheeks flaming, heart thudding into the pit of her stomach. “Michael?”
Georgie shushed her cousin quickly, throwing a meaningful look her way. Izzy’s eyes dropped to her tea and she sipped without another word. Elinor focused on her biscuit, her expression composed.
Only Grace stared at Charlotte without shame, clearly still expecting her to answer the question.
This was why she should never keep secrets from them, and why she should never tell one of them something she had not told the rest.
What would Michael say?
How was she to know what Michael would say? Michael was apparently in love with her, if he was to be believed. Michael clearly hated that he loved her, though he was intent enough in his kisses that she should feel it. Michael had no intention of being friends with Charlotte anymore, even if he was madly in love with her.
If Michael was so in love with her, why was he not attempting to court her? Why was he determined to have Diana in his life? Why hadn’t he said something before now?
He had, her mind suggested.
Images of a spring morning appeared, younger versions of herself and Michael in one of the sitting rooms in Brancombe. Michael sat beside Charlotte on the sofa and took her hands. “Charlotte, will you marry me?”
She recollected th
e panic that had seized her chest as she’d searched his fair eyes, seen the earnestness in his face, and hated that she felt nothing but anxiety in the moment.
“Oh, Michael,” she’d said, rubbing her thumbs over his hands. “I couldn’t think of you as a husband. And you couldn’t marry me, not if you wished to continue thinking well of me. You’d hate being wed to me. Say no more about it and take it back.”
And take it back he had.
But what had his expression been when he’d done so? All she remembered was her relief and delight, but he…
Well, what did it matter now?
Charlotte cleared her throat and spoke directly to Grace now, as everyone else was pretending to be occupied. “Michael knows nothing about it, and cares nothing for it. And I would very much like to keep it that way.”
Grace only blinked before taking a sip of her tea, and the others had nothing further to say on the subject.
Small mercies.
“But why six arrangements of flowers, Charlotte?” Elinor asked as she looked around the room at the flowers. “Mr. Riley doesn’t strike me as a man of excesses, but this really is too much.”
“Is it?” Charlotte replied, trying and failing for a comfortable, nonchalant air. “I rather like it myself.”
Chapter Seventeen
Surprises are not entirely logical, nor entirely desirable.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 1 August 1818
“I had no idea the park was so vast!”
“Did you not?” Michael laughed, looking down at the lovely woman beside him. “I thought you told me you and your cousin walked through it every day.”
Diana peered up at him with a bemused expression. “Through the park. Through. Not in. We’ve never walked the whole of it, or simply done so for pleasure.”
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