Page 21 of Pursued Beyond Treachery (Harrowed Hearts #2)
“Or perhaps you both should sit down,” Mr. Roberts said, coming upon them from behind. “I am afraid I need to deprive you of your escort.” He placed a hand on John’s back and Susannah swore John breathed a sigh of relief although no sound came out.
“D-d-do excuse me, ladies.” He shrugged off both their hands and stepped out of their reach.
Mr. Roberts put out a hand to her. “You as well, Miss Wayland. Lady Stanford has been looking for you.”
She glanced at Mr. Wallace, not sure what to say. “Please excuse me.”
He smiled at her. “By all means.”
She handed her tea things to a passing servant and followed John and Mr. Roberts away from three frustrated looking women. And if a little cheer for her good fortune happened to bubble up within, she would not show it—no matter how much she wished to gloat over the others.
Mr. Roberts stopped when they reached the next room and took out his timepiece.
“Why did Lady Stanford need me?” she asked.
He glanced up at her as if surprised she still followed him.
“She doesn’t. I simply saw that a rescue mission was in order.
” He grinned at John. “I shall leave you two, for I have a baron’s daughter to annoy.
” And with that he headed straight for Miss Harris who was deep in discussion with the son of their hostess, looking like she enjoyed the gentleman’s company.
She looked after him for a moment, at odds with what to do next. John also seemed preoccupied with watching his friend. Then as if some invisible permission had been given, they both began to talk.
“Miss Wayland, I need to—”
“Lord Newhurst, I’m—”
They stopped.
He peered down at his feet and cleared his throat.
She looked away, her gaze catching on Lady Braithwaite clad in black with only white lace at her neck and sleeves to relieve it. The lady glanced her way and locked gazes with her, gave a subtle nod, and refocused on the two men who were speaking to her.
John’s fingers lightly touched Susannah’s sleeve. “I must ask your forgiveness, Miss Wayland. I had no right to lose my temper with you, especially as you were not to blame.”
She shook her head. “Not so. It is I who must apologize. You had every right to defend your friend.”
“Yes, but as you so keenly p-pointed out, Mr. Wallace was not to blame for the offense.”
“But your sour mood was not the reason for my upset. I—” She quickly shut her mouth. Could she really admit to her jealousy over something as simple as a painting? It seemed silly now. Perhaps she had read too much into his reaction. What if he had no more interest than that of a devoted artist?
“Susannah, dear,” Aunt Guthrie said, taking hold of her arm. “Lady Stanford is this way.”
She blinked at her aunt in confusion. “But I—”
“Do excuse us, Lord Newhurst.” Aunt Guthrie tugged on her arm. “Harriet, will you be a dear and keep the gentleman company while I help your cousin find her friends?”
John stepped forward, his face set in a firm frown, but Miss Guthrie latched back onto his arm like a hungry leech.
Susannah wanted to object to her aunt's high-handed ways but she was already pulling her away.
“Do not make a fool of yourself,” Aunt Guthrie hissed when they were out of hearing of the others. “Lord Newhurst is far above your station. You’d be better to assert your efforts with Mr. Wallace, if the man will have you. Even that is a stretch for someone like you.”
Susannah stopped, the force of the larger woman’s forward trajectory nearly pulling her off her feet.
Aunt Guthrie let go and turned to glare at her. “Do not be so stubborn, girl. I do not have to lower myself to help you.”
A litany of arguments gathered in her mind, but she could not get any words past her lips. Her aunt’s words held merit. John was above her station. Perhaps Mr. Wallace was as well, but she needed that status to relieve pressure off her own family.
Black swirled behind her aunt, and a silky-smooth voice said, “An offer of help from you might be considered lowering to anyone, Mrs. Guthrie.”
Her aunt whirled about and for a moment Susannah saw Lady Braithwaite’s chin tilted up and her eyes flashing.
Quietly she stepped to the side so she might see around her aunt. Aunt Guthrie scowled a moment before her face lifted into the false smile Susannah had come to expect from her.
“Lady Braithwaite, how are you this evening?”
“I have been better. Now do me the honor of introducing me to your niece.”
How had she…
“But Your Ladyship—”
“That was not a request.”
For a person so young and small, Lady Braithwaite spoke boldly, especially to a woman over twice her age.
Those must be the rights of rank and money.
Then again, that did not seem to apply to all.
The Duchess of Bedford outranked Lady Braithwaite and yet she’d not spoken near so forcefully when in company with Aunt Guthrie.
Her aunt’s jaw worked back and forth before she finally turned and gestured to Susannah. “Lady Braithwaite, may I present Miss Wayland.”
The countess nodded, and Susannah curtsied. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Ladyship.”
“And I yours. Miss Harris speaks highly of you and there are few opinions that I value higher than Miss Harris’s. Let us take a turn about the room.” Lady Braithwaite’s attention returned to Aunt Guthrie. “Have a good evening, Mrs. Guthrie.”
Aunt Guthrie’s chest rose and fell several times, her lips pressed tightly together before she nodded. “And you, Lady Braithwaite.”
Her Ladyship watched Aunt Guthrie closely as she stepped around her and crossed the room. A bit of the starch went out of Lady Braithwaite’s spine, her shoulders relaxed and her fingers stretched before re-gripping her customary cane.
Susannah’s eyes were drawn to the affectation: perfectly straight, a gray marble top, and the wood painted black. She’d seen her carry others, but this one seemed to be Her Ladyship’s favorite. But why carry one at all? Lady Braithwaite had no apparent limp.
“Where are you on your way to, Miss Wayland? Perhaps I might accompany you.”
She glanced over her shoulder, but John no longer stood where she’d left him. “I am on my way to find Lady Stanford.”
Lady Braithwaite narrowed her eyes a fraction. “Are you sure you do not wish to return to your previous company?”
Heat crept onto Susannah’s cheeks. Had she seen her look of longing?
“I will take that as a yes. Come.” Lady Braithwaite motioned with her head, slowly making her way toward the door to the room she’d been in previously.
Susannah fell into step beside her waiting for the lady to speak, but they made it to the other room without a single word being uttered between them. Across the next room, she spotted John, his head bent as he listened intently to Miss Guthrie. She stopped and Lady Braithwaite followed her lead.
All the discomfort he’d displayed in the company of both women had vanished.
She hesitated. He appeared to be quite content, even venturing to say something to her cousin.
They’d not finished their conversation, but this was not the time.
She’d not get involved in a tug of war. John deserved better.
He would visit Kendall House soon. No need to make a scene. They’d said the majority of what needed to be conveyed anyway. Perhaps providence had intervened so she would not make herself a fool in public.
“On second thought, I believe I will return to Lady Stanford.”
Lady Braithwaite stared at her, her jade green eyes seemed to see directly into Susannah’s soul, but she said nothing, only turned and gestured back the way they’d come. “She is in the red room. I will walk with you to the door, but no further. No need to incite your friend’s ire.”
The comment intrigued Susannah. It seemed Lady Braithwaite was as aware of Lady Stanford's dislike as Miss Harris had been.
“Please forgive my impertinence, but why are you and Lady Stanford at odds?”
The lady’s eyes roamed the room, jumping from one person to another. Finally she spoke. “Have you not heard my infamy gossiped about in the drawing rooms of London?”
“Only of the existence of rumors, but no concrete proof that you have done anything untoward.”
A self-satisfied smirk stole across Lady Braithwaite’s face.
“Then they are all too frightened to speak the worst of me. Just as it should be. As for your friend, Lady Stanford and I were acquainted in my first season. I was young and incredibly stupid. Lady Stanford thought much of her own consequence back then but took pity on me until I made a most advantageous match and so the friendship ended.”
“Because you married?”
“Many relationships have ceased because of less. But I suspect the rumors are to blame. As you may know I have buried two husbands, one too many for London’s superstitious nature. It is of no matter. I do not hold Lady Stanford in contempt for her caution. I might even applaud her wisdom.”
A smirk stole across the tiny woman’s angelic face, but it did not reach her eyes. There was heartache there, more than Susannah had witnessed in anyone other than her mother.
They were nearly to the red room when the subject of their conversation emerged, Sir Nathaniel supporting her.
“Miss Wayland, thank heavens you are here. Please fetch Eddie and meet us at the carriage.”
Susannah’s eyes widened. “Of course.” She turned to excuse herself, but Lady Braithwaite was already gone as if she’d vanished into thin air.
It did not take long to find Mr. Kendall, for he came hurrying toward her the moment she entered the first room.
“What has happened?” He asked in low tones as he turned her about and headed for the door.
“How did you—”
“Lady Braithwaite. She said I was needed urgently.”
“Your sister has taken ill. We are needed in the carriage.”
He said no more as they collected their things at the front door and rushed down the steps. Susannah's thoughts were jumbled. Concern, disappointment, and confusion fought for precedence, but in the end amazement and gratitude won out.
Lady Braithwaite’s quick action in finding Mr. Kendall had saved time and the upset of running into her aunt again. Or worse, seeing her cousin captivating John’s attention.