“How would you know?” Charlotte asked, folding her arms as she considered Georgie. “You didn’t try it.”
Her friend scoffed softly. “I have a modicum of sense, Charlotte, which is apparently more than you have.”
Charlotte sniffed and looked over at Grace, who had yet to say anything. The beautiful woman stared at nothing in particular, but in Charlotte’s general direction. Her expression was thoughtful, but not troubled.
She would take that as a good sign.
“Grace?” she prodded. “What do you think?
Grace blinked, her expression clearing as her eyes focused on Charlotte. Her lips curved into a smile that didn’t say much at all. “I think you’ll have a difficult time forcing love into a schedule or picking it out of a file of options. I presume you don’t want to marry for comfort?”
Charlotte shuddered and made a face. “No, indeed. I’ve always said I wanted a love match, and I will marry for nothing less. I have independent wealth and connections, so matrimony only makes sense if it is for love. And I refuse to surrender myself for the sake of something as paltry as comfort as Emma did.” She bit her lip and glanced at Elinor in apprehension. “Apologies if you…”
Elinor shook her head, holding up a hand. “No need. Mr. Partlowe was not my choice for my sister, nor did she love him, but I believe they have a warm relationship now. And Mr. Partlowe has been quite kind to Hugh since our marriage.” She smiled, looking more like herself than she had all afternoon. “If you want to find love, Charlotte, you can’t command it into being. Believe me, if it happened that way, my husband would not be Hugh Sterling.”
“A great pity, then,” Charlotte commented, smiling for effect, relieved when it was returned. “No, I don’t intend to command love and order it to exist between myself and the man of my choosing. I ask for the information so that I know where to look.”
Izzy sat forward, her brow puckering in confusion. “What about your usual circle? Surely you know enough of them to start encouraging…”
Charlotte silenced her with a look. “Izzy, have you seen my circle? I wouldn’t invite a single one of them to take my dog for a walk, let alone to court me in truth.”
Elinor snorted a laugh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh, Charlotte, that is too perfect. What have you been doing all these years if they were all so stupid?”
“Believe me, I’ve been asking myself the same thing for some time now,” Charlotte muttered. She reached forward to snatch a teacake from the platter, choosing not to bother with a plate or any real show of manners. “A complete waste of energy.”
“I would give anything to have Prue and Cam in London for this…” Grace laughed, clapping her hands. “We have to write them.”
Charlotte chewed quickly, then swallowed. “Oh, I’ve done that already. I suspect Cam will have a great deal to say shortly, provided the impending arrival of Miss Vale hasn’t got him entirely distracted.”
“So sure it’s a girl, are you?” Georgie hummed in consideration, laughing to herself. “You’ll be very disappointed when it’s a boy.”
“Not as disappointed as Cam, to be sure.” Charlotte looked over at an empty chair, sighing. “I do wish Edith was here, though. She’s got a head full of sense, and I daresay I could use it.”
“Her head is full of love at the moment, so I’m not sure it would help.” Izzy shrugged, rubbing her hands together. “Are you sure about this, Charlotte? You really want to find someone you can love and marry?”
Charlotte smiled at Izzy, undoubtedly her sweetest friend. “I’ve always wanted to do this, Izzy. From the very beginning, this was what I wanted. I just didn’t let myself do anything about it until now.” Her smile grew, and she sat back in her chair more comfortably. “I fully intend to do something about it now. So help me get on with it, will you?”
Chapter Four
When starting out on a new adventure or journey, one should ensure that they have the appropriate allies to accompany them. Without allies, one would not get very far, and what sort of journey would that be?
-The Spinster Chronicles, 7 July 1819
Michael Sandford had no friends.
That wasn’t true, he had plenty of friends; fellows he’d met at school, gentlemen of Society he’d associated with at events, and various other individuals that years in London had brought into his circle. The problem was that none of those friends were here.
Not a one.
What did it say about a man that he sat at a table at his club alone without anything to fill his time? More than once, Michael had looked around for a friendly face, and while many were familiar, none were his friends in truth. Just associates. Friends of Charlotte’s.
Not of his. Never his.
Wasn’t this just a delightful way to start his new way of life?
He stared moodily at the drink before him, one he’d hardly touched and had minimal interest in. What in the world was he even doing here? How was this going to help him?
The short answer was, of course, it wasn’t. But it always seemed that when a gentleman had nothing better to do, he went to his club. Michael had never been much of a club-goer, so he wasn’t entirely sure what one did there. Aside from sit, read, and gossip, that is.
Rather like a meeting of the Spinsters might have been.
Michael looked down at his hands as a bout of near-hysterical laughter threatened to rise and roll out of him. That would certainly get him thrown out of Brooks’s, and he couldn’t have that right now.
His club was all
