Spinster Ever After (The Spinster Chronicles #7) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,91

them.

“Do not leave on my account,” he pleaded.

He glanced at the floor below the sofa where Charlotte lay, smiling to himself at the sight of Rufus laying there. The dog seemed perfectly at ease and relaxed, breathing the deep and rumbling sounds of sleep with no clear indication that he would ever leave.

Miranda smiled indulgently. “I never would, Michael. You’re a dear, but I do not think of you before acting in my own behalf. The truth of the matter is that I should have left a quarter of an hour ago, and simply could not break away from the conversation. Your arrival provides a natural break that suits me quite nicely.”

There was no course but to grin at that, which was usually the way with Miranda, and Michael made a playful almost bow. “Then I am happy I could oblige you.”

“Most kind.” Miranda reached out a hand to Charlotte, who took it at once. “Get some rest, dear Charlotte.”

“I will,” she replied easily. “Rufus will see to it.”

Miranda glanced down at her beloved pet with a smile. “He certainly will. And I trust the pair of you will keep quite perfect company together.” She nodded, then turned and glided from the room, winking at Michael as she passed.

He watched her leave, then looked back and saw Rufus still sleeping on the floor where he had been. “Is she loaning out Rufus now?”

Charlotte’s hand dropped to the dog’s head, and she scratched lightly. “She thought having him here might comfort me. And she is venturing out to her estate tomorrow, but the visit will be of short duration, so she saw no need to trouble Rufus with the journey.”

“Because troubling Rufus should always be the utmost priority where travel is concerned.” Michael rolled his eyes but smiled all the same. “Do you think he will be of some comfort to you?”

She looked down at the bloodhound with a warm smile. “Yes, I do. I may have to get a Rufus of my own.” Her eyes tracked back up to Michael’s and the smile remained, which seemed a miracle. “Come, sit down.”

Relief lit his chest, and he nodded, taking the chair that Miranda had vacated. “I wasn’t sure if you would wish to see me. Or agree to it, as it were.”

Charlotte tilted her head at him, her smile soft. “I’d always agree to see you. For curiosity, if nothing else.” She laid her head back against the pillow, her eyes closing for a moment. “I’m sorry to not be better company.”

“Are you very unwell?” he asked, keeping his voice low. “Should you be in bed? I’ll carry you there, if need be.”

She hummed a laugh, her eyes opening again. “No, it is quite a relief to be out of bed, thank you. And as for being unwell, it is more a matter of fatigue than anything else. Quite listless at times, and it does make my head ache so.”

“I’ll not stay long,” he promised. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I’ve not behaved well towards you of late, and I acknowledge that.”

Charlotte’s smile curved crookedly. “Nor have I towards you. Hardly fitting behavior for best friends, is it?”

“Not ideally, no.” He gave her a wry smile. “We never discussed either one of us getting married, did we?”

She swallowed before shaking her head. “No, we did not. It… Well, it never came up in a natural way, as far as I can recall. We were content as we were.”

Michael nodded slowly, the palms of his hands rubbing together absently. “That we were. Until we weren’t.”

“I am sorry for that,” Charlotte murmured, focusing her attention on scratching Rufus again. “I feel that what happened stemmed from my insistence that I marry, and blindly taking up the charge to make it so. It seemed so important to join my friends, to not be the only spinster left, but I had you, didn’t I?”

He wasn’t entirely certain how to answer her, given that, at the time she’d decided to marry, he had loved her. Considered her the only woman he could ever love, and she’d always had in him that regard. But she had never been interested in his love, so his friendship had been the lifeblood of their relationship.

She’d always had that, too.

“Yes, you did,” he told her roughly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her hand. To touch her cheek. Her arm. Her hair. Anything. Just to connect with her physically as he sensed the