Page 27 of Pursued Beyond Treachery (Harrowed Hearts #2)

T he blasted clock ticked on the mantel as Lady Stanford awaited an answer Susannah did not want to give.

To add to her discomfort, John’s wounded face swam in her mind, heaping coals of guilt on her head.

He did not deserve the distance she’d been forced to make between them.

They were still friends after all, but she’d treated him no better than her maid.

“I will not question you further, Miss Wayland, but it really would help so I might provide a more comfortable environment for our dinner party. If you have set your sights on Mr. Wallace, I will adjust the invitations to make certain my guests”—she cleared her throat— “complement each other.”

Susannah read between her words. Lady Stanford did not want to hurt John further. Of that they were of one mind.

“I do find Mr. Wallace’s company to be most amiable.” There. It was not a lie. She did enjoy spending time with him, but it did not answer Lady Stanford’s first question. Did she care for Mr. Wallace?

What Lady Stanford had probably wished to ask was if she’d fallen in love. A lump formed in Susannah’s throat. They’d fall in love in time, would they not? How could they not?

He was kind, diverting, and handsome. What more could a woman want?

Sparkling blue eyes lit with adoration filled her mind.

The lump in her throat began to burn as she unsuccessfully tried to swallow.

Lifting the rose-colored teacup from her lap, she took a big drink.

The burn of the hot liquid filled her mouth with pain to rival that of her heart, but she swallowed it anyway.

John had always been her dream. She wanted to talk about paintings, show him her latest piece on the piano, pick cowslip in the churchyard, or watch her brothers crawl all over his lap.

The vision filled her mind, but instead of her brothers, she saw little boys and girls with her golden curls and John’s blue eyes.

Her breath hitched and she fought back the urge to cry. Why was life so cruel?

“Susannah?” Lady Stanford said softly.

She glanced up, surprised at the familiarity.

“Are you well? I had not meant to distress you.”

With steady movements she set the cup down, the time allowing her to breathe slowly and collect herself.

A brief urge to lay her plight before Lady Stanford overcame her, but she pushed it back.

This was her burden to carry. Besides, if she exposed her father’s financial situation, the Stanfords might not look on her kindly.

It was one thing to be poor and quite another to incur costly debts one could not pay.

“I think I need to lay down. I feel a headache coming on, but as for your dinner, you may invite whomever you choose. I would not want my preference for Mr. Wallace to change your plans in any way.” She rose.

Lady Stanford compressed her lips, no doubt holding back further questions. Good. Susannah did not feel up to any more prying—not that she’d ever consider Her Ladyship nosy—only she did not wish to give way to any girlish sentiments when she knew exactly what she must do.

With a dip of her head, she bid Lady Stanford a good afternoon, promising to be ready to attend the theatre promptly at five.

The nap Susannah had hoped to take eluded her. No matter how she positioned herself she could not find comfort, not when her mind remained full of memories of John.

John, speaking of the latest innovations in papermaking with her father.

John, taking tea with Amanda when no one else was available.

John, bringing her flowers—

She bolted upright. The flowers. They’d all been meant for her. How had she not recognized it before?

No wonder he’d been so upset the day he’d come with the single pink rose.

Jealousy had reared its ugly head for him much like it had for her when she’d thought about him painting another woman.

She did not blame him either, for Mr. Wallace had been very forward that day with his glances, even kissing her hand.

If ever a woman should feel of her own stupidity, she should. How blind could one be?

A soft knock at the door announced the maid’s arrival and Susannah had to put away her soul crushing regret. It was too late to change things now.

After dressing in a fine cream gown with a light pink overlay, she donned her gloves and jewelry and joined the others in the vestibule. Lady Stanford had also chosen a cream gown, but hers was accented with several ruffles and tiny blue buds around the collar and hem.

They made their way to the carriage much the same as they’d done for the last several weeks, with Sir Nathaniel escorting his wife and Mr. Kendall lending his arm to Susannah. Inside the conveyance they chatted about the evening's entertainment.

At the theatre they exited much as they’d entered, but Susannah’s excitement for the evening dimmed the moment Mr. Wallace took up his place by her side.

“Good evening, Miss Wayland. My, but you look resplendent this evening.”

She smiled, a bit jaded by his compliments.

John would have loved his use of the word resplendent.

For her, it was the same as any other interaction they’d shared.

He’d shower her with compliments, relate a few tales from his childhood, then find a time in the evening to sneak a kiss, which she’d only allowed to be on her cheek or hand.

The disappointment she’d witnessed at their last outing when she’d again turned her cheek to him had nearly made her rethink her stance, but she’d held firm. He’d not asked her for her hand and so she’d not give him her kisses.

It was all so… so… boring. And yet two weeks ago, before she’d known that John cared for her, she’d found great excitement in Mr. Wallace’s attentions.

Mr. Kendall led the way to the duke’s box, having received permission to use it for the evening.

Three rows of chairs had been brought in, providing more seats than Susannah thought they would ever need.

However, a few minutes before the curtain rose, Miss Harris joined them, accompanied by her mother and—

Susannah clamped her gaping jaw shut as John took up a seat behind her.

His straight hair had been swept back with pomade, his dark coat and white cravat was accented with sapphires the color of his eyes.

The man was devastatingly handsome. How was she ever to concentrate, knowing he sat within a few feet of her?