Page 53 of Pursued Beyond Treachery
Miss Martha nodded, but her sister only looked between them all with a furrowed brow and wrinkles around her nose. The only person who did not participate was Susannah.
She’d left off observing her hands to stare out the window. Probably missing Mr. Wallace already. The supposition stung.
He glanced at the room's occupants. With all these ladies there was no chance he’d have the opportunity to speak with her. Perhaps he should try again tomorrow. He’d stayed the requisite quarter hour. He set his cup down, but Susannah suddenly rose.
“If you will excuse me.”
She gave no reason, simply left. This was his chance, but Miss Guthrie’s hand settled on his sleeve.
“Will you be at Lady Lincolnhurst’s soiree on Friday?” Her voice was low and inviting.
The hair on his arm stood on end, as if a specter might jump out at any moment.
“I am unsure.” He rose. “I believe my time has come to a close. P-parliament and all.”
The ladies began to rise but he bade them stay and with a quick dip of his chin, left them to their conversation. Or lack thereof, as the room had become eerily quiet on his retreat.
Susannah was not in the hall, but Eddie was.
“I see you have chased her off again.” Eddie frowned.
“Me? I have done nothing of the sort. The Guthries are here. Blame them.”
“Ah. On your way out then?”
“Unless you can point me in Miss Wayland’s direction so I might apologize for my behavior two days ago.”
“That I cannot do, as she has retired to her room.”
Could his luck get any worse? “I see. Well, in that case, I will bid you a good day.”
Eddie clapped him on the back. “Enjoy the monotony of Parliament.”
John rolled his eyes at him. “I’d rather be an idle gentleman like you, paying no attention to anyone else’s interests but my own.”
“No you would not, and we both know it. Besides, I have plenty of interest in some things, and as such I will confide in you that I am not below being a messenger boy. If you have anything you wish to send to a certain someone, I will not squeal on you.”
Johnathan searched his face, trying to decide if sending his apologies in a note might be worth it. Writing to a woman you were not engaged to was highly improper, but not unheard of. Perhaps if future attempts failed he’d have to resort to such stratagem.
“I will keep that in mind.”
Chapter 18
Susannah paced from the hearth of the east sitting room and back to the door, careful not to muss her dress. Lady Stanford had declared herself well enough to attend Lady Lincolnhurst’s soiree after all, and no amount of argument from Sir Nathaniel could convince her otherwise. That meant that Susannah would again be forced to watch her cousin’s obvious ploys to gain John’s attention.
Miss Guthrie had practically snuggled up to him on the settee, fluttering her lashes and extolling her many virtues. It was positively disgusting.
Susannah had entered, excited to tell Lady Stanford of her diverting ride with Mr. Wallace and his sister and the comical way her bonnet had been snatched off by a low-hanging tree branch, only to find John’s stern disapproval. He’d whisked it away behind a mask of boredom, but she had not been fooled.
She owed him an apology, but they’d been in company. And the last people she’d ever want to admit fault in front of wereher aunt and cousins. While her aunt put up a front of familial felicity, she knew better.
When they passed each other in public, the woman never acknowledged her unless she happened to be with someone of consequence. At the opera, Miss Harris had even heard Aunt Guthrie telling a gentleman that Susannah had no dowry to speak of. It was no wonder she’d had no interest from gentlemen these last few days, other than Mr. Wallace.
But as soon as she was in the company of someone with which her aunt wished to converse, she suddenly became her dear niece. The hypocrisy boggled Susannah’s mind, but propriety dictated she not cause offence in public, so she’d remained silent.
“Are you ready?” Lady Stanford asked from the door, interrupting her churning thoughts.
She stopped pacing and followed her into the vestibule. “I am. Where are Sir Nathaniel and Mr. Kendall?”
