He hadn’t talked to another soul the whole evening but her.
Charlotte returned to the box at some point, but he’d forced himself not to notice, not to care, and even now could not recollect at what point she’d returned.
That had been several nights ago, and he still hadn’t officially established a courtship with Diana. He thought it only right that he should be free of his feelings for Charlotte before he did so, and that he should feel he had done penance enough to expunge the mistake from his soul.
And that brought him to this chapel a stone’s throw from his London home, sitting quietly in the pew.
Praying.
“I’m beginning to think you ought to have become a clergyman.”
Michael smirked to himself and raised his head, glancing to the aisle where Miranda Sterling stood. “I’d have been dreadful at it, I can assure you.”
“That doesn’t stop a great many clergymen, which proves you would have been decent enough.” She smiled and flicked her fingers, indicating he move further down the bench.
He did so, gesturing for her to sit beside him. “What makes you think I come here often?”
Miranda’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “I’ve seen you, Michael. You’ve taken to coming around the same time every day, and it happens to be when I come.”
He cocked a brow at her. “You attend church daily?”
“I’m a devoted Christian, my dear, but even I am not so pious.” She scoffed and turned her turbaned head towards the front of the chapel. “No, I meet with Mr. Jenkins on the regular. It is astonishing how abandoned the poor of each parish are in London. One would never dream of such in the country, but we forget all manners in London. So I come for a daily assignment to assist where I can.”
Michael frowned at her, though the generosity in her words touched him greatly. “I didn’t realize this was your parish in London.”
Her mouth quirked to one side. “It isn’t. Mr. Jenkins is a cousin’s son, so I pay him a special attention. Don’t tell the Lord, I daresay we aren’t permitted favorites among his shepherds.”
“I’ll keep your secret, if secrets from the Lord do not damn us.”
She chuckled and nodded in approval. “Brava, Michael. Now, will you tell a friend what brings you to the hallowed halls of the church so often? Not family cares, I hope.”
Michael sighed, knowing that Miranda was as wise as she was eccentric, but also knowing her devotion to the Spinsters, and therefore to Charlotte. It would be a risk above anything to confide all, and he dared not do it. Only Miranda could pry so personally and not offend.
“No,” he told her simply, “my family is well. This is…” He twisted his lips, searching for words. “Seeking guidance, I suppose. Forgiveness. Inspiration. Motivation.”
“That seems a great deal for the Lord to do at one time,” Miranda tsked. “Is He accustomed to so fervent a list from you?”
Michael had to laugh at that. “No, actually. I was just considering that. I attend services as often as any good Christian, but my devotion is certainly lacking.”
Miranda harrumphed softly. “Then I hardly think this would be the place to find the answers.”
“Are you telling me to cease my diligent prayer?” Michael inquired dryly, feeling more relaxed by the second as they sat here, which was astonishing in and of itself.
“I would never,” she vowed solemnly, crossing herself in dutiful fashion. “But I’ve always thought the Lord expected us to act as well as pray, and you seem to only be doing the one. Rather difficult for the path to be made clear if you are not walking.”
There was an idea, and a rather sound one. He had felt quite trapped by his indecision, and by his guilt, so he had chosen to do nothing for fear of making another false step. Yet what good would that do him? Nothing would change if he did not move, and change was what he sought.
Michael turned to the woman beside him with a warm smile. “You are a wealth of wisdom, Miranda.”
She dimpled with an almost matronly pride. “Yes, I do try to tell people so, but alas…” She winked and rose, gracefully stepping out of the pew and moving towards the front of the chapel. “Go do something, dear. It will do you good.”
He smiled after her, watching as she moved to the rooms off of the chapel to meet with Jenkins. The moment she disappeared, he slid out of the pew himself and walked out of the church, wearing a true smile for what had to be the first time since attending the theater.
He could have gone home and changed, and probably should have, but he had a sense that if he returned home before his errand was complete, it would not, in fact, get completed. Besides, he was dressed finely enough. It was part of his habit now, which would have delighted Tyrone’s valet to no end. He was fully presentable to meet with Greensley for the appropriate conversation, and it was not as though Greensley would judge him for what he wore even if he had not had his entire wardrobe exchanged for finer things.
“This is excellent timing. I was just coming to your house to call on you.”
Michael glanced at the approaching Hugh Sterling with wry amusement. “I’m beginning to think I am being followed by the Sterlings.”
Hugh’s high brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Nothing,” Michael muttered, shaking his head. “And it is rather good timing, as I would not have been home when you called.”
“Are you not going home now?” Hugh asked, gesturing the way. “It is the right
