“How do you mean?” he heard Hugh ask Tyrone. “You think they needed to meet Riley before he proposes?”
Would punching the host’s brother be frowned upon? Of all the idiotic suggestions…
“I think they came to be sure she was whole,” Tyrone explained without violence, which was more than Michael could have done. “Miss Wright is never unwell, and yet she begged off of everything for nearly two weeks. I have no doubt they rushed to London for her sake alone.”
That was a much more palatable suggestion, and Michael was pleased to consider that instead. He still had no idea what had caused Charlotte’s ill health, but he supposed that was not important. What mattered was that she was here tonight, which meant she was feeling recovered enough to appear in Society again. They could start their friendship again in truth, older and wiser, both with a more proper understanding of just what it was that lay between them.
He’d be only too glad to continue as they had been before.
And he knew himself well enough now to know that he could not drive out his love for Charlotte completely. He could only bury it, live with it, and move forward in full awareness of it.
Just as he’d always done.
“Is your Miss Palmer coming tonight?” Hugh asked Michael, the question innocent, but something deeper lingered beneath it.
Michael told him the truth. “I have no idea. And she is not mine.” He shrugged a shoulder, smiling at his friends.
Tyrone made a face of consideration. “Well, well. Won’t that surprise the masses? If you’ll excuse me, I owe Miss Wright a waltz.” He left them without any further ado.
Michael watched him go, frowning. “Why does he owe her a waltz?”
“You’d know better than me,” Hugh told him with a shrug. “Has he done her a favor?”
“How would I know?” Michael scowled, shaking his head. “I don’t like it.”
Lord Sterling laughed to himself. “Only because he was one of the Spinsters’ choices for Best Bachelor. But what do you have to worry about with Tyrone? Charlotte is entertaining Mr. Riley, is she not?”
“You are increasingly less helpful,” Michael growled as he watched Charlotte interact with Tyrone, noting the amusement in her face and the laughter they shared.
“Did Riley receive an invitation?” Hugh asked his brother.
“No. Charlotte had refused due to being unwell, so I didn’t bother. Then she changed her mind this morning, and I didn’t see the need to invite him at this late hour.”
That was some small comfort. Diana wasn’t here, and Riley wasn’t here. No courtships on display, no façade to uphold, and no agenda to see to. He could be him, and she could be her.
They didn’t have to speak, and it would be right enough if they didn’t. Perhaps they would dance, perhaps they would not. They had started over the other day, and he had no expectations of it. No, that wasn’t quite right. He expected to find a friend in her, and that he would be a friend for her. He wouldn’t be at her heels as he had been for so long, but he would be there in her life all the same.
Was that enough?
“Are you feeling more like throttling someone now?”
He glanced at Hugh’s rather leading question. “Why? Do you need somebody throttled?”
Hugh chuckled and nodded, clapping Michael on the arm approvingly. “That is much better, Sandford. Much, much better.” He continued to nod, smiling as he turned away.
“What?” Michael demanded after him, but no answer was given. He turned to Lord Sterling, the only one still standing near him.
The man looked just as confused as Michael felt. “I have no idea what’s going on. Don’t look to me for answers.”
Michael made a face and tugged at his cravat. “I’m beginning to think I don’t know, either. Is your sister here? I know I can safely dance with her without raising speculation or making anyone overly upset.”
Lord Sterling laughed and gestured the way. “Yes, Alice is here. Don’t tell my wife you view my sister as safe. I think she has aspirations for you both.”
The idea made Michael groan, and he slowed his step. “Please, no. I cannot bear to disappoint your wife, and I don’t want to give your sister hope. I don’t want to do anything except get through this evening with some entertainment in life and my reputation intact. I don’t want to start rumors, I don’t care to stop any, I simply want to be here. I know I cannot be invisible anymore, but please don’t make me important.”
Lord Sterling folded his arms and gave him a thorough look. “Are you finished?”
Michael blinked once. “Yes…”
“Good. Dance with Janet first, she’ll be pacified that way. Come on.” He put his hand on Michael’s back and steered him onwards, shaking his head in some disgruntlement.
As luck would have it, Janet was with the Spinsters conglomeration, which enabled Michael to join them in a natural way without raising speculation.
He’d thank Lord Sterling later for that, if nothing else.
He shook hands with the men, extended greetings especially to Camden Vale and Lord Radcliffe, whose courtship of Lady Edith some months past Michael had entirely missed. Both seemed particularly pleased with their lot in life, and Michael found himself strangely envious of their joy.
He caught sight of Janet and moved to her. “Lady Sterling.”
Her dark eyes twinkled as she grinned. “Mr. Sandford. I’m so pleased you could attend this evening.”
“As am I, my lady,” he replied with a bow. “Might I have the honor of the next dance?”
Her expression brightened further still. “Why, of course! I’ve seen you dance a bit more this Season, and I must say you are rather good at it.”
“Passable at best, my lady, I assure you.” Still, he smiled at the compliment, as one was prone to do in Lady Sterling’s company. “It is all due to the partners I have chosen. That is the trick. A passable dancer may appear skilled if his partner exudes excellence. I never choose anything less now.”
Lady Sterling shook her head, laughing quietly. “Oh, you have learned well, Mr. Sandford. Most impressive.”
Michael grinned. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but I have always been able to flatter well and with sincerity.”
“You simply never did?” she suggested.
“Correct, my lady.”
She nodded now, seeming all the more pleased. “Perfect.” She looked at something behind him, and her smile deepened. “I do believe someone would like to speak with you, sir.”
Michael turned in surprise, that surprise shifting something in his chest as Charlotte stood there, lovelier this close than she had been at a distance.
Something about her seemed stiff, hesitant, almost nervous, yet a ringlet near her left ear drew his attention, his fingers itching to touch it.
“Charlotte,” he said, grateful he didn’t sound out of breath or guttural as he did so.
She smiled a little, but it wavered. “Michael, would you mind terribly if I had a word? Out on the terrace, perhaps?”
He blinked at the suggestion and glanced out of the windows. “The terrace?” he repeated.
“Capital idea,” Lady Sterling praised. “Privacy while in full view of us. You know the way, don’t you, Charlotte?”
Charlotte smiled at her, nodding. “I do, thank you, Janet.” Her eyes flicked up to Michael’s, the hesitation returning. “Michael?”
He gestured for her to lead on. “Of course.”
The smile flashed across her face. “Thank you. Only a quick word, back in a blink.” She turned on her heel and hurried away, leaving Michael to follow in confusion.
What in the world was this?
Oh, she would die before she could get the words out of her mouth.
Back in a blink? Was she all of ten years old once more trying to convince her mother that she hadn’t behaved badly?
The terrace was expansive, and it was well lit, but Charlotte would have given anything for a dark garden and a hedge
between them.
Her heart pounded almost violently within her, and she pressed a fist to it in an attempt to force it into submission.
How could she confess to Michael that she loved him if she could not hear anything? Could almost see her heart beat as her pulse seemed to exist behind her eyes…
“What did you need a word in private for?” Michael laughed as he came onto the terrace with her. “Surely you have no secrets from the Spinsters.”
She swallowed with difficulty, willing herself to have the strength to turn and face him. “They wouldn’t think so, but this has nothing to do with them, and everything to do with you and me.”
“Oh, dear,” he sighed, sounding so like the friend she had known before all of this that she found herself smiling, the tension in her lessening just enough that she could turn to him now.
She exhaled slowly and forced her fingers to unhook from each other and fist at her sides instead.
There would be no turning back from this.
“You’re not going to believe this, Michael,” she began with a strained laugh, “and in fact, I barely believe it myself, but it is the truth, and I have to tell you now or it will not happen.”
His attention was fixed on her, his eyes hooded in the dark of the night. He had stilled, seeming to barely breathe as he stood there. “You hate my mother, don’t you?”
Charlotte blinked slowly, then blinked again as his words replayed in her mind. “Wait, what?”
He shook his head, exhaling slowly. “I’ve suspected for years, but you’re finally admitting it, aren’t you?”
“Erm, no?” Charlotte gave Michael an incredulous look, wondering where in the world he pulled that thought from, and how he could possibly think she would need the privacy of the terrace to tell him something like that. “I mean, she isn’t my favorite person, but she’s not…”
“Ah ha!” he cried, pointing at her. “I knew it.”
Hell’s bells, he was an idiot.
“Michael,” she ground out, her patience fraying at an ever-quickening pace, “that is not what I wanted…”
“Mr. Sandford,” Janet called merrily from the door. “It is our dance, if you’ve finished.”
He nodded and smiled at her. “Of course, my lady. I believe we are.” He winked at Charlotte, which made her stomach flip. “I won’t tell.”
“No, Michael, wait,” she begged as he started towards the door.
He turned and laughed. “Charlotte, we can revisit this later. I’m looking forward to your thoughts.”
Charlotte all but growled in frustration. “Michael! You cannot marry without knowing…”
“Marry?” he replied, snorting once. “I’m not planning to marry, Charlotte. What gave you that idea?” He gave her another strange look and returned to the ballroom.
Charlotte had extended a hand during her final attempt, and now that hand turned palm up in a strange inquiring gesture as she almost slumped where she stood, blinking rapidly. “Not ever?” she asked the night air, knowing no response would come.
It was a stupid question, and it did not matter in the least. The important thing was what had prompted it.
Michael was not getting married.
She laughed a breathless, almost sobbing laugh and stumbled back until she hit the railing and balustrade with her back, leaning there for a moment. He wasn’t going to marry. She still had time to tell him how she felt. She was not too late.
She was not too late.
The delirium passed then, and she stared at the door to the ballroom as though Michael still stood there, scowling and shaking her head.
Did he really think she had chosen this moment to tell him about his mother? She could have gone her entire life without caring if he knew she was not particularly fond of his mother. She would need to find another way to let him know now, and another opportunity to tell him so.
All of that fear and apprehension, all of those nerves, only to be left out here on the terrace without having told Michael anything at all.
Utterly maddening.
Charlotte shook her head and walked back into the ballroom, heading directly for her friends.
“Did you tell him?” Prue asked the moment she saw her, eyes bright.
Charlotte stared without emotion. “Tell him what?”
Edith, newly arrived and glowing in her married bliss, looked almost crestfallen now as she shook her head at Charlotte. “Och, lass…”
“What?” Charlotte asked, curious now.
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Grace grumbled nearby, looking at the rest with a sour expression. “She didn’t tell him.”
A groan resounded from the entire group, and Charlotte looked around at them all in outright astonishment. “Tell him what?” she inquired again, her question far less flat.
“That you love him, Charlotte,” Prue said, taking her hand and smiling sweetly. “We all thought you would.”
She eyed her typically stammering friend in disbelief. “The fact that you can even suggest that without stammering is remarkable.”
Prue giggled and squeezed the hand she held. “The thought does not make me nervous or anxious in any way. It is so right, so perfect, that it does not frighten me in the least.”
Charlotte shook her head slowly. “Then perhaps you should tell him, because it frightens me out of my wits.” She looked at all the rest with some resignation. “When did Emma tell you?”
“Emma?” Elinor demanded with indignation they had not seen from her since her marriage. “My sister knows? I mean, we’ve all suspected for years, but Emma knows? And she didn’t say?”
“Someone warn Emma she may die tomorrow,” Charlotte muttered, which Prue echoed with a nod, her cheeks coloring.
Emma dying brought on Prue’s nerves, but Charlotte losing every ounce of pride and dignity over Michael did not?
How perfectly lovely.
“Emma never told us anything,” Georgie assured her, leaning closer. “We just know.”
Charlotte sighed heavily and put a hand to her brow. “He didn’t even give me a chance to say anything, the fool. He thought I wanted to tell him… Something else. Something completely inane by comparison. I can’t even…” She growled and began rambling in a stream of French for the pure chance it gave her to be freer with her words than polite company might have liked.
Georgie coughed a laugh while Prue hiccupped, and Grace hissed and waved the others off from coming closer.
A low chuckle rumbled from just to her left and behind her. “You missed a conjugation in there,” Camden Vale pointed out as if that were helpful.
She glared at him over her shoulder and snarled.
He grinned and put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a hug as though she were a sister. “I missed you, Charlotte.”
“If only the feeling were mutual,” she grumbled, shoving away from his chest, but smiling reluctantly at him. She looked out at the dance floor and watched Michael dance with Janet. “Bloody fool.”
“Do you want to speak to him again tonight?” Cam asked quietly. “Francis can make that happen, you know.”
Charlotte shook her head, taking a deep breath. “No, I’m rather afraid the moment is gone for now. I’ll find another way to tell him.”
“If he doesn’t prove accommodating,” Aubrey suggested as he sidled over, “let us know.”
She gave him a sharp look, but was surprised to see Tony, Sebastian, Hugh, and even Lord Radcliffe standing by with the same determined expression. “What, all of you?”
Lord Radcliffe smiled, which was a rare enough sight. “Why not?”
“Heavens, you need to ask?” She gestured to the lot of them. “All we’re missing is Hensh, and I’ll have a battalion.”
“You called?”
Charlotte rolled her eyes dramatically and turned to see Henshaw approaching, Kitty Morton’s hand tight in his. “Oh, good,” Charlotte grumbled. “I feel so much better now.” She eyed their hands and raised a brow at
Kitty. “Kitty Morton, have you come to tell us something to explain the glow in your cheeks?”
The girl blushed further, but her beaming smile could have rivaled the sun. “Perhaps.”
Izzy and Sebastian pushed forward, Izzy clasping her hands under her chin. “Well?”
Kitty and Henshaw looked at each other, smiles both tender and adoring, then Kitty looked at her brother and sister-in-law. “Lieutenant Henshaw has made me an offer of marriage, and I have accepted him.”
“Thank God,” Cam said without any hesitation whatsoever. “Has anyone been waiting for this as long as I have?”
Several hands raised, and Henshaw glared at each of them in turn. “Marvelous help you all were here, thank you.” He looked at Charlotte with a quick grin. “I win, my dear.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You are not married yet, Hensh. But you do have my profound congratulations.” She smiled at them both, then stepped out of the way in order to let the others through. She sank into a nearby chair, exhaling a weary, heavy sigh.
“I know that sound all too well, my dear.”
Charlotte turned her head to look at Lady Hetty, quietly sitting in her chair and surveying the room as a whole. “Why do I believe that?”
Lady Hetty’s smile, rarer in sight than even Lord Radcliffe’s, was almost whimsical on her wrinkled face. “I know a little something of being the last, Charlotte. I know the pain of seeing those you hold dear happy and thriving in all the ways you would wish and not having the same yourself.”
In an instant, Charlotte’s eyes began to water, and she bit her lip. “It seems so simple, in a way. And yet the path of it is hidden from me.”
“Oh, you’re well on your way; I heard them.” She lifted her chin towards the group and winked at Charlotte. “A handsome man, and no mistaking it. Good catch.”
Charlotte sniffled, laughing at the comment. “I haven’t caught him yet. And I don’t even know why I bothered wanting marriage at all. You of all people know what I would sacrifice. Perhaps this pain is proof that I shouldn’t do this.”
Lady Hetty thumped her walking stick against the ground hard. “Charlotte Wright, do you think I have chosen my life out of fear or surrender?”
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