Page 24 of Pursued Beyond Treachery (Harrowed Hearts #2)

T oday was the day. Only a few more minutes and they'd be leaving for Almack’s. Susannah touched the curls at her temple, smiling at herself in the entryway mirror. Having a well-trained lady’s maid was a luxury she did not have back in Kent.

She’d not been completely without help growing up.

Her mother’s maid had helped her and Amanda dress until their mother’s passing, after which she retired from service, having served Susannah’s mother for over twenty years.

For the last nine months their housekeeper Mrs. Stone or their maid of all work had assisted her.

What would it be like to have her own help?

Miss Wallace had spoken openly of her own lady’s maid, so she assumed the family was stable enough in their finances that should Mr. Wallace offer for her a lady’s maid might be appointed.

She stopped fussing in the mirror, astonished at her own thoughts. It was one thing to enjoy Mr. Wallace’s company, but quite another to consider him a candidate for marriage. He was a fine man to be sure, and his conversation delighted her at every turn.

This week alone they’d attended the opera, Vauxhall Gardens, and even driven out during the fashionable hour. Perhaps his fulfillment of her long-held dreams had somehow won him a small place in her heart.

“Are you ready?”

Susannah turned to see Lady Stanford in a white gown trimmed with silver beads and her signature blue ribbon woven in her dark hair, a matching blue ribbon tied about her waist. A subtle bulge poked out under the ribbon, one she would have missed if she’d not known of Her Ladyship’s condition.

“You look lovely, Lady Stanford. How I wish my features were as striking as yours.”

Lady Stanford waved her compliment away. “You are beautiful in your own right, Miss Wayland. Please do not compare us. And I must say pink is definitely your color. How your hair shines tonight. I am sure no man will be able to keep his eyes off you.”

Susannah’s cheeks warmed. “Thank you.”

The butler helped them on with their cloaks and they were putting on gloves when Mr. Kendall entered from the back of the house, Sir Nathaniel following close behind. He stopped when he saw them both.

“Dear me, I forgot to attach my dress sword. Perhaps I should go retrieve it.” Both ladies peered at him, perplexed. “With two ladies as lovely as you both I might be forced to beat the men off with it.”

Lady Stanford swatted at his arm. “You have been taking too many lessons in flirtation from Al, I think. But I shall take it. As an old married woman, I am in need of a few compliments.”

“Who are you calling old?” Sir Nathaniel took Lady Stanford’s hand and pulled her toward him, wrapping an arm about her. “I won’t have you speaking about my wife that way.”

She smiled up at him and his head dipped toward hers.

“I believe we are intruding, Miss Wayland,” Mr. Kendall said. “What say you to waiting in the carriage until they have finished their flirtation?”

Susannah, who had already averted her eyes, nodded. Mr. Kendall quickly snatched his coat and hat and they made their escape, titters of laughter chasing them out of the house.

“They are disgustingly happy, are they not?” Mr. Kendall said.

“Indeed, but I believe delightfully a better adjective.”

“You sound like John.” She peeked up at him and he smirked. “He always points out our fallacies in speech.”

“I suppose years of friendship are wearing off on me.” She tried to maintain her smile, but it faltered.

“You do not like that you sound like him?”

Susannah glanced up at his concerned face. “Actually, I like it very much. Lord Newhurst and I have been friends for a long time. It is an honor to sound as educated as he is. It is just—”

How to finish? They reached the carriage and Mr. Kendall helped her up. When the door closed, he faced her.

“Just?” he encouraged.

“I am confused. You are his friend. Do you think… that is, do you know if…” She could not finish such an embarrassing question. What would Mr. Kendall think of her asking after his friend’s affections?

He leaned forward, a twinkle in his eye. “I think you should ask John this question. If I am not wrong, it is one he wishes very much to hear.”

The door to the carriage opened and Mr. Kendall leaned back against the squabs as the others entered. All the way to King Street she pondered his words, a bud of excitement blooming when she realized what he might have meant.

The chandeliers of Almack’s drew Susannah’s attention the moment they entered.

Lit with hundreds of candles, their sparkle danced off of every wall.

Ladies and gentlemen were already dancing a lively Scottish reel, their hands clapping and their feet skipping.

Her eyes lifted to a magnificent balcony where the musicians played.

All the sights and sounds tickled her senses and left her toes tapping as she awaited her first opportunity to dance.

“Lady Stanford, what a pleasure to see you.”

The grating sound of her aunt’s greeting stole all the happy sensations and left her heart pounding. She’d known they were attending, but hoped with so many present she’d not be forced to spend much time with them.

Turning, she was surprised to find her uncle also present. She’d not seen him since that fateful day last spring. He nodded to her, a pleasant smile on his lips.

“Mrs. Guthrie,” Lady Stanford acknowledged.

“Have you met my husband, Mr. Guthrie?”

“I have not.”

Introductions were made and before long, Sir Nathaniel and Uncle Guthrie stepped away from the group, deep in a discussion about the merits of steam engines.

The man intrigued her, his nature obviously more agreeable than his wife.

But perhaps it was a persona he put on for show, much like Aunt Guthrie.

Miss Guthrie’s head swiveled back and forth until her focus landed on Mr. Kendall. Target in sight, she advanced on him.

“Miss Wayland,” he rushed to say, “Might I have this next set?”

Miss Martha snickered, and Susannah wondered if she might actually be opposed to her mother and sister’s antics. She had insinuated her mother to be as annoying as a goose when they were last in company together.

Their eyes met, and Miss Martha gave a subtle nod. “Look, Harriet. Is that Lord Hamdon over there?”

Miss Guthrie spun. “I believe you are right. Come, Martha. Perhaps he has brought his handsome younger brother so we might both have partners.”

Miss Martha gave a comical eye roll behind her sister's back.

“Will you survive?” Susannah asked near her ear.

“Is there any other choice?” Giving a jaunty salute, she followed her sister.

“Martha, do behave yourself,” Aunt Guthrie called as the young woman walked away without a backward glance. “That girl,” she muttered.

“Best make our break while she’s still occupied,” Mr. Kendall said quietly, offering Susannah his arm.

She gratefully took it, but not before her aunt turned back to her. “Susannah, I need to speak with you.”

The music ended for the set and Mr. Kendall pulled her toward the floor.

“Perhaps after this set,” he called back.

“But I—”

The rest of her aunt's words were swallowed up in the noise of the crowded room, and for the first time Susannah found she was thankful for chaos.

Two songs, when danced with a partner as agreeable as Mr. Kendall, were incredibly short. At least her mind believed so even if her feet disagreed. The moment the music ended, a familiar face emerged from the crowd and Mr. Wallace claimed the next two dances.

She smiled at his enthusiasm, but her parched throat and aching feet wished he’d have at least given her a set to rest. As usual, his conversation drew her in with stories of school larks and questions about her own education.

When the songs came to an end, she found she regretted nothing of the last half hour.

He led her to the refreshment table where she obtained a glass of ratafia, drinking it far quicker than she probably ought.

“My, you were thirsty.”

“I am indeed.” She set down the cup and retrieved another, this one filled with lemonade. Less desperate than before, she sipped it as slowly as she could while Mr. Wallace pointed out different people he was acquainted with.

“Bragging on all your connections , Henry?” Miss Wallace asked from behind them.

Mr. Wallace glanced over his shoulder. Susannah could not see his expression, but she could see Miss Wallace’s. Her smile turned to a frown and she abruptly turned and walked to where a group of ladies were chatting.

“Please excuse my sister. It seems she’s not quite learned that eavesdropping is rude.”

The cheer that had marked his expression before had fled. His stance was stiff and his arms tucked against his side.

“I take no offense. It is a ballroom after all. Nothing said here is completely private and I am well aware of the good-natured teasing that exists between you and your sister.”

He peered down at her and smiled. “Thank you. You are too generous. What might—”

“Susannah, there you are, my dear.” Aunt Guthrie interrupted. Latching onto her other arm, she cast Mr. Wallace a bright smile. “Do excuse us. I have needed to speak to my niece on a matter of some import all evening.”

Susannah tried to beg his intervention with pleading eyes and a subtle shake of her head, but Mr. Wallace was too much of a gentleman and immediately agreed to her aunt's proposition.

Aunt Guthrie pulled her toward the far rooms away from the music.

“Where are we going?”

“Never you mind.” Aunt Guthrie’s grip became painful.

“You have far too much of your mother in you, I say, cavorting about like you come from good breeding. Why Lady Stanford brought you to London is beyond me. And how in the world did you receive a voucher for Almack’s?

” She shook her head, her jowls jiggling with the action.

“The standards for entry are becoming dismally low indeed if they let chits of your standing attend.”