Spinster Ever After (The Spinster Chronicles #7) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,3

years?

Of course, she knew the answer.

She had been enjoying the life of a spinster, in which there was no harm or sin, but now she had nothing but the fortune and beauty she had been born with to show for it.

She had her friends, of course, but her friends were not here. Which brought her back to the situation at hand.

Charlotte groaned and turned away from the window, glowering at the empty parlor. This was how her thoughts had been of late; always going round and round until they came right back to the same problem, the same defenses, the same process of consideration. She had not gotten anywhere, and her lack of intelligence in this area was more maddening than the situation itself.

Surely there was someone who could give her some insight.

Georgie was tending her son, who had managed to come down with a cold. Prue was in her confinement. Izzy was unwell, which likely meant she, too, would have a blessed announcement shortly. Grace was taking tea with her mother, which undoubtedly could have been pushed off. Edith was in Scotland with her new husband, most assuredly reveling in bliss. And Elinor…

Charlotte shuddered, rubbing at her brow. Elinor was spending time with her husband, she had said. That was undoubtedly the worst possible excuse of them all, considering the identity of the aforementioned husband.

Idiotic girl.

She could have invited Kitty Morton, she supposed, but Kitty, bless her, was not much for company on her own.

Where was Michael when she needed him?

She pursed her lips, calculating quickly. He ought to be back in London by now; if she sent for him, it may prove fruitful. He had been gone far too long, leaving her to resort to keeping more company with Hensh. It was not good for a lady to spend much time in the company of a single man she has no intention of marrying.

Or so she had been told.

Hensh was like a brother to her, and Michael was, too. More so, even, for Michael had been her friend since they were children. And he scolded her like a brother, as if there needed to be more discipline in her life.

Not that her own brother had scolded her, for Charles was far too obtuse and obsessed with his own entertainment to care about her antics. Unless they interfered with his wishes, and then they would have a perfectly frightful row until he gave in and stormed off.

They were due for another soon.

But yes, she could send for Michael. If nothing else, she could regale him with tales of all that he missed while he was away. He wasn’t as dedicated to Society as she was, but he was just as informed. His opinions on the recent actions they had taken for Edith, for example, would be most interesting to hear. He had been away for their attempts to show her off in Society, for their escape to Lord Radcliffe’s country estate, and for the dramatic manner in which Edith had finally been freed from her lascivious cousin by marriage. It seemed impossible that he could have missed so much, or that he could have stayed away so long, and yet…

Settling it in her mind, Charlotte rose and moved to the door of her parlor.

“Annie! Annie, are you still out there?”

“Yes, Miss Wright!” came the distant reply. Footsteps soon echoed in the corridor.

“No, don’t come to me,” Charlotte called back. “Will you see that Mr. Sandford is sent for, please?”

“Yes, Miss Wright!”

“Charlotte, must you bellow?” her mother moaned from somewhere nearby in the house.

Charlotte grinned, eyeing the massive ancestral portraits hanging on the walls above her as though her mother were among them. “You bellowed too, Mama!”

“Lottie, leave Mother alone,” her father’s voice echoed, his amusement evident.

“Sorry, Papa!” Charlotte snorted a laugh, covering her mouth.

“You are all mad!” Charles hollered, no humor to be heard in his voice.

Rolling her eyes, Charlotte ducked back into her parlor and flopped onto a divan. There were not as many benefits to having a fine house if they all stayed in rooms close enough to hear each other. It was trouble enough to manage privacy with their ingrained level of curiosity, but to be cloistered in such proximity?

She adored London, but one must surely go to the country to find any space to breathe.

Her eyes widened. She must truly be bored beyond reason if she was wishing herself at Brancombe Park. The place was expansive, sprawling even, but it was also in the middle