All she had was hope, and it was enough to take a chance on.
Chapter Twenty-One
Opportunities are a funny business, though I have yet to find laughter accompanying them.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 23 July 1818
“What in the world are the Radcliffes doing here? I thought they were in Scotland.”
“They were. Just arrived yesterday. No idea why they’ve decided to attend tonight, but Janet is delighted to have them.”
Michael looked at Tyrone in bewilderment. “Why? There’s still a great deal of speculation and gossip surrounding them. They’d never be permitted in Almack’s and other hallowed halls.”
“Are you saying my halls are not hallowed?” Lord Sterling asked with playful superiority as he came up behind them.
“Well, you’re no Almack’s,” Michael retorted without concern, grinning at the man.
Hugh grimaced beside him. “Thank heavens. That place still haunts my dreams.”
“The matrons will be delighted to hear it,” his brother assured him, clamping a hand on his shoulder. “And they aren’t the only couple to return to London now.” He gestured to a striking couple chatting with the Spinsters.
“The Vales?” Michael exclaimed, gaping outright. “Did she not just have a child?”
Lord Sterling nodded, grinning wryly. “Indeed, but she was well enough to travel, so when I heard they had returned, we extended an invitation. Didn’t think they’d accept, but there they are.”
“What in the world brought them all back now? It’s nearing the end of the Season at this point, hardly any events remain.” Michael shook his head, taking in the additions to the Spinsters’ group with disbelief.
“Two guesses,” Tyrone said rather blandly. “Charlotte. Wright.” He indicated the group with a lazy finger.
Blinking, Michael looked at the group again.
There she was. Radiant in a gown he had never seen before, one of pale yellow and dotted with white rosettes, additional white flowers in her hair. She smiled and laughed with her friends, just as she had done for years. Yet something about her now was all the more striking, and he needed a moment to catch his breath.
“How do you mean?” he heard Hugh ask Tyrone. “You think they needed to meet Riley before he proposes?”
Would punching the host’s brother be frowned upon? Of all the idiotic suggestions…
“I think they came to be sure she was whole,” Tyrone explained without violence, which was more than Michael could have done. “Miss Wright is never unwell, and yet she begged off of everything for nearly two weeks. I have no doubt they rushed to London for her sake alone.”
That was a much more palatable suggestion, and Michael was pleased to consider that instead. He still had no idea what had caused Charlotte’s ill health, but he supposed that was not important. What mattered was that she was here tonight, which meant she was feeling recovered enough to appear in Society again. They could start their friendship again in truth, older and wiser, both with a more proper understanding of just what it was that lay between them.
He’d be only too glad to continue as they had been before.
And he knew himself well enough now to know that he could not drive out his love for Charlotte completely. He could only bury it, live with it, and move forward in full awareness of it.
Just as he’d always done.
“Is your Miss Palmer coming tonight?” Hugh asked Michael, the question innocent, but something deeper lingered beneath it.
Michael told him the truth. “I have no idea. And she is not mine.” He shrugged a shoulder, smiling at his friends.
Tyrone made a face of consideration. “Well, well. Won’t that surprise the masses? If you’ll excuse me, I owe Miss Wright a waltz.” He left them without any further ado.
Michael watched him go, frowning. “Why does he owe her a waltz?”
“You’d know better than me,” Hugh told him with a shrug. “Has he done her a favor?”
“How would I know?” Michael scowled, shaking his head. “I don’t like it.”
Lord Sterling laughed to himself. “Only because he was one of the Spinsters’ choices for Best Bachelor. But what do you have to worry about with Tyrone? Charlotte is entertaining Mr. Riley, is she not?”
“You are increasingly less helpful,” Michael growled as he watched Charlotte interact with Tyrone, noting the amusement in her face and the laughter they shared.
“Did Riley receive an invitation?” Hugh asked his brother.
“No. Charlotte had refused due to being unwell, so I didn’t bother. Then she changed her mind this morning, and I didn’t see the need to invite him at this late hour.”
That was some small comfort. Diana wasn’t here, and Riley wasn’t here. No courtships on display, no façade to uphold, and no agenda to see to. He could be him, and she could be her.
They didn’t have to speak, and it would be right enough if they didn’t. Perhaps they would dance, perhaps they would not. They had started over the other day, and he had no expectations of it. No, that wasn’t quite right. He expected to find a friend in her, and that he would be a friend for her. He wouldn’t be at her heels as he had been for so long, but he would be there in her life all the same.
Was that enough?
“Are you feeling more like throttling someone now?”
He glanced at Hugh’s rather leading question. “Why? Do you need somebody throttled?”
Hugh chuckled and nodded, clapping Michael on the arm approvingly. “That is much better, Sandford. Much, much better.” He continued to nod, smiling as he turned away.
“What?” Michael demanded after him, but no answer was given. He turned to Lord Sterling, the only one still standing near him.
The man looked just as confused as Michael felt. “I have no idea what’s going on. Don’t look to me for answers.”
Michael made a face and tugged at his cravat. “I’m beginning to think I don’t know,
