Miss Palmer’s eyes narrowed a touch, and he had the sense she was sizing him up, though he could not have said what for. “Is that what the Season should be about? Enjoying one’s self?”
“I’ve always thought so.” Michael continued to smile at her, charmed by her lack of silliness and intrigued by her lack of airs. She was beautiful, effortlessly so, but there also seemed to be a clever wit lurking beneath that fine façade, and therein lay much of his curiosity and interest, if he were totally honest.
“I suppose it would depend on what one does for enjoyment,” Hugh added as Mrs. Greensley dealt the cards. “If the events and opportunities the Season can offer are of interest, one might find great enjoyment in it. If the country life is more suited, then alas…”
Mrs. Greensley chuckled softly. “Indeed, Mr. Sterling. I adore the ease of country life myself, but London does hold some pleasures for me in spite of this. Enough to bring me into town for a few weeks, at the very least.”
Hugh chuckled as he pulled his cards towards him. “If you might convey that information to my wife, Mrs. Greensley, it would be much appreciated. She has no desire to remove to the country at any time, whereas I have lost my taste for London altogether.”
That earned Hugh a sympathetic look from the woman as she finished her dealing of the cards. “I can understand that, sir, though it does sadden me on your behalf.”
Hugh’s smile was fleeting. “You are too kind.” He glanced at the card she flipped over. “Trumps are clubs.”
“What is my cousin talking about?” Miss Palmer asked Michael in an undertone. “Or is it too dear a topic?”
Michael flicked his gaze between the other two at their table, and, seeing their occupation with their cards, pretended the same. “Mr. Sterling spent a time of his adult life engaging in unsavory behaviors with unsavory people, though nothing particularly scandalous in his own case. One of his closest friends, a man cut from the same cloth, attempted to compromise Mr. Sterling’s sister.”
Miss Palmer could barely restrain her gasp, one shaking hand making a show of fiddling her cards. “Oh, heavens. Was she ruined?”
“Nearly, but not altogether. She is quite well and rather a popular girl now, but Mr. Sterling was shaken to his core.”
“As any proper sibling would be.” She looked at the man in question, biting her lip. “Poor man.”
Michael nodded, clearing his throat and leaning closer. “He is most repentant now, and quite changed. So that, I believe, is why London no longer holds its former charms.”
Miss Palmer shook her head, sighing. “I do hope his wife understands that. He should not have to remain if the memories are so painful.”
“He is newly married,” Michael informed her, finding himself smiling, “and rather inclined to dote on his bride, I think. The affection is quite mutual. I don’t think either of them mind being anywhere, if they are together.”
Something in his words made Miss Palmer smile, her dark eyes darting to him before turning to her cards. “What a lovely thought. Would that all matches had the same understanding.”
“I quite agree, Miss Palmer,” Michael murmured, smiling at her with increased interest. “Most heartily.”
“Diana, my dear,” Mrs. Greensley broke in, still holding a laugh in her voice. “Do you intend to follow my lead? Mr. Sterling has played.”
Color raced into Miss Palmer’s cheeks, and she looked at the pair of discarded cards quickly. “Oh, goodness, forgive me. I don’t know where my head is.”
“Don’t you?” her cousin mused very softly, her words far too low for Miss Palmer to hear, though Michael caught them quite clearly.
His own cheeks began to flush, and he focused on his cards, lest he should get a similar hint from his partner.
The rounds continued in moderate silence for a handful of minutes, during which Michael became acutely aware of the woman next to him, and the eyes of their partners. He couldn’t be sure, but he would have bet a good deal that the pair of them were watching Michael and Miss Palmer closely.
Were people always thrown into speculation upon the first meeting? It was an unnerving amount of pressure, despite the fact that he had just spoken of the lack of pressure during this time of the Season. The irony there was not lost on him, though he supposed he had earned his share of speculation and irony at this relatively late point of his life. He’d never been suspected of harboring romantic feelings for any lady, not even Charlotte.
Which was even stranger, as he had harbored the strongest feelings about her.
Had.
He paused as he laid a moderately scored card in the diamond suit, something stilling in the pit of his stomach. Had he lost his feelings for Charlotte? He couldn’t have, they had been his constant companion for years, though not always in the forefront of his mind.
He’d told her not to bring her suitors to his attention, not to discuss anything of the sort with him, and she had seemed to agree. He could not deny that the dinner they’d shared at the Bonds’ party had been awkward and painful, but it had been a conversation long overdue. And it was not as though he were cutting her off, as it were. More just giving them room to grow.
That was it. Room to grow and explore what other people might have to offer them.
No, his feelings for Charlotte were not gone, he decided. He only had to look a bit harder for them.
What an intriguing idea.
“Sandford, I am beginning to wonder about your strategy.”
Michael blinked and looked across the table at Hugh. “Pardon?”
Hugh lowered his eyes meaningfully to the table before them, and Michael followed his gaze.
The cards there, while all diamonds, showed that Hugh had won the trick with a jack, but Michael, instead of keeping his cards low so that
