She frowned. “Not pleasantly enough, evidently. Was she very cross that you returned to London?”
He shook his head, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair absently. “Not at all. It is during the Season, after all, and she expects that. I promised to return to them in the autumn, so I have no doubt she will run me through my paces again.”
“She’ll have you married by Christmas.”
“Very likely.”
They shared a bemused look, knowing that it wouldn’t happen, no matter what his mother said or did. Michael had no inclination to marry, had never courted anybody, and, as far as Charlotte knew, had never even considered such a thing.
Other than the one time.
But that was ages ago.
“Charlotte…” Michael said slowly, his voice both teasing and prodding.
She pursed her lips, only answering with a questioning look.
His expression was all too knowing, and his eternal patience was in full force. “What’s wrong?”
Closing her eyes, Charlotte exhaled, feeling a strange tension begin to whirl in her chest. “Nothing at all.”
“Try again.”
Her eyes squeezed more tightly shut, willing the emotion she’d hidden to stay as such. “No.”
“Charlotte.”
How did he do that? How did he see through her fortress of defenses and through her deferrals into the truth of her feelings? He’d been able to do so for years, with such accuracy that she was convinced that, at times, he was the only one who could see her.
She had plenty of friends, the best of which were like sisters.
But Michael was different. He always had been.
“I’m not married,” Charlotte admitted in a whisper.
The silence in the room was almost deafening.
“Are you supposed to be?” Michael asked slowly.
She glanced over at him, managing to smile at the sight of his abject confusion. “No. And yes. All of the Spinsters are now, and…” she bit her lip, shrugging, “I’ve been left behind.”
Michael’s brow furrowed, and he straightened in his chair before leaning forward. “I don’t think they’ve done so on purpose. It’s natural to bind themselves to their husbands.”
“I know that.” She flicked her hand in a quick gesture. “What’s more, I like their husbands. I understand why they’ve done it, and I encouraged it. It’s just… I don’t know. I feel the strangest sense of loss, Michael.”
“But you haven’t lost anyone,” he pointed out. “You still see your friends all the time, don’t you?”
Charlotte nodded. “I do. And we still write the Chronicles, but everything is different now. We can no longer be the same friends as we have been. Everything has changed.”
She shook her head, looking down at her fingers now resting in her lap. “They have husbands who need them, and children, in some cases. The freedom to do as we please whenever we please is gone. I am not among the first in their thoughts.”
Pausing, Charlotte scoffed to herself. “Not me, you understand. Not alone, but us... We. The collective Spinsters. Of a truth, Michael, I have never minded being a spinster, especially not when I had such friends around me in the same straits. But now I find that I alone remain, and I wonder if I wasn’t grossly mistaken in finding satisfaction as I was, for now I feel so terribly alone.”
Her voice broke very slightly at the end, and she clenched her fingers together, as though it could somehow strengthen her.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” Michael murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I never thought… Never considered that you’d feel like this.”
She shook her head, forcing a lightness back into her tone. “Nor did I. I’m an heiress, it does not particularly matter if I marry or not. I’ve always known this. Ironically, if I hadn’t made friends with the other girls and grown so close, I’d likely not care that they had gotten married off. Everybody does, after all.”
“Not everybody,” Michael insisted. He raised a dark brow at her. “You know that.”
“Clearly.” She rolled her eyes and huffed. “Most everybody does, and it’s hardly a surprise that they do so. But it never quite occurred to me that the Spinsters would.”
He grunted once. “Did it not?
“Even Elinor got a husband! Elinor, Michael!” She shook her head, sputtering. “If you can call that a husband.”
Michael exhaled noisily, not nearly as upset about the thing as he ought to have been. “So what are you going to do, Charlotte? I’m assuming you already have some sort of plan to recover yourself.”
Charlotte lifted her chin, smiling with a calm she did not feel as she prepared to speak her plan aloud. “I have.”
“And?”
“I’m getting a husband.”
Chapter Two
Far be it from this author to tell anyone how to behave, but it seems that one’s reaction to surprising news ought to be restrained and words carefully chosen, lest offense be given. Privately, however, one may hold any number of opinions on the subject, in word and expression.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 17 October 1816
“Explain it to me again.”
“It’s simple enough.”
“Yes, but I need to hear it again.”
“I’m getting a husband.”
Michael Sandford blinked, blinked again, then shook his head. “Right, that’s not getting any clearer.” He exhaled roughly, wondering if Charlotte had truly lost her mind this time.
She was getting a husband? How? Where?
“Who?” he asked, his voice dipping as something sharp lanced through his chest.
Charlotte’s brow furrowed, shielding her dark eyes slightly from view. “Well, I’m not sure yet.”
“You’re…” The tension eased slightly, but Michael stared at his oldest friend without any actual comprehension. “Charlotte, you aren’t making any sense, and normally that doesn’t bother me, but this is really too much.”
She sneered at him, then sobered. “What’s so complicated about it? I’ve simply decided that it is time I marry, and I am determined to do so. I’m not set on a man, given I haven’t seen many worth considering since I’ve made my decision, but I will make a concentrated effort from this moment on to find a husband.”
Michael could only shake his head, bringing a hand to his brow. “Haven’t you been absolutely avoiding that? You
