Spinster Ever After (The Spinster Chronicles #7) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,50
through life hand in hand, come what may.”
For the space of four heartbeats, Michael had no thoughts, let alone words. Her words circled about his head, seeping within it, and echoed within the cavern of his chest. There would never be vows like those said in a marriage ceremony performed in the classic sense, though one might find some leeway granted in Scotland, and more particularly in Gretna Green. The formality of the vows would ever remain, expecting the same of couples marrying for love as marrying for entirely material considerations. But what those vows meant to those uttering them might be entirely different based on the feelings and situations of those involved.
Miss Palmer, for example. And whoever was fortunate enough to win her love and her hand.
“You must think me a very silly creature for saying such things,” Miss Palmer murmured, blushing prettily and lowering her eyes as they walked. “I’m far more practical than romantic, to be sure, but in this, I find sentiment outweighs sense.”
Michael laughed softly. “I don’t find you silly at all, Miss Palmer. In fact, I think you may be the least silly person I have ever met, male or female. More than that, I find you quite charming.”
His cheeks instantly flamed as his words played back to him. “Your words,” he was quick to correct. “I find your words quite charming. Marvelous idea, specific vows for specific circumstances.”
Her warm giggle again met his ears. “I don’t know how marvelous it is. I imagine a family engaged in a hastily arranged marriage would not like to have vows recited that reflect such a thing. The whole congregation would know, if they vowed to repent of their sins once bound together in matrimony.”
Michael choked on a cough, a fist going to his mouth to stifle it. “Or,” he managed when able, “to divide the dowry and inheritance of an heiress into specific avenues for a fortune hunter’s marriage.”
Miss Palmer snickered, biting down on her lip. “Vowing to stand against opposing relations in Gretna Green.”
“Vowing to return to sea at least once a year if married aboard a ship.”
She clamped a gloved hand over her mouth, her eyes squeezing shut in mirth. “Oh, Mr. Sandford, we will surely scandalize all. Our first meeting and we have talked of money, of marriage, and of scandal. What are we going to do?”
“Continue to meet, I hope,” he ventured as they reached the punchbowl. “As I said… I find you quite charming.”
She looked up at him, smiling in a way that expanded his chest rather grandly. “I find you rather charming as well, Mr. Sandford. I am happy to meet you again, if at all possible.”
“It’s possible,” he assured her. “It is entirely possible, of that I am certain.”
Chapter Twelve
A morning stroll is a marvelous gift to those intrepid individuals sane enough to seek it out. Provided one does not dawdle along it. There is no excuse for dawdling on morning walks.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 7 October 1819
There was something about a long walk. Charlotte wasn’t entirely certain what it was, but her mother had always told her that the solution to any problem was a good cup of tea and a long walk.
Not that Charlotte presently had a problem, other than the obvious lack of husband, but people walked in Hyde Park frequently enough that it seemed the thing to do. She had no callers, so it was clear that she must do the venturing.
It was a maddening exercise, walking about and smiling at absolutely everyone on the off chance they may wish to speak with her. And to smile even more prettily at any men she happened upon, especially if they were remotely attractive.
That wasn’t a desperate action, was it?
It felt desperate.
Having her mother as escort on this walk felt even more desperate.
“My face hurts,” Charlotte grumbled through the pain of yet another brilliant smile at a young man on a horse.
“You’re only out of practice,” her mother told her without concern. “Why do you think I always wanted you to smile more?”
Forget desperate, this was maddening.
“What I wouldn’t give for a mask.”
“Yes, I think that quite often myself when in the company of you and your brother together.”
Charlotte snorted loudly, covering her mouth.
“That was attractive, dear,” her mother went on. “If that will not call all eligible bachelors to you, nothing will.”
“You are not helping,” Charlotte protested, giggling madly.
“Neither did that jig you danced with Lady Patton’s godson last evening,” came the quipped response. “Clearly, I have