How was one supposed to retort anything when the subject departed prematurely? Clearly, Lord Sterling wanted the final word, and had to prove a point.
“I’m not altogether certain I’m particularly fond of your brother,” Michael told Hugh as he glowered after their host.
“Yes, well.” Hugh shrugged a shoulder. “He tends to have that effect on people. Ah, good. The dance is ending, and Tyrone will deliver my wife to me.”
Michael scoffed very softly. “And have you missed her terribly?”
Hugh gave him a sidelong look. “You’re not exactly in a position to mock my attentiveness to my wife, Sandford, and we both know it. I need only say the word lapdog, I think.”
The word drew in Michael’s breath almost at once, his chest seizing with the truth and pain of it. He was right; more than that, Michael could never mock any lovesick man or woman again. Years of only circling Charlotte, lingering at the edges of her attention, praying that she might call on him for a dance to separate herself from the pack. He had been the definition of a desperate man, made pathetic by love, and now that he saw it for what it was, he felt only embarrassment.
“Kindly look less nauseated at the sight of my approaching wife, thank you.”
Michael blinked and looked up, forcing his lips to curve upwards, though he wasn’t sure how much of a smile it was. Mrs. Sterling, fair-haired beauty she was, grinned brightly on the arm of the darker Mr. Demaris, her eyes fixed on her husband with a single-mindedness that felt too intimate to witness.
Still, Michael nodded in greeting. “Mrs. Sterling, you look remarkably well this evening.”
She glanced at him, her smile not wavering. “And as you have remarked, it proves your statement true. Thank you, Mr. Sandford.” She tilted her head as she slid her arm from Tyrone’s. “And please, call me Elinor. Were we in another setting, you know you would. You’ve done so before.”
Michael smiled, exhaling carefully. “That was before your marriage, Mrs. Sterling, and under far different circumstances.”
Elinor chuckled with more warmth than he had ever heard from her. “Michael, you’ve known me since I was twelve, at least. That’s longer than your youngest sister, and you’ve been calling me Elinor for most of them. Surely you’re not going to let a little thing like my marriage create a barrier between us.”
He continued to smile, though he blanched mentally. Elinor was thick as thieves with Charlotte and the rest. How could he continue familiarity with her when he was stretching himself further away from Charlotte? Then again, he had all but bound himself to Elinor’s husband in pursuit of his new aims, and he could hardly expect Hugh to keep secrets from his wife.
“Of course not, Elinor,” Michael eventually assured her, dipping his chin. “So long as your husband doesn’t get insanely jealous that I do.”
Hugh chortled and took his wife’s hand, kissing her glove. “I will fight the impulse to rage and roar and take solace in the knowledge that my wife 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
