Page 12 of Pursued Beyond Treachery (Harrowed Hearts #2)
S usannah watched the other young ladies in the room, pulling out her fan and trying to mimic their movements. Lady Stanford had tried to teach her the language of the fan, but she’d yet to master it.
The evening's celebration for a Miss Giles’s presentation into Society was a lavish affair complete with an ice sculpture in the shape of a swan. People milled about the rooms, chatting and enjoying refreshment.
Susannah took note of how the ladies flirted with the gentlemen.
Perhaps if she became more adept at the practice she’d be able to gain John’s attention.
It seemed to entail a great deal of lashes and fan fluttering.
The tap of a fan on a gentleman’s arm also seemed to gain ladies a great deal of attention.
“Are you well, Miss Wayland?” Miss Harris leaned close to her.
“I am, why do you ask?”
“You are beating that fan so fast it is making poor Mr. Cartright’s toupee lift off his head.”
She glanced at the older man who stood several feet in front of them. “I am not.”
A smirk pulled at Miss Harris’s lips. “Only because you have stopped.”
“Do be serious. Was I really lifting it?”
“Only a little. Are you nervous?”
“More like uneducated. Lady Stanford has tried to teach me how to use fans in Town, but I am afraid I am a poor student.”
Miss Harris took pity on her and repeated the rules. Susannah listened so intently that she did not see Mr. Roberts approach until he stood directly behind Miss Harris.
“I see you are corrupting another young lady, and for all Society to see. For shame, Miss Harris.”
The hand that had been demonstrating paused midair. Slowly Miss Harris turned, switching the fan to her right hand and fluttering it gently below her nose.
“Just because you are incapable of understanding fan movements does not signify that all ladies who know it are corrupt. It only proves your ineptitude.”
He leaned forward scandalously close and dropped his voice to a low hum. “Come, we both know I understand ladies far better than any other gentleman.”
Miss Harris blinked at him, her fan coming to a complete stop and resting on her right cheek. It moved forward a fraction. He straightened and smiled, triumph gleaming in his amber colored eyes.
She let out a huff. “Come, Miss Wayland. It is time to practice what you have learned.”
“I would not attempt to apply anything Javenia has taught you, Miss Wayland. It might lead you to commit an unforgivable social faux pas.”
Miss Harris rolled her eyes, pulling Susannah away. “Do not listen to him. Algenon is simply jealous of what he will never be able to understand.”
“And what is that, pray tell?” Mr. Roberts trailed after them.
She cast him a dazzling smile over her shoulder. “If you have to ask, you are more obtuse than I thought.”
He stopped, eyes narrowed and mouth firm.
His hands clasped behind his back as he watched them walk away.
Susannah did not know if she should feel sorry for him or laugh at the obvious win Miss Harris had enacted.
Even in her small knowledge, she’d read something in the movement of the fan that would probably have surprised the tall gentleman.
“Ah, there they are,” Miss Harris said as they spied Mr. Kendall and the rest of the party from Kendall House in the next room. “We will practice with people who I know are safe and will not be offended if you make a mistake.”
When they arrived, the gathered circle opened to admit them and it was then that Susannah caught sight of John holding a glass of champagne in his left hand. Could she really practice with him in the circle?
“Miss Wayland,” Mr. Kendall said when he saw her. “Are you enjoying the evening?”
She let her fan rest on her right cheek, but also followed the movement with her words. “Yes. It has been lovely.”
He smiled. “And Miss Harris, are you as pleased with the party as Miss Wayland?”
She closed her fan. “Of course. Except when I meet daft men who claim to know more about the female sex than they actually do.”
Susannah had caught the movement of Miss Harris’s fan, which from her memory meant she wished to speak to him. Turning her attention to Mr. Kendall, she wondered how he might respond, then saw Mr. Roberts, his eyebrows raised, ready to argue his point. Before he reached them, Mr. Kendall spoke up.
“I see. Would you care to accompany me to the refreshment table? Perhaps we can discuss my incompetent friend along the way?”
Her mouth fell open at how masterfully Miss Harris had spoken to Mr. Kendall without ever uttering a word.
“Traitor,” Mr. Roberts muttered.
Mr. Kendall smirked and led Miss Harris away.
Susannah glanced about the room as a new understanding opened to her. There was far more flirtation happening than she’d originally thought, but not every man seemed to notice or care. Or perhaps they did notice, but simply did not return the sentiment.
Lady Stanford spoke up. “For all your flattery, Mr. Roberts , one would think you could spare a little for your childhood friend.”
He spun one of the two gold rings he always wore about his finger. “And cause her self-importance to puff up like bread dough, I think not.”
Sir Nathaniel offered his arm to his wife. “I do not believe Javenia is the one we should worry about becoming puffed up.” He tipped his head to the side, indicating Mr. Roberts.
His actions were met with a scowl. “I know where I’m not wanted.
I shall find company who appreciates me.
” With two hands he straightened his waistcoat, then turned with a flounce.
The action was done too comically to signify true upset, especially when he cast them a dashing smile as he approached Miss Giles.
“Well my dear, I believe we should find you a seat,” Sir Nathaniel said. “You have been on your feet too long.”
Lady Stanford rolled her eyes but did not object.
Since Susannah had not been invited to follow them, she chose to stay.
Only she and John now remained. Normally she’d move closer to converse easier, but a bout of swirling butterflies chose that moment to take up residence in her stomach.
Could she really flirt with him? The idea seemed awkward, given their years as friends. But how else would she change his mind?
Slowly she lifted her fan to just under her nose and began to flutter it. John glanced at her, his brow creasing before he returned his attention to his champagne.
Glancing down, she paused. Was it the left or right hand that meant come closer? Not sure she switched the fan from her left to her right to see if the results would be different then cleared her throat to gain his attention. He did not move. She cleared it again but louder.
John glanced at her. “Are you in need of refreshment, Miss Wayland?”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “I am indeed.”
He tipped his head to the side. “D-do you have s-something caught in your eye?”
Mortification swept through her. She must have done it wrong. When all the other ladies had displayed the coquettish action, the gentlemen had drawn closer.
Quickly she lifted a hand to her eye and swept it across her lashes. “Yes. Forgive me. There, that is better.”
“Good. Might I fetch you something to drink?”
“Or I could go with you.”
He nodded and offered his arm. A footman passed with a half-full tray of empty glasses and he placed his on it. Slowly they made their way through the gathered crowd.
“It is quite the crush, wouldn’t you agree.
I do not believe I have seen so many people.
And look at the ladies' dresses. So exquisite. Of course the gentlemen look fine too, but I do not believe they desire compliments as ladies do. Or do they? As a lady I would not know.” She was rambling and she knew it, but she could not stop herself.
“What do you say, Lord Newhurst? Do you wish for compliments on your appearance?”
Now why had she asked that?
She stared up at his face. A polite smile graced his lips and for the first time she noted how full they were. Not that they puffed out, but they appeared healthy and moist, not thin and chapped like other men’s. What would it be like to kiss lips as soft and warm as his?
John stepped to the side, his arm suddenly pulling her off balance, but not before she collided with someone, her teeth clinking with the impact. John’s arms came up to right her.
A man with dark hair spun to face them. She blinked a time or two trying to clear her foggy head. When she did, her cheeks flamed. She’d been so occupied with looking at John that she’d walked right into someone. A handsome someone, no less.
“My apologies, miss. I had not meant to back into you.”
“No, it is my fault for not paying attention to my surroundings. Do forgive me.” Susannah took note of his broad shoulders and fine figure. Perfectly styled dark hair curled about his ears.
His smile grew. She smiled and dropped her gaze.
John gave a little tug on her arm to indicate he wished to continue on. The stranger apologized again, but she had no time to answer as they were already walking away. She wanted to ask who the man was, but when she turned to look at John, his face was set in a deep frown.
A tiny shard of shame pricked her heart. Had she embarrassed him?
When they reached the table, he spoke slowly. “P-please forgive me… for not being a better escort.”
Relief washed over her. “It is not your fault that I am so unobservant. Without you, I would have come to much more harm. I believe your tug pulled me out of the way of the greatest impact.”
His serious expression lightened and his shoulders relaxed. “What drink might I get you?”
She glanced down at the table’s contents.
There was a questionable punch at the end of the table with small cakes and pastries laid out next to it.
At the other end were glasses of negus and orgeat.
She chose the latter, preferring the orange and almond flavored drink to the others.
When he handed it to her, however, she realized she no longer held her fan.
She glanced about herself, wondering where it had gone.
John leaned into her line of sight. “Is something the matter?”
“I seemed to have misplaced my fan.”
Lifting her gaze from the floor around them, she peered about the room. An idea settled in her mind. “I think I may have dropped it when I bumped into that gentleman.”
She placed her half-consumed drink back on the table, a servant eyeing her as she did so, but there was no help for it. She needed to locate her fan. Lady Stanford had gifted her the intricately painted piece and it would be an insult to have lost it so soon.
John walked slowly next to her as they returned the way they’d come, their eyes sweeping the floor. When they reached the spot where the mishap had happened, they stopped, combing the area carefully. Still no fan.
“Could someone have picked it up?” she asked.
“Perhaps. Either that or all the moving feet may have displaced it.”
They agreed to go in separate directions from the spot in hopes they’d find it faster.
In the center of the large room Susannah saw it peeking out from under a matronly woman’s skirts.
She paused, her gaze traveling up lavishly adorned lavender silk to a pinched face.
The woman bent to the side, holding her own fan to her mouth, speaking softly to a taller, angular lady.
Not knowing who they were, Susannah dared not approach, but hovered nearby to see if she could catch one of their names. Perhaps she could find someone to introduce them. Otherwise it would be exceedingly rude for her to interrupt them by reaching under the shorter lady’s skirts.
“I did not s-see it near the wall,” John whispered.
Susannah startled at the warmth of his breath on her ear, her head bumping into his nose as she straightened. He reeled back and she grimaced.
He rubbed the offended appendage. “M-m-my a-apologies.”
A sudden urge to laugh so overcame her that she had to cup a hand over her mouth to keep it from spilling out. The reaction was illogical, but she could not help herself. How many mistakes could she make in one evening?
“I do not know why you are apologizing when it was I who hit you. It seems I am doomed this evening to beg forgiveness of everyone.”
A large group of people entered and Susannah’s gaze shot to where her fan lay on the floor. It would be even more difficult to retrieve it with all the ladies and gentlemen now joining them.
John must have followed her gaze. “I will f-fetch it.”
Stepping in front of her, he approached the two ladies. “Lady Plum, Mrs. Cline, do excuse me, but my friend h-has dropped her fan and I believe that is it there on the floor.” He pointed to the fan painted with pink roses.
Mrs. Cline stepped back so her skirts no longer obscured it. “Dear me. That was a mite clumsy of her, don’t you think?”
“Not at all. She was bumped by a gentleman who did not take the time to watch where he was going. If you will excuse me.” He bent and carefully retrieved the fan.
Lady Plum looked him up and down. “It is a surprise to see you here, Lord Newhurst. We are not often graced with the opportunity to view your fine figure at parties.”
John stepped back, the pink on his cheeks appearing to match the rosy hue of his hurt nose. “I—that is… t-thank you.” Then under his breath, he said, “I think.”
Again the woman ogled him. “No need to thank me. But should you find yourself without someone to keep you company, do find me. I would be happy to chat with you for a while.”
He backed away, brows raised, then spun as if he wished to escape the room all together. The laugh that Susannah had been holding burst out, causing several people to cast her looks of disdain.
It seemed her embarrassment for this night was complete.