Chapter 19 - Michael
Michael waited in the park for a half hour once Sheldon left the grand townhome, then was ushered into the small back parlor.
Claire stood frowning at the window, the afternoon sunshine falling gently upon her and setting her hair aglow.
Michael thought the strands looked like a glass of honey held to the light when the sun hit them just so.
“Good afternoon, Claire,” Michael said. “What a lovely dress.”
“Oh, hello, Michael,” she said, blinking down at herself. “Thank you.”
“It’s precisely the shade of Sylvia’s hair at the moment.”
She smiled. “It’s lightened since I saw her last, then. Would you care for some tea?”
“Of course.” He gave a cheeky grin. “You know I only come round for the biscuits.”
She shook her head, smiling as she poured Michael a cup.
“Well?” Michael asked, his eyebrow arched. “How was Sniveling Sheldon?”
Claire nearly choked on her tea. “Sniveling Sheldon, indeed.”
“Was he not?” He arched his eyebrows in question. “Perhaps he’s changed in the years since I last knew him.”
“He was fine. Perfectly appropriate, as you said.”
So Lord Sheldon had been as advertised, then. He was the most boring man on the face of the planet…which, of course, was what Claire had said she wanted. For a moment, Michael thought that he’d accidentally succeeded in providing her the perfect man to marry.
“I only wonder if…” She frowned morosely into her teacup, and Michael felt a jolt of happiness.
“If he’s not to your taste,” he said airily, waving his hand, “there are plenty others.”
“Are there really?” Claire brightened and straightened in her chair.
“Of course,” he said. “Tweeds are plentiful, and their mothers would all be more than happy to foist them on you. Actually,” he said, smiling without an ounce of rancor, “it’s more like their mothers would be thrilled to invite you into their households, for let’s be honest, none of those men are ever leaving home. ”
Michael caught the small frown playing at her lips and swallowed back a smile. So she hadn’t thought of that part yet, had she? No matter; he’d planted the idea, and Claire’s mind was a fertile place for any thought to grow.
He continued, “For example, Lord Sheldon lives with his mother. She’s quite young, by the by.
Sheldon was the product of his father’s second marriage.
His mother is actually much closer to your age than you’d think.
I bet that you and she would be friends of a sort after a while.
Though it might be difficult to decide who has the run of the place.
” He frowned as if considering it for the first time.
Claire studied him with narrowed eyes. Perhaps he’d been too on the nose with his comment about running the household.
“You will not frighten me away from him,” she said.
“I don’t mean to. You’re smart enough to decide what you want for your future.”
That’s what Michael was counting on. It was only a matter of time before Claire would come to realize that these men would do nothing but bore her, and that she ought to be with someone far more engaging and intelligent than any of these louts.
Claire should be with him and no one else. Michael could forgive her for not realizing it at first, as long as she came around to the right view of things eventually.
“To that end,” he said, “I think that there is a Mr. Gray that might be of interest to you.”
She blinked. “A mister? Have we run through the list of eligible nobility already?”
He chuckled. “Mr. Gray is exceedingly wealthy and the first cousin of the Duke of Heinrich.”
“Yet he does not have a title himself. If you aren’t capable of fulfilling my requirements, perhaps I should look for said gentleman on my own,” she said tartly.
“Have I failed you so thoroughly already? Isn’t Lord Sheldon still on your list?”
“He is.” She frowned.
“If you don’t think I’m necessary to the process anymore…” He shifted as if to stand, and her eyes widened.
Claire flapped her hand at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I apologize; I’m just in a foul mood.”
“There will be many more of those, I imagine, if you marry Lord Sheldon. The man is a walking foul mood. Do you know that the boys and I used to make a game of it at Eton?” He leaned forward, a mischievous sparkle in his eye.
“We used to see if we could force him to agree with a positive statement.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Claire topped her tea off with a warming pour.
“I mean that we would take turns saying good things, happy things, and seeing whether we could ever back Sheldon into a corner to say something nice about anything.”
“Is he truly that bad?” She cringed.
“I’ll not lie to you. The only things we ever got him to say positive things about were his mother, the consistency of the oatmeal, and, on one long, interminable journey, the quality of the carriage springs.
And that was only because we got him to admit that they were at least better than the last carriage we’d been on. ”
“Perhaps I should scratch Lord Sheldon from the list.” She frowned. Then her eyes lightened. “You did say there were others, did you not?”
“Indeed, Mr. Gray, as formerly mentioned, might be a good option. And then there is Lord Graves.”
She grimaced. “Goodness sakes, what dreadful names. Gray. Graves.”
“Indeed, though I think that the former Lady Graves thought that his massive fortune was consolation enough for the moniker.”
Claire tilted her head as if considering. “Just how massive is the fortune?”
“Large enough that you will undoubtedly encounter competition for his attention,” he said dryly. “I’m sure that there are some ladies who feel he’s their last option.”
“I don’t feel he’s my last option.”
“Quite right. You’re in the prime of your life. Which brings me to my original point,” he said smoothly. “Instead of chasing the most dreadful men of the ton, why don’t you treat this Season as your brother originally intended it—an opportunity to find someone you truly care for? Someone you love?”
“Because love doesn’t save you from hardship. Love isn’t enough when the collectors come calling.”
He frowned. “I thought we’d already discussed this.”
“We have.” She sighed as if in resignation.
“Besides,” he said carefully, “you speak as if it is clearly delineated. Black or white. Love or poverty.”
“Those who don’t love their spouses have a clear enough head to deal with any troubles that may arise.”
“Is that what you think? That love is a weakness?”
“No.” She shook her head, then blinked up at him through her lashes. “Although perhaps I do, deep down.”
“Do you think it would have made it any easier to go through what you experienced if you didn’t love your family?”
Claire pressed her lips together. “That is the entire point of this exercise— I don’t wish to go through that again.”
“Your goal might be an intelligent one, but I don’t think the way you’re going about it is logical in the least.”
She blinked rapidly and looked out the window.
He softened his voice, canted it low. “Claire, you are a remarkably intelligent young lady. Beautiful in every way. If any lady has a hope of making a man fall desperately in love with her, it’s you.
Why on earth would you deny yourself all possible happiness when it’s no decent protection against all that could go wrong in the future? ”
“I have already proven that I can lose fiscally and survive,” she said. “But I don’t think I could survive—” At the last moment, she snapped her mouth shut like garden shears, clipping off the rest of her words.
“Love is a risk.” He nodded. “A very large risk. Someone is going to die before the other—it’s just the nature of things. But I would argue that the greatest loss wouldn’t be you losing love eventually. It would be never letting yourself have it in the first place. Claire, look at me.”
Her green eyes finally drifted back to his. Michael gave a gentle smile when he saw that they were full of unshed tears. “You are one of the most courageous women I’ve ever known. Surely you will not be a coward in this matter.”
“A coward?” She blinked; her chin jutted. The softness of the former moment was all but forgotten, frosted over in the face of her wrath. “You’re saying I’m a coward?”
He thought about his assessment, then nodded. “In this, yes.”
“What of you?” she hissed. “You who would risk nothing. You who doesn’t ever ask a young lady to dance except for the sake of social convention. You who retreat from true affection by engaging in shallow trysts. I suppose you would know much about being a coward in the way of love, would you not?”
Though her words stung, he tucked them away for future examination and responded gently. “Then perhaps we should make a deal. I will try to fall in love this Season if you will.”
Claire reared back and blinked as if Michael had proposed something far more shocking than the words he’d actually uttered. “What?”
“You’re right. Other than that once, I’ve never truly engaged in the Season. My mother has been telling me it’s been time for years. I’ll make a deal with you: if you try, I’ll try, too.”
Claire stared at his offered hand as if it were a snake. “You’re going to try to what? To get married?”
Michael chuckled, shook his head. “You and I both know that I could do that next week if I wished. No, I’m proposing something far more shocking and dangerous.
That I’ll search for love if you will. True love.
I’ll court ladies who interest me, to see if there is anything worth pursuing.
In return, you’ll allow yourself to be courted as if it is your first Season. ”
As if you haven’t been hurt, he wanted to say.
Claire pressed her lips together and turned back to the window. Michael knew her well enough to recognize that she was deep in thought, and he allowed her enough time to process what he’d said. His words had admittedly been a whim, but as he spoke he’d heard the rightness of them.
Besides, he already knew who he wanted to court; he already knew which lady had captured his everlasting interest. He’d be damned if he saw Claire waste her life, leg-shackled to one of the most boring, gloomy men in London.
“What if none of them want me?” she whispered.
“Impossible,” he said, even as a heady swirl of victory ran through him. “You are beautiful, intelligent, caring, and protective of those you love. If any man doesn’t see your worth, then he’s an idiot.”
Claire stared at her teacup and nibbled her lower lip, an action that never failed to threaten to drive him to distraction. So he sipped his tea and looked out the same window her gaze had just vacated.
“I don’t want to do this alone,” she admitted. “That was half the benefit of—”
Michael smiled, pleased at the implication in her words. She thought she would miss him. Little did she know, he wasn’t going anywhere.
“You don’t have to do it alone. We can still be in each other’s confidence. I daresay you know things about the feminine set that I don’t. I certainly know things you don’t about the males. We can help each other.”
Claire took a fortifying breath, then nodded. “Very well.”
“It’s a deal?” He held out a hand again.
She reached out and slipped her delicate hand into his much larger one. He shook it and released her fingers, though he wished to hold her hand for the rest of the day.
Or for a lifetime, he corrected.
“It’s a deal.”