Spinster Ever After (The Spinster Chronicles #7) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,43

of Michael’s mouth ticked ominously. “Very well, I agree.”

Charlotte reached for her water and took a small sip. “What do you agree with?”

Michael grumbled under his breath before admitting, “Mr. Collier is not the ideal candidate for the Bonds to be considering for their daughter.”

“For shame,” Charlotte scolded in a playful hiss. “To say such things while we sit here. Michael, I am astonished.”

“I think you’ll survive. Which is more than I can say for my other dinner companion.”

As gracefully as possible, Charlotte looked across Michael to identify the lady there, and had to stifle laughter at the sight of a very sullen Roslyn Lawson.

“What seems to be the problem?” Charlotte whispered.

“My fortune is less than twenty thousand pounds,” Michael replied in the same tone, “my estate is nowhere near Bath, and I lack a title.”

Charlotte exhaled a faux sigh of defeat. “I don’t know why I even speak to you. Clearly, I should address Mr. Collier instead.”

“Clearly.”

Charlotte pressed her teeth into her lip harder, looking away from Michael to find some sort of control. Oh, it felt marvelous to laugh with him like this, and it seemed an age since they had done so. Of course, with her focus on finding matrimonial prospects, she really hadn’t cause to send for him for her own amusement. He could have called on his own accord, naturally, but those visits had become less frequent in the last year or so as it was.

It hadn’t occurred to her until the other night at the Prestons’ ball that there might have been something wrong between them. This wasn’t the occasion to discuss such things, but the manner between them at the moment eased her feelings on the subject considerably. They couldn’t possibly be on the outs if they could continue to joke as they once did.

Relief swirled within her at the thought. Despite everything, losing her friendship with Michael would have been a disaster. She could gain the world’s best match in every respect and still feel a loss if he were no longer in her life. Though marriage would certainly separate them to a degree, she would adamantly refuse to let it part them.

She would not give up Michael.

“Perhaps if you sang for Miss Lawson,” Charlotte suggested as the first course of supper was brought out, “she might see you in a more favorable light. After all, it is one of your greatest gifts, and nobody knows about it but me.”

Michael gave her a sidelong look, his eyes holding a knowing light she knew well. “I only sing for you, dear.”

Warmth hit Charlotte’s chest and rose quickly into her lips, prompting a wide smile. His answer was the same as it had been for years, and anything else as a response would have been a disappointment or a shock. As far as she knew, Charlotte was the only one who had heard Michael sing, and while some might have considered that a crime against humanity, given the splendor of his voice, the pair of them had never cared about it. Michael was not one for display, and Charlotte herself did not play, so a duet was never something they had been forced into.

Once or twice, it had occurred to Charlotte to wonder if Michael’s mother knew about his abilities, but ultimately, that was neither here nor there. So long as his voice was their particular secret, all was well enough.

“How goes your great plan?” Michael asked after a moment, his attention on his food. “Any success?”

“Not yet,” Charlotte told him, swallowing her own bite of food, “but we’ve only just begun. Grace trussed me up the other night for emphasis… Well, you saw that.”

Michael nodded. “I did. Impressive. How much did you hate it?”

She nudged him hard with her elbow. “It was lovely, I’ll have you know. I haven’t felt that pretty in ages, and though it was a great deal of fuss, I think it helped.”

“With what? You’ve never lacked for attention.”

There was something in the tone of those words that Charlotte did not care for at all. Something hard, she would have called it bitter had the speaker been anyone other than Michael. As it was him, she could not say what lay behind it.

But she did not like it.

“The right sort of attention,” she hissed, focusing on her meal and keeping her table manners in a ladylike fashion, “from the right sort of people. I have been a fixture in Society, which means everyone is used to seeing me everywhere