Spinster Ever After (The Spinster Chronicles #7) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,72

and of itself.

“I would never,” she vowed solemnly, crossing herself in dutiful fashion. “But I’ve always thought the Lord expected us to act as well as pray, and you seem to only be doing the one. Rather difficult for the path to be made clear if you are not walking.”

There was an idea, and a rather sound one. He had felt quite trapped by his indecision, and by his guilt, so he had chosen to do nothing for fear of making another false step. Yet what good would that do him? Nothing would change if he did not move, and change was what he sought.

Michael turned to the woman beside him with a warm smile. “You are a wealth of wisdom, Miranda.”

She dimpled with an almost matronly pride. “Yes, I do try to tell people so, but alas…” She winked and rose, gracefully stepping out of the pew and moving towards the front of the chapel. “Go do something, dear. It will do you good.”

He smiled after her, watching as she moved to the rooms off of the chapel to meet with Jenkins. The moment she disappeared, he slid out of the pew himself and walked out of the church, wearing a true smile for what had to be the first time since attending the theater.

He could have gone home and changed, and probably should have, but he had a sense that if he returned home before his errand was complete, it would not, in fact, get completed. Besides, he was dressed finely enough. It was part of his habit now, which would have delighted Tyrone’s valet to no end. He was fully presentable to meet with Greensley for the appropriate conversation, and it was not as though Greensley would judge him for what he wore even if he had not had his entire wardrobe exchanged for finer things.

“This is excellent timing. I was just coming to your house to call on you.”

Michael glanced at the approaching Hugh Sterling with wry amusement. “I’m beginning to think I am being followed by the Sterlings.”

Hugh’s high brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Nothing,” Michael muttered, shaking his head. “And it is rather good timing, as I would not have been home when you called.”

“Are you not going home now?” Hugh asked, gesturing the way. “It is the right direction.”

Michael laughed once. “I’m aware of that. But we are turning, you see. Here.” With great emphasis, he turned the corner and continued down the street, Hugh walking along beside him.

“Where are you off to, then?” his friend inquired with mild interest.

“Greensleys,” he stated. He grinned at Hugh quickly. “I’m going to request permission to court Miss Palmer.”

Hugh’s mouth dropped in surprise before spreading into a smile. “Are you, indeed? My felicitations, old fellow. She’s a beautiful lady, to be sure, and I hear only praises of her.”

Michael nodded in agreement. “She is lovely in every respect. I cannot say yet if it will lead to marriage, but…”

“You have hopes?” Hugh prodded, his smile turning teasing, if not suggestive.

“I do, I’ll not deny it.” He shrugged a shoulder, a sense of pride welling within him. “I think she likes me, Sterling.”

Hugh guffawed without shame. “I should ruddy hope so! I’d heard the pair of you had been seen together, but nobody could make heads or tails of it. A courtship would certainly do the trick.”

Michael frowned at the phrase and glanced at him. “For what?”

“Well, for my wife, for one.”

“Elinor? What does she need convincing of?”

Hugh rolled his eyes but continued to smile. “Nothing. She’s just battling Charlotte and her foul mood.”

Michael’s stomach squeezed into a tight fist within him. “What’s Charlotte upset about?”

Fleeting prayers ran rampant as he considered that Elinor could know exactly what transpired at the theater, that all the Spinsters could know.

Oh, gads, how would they work a reference to his behavior into the next issue, if that were the case? They would put it in, he had no doubt. They were just the vindictively creative sort to allude to the event in such a way that only he would understand, but it would be all too clear for him.

“Hang me if I know,” Hugh admitted with a sigh, shaking his head. “Elinor comes home three days a week speaking of nothing but Charlotte’s sour mood, and how she offers a dozen explanations, but nothing seems to make sense to any of them.”

There was some relief in that, but Michael still wasn’t satisfied.

“Why would my courtship with Diana have any bearing on Charlotte’s mood?”