“That seems reasonable to me.” They turned together, and Michael cocked his head. “Now that you mention it, those match my aims as well.”
Alice narrowed her dark eyes at him. “Don’t agree with me to be agreeable. That’s not at all enjoyable.”
Michal sighed as they moved in line behind the other couples. “I’m not. No designs, remember? We are friends, and an alliance would see that we both enjoy ourselves for the next few weeks. What say you?”
“I won’t pretend that having a gentleman I am not related to and in whose company I’ll feel no pressure to behave well would not be a great relief…” She mused, an impish smile appearing. “Very well, I accept. What’s more, I’m going to give Hugh a sound bit of advice as to how to best help you make a splash.”
“Make a splash?” Michael repeated in some dismay. “I have no intention of…”
“A quiet splash,” Alice overrode as they parted, turning about their opposites. “Hardly any noise, barely a drop in the pond.”
Michael shook his head, feeling more and more trapped with every new connection he made. “That sounded entirely too much like Miranda for my liking.”
Alice giggled prettily and curtsied as part of the dance, though it seemed she would have done so anyway. “My aunt Miranda and I have grown particularly close in the last few months, and I may say it does me credit.”
It was all Michael could do not to run from his partner in terror. Miranda Sterling, lovely though she was, could frighten and intimidate any general, admiral, or monarch into behaving how she thought best. The relationship between her and her stepson Tony, Georgie Sterling’s husband, was one of the fondest he’d seen outside of the true maternal bond, but even Tony feared her.
He suddenly had a very clear idea of what exactly Alice might propose to her brothers, and he didn’t like it at all.
“Please don’t…” he groaned as they continued to dance.
“Oh, it is too late for that,” Alice said on a laugh, nearly skipping in the next dance motions. “She heard Hugh tell me to dance with you, so she’s already planning something. We’re all done for now!”
Michael made a face but managed to finish the dance creditably. He returned Alice to her brothers, neither of whom would meet his eyes, then quickly went in search of Tyrone, possibly the only one who wouldn’t feed him to Miranda.
Unless she had gotten to him first.
A laugh he knew too well floated across the heads of the guests and met his ears. An accompanying shiver shot both up and down his spine, scattering in a thousand different pieces about his body.
Someone was amusing Charlotte. It was a true laugh, not a pretended one, and he was one of the few people in the world who could tell the difference.
Who amused her? What had amused her? Had she been amused all evening or just now? Was someone new amusing her or was it one of her regular chaps who wasn’t worth a ha’penny?
Why did he bloody well care?
“Michael?”
Mrs. Wright’s voice stopped him, forced him to turn, could not be ignored, nor could it be spurned. She had been near as much a mother to him as his own, and whatever he might feel towards Charlotte, he could not extend the same to her mother.
“Mrs. Wright, good evening.” He smiled as genuinely as he could, taking her hand and bowing over it. “My, don’t you look wonderful.”
Her returning smile said far more than he expected, and he was curious how many other people knew more than he expected.
More than Charlotte did, at any rate.
“It is so lovely to see you,” she insisted, squeezing his hand tightly. “We haven’t seen you at home for a few weeks.”
Michael nodded once. “I’m afraid I have taken up my mother’s wishes to start establishing a life for myself, Mrs. Wright, and that takes up a good deal of my time. I’m sorry if I… if I have been missed.”
“You have been, but all is well.” Her smile warmed him as much as it saddened him. “You must certainly look after your own concerns and interests, as you have looked after some of ours for so long.” Her smile spread, then she patted his hand and stepped away, moving past him to other parts of the ballroom.
Why did he suddenly feel as though some great farewell had just been made or that he’d been released from a shackling he hadn’t been aware of? Whatever it was, however it happened, Michael had to fight to complete a swallow, and, blinking twice, turned to continue his search for Tyrone. Or anyone, really, who might improve his evening from what it presently was.
He caught sight of Tyrone, being oddly social, and headed in that direction.
With perfect timing, Tyrone turned at Michael’s approach, grinning in welcome. “Sandford, what a chance. Do you know Miss Lawson and her sister, Miss Anne?”
“By sight, I believe, but not officially.” He bowed to the pair of ladies, eerily similar in their fair looks. “How do you do?”
“Tolerably well, Mr. Sandford,” Miss Lawson told him with a dip of her chin, though her eyes seemed to not particularly care for what she was taking in. She raised a dubious brow, her expression approaching distaste.
Well, then…
Michael could have smiled, but somehow managed to maintain his polite expression. “And you, Miss Anne?”
Anne Lawson was far less snobbish than her sister, if the way she looked at him was any indication, and she curtseyed with grace. “Well, Mr. Sandford, thank you. Are you finding the ball to your liking?”
“I am, yes,” he replied, his smile appearing now.
Tyrone nudged him hard in the side, nearly puncturing a lung with the sharpness, though his expression did not change.
“But,” Michael added quickly, “it would be all the better if you would take the next dance with me, Miss Anne.”
The eyes of both Lawson sisters widened, and Anne grinned without reserve. “I would be delighted, Mr. Sandford,
