Page 11 of Pursued Beyond Treachery (Harrowed Hearts #2)

T he next week flew by in a whirlwind of shopping, visiting, a trip to the opera, and many other pleasant pursuits. Susannah relished each experience, making sure to write in detail to her younger siblings as often as she found time.

The luxury of having clean paper so readily accessible still left her in awe.

If her brothers and sister were distinct in their writing, they might be able to send the sheets back to her written crosswise.

The cost of paper aside would save them enough to write to her almost as often as she did them.

She especially took time to write to Andrew, knowing he’d feel less lonely at school if he had a cheerful account. Perhaps she’d even get a chance to visit him at Harrow, it being nearer to London than Maidstone.

Many people came to welcome the Stanfords back to London, increasing Susannah’s circle of acquaintances so much that she’d begun to keep a list of names to memorize in her free time. Today would be no different, for Lady Stanford had already summoned her for more visitors.

Susannah took one more glance in the mirror, adjusting her fichu and pushing a pin back in place. A loose hair clung to her pink and white day dress. With two fingers she plucked the golden strand off the little embroidered rosebud.

Perfect.

In the sitting room she found Lady Stanford already deep in conversation with three women. Her gaze flitted to the eldest of the three and she stopped.

What was her aunt doing here?

“Miss Wayland, come.” Lady Stanford motioned to her, a bright smile gracing her pink lips. “Why did you not tell me the Guthries are close kin to you?”

Susannah did not know how to answer. Not only had her aunt been terribly condescending to her last they met, but Aunt Guthrie’s threat that she’d have nothing to do with any of them still haunted her memories. Why was she now claiming the association?

Her vengeful side wished to break ties. If her mother had not been good enough for Aunt Guthrie, then the self-serving woman would certainly hold no amount of love in her heart for her.

But Society would not look kindly on either of them for breaking expectations.

Best to do as her mother had; be kind and hope for the best.

Still the questions swirled in the back of Susannah’s mind. Why had her aunt disliked her mother so, especially after all the overtures Mama had made?

“It has been quite some time since we last saw one another,” Aunt Guthrie supplied. “Other than His Grace’s card party, that is.”

“Yes, come cousin.” Miss Guthrie motioned to Susannah to sit next to her on the plush blue settee. “It has been quite some time since we last met. You must tell us how you are enjoying Town.”

Was the offer sincere? She did not see anything false in her cousin’s wide-set eyes.

Lady Stanford’s smile slipped as she glanced between Susannah and Mrs. Guthrie. Did she see her hesitancy?

In the end, Susannah chose to keep the peace, taking up the seat offered and doing her best to show her own good breeding—even if her aunt was less than pleasant.

Miss Guthrie asked where she had been and conversation turned to the fine lace that was to be had in the shops on Piccadilly street.

The quarter hour visit gave Susannah great insight into her cousins whom she’d not seen since she was eight.

Miss Martha Guthrie was the quieter of the two, choosing instead to sip her tea and watch the happenings around her rather than participate in full.

Miss Guthrie, however, made up for her sister’s silence by commanding most of the attention and rarely letting anyone other than her mother get a word in edgewise. She declared herself a great study of laces and believed she knew the best to be had.

The clock chimed indicating a quarter hour had passed and Susannah nearly breathed an audible sigh of relief. But instead of rising as they ought, Miss Guthrie began extolling upon her many virtues with Aunt Guthrie seconding her words.

“She is quite accomplished you must know, Lady Stanford.”

Lady Stanford’s head had begun to nod, eyes heavy, but at being called upon to give her attention, she gave a slight dip of her chin.

The encouragement set the two ladies to talking again, this time however they unabashedly boasted of their many connections.

They recited at which tables they’d dined and whose private parties they’d been invited.

Susannah began to wonder if there was a single person in London’s lavish society that did not know the Guthries.

From her limited experience, she’d witnessed how well they were received.

Perhaps a connection would not be so terrible.

When John’s name crossed Miss Guthrie’s lips in reference to her latest trip to the shops, Susannah sat forward.

“And then Lord Newhurst picked up my wayward bonnet and handed it to me. I must say he has very fine eyes.” Miss Guthrie and her sister shared a conspiratorial smile.

“He even asked me if I intended to be at the Fortescue's soiree this evening, which of course I shall, especially if a handsome and well-connected man such as His Lordship will be present.”

John had spoken to her, had actually strung several sentences together in order to ask after her plans for the evening? Did that mean he found her cousin attractive?

Heat filled her chest and she picked up her teacup in an effort to hide the frown that marred her lips. He must have found Miss Guthrie quite appealing to make the effort of speaking so much.

What did that say about her?

The only gloom over the last few days was John’s absence. She’d not seen him since Parliament had opened. Knowing he’d been at the same shops she’d frequented this week, perhaps even on the same days, pricked at her happiness. If he was not otherwise engaged, why had he not visited?

As if her mind had conjured him into existence, the subject of her thoughts walked through the door and all conversation ceased. Hands behind his back, he paused, eyes widening.

“Lord Newhurst,” Lady Stanford said as she rose to her feet. “What a pleasant surprise. Please come have some tea with us.”

“I—” His eyes flicked from each of the ladies and eventually landed on Susannah. Wrinkles formed in the space between his eyebrows and his gaze shot back to her aunt.

His concern for her well-being soothed the hurt at knowing he’d spoken with her cousins these last three days but not her. When his attention returned to her, she gave a subtle dip of her head toward the chair across from her. He nodded.

“Thank you, Lady Stanford. Tea would be lovely.” He inched forward a step, then another.

“Cream as usual?” Lady Stanford asked.

He blinked at her, shifting his position so Susannah caught sight of something behind his back. When he confirmed his preference, Lady Stanford poured him a cup and extended the plate to him with a generous slice of lavender cake.

He winced. “I… ah.” Quickly taking the last few steps, he handed a bouquet to Lady Stanford and took the cup and saucer with the other hand.

She stared blankly at the posy of tiny blue flowers.

“As a thank you,” John finally said. “For holding the dinner for me.”

Lady Stanford’s mouth formed an oh and she bent to the side to hand the flowers to a maid standing behind him. Pain creased her brow and she stopped, her hand coming to rest at her middle.

Susannah had seen her mother favor her middle like that, but only when she was increasing. Come to think of it, Lady Stanford had missed breakfast every morning this week. Was it possible?

The maid ducked around John and took the flowers, allowing Lady Stanford to remain seated.

“Please have them placed in water.”

The maid dipped her head and left with the blooms.

Susannah opened her mouth to ask after Lady Stanford’s condition and whether she was well, but then bit back the words. It was not her place nor the time to be asking such personal questions, especially in the present company. If Lady Stanford wanted her to know, she would tell her.

“Now,” Lady Stanford said as if nothing unusual had happened. “I know you cannot have come to simply sit and listen to Town gossip from a bunch of ladies. Tell me, Lord Newhurst, have you come to steal my husband away for the afternoon?”

John smiled. “Only if Your Ladyship will allow it.”

“I am not my husband’s keeper.”

Susannah nearly snickered, covering her mouth at the last second to keep the expression of mirth from disrupting the room. While laughter was not expressly forbidden in company, Lady Stanford had made it clear that it was not as acceptable in Town as in the country.

When her aunt’s dour expression turned to her, she was grateful for the warning. Aunt Guthrie seemed like the type of person prone to adhere strictly to societal dictates purely for the satisfaction of being able to look down on those who did not conform.

“Then I am free to go?” Sir Nathaniel asked from the doorway with a smirk. Everyone moved to rise, but he bid them stay. “I have only come to collect my friend, but I see he has found a better offer. I too would choose the company of so many eligible young ladies if I was not so happily situated.”

Miss Guthrie tittered and Miss Martha smiled, but Susannah’s attention was drawn to Lady Stanford. Her company smile had slipped and a look of horror entered her eyes as her hand came to her mouth.

Sir Nathaniel rushed to her side, helping her to her feet and ushering her out of the room. It was not fast enough, however, for they all heard her cast up her accounts in the hallway. Susannah grimaced at the sound.

She’d grown quite certain Lady Stanford was in the family way and this episode confirmed her suspicions.

Moments later, Sir Nathaniel entered again. “Please forgive my wife, she is unwell.”

“No forgiveness is necessary,” Aunt Guthrie said, a smug smile playing on her lips. “I remember those early days quite clearly, but we will say no more of this. Please do not let us keep you, Sir Nathaniel. I know you and Lord Newhurst have business to attend to.”

Miss Guthrie cast her mother a look of alarm, motioning with her head to Lord Newhurst, but Aunt Guthrie ignored her. Susannah on the other hand, noticed everything. Her cousin obviously had decided to pursue John and it aggravated her.

“Thank you, we did have plans for this afternoon, but in light of my wife’s current condition I am not inclined to keep our fencing engagement.”

John set his cup down. “I completely understand. In that case, perhaps I should go. I have several papers to look over before next week's meetings, and I’d like to be more informed on the naturalizations for this year.”

“You are not leaving already?” Miss Guthrie asked.

“I am afraid I must, but I shall see you all this evening at the Fortescues’.”

So her cousin’s information had been correct. The knowledge rankled, but not as much as John’s smooth speech. How had he managed to speak so evenly to her cousin, and yet could hardly put two sentences together when in her presence?

Aunt Guthrie rose, her expression grim. “I had not noticed the time. We should also be leaving, for our quarter hour is up.”

Half hour to be exact, but there was no point in bringing the time to her aunt’s attention. Instead, she would rejoice in their departure.

Miss Guthrie quickly crossed to John’s side. “Might we walk out with you, Your Lordship?”

John hesitated, then nodded, offering his arm to the young woman. Susannah frowned. Perhaps she was not happy they were leaving so soon.

To add salt to her wounds, that evening Sir Nathaniel informed her they would not be attending the soiree, Lady Stanford still being kept to her bed by illness.

Susannah went to bed trying not to think of what John might be doing, but it was no use. Her thoughts continually returned to him as she tried to sleep. Was he even now sitting with her cousin, discussing some interesting word or describing his latest painting?

Those had been things they had spoken freely of before his tour of the continent.

What if her cousin found those subjects as interesting as she did? What if she found John as interesting?

Susannah grit her teeth. How could anyone not find him interesting? He was talented in a way she’d never be, well read, and ever thirsting after new knowledge.

She did not know much about Miss Guthrie—Harriet, if memory served—but from the little she’d seen, she seemed far more concerned with her self-importance than with the acquisition of knowledge.

Interest in painting, words, or inventions would be the last subjects she’d want to converse on.

She probably was not even interested in John himself, but his title.

Her aunt’s family was very well connected.

Not that they had a large amount of family in the peerage, but rather they were well liked because her uncle was talented in investing.

More than once in the last few weeks she’d overheard gentlemen sing his praises because of an extremely profitable investment he’d suggested to them.

That set her cousin far above her in both wealth and connection.

Add Miss Guthrie’s pleasant appearance and it was all most men needed to create a union.

But would her cousin ever love John? Highly unlikely. Oh, she might feign a connection in order to secure him, but it would dwindle and die the moment their vows were said. The notion of John trapped in a loveless marriage did not sit well with her, but what could she do about it?

How could she simply stand back and allow Miss Guthrie to dupe the man she loved?

The man she loved?

Susannah snuggled deeper under her blankets. Did she truly love John? Her heart thumped back a resounding yes. Then the fear set in. What if he never loved her in return?