Charlotte’s brows rose, and she flicked her eyes to Michael before returning to Diana. “Yes…”
The gasp that escaped Diana startled Michael to such an extent that he jumped, but somehow, Charlotte and Mr. Riley maintained composure.
“I never thought I would get to meet you, Miss Wright!” Diana said in a voice higher than her natural one. “I’ve read every issue of the Spinster Chronicles from the very first edition. We get the London papers at our home in Derbyshire, and I adore every word. I find them extraordinary, and I cannot begin to tell you what an honor it is to sit across from you.”
If Michael could have left the table, he would have done so now. Stormed out of the room and never returned. Diana had heard of Charlotte, and was apparently an ardent admirer of her? What did Michael do to deserve this?
“You are too kind, Miss Palmer,” Charlotte murmured, a slight smile on her face.
Michael knew that smile. Charlotte was amused and uncomfortable at the same time, and her good nature would not let her make Diana feel that she had erred or misstepped in any way.
“What made you wish to write the Chronicles?” Diana demanded without shame. She turned to Michael, brow furrowing. “How do you know Miss Wright? Oh, you must move in the same circles in London, of course you do.”
“Actually,” Charlotte broke in, her voice gentle but firm, “Michael here is one of my oldest friends.”
Oh, gads, did they really have to do this?
Again came a gasp from Diana. “You are? Oh my goodness, how did you meet? Were you children?”
“We were, yes,” Michael said quickly, hoping they could end this painful interlude sooner rather than later. “I was seven or eight, wandering the edges of my family estate, and Charlotte was swinging on the branches of a large weeping willow on her family’s pond.”
“Were you really?” Mr. Riley asked Charlotte, laughing as he looked at her. “Why does that not surprise me?”
So Mr. Riley already knew Charlotte well enough to know how unconventional and daring she could be when she wished.
Marvelous.
“I was,” Charlotte conceded as she looked at Michael quickly before dipping her spoon into the white soup. “It seemed a rather good natural rope to swing on to me.”
Diana and Mr. Riley laughed, while Michael only smiled, though the smile pained him. “I believe I asked what she was doing,” he told them, “and she said something of the sort, then insisted I try.”
“And how did you fare?” Mr. Riley inquired, still grinning.
“At first, well enough.” Michael poured himself a glass of Madeira, focusing there rather than on any of the people near him. “She took another turn, and then I did, and then…” He paused, looking up at Charlotte.
She picked up the story at once. “And then I dared him to go further, which Michael did, only to lose his grip and fall directly into the pond.”
Mr. Riley laughed while Diana gasped and giggled. Charlotte smiled, though she glanced at Michael repeatedly.
He forced his mouth to relax into a set smile that took minimal effort to maintain. “The pond was not deep, and I could swim well. I believe our adventure ended there, and we both went home, planning to meet again another day.”
And Michael had started falling in love with Charlotte from then on.
But that part would remain unsaid.
“And meet again we did,” Charlotte went on. “We got into all kinds of scrapes, sometimes bringing my brother along. One of Michael’s sisters may never forgive me for some of our tricks.”
“It’s true,” Michael added before he could stop himself. “She reminds Charlotte of it every time they meet.”
They shared a smile, then both looked down at their meals.
“What a charming pair of scamps you must have been!” Mr. Riley exclaimed, drawing Michael’s attention back up.
The man was looking at Charlotte with warmth and familiarity, and she was looking back at him with the same.
“I don’t know how charming our parents thought we were,” Charlotte laughed, “but they certainly learned we were inseparable. For a while, at least.”
“Yes,” Michael murmured, feeling himself grow colder the more Charlotte and Mr. Riley gazed at each other. “For a while.”
He swallowed and turned to Diana, smiling through his coldness. “The soup is marvelous, is it not?”
Supper lasted an interminable length of time, and it was even longer before Michael could escape to the card room. Not to play or to gamble, but to drink. He needed an excessive amount of drink, indeed.
Unfortunately, all Eden had to offer was port and various wines.
So Michael sat at a lone card table, no cards in sight, and drank.
“What in the name of bloody blazes are you doing?”
The question came from Hugh, but Lord Sterling and Tyrone Demaris likely thought the same as they stood on either side of him.
Michael squinted as he poured more wine into his glass. “I am trying to get wildly intoxicated using what Eden left at our disposal.”
“Why are you trying to get drunk?” Lord Sterling inquired in a surprisingly mild tone.
“Because I want to.”
Hugh hummed in a doubtful tone. “I really don’t think you do.”
Michael slammed the bottle of wine down, jostling his glass and spilling some of the liquid onto his sleeve. “Yes, I bloody well do! I have never been well and truly soused, it was always reckless and irresponsible, and right now reckless and irresponsible is exactly what I want to be!”
The three men looked at him, then at each other. “He can’t stay here and get soused,” Tyrone murmured. “It would take ages, and there are witnesses. We can take him to the club.”
“Surely you’re not going to indulge this,” Lord Sterling protested.
Hugh frowned. “Better we indulge him under our care than leave him be and let him fend for himself. I’ll make certain he doesn’t get too far gone.”
Michael shook his head, swallowing a bitter taste in his mouth. “You can shove me in a hack and send me on my way when I
