Spinster Ever After (The Spinster Chronicles #7) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,24
adores me above all others.”
“Too right, she does.” Elinor turned his face to hers and planted a firm kiss on his lips.
Michael and Mr. Demaris looked at each other in shock, then looked away quickly.
Elinor giggled and eyed them both. “Apologies, gentlemen. The benefits of a small event in our family’s home, we can be as affectionate as we choose, and no one will think us scandalous.”
“No, only disturbing,” Tyrone commented under his breath.
Michael nodded once in agreement.
Hugh cleared his throat, his color high. “I’ll thank you both not to judge.”
“Presently, I’m trying to blot it out, so judging anyone isn’t exactly at the forefront of my mind.” Tyrone widened his eyes and gave Michael a strained look. “Sandford, isn’t it?”
Michael nodded, relieved that someone else was as uncomfortable as he. “Yes. Pleased to be remembered, Mr. Demaris.”
Tyrone waved that off. “I remember everyone; it’s a curse. Not necessarily in your case, especially since I have a strong feeling you and I are going to be saving each other regularly for the foreseeable future. And since there are a great many influential members of the Demaris family, you might as well call me Tyrone.” He shrugged and swiped a nearby beverage. “But watch out, you may make Sterling here jealous with familiarity between us.”
Elinor cackled a laugh that had Hugh scowling at both her and Tyrone. “Now I understand why Janet despairs of you.”
If the statement ruffled any feathers for Tyrone, he gave no sign. He only downed his drink, shrugging yet again. “Better to despair of me than hope for me. Far less chance of disappointment.”
“A pity you aren’t truly a villain, then,” Elinor suggested with a teasing smile. “Then they might wash their hands of you completely.”
“I find villainy to be more trouble than it’s worth,” Tyrone countered with a sage shake of his head. “One does not wish to be rendered irredeemable, after all. No, I am simply not to be counted on, which gives me a remarkable amount of freedom.”
Michael found himself smiling at the outspoken man in amusement. “And yet you seem to be one of the most eligible bachelors in London, if the Spinsters are to be believed.”
“On that note,” Elinor announced loudly, dragging Hugh away before the conversation could move further.
Tyrone scowled in earnest as the two of them departed. “That blasted column. I was perfectly content living in obscurity until then. The only unmarried person who cared a jot about my activities was Annabelle Wintermere, and I’ve grown quite adept at avoiding her. Now…” He gestured around the room, which, though hardly crowded or full, boasted at least three young ladies eyeing the pair of them speculatively.
“Good heavens,” Michael coughed. “I should stand somewhere else.”
“Too late, my friend. I’ve tainted you. Which, as I understand it, was the goal all along.” He quirked an inquiring brow and waited, his mouth curving in a crooked smirk.
Michael met the shorter man’s eyes steadily, then looked out at the dancing without much interest. “Yes, I suppose it is. Against my better judgment, I aim to make myself more appealing to the general populace, including, if I must, those of an unmarried disposition.”
Tyrone grunted once. “Didn’t realize marriage was a disposition. I rather thought it was a state, and one not entirely rising above that of despair.”
“You’re a cynic,” Michael pointed out without venom, actually finding the dark humor more and more entertaining by the minute.
“Of course I am. I’m an English gentleman.”
Michael choked on a laugh, which seemed to entertain Tyrone, and left the two of them snickering by themselves as they watched the dancing without any intention of joining it.
“So, you are trying to be popular,” Tyrone eventually said in a more normal tone. “Pressure from your family?”
“Always.” Michael nodded, exhaling slowly. “Nothing too drastic. I don’t need to marry money or a title, we aren’t in danger or anything like. She simply thinks I am wasting my time and that matrimony would cure me of it.”
Tyrone made a face of consideration. “Interesting. And are you? Wasting your time, that is.”
Michael opened his mouth to protest, as he had done so many times before over the years, then, irregularly, found himself closing his mouth without a single syllable escaping. A moment of reflection was needed this time, and some honesty.
“Yes,” he heard himself admit. “Yes, I am. Or rather, I was. The realization of the thing has made me wish for a change in my life, and while I’m not intending to seek out