fully, and the sound was more captivating than anything he’d felt towards her yet. “Oh, Mr. Sandford, that is too perfect.”
“As a brother to a sister myself,” Hugh broke in, his tone serious, “I concur. There is no winning.”
“It comes with sisters, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Greensley admitted. She sighed and took a sip of the Madeira beside her. “The moment they learn the value of opinion, there is no stopping it.”
Miss Palmer made the gentlest scoffing sound known to man and gave her cousin a look. “Come, come, you cannot think all sisters everywhere are like Lucy.”
Mrs. Greensley grimaced, then looked around at them all. “Let it be known that I was not the one to mention a particular sister by name. I’ll not take the blame, should rumors abound.”
“So noted,” Hugh and Michael said together, almost solemnly.
“But that would mean she would come against me,” Miss Palmer pointed out, mock effrontery on display.
Mrs. Greensley gave her a pitying smile. “Alas, my poor cousin. I shall weep prodigiously at your funeral.”
Michael chuckled to himself and looked between the ladies. “You never had the same trouble with another sister, Mrs. Greensley?”
She met his eyes, smiling congenially. “Not in the same way, no. Each sister has her own particular blend of mischief and mayhem, but I have found that each has some of both.”
“Not Mary, surely,” Miss Palmer protested.
Mrs. Greensley’s look was answer enough, though she added, “Even Mary, my dear. We are so close in age that going to the dressmaker would cost our parents less because they would get half the number of dresses and expect us to share.” She huffed, as if the memory of several fights on the subject still caused irritation. “It was a blessing when she married Captain Gracie, in a number of ways.”
“I did not know she had married him,” Michael said in surprise, smiling warmly. “My felicitations. When was that?”
“This winter,” came the reply, “which is likely why you did not hear of it. They married and almost immediately set sail for the West Indies for his next posting.”
“It was a beautiful service,” Miss Palmer told the group. “Short, but lovely. And really, what is there to say besides the pronouncement of man and wife?”
Michael played the four of spades, looking at Miss Palmer with a rueful smile. “I do believe there are some vows…”
“One or two,” Hugh added with a nod. “I barely recall mine. I was too distracted by my bride.”
“You called?”
Michael groaned as Elinor approached, not that it should be an evil, but for the simple effect her presence would have on Hugh. As expected, his smile was doting, his wife’s indulgent.
“Good evening, angel,” Hugh said, taking his wife’s hand and kissing it once.
Elinor winked, then turned to the table. “Jane! How well you look; I can see that marriage to Greensley suits you.”
“It does, I’ll not deny it.” Mrs. Greensley returned her smile and gestured lightly. “And I would say that being Mrs. Sterling must agree with you. You’re quite radiant.”
Elinor blushed, glancing at her husband. “I am entirely under his influence, you might say. There is much to be said for a happy marriage.”
“Amen,” Hugh agreed softly, his eyes still on his bride.
“Is it a command that married ladies must compliment each other on being so?” Miss Palmer asked Michael in a low tone. “Or are we just fortunate enough to be witnesses to this particular exchange?”
Michael restrained a laugh, biting the inside of his cheek. “I really cannot say. I don’t know that I would call Mrs. Sterling radiant so much as frequent to flush since her marriage.”
“And my cousin has only found a softening to her features since her marriage, not an entire alteration to complexion,” Miss Palmer added, flicking at something on her cream muslin. “I rather think that is due to a far better cook and less strife at home, not particularly owed to being wife to Greensley.”
“Perhaps crediting marriage for the changes is a tradition,” Michael suggested, watching the particular turn of Miss Palmer’s lip while their companions chatted about all things matrimonial.
Miss Palmer hummed, her head tilting as she apparently considered that. “It’s an odd tradition, I must say. And surely it only lasts the first year or two of a marriage. I cannot admit to hearing my parents say such things, though, admittedly, their marriage was not for love.”
“Nor mine,” Michael conceded, now eyeing Elinor and Hugh, wondering if such a match might have made a difference in his life. “Companionable enough,