Page 10 of Pursued Beyond Treachery (Harrowed Hearts #2)

T he Duke of Bedford’s card party was indeed small, only encompassing family and close friends. John placed his whist cards face down, waiting for the others to organize the hands they had been dealt.

Across the parlor, Susannah sat with the Duchess of Bedford on a plush red settee.

The middle-aged woman was far younger than the duke, having only married the older man last spring after he’d lost his first wife the year before.

The duke had no children from his first marriage, but from the looks of Her Grace, it seemed they would soon welcome a possible heir.

The way Susannah kept the obviously uncomfortable woman company while the rest of the guests enjoyed cards warmed his heart. She had always been particularly attentive to the needs of others.

Bids were called and John pulled his attention back to the game.

Javenia had been invited to even up the numbers and he’d been relieved when they drew the lowest cards which paired them for the game.

Al sat to his right, and on the other side Al’s partner was a Miss Guthrie, who apparently was related to Her Grace through some means.

John covertly took stock of the young woman’s appearance.

Oddly she reminded him of Susannah. Same golden hair and medium build, but where Susannah’s eyes were a warm brown, Miss Guthrie’s were a nondescript blue.

They both possessed full cheeks and a small smattering of freckles, but the effect did not herald the same emotions in John that Susannah’s well placed sunspots did.

For starters, Miss Guthrie’s freckles were large and obtrusive rather than blending with her features.

In addition, she quite clearly viewed herself as a person of importance calling out orders in the game as if she were the dealer, her competitiveness evident in the set of her shoulders and the focus of her eyes.

Not that he minded a woman of competition, but her muttered complaints when she lost a trick proved her a poor sport. After some time, he wondered how he could ever have compared her to Susannah. Their personalities were completely different.

Javenia tossed in a trump card and Al groaned. “Do you always have to win?”

She grinned at his complaint. “Only when I play against you.”

John covered his smile with his hand.

Al tossed his card down. “Someday a hard lesson in humility will come your way, Miss Harris. I only hope I am the one to give it to you .”

“Keep dreaming, Mr. Roberts .”

They had resorted to emphasis on titles, a sure sign that they were still at odds, otherwise they’d have referred to each other by given names, company or not.

Miss Guthrie grumbled something, but then requested another game.

“I am afraid not,” Javenia said. “I am going to quit while I have the upper hand on Mr. Roberts .”

“Coward,” Al mumbled under his breath.

Javenia grinned and sauntered away.

“Perhaps my sister will join us,” Miss Guthrie offered, motioning to a taller version of herself. Miss Martha Guthrie echoed her sister in appearances except for her greater height and an absence of the large freckles.

She too seemed quite competitive and after a second game, John decided he was done with cards for the night, choosing instead to find his way to Susannah’s side.

Other card tables were beginning to break up, the occupants of the room finding their way to a refreshment table where tea and cakes were being served. That was where he found Susannah, a plate in each hand.

Teasing words escaped his lips before he’d had time to think better of it. “Did you miss supper?”

She smiled at him. “No, I had plenty, but lest you think both these plates are for me, I am on an errand for Her Grace.”

Of course she was; her kindness knew no ends.

“So you have found a better position than the one I offered. No wonder your father refused.” A familiar rotund woman with dark hair liberally peppered with grey approached them.

Susannah’s brow furrowed and one of the plates in her hand trembled. John quickly relieved her of it, confused by Mrs. Guthrie’s words.

The woman tsked. “And to think I could have presented you as family. Well, that is all ruined now. Tell me, how long have you been a companion to the Duchess of Bedford? She did not mention a need to employ anyone.”

John gripped the plate he held so tightly his knuckles turned white. How dare the woman imply that Susannah was not here of her own right?

He straightened, his tall frame towering over the much shorter woman, but before he could speak, Susannah cleared the air.

“You are mistaken, Aunt Guthrie. I am only showing her a kindness. I am the guest of Sir Nathaniel and his wife, who you must know is the niece of His Grace.”

Her aunt? On further inspection he recognized several features in the woman that were reminiscent of Mr. Wayland. The man did have an older sister, but John had never had the pleasure of meeting her—or rather, the displeasure by her current sour expression.

Mrs. Guthrie sniffed. “I see. Well, that is not much better. Such a scandalous marriage, you must know.”

The reminder of Nate and Melior’s rough beginning needled at his nerves. The rake Mr. Fairchild held the majority of blame for their forced marriage. How dare this woman bring up such matters, and at the duke’s house no less?

“And why are you here, Mrs. Guthrie?” he asked through barely parted lips.

“I beg your pardon. Have we been introduced?”

They had, two seasons ago. Who did not know the Guthries? They seemed to be everywhere, invited to everything, and connected with everyone.

John usually kept to the back of most gatherings, speaking mainly to the men. Their introduction had been a mere coincidence, even so, this woman certainly thought highly of herself to slight him. “Lord Newhurst,” he said shortly.

Her bluster faded and a saccharine smile bloomed on her face.

“Ah yes, my apologies, Your Lordship. My memory is not what it once was.” She made no pretense of hiding her thorough examination of his person.

“It has been some time since we have spoken. You have, of course, noticed my two daughters are here as well.”

Was the woman daft? He’d played at cards with both her girls. How had it slipped her notice? Then again, without his title he was probably of little importance to such a self-serving woman.

“I have.” He pressed his lips together, biting back the insults he wished to hurl at her.

“Splendid.” She rubbed her pudgy hands together. “Is this not a fine party? And does not my husband’s cousin look splendid in her role as the new duchess? I dare say she will fulfill her duty much better than her predecessor.”

John’s free hand curled into a fist. Perhaps a few choice words would help put this woman back in her place.

How dare she insult the Duke of Bedford’s first wife?

Lucinda Kendall had been everything that was kind and gracious.

Just because she’d never been able to give the duke a child did not mean she had been remiss in her duties.

A small hand brushed against his fist, and his attention shot to Susannah.

The pleading in her eyes mixed with a subtle shake of her head.

Slowly, he allowed the tension in his fingers to relax.

She was right. No amount of force would change a woman such as Mrs. Guthrie.

It was better to pay her no mind and allow her to ruin her own reputation.

“You will excuse us, Mrs. Guthrie, but your cousin is awaiting her refreshments.” He offered his free arm to Susannah and she hesitantly took it.

“Your Lordship,” Mrs. Guthrie rushed to say. “Might I have a word alone with my niece?”

“Perhaps later.” Or never, he wished to say. Leaving Susannah to suffer by this woman’s acrid tongue went against every instinct. “Her Grace is awaiting Miss Wayland’s return. I bid you a good evening.”

The woman gave a tight, close-mouthed smile, but he was not fooled. Anger burned in her eyes at being so summarily dismissed.

He did not care. No one spoke to Susannah in such condescending tones. No one.

“Thank you,” Susannah whispered when they were far enough away from her aunt.

“No need. That woman is… is…”

“Unpleasant,” she supplied.

“Abhorrent is more accurate, or reprehensible.”

“Obnoxious, distasteful, disagreeable.”

“Retched, loathsome, and deplorable.”

She smiled up at him. “How many words are there that mean unlikeable?”

“Not enough.”

She laughed softly and for the first time he realized how easily their conversation had flowed. Of course it had centered around one of the three topics he excelled at, but it was a success. If only he could show such self-possession in every encounter he had with her.

“Forgive my impudence, b-but—” He paused, his mind throwing out several questions about the odd interaction.

Susannah waited, a strange occurrence as she usually knew what he wanted to ask and would often fill the void where he’d left off.

He gathered his courage. “Your aunt, am I right in a-assuming she offered you a p-position as a companion?”

“She did.”

“And your father refused.”

“Most vehemently.”

He smiled at her word choice. “But why?” She tipped her head and he elaborated. “Why would your aunt not s-sponsor your s-season as the Stanfords have?”

Susannah peered at the ground. “My mother. She was not what Aunt Guthrie wished for in a relation.”

John could hardly believe it. Mrs. Wayland, composed, patient, thoughtful, and brave woman that she was, did not measure up to Mrs. Guthrie’s expectations. How could anyone have one unkind word to say about the woman?

“Mama’s father was not always a gentleman. He only recently left his position in trade.”

So naturally Mrs. Guthrie had disliked Mrs. Wayland on principle. It made sense, especially for a woman who stooped so low as to insult a deceased duchess—in her own home, no less.

Susannah’s chin crept toward her chest as her resolute stance faltered.

“I believe my aunt felt she was being magnanimous. As a companion to her girls I would have been able to experience London in much the same way I am now, and I would have been given an allowance that could have helped my family.”

“But you’d have been forced to serve your own cousins.”

She nodded. “Service is not a bad thing. I serve my siblings daily.”

“It is not the same.”

“No, but they are still family and as such I choose to keep the peace.”

He had to respect her decision. It showed a strength of character he doubted her aunt possessed.

Silence settled between them as Susannah delivered the duchess’s refreshments and took up a seat across from her.

The spindly legs of the gold and green chairs gave him pause.

He was not a large man, but his height added a significant amount of weight.

Carefully he lowered himself into one, praying the delicate piece would hold.

Her Grace accepted the refreshment with many words of thanks, further attesting to her discomfort and reticence to rise with such an encumbered body. The duke joined them, his smile holding a subtle intimacy as he sat beside his wife.

“Newhurst, I am glad I caught you before you left. I have something for you.”

John’s curiosity piqued.

“My niece mentioned an oversight that, thanks to my connections at the palace, I was able to remedy.” Reaching into the pocket of his dinner jacket, the duke extracted a square of canary yellow paper. John’s eyes widened. Could it be?

Carefully, he took it. There, in beautifully penned script, was an invitation to the Prince Regent’s ball.

John glanced at Susannah. She smiled back. Perhaps he would stand up with Susannah for her first dance after all.