Spinster Ever After (The Spinster Chronicles #7) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,80

Society to do anything so publicly.

She could withstand this.

Michael’s eyes cast about the guests as he sang, then, at last, met Charlotte’s. Aside from a stilling in his form, he left no obvious sign of distress. His voice did not waver, his complexion did not wane. But a faint crease appeared in his brow, and his head lowered perhaps a half an inch. He knew. He knew what he was doing, and he knew what it would do.

And still he sang.

Charlotte dipped her chin in a nod, then backed gracefully out of the group.

“Charlotte,” Georgie whispered, her voice hitching in concern.

Charlotte ignored her again and moved to a footman she recognized from previous visits. “Thomas, would you be a dear and fetch me a glass of Madeira? I’ve a fearful headache, and I don’t wish to disturb his lordship before supper.”

“Certainly, Miss Wright.” He bowed and departed at once.

Exhaling, Charlotte turned back around, preparing to endure the rest of Michael’s singing thus until her drink arrived.

Would to God it was something stronger.

Chapter Eighteen

When we dance, we find the conversations we cannot have, the feelings we cannot share, and the confessions we cannot make. Often, we also find trouble.

-The Spinster Chronicles, 5 April 1819

“She didn’t say anything? Are you sure?”

“No, Sandford, I’m not. But I refuse to interrogate my wife, and you forbade me to have her ask the specific question.”

Michael growled as he strode from the card room back into the ballroom at Lord Attley’s home, wanting to tug at his cravat, but knowing he needed to make a good impression. “Because if she does not know that I’m concerned, I don’t want her to know. I feel I am to blame, and I will make amends. But if she does not know, then I do not need to do a thing. You see?”

“Not in the least. You’ve talked me in a circle, and I’m wondering when you’ll get to the point.” Hugh Sterling sputtered to himself, no doubt irritated by Michael’s pestering on this topic. “And I dislike keeping secrets from my wife, so kindly don’t insist on any more.”

“I can agree to that,” Michael promised easily, nodding at a few other guests. “You don’t even understand this one.”

Hugh grunted once. “Not even a little. So you sang for company. Why should that offend? Are you that horrid?”

Scowling, Michael glanced over his shoulder. “No. But only Charlotte had heard me sing before… What is the point in explaining it?” He shook his head and returned his attention forward. “Nobody else will understand.”

“Ah, so that’s the issue. It’s something special between you.”

If hearts could shrink, Michael’s did then for a moment or two. “Yes,” he muttered. “It is. Or was.”

“And Miss Palmer?”

His heart expanded, warming just a little. “Diana is the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. She’d never heard me sing, and I thought… I thought…” He exhaled slowly. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. I shouldn’t hurt one while pleasing the other, should I?”

“You cannot balance the feelings of both in your hands your whole life, either.”

That, at least, was unfortunately true.

“Is that what I’m doing?” Michael murmured to himself, not expecting an answer from Hugh or anyone else.

Probably, his saner side replied. After all, mere hours after deciding he could let Charlotte go forever by singing for company, he was desperate to repent of the deed and to make amends.

But should he?

“I should have gone back to the church,” he hissed to himself.

“Pardon?” Hugh queried from behind him.

“Yes, I need one.” Michael shook his head and sighed, pausing as he looked out at the dance. “Do you see Diana?”

Hugh came up beside him and began scanning the guests. “No, but you’ve already had one dance with her tonight, so unless you want more rumors…”

“I can dance with her once more, and after that, I will need to propose, I am well aware.” He pursed his lips, eyeing the rather full ballroom. “I’m not necessarily looking to dance, Sterling. I only need her location.”

“Simple enough. She’s dancing with Demaris.”

Michael looked at the dancers, and, sure enough, the fair-haired woman he was pursuing was there, a lovely paradox of her present partner, dark and brooding as he was. They attracted the admiration and attention of several onlookers, and, quite frankly, it was right they should have. They danced marvelously well together, and no other couple in the dance could compare.

Even Michael was momentarily captivated watching them.

“You aren’t jealous, are you?”

Michael smiled to himself and shook his head. “No, not at