Spinster Ever After (The Spinster Chronicles #7) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,56
to keep the truth from a friend like Henshaw. “She’s a cousin of Mrs. Greensley.”
“Are you courting her?” Henshaw asked, smile returning.
“Not yet, but…” Michael trailed off with a shrug.
Henshaw now grinned. “Very good, Sandford. About ruddy time you courted somebody proper.”
Michael lifted a brow. “I could say the same for you, Hensh.”
“I know,” Henshaw grumbled as he averted his eyes. “Believe me, I’m doing what I can about that.”
“Are you?” Michael nodded in approval. “Is it who I think it is?”
Henshaw’s thick brows snapped down. “How should I know who you think it is, Sandford?”
Michael pressed his lips together, understanding all too well the irritability that came with being too directly questioned about romantic intentions that were not yet to fruition. “If your intentions are not clear or obvious, Henshaw, you’re going to have to adjust things. Trust me, lack of understanding can hamper everything, and leave you with nothing.”
Henshaw blinked at him, his expression clearing. “Why do I suddenly believe every word you say?”
“Because I know of what I speak.” Michael smiled bitterly, a twisting sensation in his stomach returning after weeks without it.
Silently, Henshaw continued to watch him, then slowly nodded. “Right. I’ll take that into consideration.” He looked around, frowning again. “Why in heaven’s name did Demaris ask us here early? I hope he hasn’t promised Eden we would lead the dancing. I don’t mind dancing, but I do prefer to choose when and where I do so.”
“And with whom,” Michael concurred, eyeing the ladies present. None of them were truly objectionable, but neither were they ladies he would have thought to seek out. “If we can convince him to keep the first dance short, perhaps…”
“You both came. Good.”
They turned as one to see Tyrone approaching, his brother, Lord Eden, just behind him.
“This isn’t good,” Michael muttered to Henshaw.
“No, it is not.”
Tyrone and his brother bowed quickly. “In an attempt to promote dancing this evening,” Eden started, “I would ask the two of you, as well as my brother, to dance the first three dances. After that, I don’t care if you take yourselves off to the card room. My wife is worried there will be no dancing tonight, and I ask you to help me assuage those fears.”
Michael stared at Lord Eden, who looked exactly like Tyrone, only taller and but for the brighter shade of his waistcoat was dressed identically.
He’d have told off Tyrone for doing this, and would have told off Eden, too, however…
“You had to bring Lady Eden into it, didn’t you?” Henshaw said in the blandest tone known to man.
Eden smiled without humor. “I know I hold little sway anywhere, but if I mention my wife…”
Michael shook his head, sighing heavily. “For Lady Eden’s comfort, I will dance the first three dances.”
“As will I,” Henshaw added. Then there appeared a devious quirk to his mouth. “Provided you and Lady Eden dance the first with us.”
Eden grimaced in response. “That was already determined, thank you. In exchange for your sacrifice, you all get a half a crown lead on any gambling you do in the card room.”
Michael snorted softly. “Can I just get half a crown? I’ll lose it in the first hand if I gamble.”
They all chuckled and Eden thanked them again, before moving to the musicians.
“You were supposed to refuse!” Tyrone hissed when out of his brother’s earshot.
Henshaw gave him an incredulous look. “When he asked us to help make Lady Eden more at ease? Just how heartless are you, Demaris?”
Tyrone scowled and shook his head. “Just enough for my own self-preservation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to procure my partners for these ridiculous dances to ensure I survive them.” He bowed dismissively and strode away.
Michael and Henshaw watched him go, then looked at each other. “Is Annabelle Wintermere here?” he asked Henshaw.
“No,” Henshaw replied with a confused frown. “Why?”
“No reason.” Michael glanced at the door to the ballroom, seeing Sebastian and Izzy Morton entering, followed by Sebastian’s sister, Kitty. He smiled to himself and indicated them with his head. “The Mortons are here now, Hensh. If you’re still in search of them.”
Henshaw left him at once, moving directly for them, leaving Michael laughing to himself.
Unfortunately, Diana had not arrived yet, so he would not have the same pleasure as Henshaw in the dancing of the first three dances.
“Right,” Michael muttered, looking around at available options. “Better see to it.”
An hour later, his duty done, Michael exhaled and desperately wished for a chair to rest himself for a