I may be a success.”
“Forget being a lad,” Hugh muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re naught but the male illustration of a young miss in her very first Season. Shall I find you a string of beaux as well? Arrange for your first dance to be with the most eligible partner? Purchase new trimmings to display you at your very best for all to see? Or perhaps you might wish to attend every ball, musicale, assembly, and spend every third day at the theater, all to see and be seen, and spread your name about?”
Slowly, heat seeped into Michael’s cheeks as the mockery sank heavily into the pit of his stomach.
Every word Hugh said was exactly what Michael needed. Oh, he wasn’t so very like a young miss, but as for the rest… It was precisely what Michael would require in order to break off the bindings that years of being Charlotte’s lackey had wrapped him in.
The recreation of Michael Sandford. Gads, it was the stuff of nightmares, wasn’t it?
“The fact that you look resigned instead of horrified has me scared witless.”
“I’m not so comfortable at the moment, either.” Michael glanced up at Hugh limply. “I think we may have to do exactly what you said. Though a line of… I’m not sure how I feel about courting.”
Hugh blinked once, then cleared his throat, his brow snapping down. “Right… Well, unfortunately, that is the main objective of anyone in Society that isn’t independently wealthy, driven to rise among its ranks, or scheming to bring the whole thing down. So despite the lack of general interest, you ought to at least pretend to be pursuing it.”
“Why? I don’t want to compete with Charlotte for who can get married first.” The entire idea was distasteful, and his throat tightened at the thought of someone taking her place in his affections, in his life.
“Because you will undoubtedly be pursued once you become more visible.” Hugh flagged down a footman for a drink, which was quickly brought. “And you will find yourself married in spite of yourself when the right one crosses your path.”
The idea soured further. The right one had always been Charlotte. How could he ever imagine anyone else?
“There are worse things, you know,” Hugh told him softly. “And if you are distancing yourself from Charlotte, who has vowed to marry, you will eventually need to do so yourself.”
“I know.”
He did know that. He’d known that from the moment Charlotte had announced her plan. He hadn’t admitted it, hadn’t exactly thought out each word in turn, but he’d known. But doing something towards that effect seemed wrong, somehow.
“You might as well start practicing for when you are ready for it. What’s the harm?”
The harm was that there wasn’t any harm. There was absolutely nothing wrong with making it known that he was an eligible bachelor who would be willing to marry the right young lady. It was exactly what he should do, what he was expected to do, and what his mother had begged him to do for years. There wasn’t a single iota of harm, danger, or error in the thing at all.
Which meant he should do it.
Which meant he was giving up.
Which meant…
“Fine,” he heard himself say. “Consider me an eligible, looking bachelor.”
Hugh grunted once. “Marvelous. I’ll see what I can do about improving your social schedule.”
Michael grimaced at that. “I’m really not very social.”
There was no inkling of concern or sympathy on Hugh’s face. “Unfortunately, you have to be social to get a wife, even if you are only pretending to find one.” He paused, his mouth curving into a rueful smirk. “Unless you get stranded at her estate at Christmas, but that’s too far off for your purposes, and the logistics would be a nightmare.”
“What?”
Hugh only shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind. You just need to be social enough to find someone who interests you. Then your attention can be on her, and the rest of the world can socially go to hell.”
That didn’t sound too awful. “That’s it?” Michael asked warily.
“That’s it. If the courtship thrives, so much the better. You can propose. If it does not, so long as no understandings or promises are made, all may part amicably, and the whole charade starts over again.” He let that sink in, then tilted his head in invitation. “So, shall we?”
Fearing the insanity of his plan might actually form into being, let alone work, Michael barely managed the nod. “We shall.”
Hugh