Page 26 of Pursued Beyond Treachery (Harrowed Hearts #2)
T ears trickled into Susannah’s pillow. Her aunt had been right. Standing across the dance from John, she’d seen the love shining in his eyes. He loved her.
How had she been so blind? She knew him better than almost anyone, having watched him for years. He struggled to speak with others, especially women. He hated large gatherings. He loved painting and finding new words and spending time with his closest friends… and apparently her.
But it was too late. If he had spoken a few weeks ago, even a few days ago, perhaps her aunt would not have become so determined. It all came back to time. Why did it always have to come back to time?
The right time made all the difference. And now time had been stolen from her once again.
Tears continued to flow until sleep overtook her.
It would have been a blessed relief if her dreams had not been filled with visions of being dragged off the dance floor.
When she looked to see who pulled her, the face changed.
It transformed from her aunt, to her cousin, to Miss Wallace, and even Mr. Wallace.
When light began to filter into her room, she awoke with such a pounding in her head that she called for Cook to send up some willow bark tea.
She’d not have to claim a headache to avoid John today.
The bitter drink took the edge off the pain in her head, but not in her heart. How could she lie now that she recognized the truth? But how could she place her family into such a precarious position?
She did not know her aunt well enough to know whether she’d test her own fate out of spite for her brother’s family. Aunt Guthrie’s willingness to spread lies before the death of her mother seemed to prove that she’d go to no ends to tarnish the Wayland name.
Of course, those fabrications were different.
They painted her mother as ill-tempered and a grasping social climber, but not morally corrupt.
If Aunt Guthrie accused Susannah of unseemly behavior of an intimate nature…
her cheeks heated at the mere thought. No one would want her after that, not with her meager dowry.
Her thoughts flitted to the Stanfords. She’d lose their friendship, possibly even John’s if he thought she’d been immoral in any way. His upright nature would wither at the very thought.
And if her father were to go to debtors' prison she’d be her family's only hope of rescue. She needed to marry soon and marry well to keep that from ever being a possibility. With her aunt’s threats, her choice had been made for her.
As much as her heart rebelled against it, Mr. Wallace would be her future.
It was not so bad. She had considered his merits before they’d attended Almack’s. Only now it stung, knowing what might have been had she only opened her eyes.
Thankfully, Sir Nathaniel had declared last night that they would dine in for at least three days. That would give time for her heart to come into alignment with her head, would it not?
When John was announced on the third day, however, the disobedient organ leapt in her chest. How would she ever face him?
He entered the sitting room, his complexion offset nicely by his fitted navy coat and snowy white cravat. His eyes met hers and a tentative smile full of hope pulled at his lips. It was too much.
She stood.
“Please forgive me for dashing off when you have just arrived, Lord Newhurst, but I have an urgent matter I must address.”
She turned and nodded to Lady Stanford. “Do not wait on me for tea, it may take some time to settle.” Rushing past him, she felt the tiniest graze of his fingers on her arm, but she did not stop. The gooseflesh he’d left would have to subside in private.
Once securely back in her room, she sat at her dressing table and stared absentmindedly at the correspondence she’d been planning to attend to.
Not one ounce of her desired to take up the task, so she allowed each interaction over the last two years to play out in her mind like a puppet show.
Two years of clues. Two years of tender words and gentle touches. Two years of blindness.
Lady Braithwaite was right. She was incredibly stupid.