Spinster Ever After (The Spinster Chronicles #7) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,98
married.
She laughed a breathless, almost sobbing laugh and stumbled back until she hit the railing and balustrade with her back, leaning there for a moment. He wasn’t going to marry. She still had time to tell him how she felt. She was not too late.
She was not too late.
The delirium passed then, and she stared at the door to the ballroom as though Michael still stood there, scowling and shaking her head.
Did he really think she had chosen this moment to tell him about his mother? She could have gone her entire life without caring if he knew she was not particularly fond of his mother. She would need to find another way to let him know now, and another opportunity to tell him so.
All of that fear and apprehension, all of those nerves, only to be left out here on the terrace without having told Michael anything at all.
Utterly maddening.
Charlotte shook her head and walked back into the ballroom, heading directly for her friends.
“Did you tell him?” Prue asked the moment she saw her, eyes bright.
Charlotte stared without emotion. “Tell him what?”
Edith, newly arrived and glowing in her married bliss, looked almost crestfallen now as she shook her head at Charlotte. “Och, lass…”
“What?” Charlotte asked, curious now.
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Grace grumbled nearby, looking at the rest with a sour expression. “She didn’t tell him.”
A groan resounded from the entire group, and Charlotte looked around at them all in outright astonishment. “Tell him what?” she inquired again, her question far less flat.
“That you love him, Charlotte,” Prue said, taking her hand and smiling sweetly. “We all thought you would.”
She eyed her typically stammering friend in disbelief. “The fact that you can even suggest that without stammering is remarkable.”
Prue giggled and squeezed the hand she held. “The thought does not make me nervous or anxious in any way. It is so right, so perfect, that it does not frighten me in the least.”
Charlotte shook her head slowly. “Then perhaps you should tell him, because it frightens me out of my wits.” She looked at all the rest with some resignation. “When did Emma tell you?”
“Emma?” Elinor demanded with indignation they had not seen from her since her marriage. “My sister knows? I mean, we’ve all suspected for years, but Emma knows? And she didn’t say?”
“Someone warn Emma she may die tomorrow,” Charlotte muttered, which Prue echoed with a nod, her cheeks coloring.
Emma dying brought on Prue’s nerves, but Charlotte losing every ounce of pride and dignity over Michael did not?
How perfectly lovely.
“Emma never told us anything,” Georgie assured her, leaning closer. “We just know.”
Charlotte sighed heavily and put a hand to her brow. “He didn’t even give me a chance to say anything, the fool. He thought I wanted to tell him… Something else. Something completely inane by comparison. I can’t even…” She growled and began rambling in a stream of French for the pure chance it gave her to be freer with her words than polite company might have liked.
Georgie coughed a laugh while Prue hiccupped, and Grace hissed and waved the others off from coming closer.
A low chuckle rumbled from just to her left and behind her. “You missed a conjugation in there,” Camden Vale pointed out as if that were helpful.
She glared at him over her shoulder and snarled.
He grinned and put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a hug as though she were a sister. “I missed you, Charlotte.”
“If only the feeling were mutual,” she grumbled, shoving away from his chest, but smiling reluctantly at him. She looked out at the dance floor and watched Michael dance with Janet. “Bloody fool.”
“Do you want to speak to him again tonight?” Cam asked quietly. “Francis can make that happen, you know.”
Charlotte shook her head, taking a deep breath. “No, I’m rather afraid the moment is gone for now. I’ll find another way to tell him.”
“If he doesn’t prove accommodating,” Aubrey suggested as he sidled over, “let us know.”
She gave him a sharp look, but was surprised to see Tony, Sebastian, Hugh, and even Lord Radcliffe standing by with the same determined expression. “What, all of you?”
Lord Radcliffe smiled, which was a rare enough sight. “Why not?”
“Heavens, you need to ask?” She gestured to the lot of them. “All we’re missing is Hensh, and I’ll have a battalion.”
“You called?”
Charlotte rolled her eyes dramatically and turned to see Henshaw approaching, Kitty Morton’s hand tight in his. “Oh, good,” Charlotte grumbled. “I feel so much better now.” She