Page 78 of Pursued Beyond Treachery
A moment's disappointment overcame Susannah at not being privy to their conversation, then her eyes met John’s. It was the first time they’d been alone together in weeks.
Her insides quivered, excitement mixing with fear muddling her thoughts. If she’d been given this chance before her aunt had made her threat, she’d have taken the opportunity to move closer in order to explore the newfound knowledge she had. Then again, she’d not realized how much John felt for her until her aunt had opened her eyes.
“Machinations is a marvelous word,” he said somewhat to himself as he rose and paced to the window.
She took in his slender athletic form. Once, before her mother passed, she’d seen him in only his shirt sleeves, rolled to expose his sculpted forearms. He’d been teaching her brothers to fence behind the stables and thought no ladies were in view of him. Her mind conjured the way his muscles had bunched and extended with each position he’d demonstrated.
Her mouth had gone dry watching him, but she recognized that it was not only his exterior that had attracted her. He’d been patient and kind with her brothers; teaching them slowly and carefully without derision when they’d accidentally dropped a foil in the mud. The moment had solidified his place in her heart.
He stared out the window a moment, then turned to face her. She waited, knowing he had something he wished to say.
“Are—” He stopped, his gaze straying to the door.
She glanced at the opening. The others had left without shutting it. She focused back on John, who looked to be fighting with himself.
His fisted hands opened, then closed at his sides, then slowly opened again. “Are you attending the Durhams’ ball this evening?”
“I am. Miss Harris invited me to attend with her. Lady Upton shall be our chaperone.”
He nodded. “And will Mr. W-Wallace be there?”
A weight settled in the pit of her stomach as the threats and restraints her aunt had set in place fell back on her shoulders. “Yes, he will.”
She hated the way John’s face contorted in pain. Why could they not talk of other things? Painting, music, flowers, anything. Couldn’t she avoid speaking of her future for a few more days?
John crossed to the settee. “I must know. Do you c-care for him?”
The weight in her middle rolled over, causing a wave of nausea. She hated the answer she was required to give him, hated her aunt for putting her in this position, hated herself for being so blind.
“He is a fine man. How could I not care for him?”
John’s eyes briefly closed. When they opened, a look of resolution replaced the agony she’d witnessed.
She opened her mouth to speak, to try to smooth over her words, but he spoke first.
“I wish you much felicity and prosperity.”
He turned to leave.
“We are not promised yet.” She blurted out, a small part of her wishing John would fight for her. That he would somehow be able to fix everything her aunt had threatened. In truth, if she did marry John, it might be possible.
Realization struck and horror nearly made her cast up her accounts. What if her father had ruined John’s finances as well? Papa had been helping him run his estates for years.
If John learned of her father’s situation, and if her father had led him astray when acting privately as his steward, it would crush him. He might never forgive any of them. John could never know of any of this.
She clamped her mouth shut, her heart warring with her head.
John’s gaze filled with compassion. “Anyone who knows you cannot help but love you, Susannah. I am certain you will receive the proposal you wish for very soon.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. Mr. Wallace was not the man she wished for.
“I need to be going.” John gave her an abbreviated bow and crossed to the open door.
Susannah’s heart screamed out from within and she could not help calling out, “Is there any reason I should not accept his proposal?”
John turned. The clock ticked on the mantel. One, two, three, four, five times.
“No.”
