Spinster Ever After (The Spinster Chronicles #7) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,42
Bond announced to the gathering. “Shall we go in?”
Charlotte looked away from Mr. Riley, wondering if they would have a formal procession or not. She would be expected to have a gentleman on her arm, and without calling her brother to her side, she would have few comfortable options. Not that her comfort was of utmost importance, but it should have been noted all the same.
Thankfully, it seemed that they would only have the guests enter in an orderly fashion, which would solve a great many problems.
Charlotte moved in the direction of the dining room with the rest, smiling politely at those streaming in alongside her. She knew most of them well enough for passing conversation, though hardly well enough to intentionally seek it out. She could only pray that whomever she was seated next to at dinner would be entertaining enough to enjoy the meal with, and that they would also be wise enough to allow her to eat. It was a dreadful thing to be seated next to someone who did not understand that the primary purpose of a meal was to consume it.
The dining room was simply decorated, though the walls bore some lovely family portraits. If the meal became interminable, Charlotte could always imagine herself striking up a conversation with one of the portrait inhabitants. It could be more entertaining than anything at the table, at any rate.
There was some general murmuring as guests tried to find the place card with their name on it, and a great deal of laughter as each was discovered. Playful waves were sent up and down the table as people began to be seated. Charlotte laughed when she saw her brother being seated next to Mary Bond, who really was a lovely girl, but with her recent disappointment, would be looking for a quick match with excellent connections.
There would be no denying that Charles would fill that position quite nicely, should he be so inclined.
“Ah, Miss Wright, I think you will enjoy the seating arrangement.”
Charlotte smiled at Mrs. Bond, who happened to be tottering nearby on the way to her seat. “Shall I? How so?”
Mrs. Bond giggled, the cap on her head bouncing against her mountainous curls of red, her plump cheeks stretching with the laughter. “Why, because I have sat you beside our dear Mr. Sandford, of course. I know how thick the two of you have been since childhood, and I simply could not help myself.”
Charlotte looked past the woman at Michael, who stared at Charlotte without much hint of his feelings on the subject. Whatever he was feeling, it was clear joy was not involved. Yet there was no resentment either, as far as she could tell. Then again, Michael had always been quite good about controlling his emotions and never leaving anything on display long enough for observation. The blankness of his expression could simply be due to hunger, after all.
Many a man had been mistaken for angry when it was only hunger he felt.
“Perfect, Mrs. Bond,” Charlotte praised with another bright smile. “I may be the most comfortable of your guests this entire dinner.”
Mrs. Bond tittered and put a hand on Charlotte’s arm. “I do hope so, dear.” With a quick pat, the hostess moved to her seat at the head of the table, and Charlotte went to her own chair.
Michael rose from the table to pull it out for her, then saw her quickly settled before taking his own seat.
“Thank you,” Charlotte murmured when he did so.
“Of course.”
Nothing else.
Charlotte looked down at her plate, then glanced at the person to her left.
Russell Collier, second son of Lord Wittam. Congenial enough, though rather dense. The family fortune was stable for now, though would likely fall sharply when the eldest son inherited. Mr. Russell Collier was in need of a profession and was completely waffling about deciding on one.
Absolutely not worth improving relations with. The fact that he had been invited at all showed a shocking lack of foresight by the Bonds.
Shameful.
“Don’t say it.”
Charlotte glanced at Michael to her right, who cautiously sipped his water without looking at her. “Say what?”
He shook his head very slightly. “You know very well what. I saw that, and I know you. Don’t say it.”
A helpless laugh started to well within her chest, and she forced it to remain contained there, biting her lip to ensure it as much as possible. “But you agree.”
“It doesn’t matter who agrees,” he insisted. “Do not say it.”