Spinster Ever After (The Spinster Chronicles #7) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,45

occasion? Having never been in a courtship, and knowing so little of men in truth…”

Michael stilled beside her, not even his breathing audible, if he was breathing at all. It didn’t seem as though he was, and she was suddenly very carefully attuned to everything about him.

How did his not breathing prevent her from breathing as well?

“I would… prefer,” he began slowly, “if you kept those instances to a minimum. If at all.”

Charlotte’s throat dried in an instant. “Michael…”

“You’re my best friend, Charlotte,” he said at once, his voice rough. “That won’t change today or tomorrow or any day after. But I cannot hold your hand while you court London Society in pursuit of marriage. I will not.”

It was all she could do to blink, feeling cold without shivering, feeling warm without flushing. Why did her friendship suddenly seem so very different than it had only minutes ago? Why did it feel at an end, despite his vow that it would not?

She managed a swallow and glanced down the table as though looking for someone, more an act than anything else. “Well, so long as you don’t sing…”

“I told you,” he replied quickly, his tone warming, “I only sing for you, dear.”

There was that, at least.

Charlotte’s eyes fell on Mr. Riley and found his eyes already on her. For a moment, she only stared, her lips already curved in the benign, polite smile she always wore in public. He stared back, and then dipped his chin in a nod, now smiling at her.

That lightning sensation in her leg returned, this time making its way down into her smallest toe. Her heavy heart began to lighten, incrementally, and her polite smile turned into one less forced, less pained, less habitual.

It didn’t solve her feelings of loss, nor her wistful longing of her friendship from days gone by, but it did give her a reason to smile and mean it.

At the moment, that was enough.

Chapter Eleven

One never knows what may be discovered over a simple game of cards.

-The Spinster Chronicles, 19 December 1815

“Sandford, you remember Mrs. Greensley? Formerly Miss Wilton, you know, but she married last year.”

Michael smiled at the plain but friendly face of Mrs. Greensley, belatedly recollecting that, when she had been Jane Wilton, she had been Charlotte’s favorite of the Wilton sisters. The most sensible, the most genuine, and the warmest by far. He could do far worse than reconnecting with her in this new chapter of his life, marriageable prospect or not.

Connections of any sort were his goal, and there was no telling who might know other people that could significantly improve his lot, his life, or his luck.

“Of course,” he said as he gave a half bow in Mrs. Greensley’s direction. “It is very good to see you again. How are you?”

She smiled and inclined her head, continuing to shuffle the cards in her hand. “Very well, Mr. Sandford. Will you and Mr. Sterling join us for a round or two of whist?”

He nodded once, pulling the chair out. “Certainly.” He smiled at the woman across from Mrs. Greensley, a fair-haired lady with a warm smile currently directed at him.

Curious.

“Mr. Sandford, may I introduce my cousin, Miss Diana Palmer?” Mrs. Greensley said with a hint of a laugh in her voice. “She has come to stay with us from Derbyshire for the remainder of the Season.”

Michael bowed before her, smiling without any effort at all. “A pleasure, Miss Palmer. Is this your first time to London?”

Rich, whiskey-colored eyes seemed to sparkle as Miss Palmer’s smile deepened. “No, sir, though it is my first time in London for the Season. Even if it is at the end of it.”

“Ah,” Michael replied, taking his seat. “Well, the end of the Season is usually the best part, Miss Palmer.”

“Is it?” She flicked a smile to her cousin, then returned her attention to Michael. “In what way?”

Michael folded his hands on the surface of the table, then shrugged. “The fuss and fervor that surround the opening of the Season has faded. Those wildly inclined to make a match have likely done so, or have at least selected their choice, leaving everyone else to enjoy themselves without any additional pressures.”

Miss Palmer’s eyes narrowed a touch, and he had the sense she was sizing him up, though he could not have said what for. “Is that what the Season should be about? Enjoying one’s self?”

“I’ve always thought so.” Michael continued to smile at her, charmed by her lack of silliness and intrigued by