his smirk in place.
She placed her hand in his, exhaling her reluctance. “What is your plan, Mr. Demaris? And do my intelligence the respect of knowing there is one.”
Tyrone chuckled as he led her to the floor. “I’m certain there is, but as it is not my plan, I cannot tell you what it is. My plan is to dance with you and earn myself a significant amount of drink.”
Now that sounded far more plausible.
But Tyrone Demaris was not the sort of man to admit something that would offend her, which meant this had not been conceived maliciously.
“Was a dance with me so monstrous a prospect?” she inquired as they took their places.
“Not at all,” he said without airs, which spoke of honesty if nothing else did. “Only the instigator and the motives. I’ll dance with you again next week to prove it is not personal.”
Charlotte had to smile at that, enjoying the frankness in his manner that so few gentlemen employed in Society, let alone around her. “If it’s a waltz, I’ll agree.”
Now he scowled as he looked at her. “Of course, you would be particular. I ought to have been more specific.”
“Indeed, Mr. Demaris, the fault is clearly your own.” The first motions began, and they took hands to follow the pattern of the dance.
“A statement I hear rather frequently in my life,” he told her without much concern. “I’m growing accustomed to the idea.”
Charlotte laughed as she returned to her position. “There are greater sinners than you, Mr. Demaris. Never fear.”
She turned her attention to the corner of the square the dance formed between them and the couple neighboring, and she nearly sagged in misery at the gentleman who was now approaching for the motion.
Michael.
“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear,” she muttered, catching Tyrone’s stifled amusement out of the corner of her eye.
He bowed in the dance and held out his hands.
She waited half a beat longer than she ought, a thrill of satisfaction lighting her chest at his wide-eyed reaction to it.
“Please don’t make a scene,” he asked as they turned.
“Why would I make a scene?” Charlotte replied, releasing his hands to do-si-do. “I have a reputation to consider.” She threw a glower at Tyrone as she faced him, earning a sheepish attempt at a grin in return.
“I need to speak with you,” Michael insisted.
Charlotte harrumphed, shaking her head. “He says as if he were not speaking. This is an extraordinary way to bring it about.”
Michael’s expression turned almost scolding as they turned once more. “I didn’t think you would agree if I approached in any other way.”
“Oh, so he has got some intelligence.” She forced a bright smile she did not feel. “How refreshing.”
The dance sent them back to their corners, and Charlotte looked down at the floor while Tyrone and the woman beside her took their turn in the center.
Why in the world did Michael need to speak with her? What could he possibly have to say after what had passed between them? After what he had proven at Grace’s party, there could be no mistaking the status of their relationship.
It had been neatly terminated, and there was nothing of friendship remaining.
So much for his vow that they would remain friends. The best of friends, if she recalled correctly.
How had they gotten to this point?
She returned to Tyrone’s side as they promenaded down the line and around to the back. “You may owe me more than a copious amount of strong drink for this, Mr. Demaris.”
He hissed under his breath. “I did promise a waltz.”
“Somehow, I don’t find that as satisfactory.” Charlotte gnawed the inside of her cheek as she took up her new position, preparing to face Michael again.
He wasted no time when he came to her. “I apologize for singing.”
That was it? Not for breaking their longest-reigning understanding? Not for breaking her heart? Not for scrubbing her out of his life? Just singing? As if singing alone was a crime?
Charlotte felt a cool composure ripple across her being, and she found a polite, formal smile crossing her lips. “I apologize for singing, as well. It’s a beastly business, singing. Almost nobody does a fair job of it, and it is so mortifying. Such a vulnerable experience, which is why I never do it.”
Michael frowned. “I’m not apologizing for the existence of singing. I’m apologizing that I sang for company.”
She pretended to be surprised. “What’s it to me if you wish to sing for company? You are free to do as