Page 10 of Entertaining the Earl (Vows in Vauxhall Gardens #2)

A ttending balls with Lord Bourne was an entirely different experience from attending balls with just her mother and father. She was used to fading into the background, spending most of the evening looking on, rarely dancing, invisible to the sharp-eyed members of the ton.

But when she walked in with Lord Bourne, and when he showed her so much attention, she was no longer invisible.

All heads turned in their direction when they entered a ballroom, and the whispering began. Mostly, it was about Lord Bourne—where he’d been, who his father was, and why he had stayed out of the country for so long.

By the third ball, however, they seemed to have tired of discussing him endlessly, and the conversation turned to Susannah.

She hadn’t meant to overhear it. In fact, she would rather not know what was being said about her. But the ladies gossiping were hardly discreet, and as she waited for refreshment, she could not help but hear the group of women nearby asking, “What on earth does he see in her?”

She wasn’t so vain as to immediately assume the conversation was about her, but as it continued, there could be no doubt.

“No title, and her father worked for his money. That’s how she’s got such a large dowry.”

“Perhaps the dowry is what the earl is interested in? He might be in desperate need of funds…”

Susannah held her glass far too tightly, knowing she ought to walk away, that nothing good could come of hearing such gossip—yet finding herself unable to.

“No. I don’t think he’s that desperately in need of money—not from what I hear. You know my brother spoke with him at White’s last week. Money did not seem to be an issue. And I can hardly think he would align himself with a woman like that unless he was absolutely desperate.”

The women chuckled unkindly, and Susannah felt tears pricking behind her eyes.

She had thought she did not care what society thought of her, but she was realizing now that she had never truly heard it.

She had been invisible, and that had felt like a burden—yet it was surely far better than knowing what people truly thought of you.

“She’s just so plain. I mean, she’s making a bit more effort with her dresses this Season, I presume to try to ensnare the earl. But an expensive dress and fine jewels cannot compensate for a lack of natural beauty. I’m sure Lord Bourne will see that, in time…”

Susannah was about to slip off to hide in the powder room and recover at least some semblance of control over her emotions when a male voice interrupted the ladies.

It was a familiar voice, one that made her heart and her mind trip.

“Lord Bourne can judge a person’s looks and their character perfectly well without any help, thank you,” Colin said in harsh, clipped tones. “You might want to think about how you are presenting your own characters, ladies, before you attack that of another.”

And then he was gone, leaving Susannah speechless and frozen, not wanting a confrontation with the women, not wanting them to know that she had heard everything. And not wanting to find her faux beau any more attractive than she already did…

Lord Bourne had stood up for her. No one had ever done that before. Oh, she was sure her parents loved her, but they had never publicly declared anything like that.

He hadn’t denied that she was plain, of course. How could he? For that would be a lie. She knew she was plain and dull, and that was the reason she had never had an offer of marriage.

But beauty was not something one earned, learned, or deserved—it was just the luck of the draw. She had been born with brains and not beauty, and she rather thought she had the better deal than the girls who had been born with endless beauty but no brains.

And yet…

And yet it hurt to hear such things said aloud about her, even if she too had wondered if the ton would truly believe that the Earl of Bourne could be interested in a plain girl like Miss Susannah Lyttleton.

And now her heart felt full at the words he had spoken, at the fact that he had been quite willing to be rude to the ladies of the ton because they were being cruel about her.

She sought him out, her whole body flushed with warmth when their eyes met.

No, she did not think it was wholly believable that a man like the Earl of Bourne could fall for her.

But it was entirely possible that she could end up falling for the Earl of Bourne.

*

Irritation at the cruel words of the gossiping young ladies consumed him as Colin searched for Susannah.

Why did they need to say such things? He hoped Susannah had not heard them, for the words would surely hurt.

She was an interesting and intelligent young woman, and he preferred conversing with her to most other women of the ton.

She might not have been classically pretty, but he no longer thought of her as plain.

There was something about the sparkle in her eyes when she was interested in a topic, and the warm smile she gave him if he said or did something that made her happy that changed her unassuming appearance.

He did not think she had an unkind bone in her body, and he did not like the haughty attitudes of the women who looked down on her, who did not believe he could be interested in her unless he was in desperate need of her dowry.

He spotted her near the refreshment table—rather closer to where the gossiping women had been than he would have liked—and made a beeline for her.

His hosts were dancing, and he had been avoiding the eyes of young women and their mamas who wanted him to ask them to dance.

They had thankfully stopped stalking him around every ballroom now that most people believed he would soon be asking for Miss Lyttleton’s hand in marriage, but it did not stop them hoping he would show some interest.

“May I have this dance, Miss Lyttleton?” he asked when he was close enough to speak to her. They had danced together on numerous occasions, but this time her cheeks flushed red, and she looked at the floor before meeting his gaze and nodding.

She took his offered hand without a word, and they cut through the crowds onto the dance floor.

Colin was well aware that they were being watched, and by the gossips too, but that was what he wanted.

The point of the ruse was for people to believe they were courting, and being seen together was essential for that.

And if dancing together silenced the unkind critics, well, that was just a bonus.

He was surprised to find that, rather than dreading balls, he quite enjoyed them, now that the expectations on him had lessened. Conversation with Miss Lyttleton was always enjoyable, and every time he danced with her, he noticed something new about her that he hadn’t before.

Sometimes she was chatty and sometimes, like in this dance, she seemed unable to find words. He still did not truly understand why shyness seemed to strike her at some times and not others, but he’d learned how to get her to speak to him.

“I started reading Mansfield Park ,” he said, and she immediately glanced up and met his eye.

“You did?”

“Well, you recommended it,” he said with a smile.

“I know, but I did not think…” She trailed off. “Are you enjoying it?”

“I am. I must admit, there are far more layers to the story than I had expected. I think I will have to reread it more than once to truly glean every element of commentary Miss Austen is making.”

And there it was—that smile that lit up her face, and made it impossible not to smile in return. “Indeed, I think you will. I have read it four times myself, and still think there is something new to be discovered.”

“I can well imagine. And if you have any other recommendations for me to read next, I will gladly take them.”

“I find it hard to choose my favorites from among all those I have read, but I am happy to suggest some options.”

“You have read so many novels, you will have to start writing them or there will be none left for you to read!”

Her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes darted away from his.

“Do you write, as well as read?” he asked.

“No one would be interested in what I had to write,” she said with a soft sigh.

He was struck with an urge to lift her chin so he could look into her brown eyes—but it was a ridiculous notion which he of course ignored. Instead he tutted and said, “With respect, that was not the question I asked.”

She glanced up at him, faltering in the dance steps momentarily, and said softly, “I would like to write a novel. One day.”

When the dance came to an end, they were still in deep conversation. Colin led Miss Lyttleton towards the refreshment table, and she seemed entirely unaware of the daggers glared at her from the unkind gossips who had been watching them.

He drew her arm in a little closer to his, and smiled with satisfaction as the gossips turned away in irritation.