Page 22 of Pursued Beyond Treachery
“Good… evening.” He swallowed so hard his throat bobbed.
Had the room full of strangers made him nervous? He’d never liked big groups.
“Good evening, Lord Newhurst. How was your journey?”
She did not expect him to give more than a one-word answer, but he surprised her.
“It would have been more pleasant had my man not become ill along the way. I was obliged to stop multiple times for him to cast up his accounts, but we managed to make it here without ruining my rig's upholstery.”
Susannah grinned when John’s face suddenly colored. While she did not mind hearing about his ill servant, a woman who had approached them covered her mouth and quickly chose a different course. Good. She had hoped for a little moreundivided attention before she was forced to share him with all the ladies who kept glancing their way.
“D-do excuse me, Miss Wayland. I’d not meant… I mean, that sort of information”—he swallowed again—“is p-probably not suitable for a drawing room.”
Instinctively she reached out and placed a hand on his sleeve, much as she’d done all their years growing up. “Do not apologize. I asked for the information. I am sorry Fernley is ill. Does he often struggle with carriage rides? Many people do. Lady Stanford had a terrible time of it on our way to town.”
John confirmed that he did, but they were interrupted when the butler announced dinner. She’d hoped to ask a few more questions about his valet in an effort to keep him talking, but she supposed the conversation would have to wait.
Dinner proved to be fairly uneventful, John leading Lady Stanford into dinner and Susannah being paired with the elderly father of one of the ladies. The same lady who seemed determined to catch John’s attention when the men joined them in the drawing room after their port.
Lady Stanford had informed Susannah that Miss Eleanor Wallace with her golden-brown curls and her perfectly formed nose was cousin to the Viscount Ansley. Her father, Mr. Wallace, held a seat in the House of Commons. The information brought no comfort to Susannah’s already flailing hopes. How could she compete with women of such connections? No doubt the woman’s dowry was ten times the size of hers.
But when the men joined them, John took up the seat next to hers and all thoughts of competition fled. He placed his hand on the cream armrest embroidered with yellow and red flowers, his fingers slowly moving over the stitches as he glanced at each of the room's occupants. She waited for him to speak, but her wait was in vain.
The rest of the night he remained silent, eventually leaving early, something Miss Wallace complained extensively to her companions about. Susannah had to agree. She’d not wished him to leave so soon, but he’d traveled most of the day with a sick servant. After such a journey, who could deny him a good night's rest for their own selfish comforts?
To Susannah’s delight, she found John the next morning at the breakfast table talking with Mr. Kendall and Mr. Roberts. All three gentlemen rose when she entered.
“Good morning Miss Wayland,” Mr. Roberts said with a dip of his head. “So nice to see you again.”
Susannah greeted him equally as warm, doing the same with John and Mr. Kendall who stood waiting for her to collect her plate. Quickly she crossed to the sideboard and chose a piece of toast, preserves, and a boiled egg. When she returned to the table all three men sat.
“How are you enjoying Town, Miss Wayland?” Mr. Roberts asked.
The footman came forward and poured her a cup of tea. “I have not seen much of it yet, but it is… different than I thought it would be.”
She’d wanted to say dirtier, but at the last moment decided on a more diplomatic answer. So many people had touted the superiority of Town, who was she to point out the obvious?
“Yes, London can come as quite the surprise after the fresh air of the country. And what sort of pleasantries do you have planned for your day?”
She looked to Mr. Kendall who merely shrugged. “I am uncertain. Lady Stanford is in charge of our scheduling. The only activity I am aware of is a card party this evening at the Duke of Bedford’s home.”
“Ah yes, I shall also be in attendance,” Mr. Roberts said. “You are in for a treat as the duke likes to keep his parties far more intimate and so you will not be overwhelmed with new acquaintances at every turn.”
What a relief. After the dinner last evening, she did not know how many more names her poor head could hold.
“I believe your definition of small is quite different than the rest of ours.” John speared a piece of meat as he eyed hisfriend. “You will have to excuse him, M-miss Wayland. Al thinks anything less than a h-hundred people is small.”
“I cannot help it. You’ve seen the size of my family. My sisters alone would take up a tenth of the party.”
Susannah smiled as she spread preserves onto her toast.
Mr. Kendall smirked. “Yes, and it is likely to be an eleventh by Easter.”
“Do not remind me.” Mr. Roberts shook his head.
It was not polite to speak of women being in the family way if unrelated to oneself, but she deduced by the conversation that the newest Lady Roberts was indeed with child. The fifth of Lord Roberts’s wives, Susannah hoped she’d be far more fortunate than the four that had come before, each one birthing several daughters before dying of childbed fever.
“Perhaps this time luck will be on your side and you will gain a brother.” Mr. Kendall smiled over his coffee cup as if he’d told a grand joke.
