Page 31 of Pursued Beyond Treachery
She stared up at his face. A polite smile graced his lips and for the first time she noted how full they were. Not that they puffed out, but they appeared healthy and moist, not thin and chapped like other men’s. What would it be like to kiss lips as soft and warm as his?
John stepped to the side, his arm suddenly pulling her off balance, but not before she collided with someone, her teeth clinking with the impact. John’s arms came up to right her.
A man with dark hair spun to face them. She blinked a time or two trying to clear her foggy head. When she did, her cheeks flamed. She’d been so occupied with looking at John that she’d walked right into someone. A handsome someone, no less.
“My apologies, miss. I had not meant to back into you.”
“No, it is my fault for not paying attention to my surroundings. Do forgive me.” Susannah took note of his broad shoulders and fine figure. Perfectly styled dark hair curled about his ears.
His smile grew. She smiled and dropped her gaze.
John gave a little tug on her arm to indicate he wished to continue on. The stranger apologized again, but she had no time to answer as they were already walking away. She wanted to ask who the man was, but when she turned to look at John, his face was set in a deep frown.
A tiny shard of shame pricked her heart. Had she embarrassed him?
When they reached the table, he spoke slowly. “P-please forgive me… for not being a better escort.”
Relief washed over her. “It is not your fault that I am so unobservant. Without you, I would have come to much more harm. I believe your tug pulled me out of the way of the greatest impact.”
His serious expression lightened and his shoulders relaxed. “What drink might I get you?”
She glanced down at the table’s contents. There was a questionable punch at the end of the table with small cakes and pastries laid out next to it. At the other end were glasses of negus and orgeat. She chose the latter, preferring the orange and almond flavored drink to the others. When he handed it to her, however, she realized she no longer held her fan. She glanced about herself, wondering where it had gone.
John leaned into her line of sight. “Is something the matter?”
“I seemed to have misplaced my fan.”
Lifting her gaze from the floor around them, she peered about the room. An idea settled in her mind. “I think I may have dropped it when I bumped into that gentleman.”
She placed her half-consumed drink back on the table, a servant eyeing her as she did so, but there was no help for it. She needed to locate her fan. Lady Stanford had gifted her the intricately painted piece and it would be an insult to have lost it so soon.
John walked slowly next to her as they returned the way they’d come, their eyes sweeping the floor. When they reached the spot where the mishap had happened, they stopped, combing the area carefully. Still no fan.
“Could someone have picked it up?” she asked.
“Perhaps. Either that or all the moving feet may have displaced it.”
They agreed to go in separate directions from the spot in hopes they’d find it faster. In the center of the large room Susannah saw it peeking out from under a matronly woman’s skirts. She paused, her gaze traveling up lavishly adorned lavender silk to a pinched face. The woman bent to the side, holding her own fan to her mouth, speaking softly to a taller, angular lady.
Not knowing who they were, Susannah dared not approach, but hovered nearby to see if she could catch one of their names. Perhaps she could find someone to introduce them. Otherwise it would be exceedingly rude for her to interrupt them by reaching under the shorter lady’s skirts.
“I did not s-see it near the wall,” John whispered.
Susannah startled at the warmth of his breath on her ear, her head bumping into his nose as she straightened. He reeled back and she grimaced.
He rubbed the offended appendage. “M-m-my a-apologies.”
A sudden urge to laugh so overcame her that she had to cup a hand over her mouth to keep it from spilling out. The reaction was illogical, but she could not help herself. How many mistakes could she make in one evening?
“I do not know why you are apologizing when it was I who hit you. It seems I am doomed this evening to beg forgiveness of everyone.”
A large group of people entered and Susannah’s gaze shot to where her fan lay on the floor. It would be even more difficult to retrieve it with all the ladies and gentlemen now joining them.
John must have followed her gaze. “I will f-fetch it.”
Stepping in front of her, he approached the two ladies. “Lady Plum, Mrs. Cline, do excuse me, but my friend h-has dropped her fan and I believe that is it there on the floor.” He pointed to the fan painted with pink roses.
Mrs. Cline stepped back so her skirts no longer obscured it. “Dear me. That was a mite clumsy of her, don’t you think?”
