Spinster Ever After (The Spinster Chronicles #7) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,38
very well how he feels, but I think you will find him just as insecure as any woman would be about a man we love. What if she doesn’t return the feeling? What if she cannot see him that way? What if he is wrong?”
“Has he said something?” Izzy asked her, eyes wide. “Charlotte…”
Charlotte looked away with a sniff, taking another bite of biscuit. “No, I am sworn to secrecy. Have faith and give him room to maneuver. If she is not engaged to him by Christmas, it will be neither his fault nor my own.”
“Are you assisting him?”
“Of course not.” Charlotte glanced over at her with a smirk. “But we may have a wager, the pair of us.”
Izzy closed her eyes in dismay, slumping back. “Oh, Charlotte…”
That caught the attention of the others. “What?” Georgie demanded. “What have we missed?”
Charlotte settled herself rather cozily in her chair. “Izzy objects to my wagering on matters of the heart.”
Georgie blinked, then her brow furrowed. “I object as well, though I daresay I should not be surprised. Are we permitted to know the details of the wager?”
“No,” Charlotte replied. “But the first step was the Prestons’ ball, and that went rather well.” She chewed her lip a moment, then looked at Elinor. “Would you do me a very great favor and look at Mr. Riley as a candidate? I’ve never met him before, and I liked the look of him.”
“Of course.” Elinor nodded, stirring her tea. “Do you know his Christian name?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
Elinor waved a hand. “No matter. Eugenia Preston will know. I have no doubt she oversaw the invitation list, not her mother.” She pursed her lips a moment, then added, “I think Roslyn Lawson may try to outdo you for eligible matches, Charlotte.”
Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. “What? That venomous cow?”
“Are venomous cows real?” Kitty asked mischievously, playing at some confusion. “Amazing.”
Grace scoffed and shared a longsuffering look with the girl. “Charlotte is mistress of all mythological creatures, you know. If she says it, the creature exists.”
“Why would Roslyn Lawson compete with me?” Charlotte demanded, her attention still on Elinor. “She has neither my fortune, nor my affability. Nor my looks, if I may be momentarily vain.”
“You may,” a few of them said together.
She ignored them all.
“I don’t know,” Elinor admitted. “All I know is what Tyrone Demaris told Hugh, which was that she disapproved of Michael until he offered to dance with Anne. Suddenly, he was far more interesting, and she wished to discredit Anne in his eyes.”
Charlotte grumbled incoherently for a moment. “Snide envy between sisters is no cause to alarm me. She is a dreadful snob, which she has no position to be, and the very idea that Roslyn wants what Anne has is laughable. Roslyn would have to sell her soul to amount to Anne’s good sense, which would defeat the purpose.”
“Did Michael enjoy dancing with Anne?” Kitty asked softly, eyes wide. “She would be a good match for him, if he liked.”
Anne? A match for Michael?
“I don’t know,” Charlotte admitted, staring back at the girl as she realized how long it had been since she had really spoken with her closest friend. “I really don’t know.”
Michael was not a man prone to profanity, nor was he one to blaspheme or say anything other than what was right, proper, and gentlemanly.
That could all very well change in the next five minutes.
It did not help that this small man stared at him with the same distaste and disappointment that Miss Lawson had a few nights before.
“No,” the man said with an almost-but-not-quite-French accent. “I cannot do it.”
“I didn’t ask if you can. I asked if you would.”
Tyrone’s question did not make a difference; the man continued to shake his head.
“I cannot work with a country bumpkin. I refuse.” To emphasize the point, the man strode away and sat in a chair against the wall, folding his arms and staring at Michael as though he ought to be scolded.
Michael looked down at himself, then at Tyrone. “Country bumpkin?”
Tyrone shrugged. “He’s my valet, not my scholar.”
“You ought to sack him,” Lord Sterling muttered behind Tyrone, sipping Madeira. “That sort of arrogance will end in a revolution in your house.”
Tyrone grunted and held his glass out for a refill. “I’ll give them the run of the house if they’ll give me an occupation that will shut Eden up.”
Hugh tutted nearby, looking up from his book. “Your brother pestering you again? I know something of that.”