Page 6 of Pursued Beyond Treachery (Harrowed Hearts #2)

T he fabric of the new gown felt divine against Susannah’s skin as she waited for the dressmaker to measure and pin the bottom in order to sew a proper hem. To think they would be leaving in a little over a month.

“Do you like it?” Lady Stanford asked.

“I do, very much. Thank you.”

Lady Stanford lifted a handkerchief to her nose. “No need to thank me,” she said as she dabbed.

Did the shop smell bad to her? Susannah peered down at the dressmaker. The woman did not seem to have any peculiar odor. Whatever the reason, Lady Stanford had been holding the piece of linen to her face quite often during this trip into town. Perhaps she had a cold.

“There ya are, miss.” The middle-aged seamstress stood. “Now if you’ll step over here, we’ll remove it and I can begin the hemmin’.”

Susannah did as she was instructed. This was the last of the clothes being prepared for her trip to Town and the thought excited her. Just one more month.

Slipping back into her old brown traveling dress, her gaze strayed to the pretty blue one also awaiting its hem.

It had been over a year since she’d gotten anything new, long before Mama grew so ill.

Tiny sparks of excitement danced in her chest when she imagined how well she would look, especially if a certain tall, blond gentleman were to take note.

Her smile faltered.

After donning her pelisse, she thanked the seamstress and followed Lady Stanford out the door. Down the street, several young ladies stood outside the milliners admiring a bonnet, while several more seemed to be swarming two gentlemen.

Their hats hid most of their features but the height of one and the gathering of various girls about the other made their identities very clear.

“Oh dear,” Lady Stanford said. “Shall we go save John from Algenon’s many sisters?”

Susannah giggled. Mr. Roberts had the most sisters of any person she’d ever met, ten to be exact. It had been several weeks since she’d last seen Mr. Roberts, but they often crossed paths in Maidstone when the future baron brought his many sisters to shop.

As one of John’s close friends, she had grown up hearing stories about his larks with Mr. Roberts and their mutual friend Miss Harris. That is, until the stories had stopped.

Her gaze wandered to John. He appeared positively frightened. In his hand he held a bouquet of flowers, from which each girl plucked a stem. Poor man had probably tried to do something nice and now had no idea what to do with their thanks.

He’d once admitted that crowds of people made him nervous. She’d seen less of his unease these last few years, but Mr. Roberts’s sisters had apparently brought it back to the surface.

When they reached the gathered group, only one cluster of flowers with a broken stem remained of the ones John had been holding. He looked down on it much like a boy observing a crushed toy.

“Good afternoon Roberts family, Lord Newhurst,” Lady Stanford said to the gathered group. Several ladies rushed to greet her.

Susannah smiled and nodded to each one, trying to recall all their names.

Mr. Roberts clapped his hands and six faces turned to him. “Sisters, might I have a word with Her Ladyship and Miss Wayland?”

A chorus of ‘of course’ and ‘absolutelys’ met his request, but no one moved.

“Alone,” he added.

Several girls groaned.

“Georgette, Phillipa, will you lead the younger girls to the mercantile? Get them each a sweet and tell the proprietor to add it to my bill.”

Excited chatter began between the two youngest who were no more than ten and twelve. When they all were removed, Mr. Roberts turned to John.

“I am sorry about the flowers. It was kind of you to offer them to my sisters even though I am certain that is not for whom they were meant.”

John’s eyes flicked to her for a brief instant before he said, “No matter. At least it appeased them.”

“Like a sacrifice on an altar to pagan gods?” Mr. Roberts grinned.

“More like a sacrifice to stay away from the altar,” Lady Stanford said.

Mr. Roberts laughed and John even cast the lady a smile.

“It must have worked,” he said.

It had been quite some time since she’d heard a bit of John’s dry humor. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed it.

“And where have you two lovely ladies come from?” Mr. Roberts asked with a healthy dose of his customary charm.

“Miss Wayland is being fitted for a new wardrobe for our trip to London.”

“Ah. I had heard you would be joining us in the parade of singles this season.”

“Parade of singles?”

“Yes, it is my own name for the marriage mart. Men and women without a match are like single stockings thrown into a basket where everyone hopes one might become useful and find a mate. We, on the other hand, simply hope not to be paired with a smelly one.”

They all laughed, John giving his customary quiet chuckle.

“And will Javenia be joining us this season?” Lady Stanford asked.

“How should I know?” Mr. Roberts said. “We are on the outs again and she has not spoken to me for nigh unto two weeks.”

Mr. Roberts and Miss Harris had the most peculiar relationship. One minute they were friends and the next… well, exactly as Mr. Roberts had indicated. It seemed they were back to being partial enemies again.

Lady Stanford adjusted her bonnet. “I shall write to her then. Is she still visiting her cousin?”

“No, I believe she returned the night before last.”

The man might not be speaking to Miss Harris but he missed nothing that went on at her neighboring estate. Susannah grinned.

John cleared his throat and she glanced his way. He peered down at his broken flower stem again before tossing it in the dirt. The battered forget-me-nots looked so forlorn.

“And how are you this afternoon, Lord Newhurst?” she asked softly as Lady Stanford and Mr. Roberts entered into a conversation discussing which activities they liked best in Town.

“I-I am well.” He glanced at his empty hands. “And you?”

“Everything seems to be going well with preparations. Andrew, as you know, will finally be attending Harrow after Christmastide and Amanda is coming along in her education.”

She continued outlining each of her siblings’ accomplishments, as it always made her nervous when people asked directly about her.

As the oldest daughter it was her duty to care for others, not burden them with her own problems. No one need know how much she worried about leaving her siblings or what would happen to her father when he had no one to confide in about his grief.

The feel of John’s hand on her sleeve stopped her.

“But how are you?”

She bit her lip and glanced at Lady Stanford. That sweet woman must have seen her distress for she suddenly declared it time to leave.

“I am well,” she said quickly. “Good day, Lord Newhurst.”

His lips turned down and his eyes followed her as she left, much like the protective older brother he’d always played in her life. But the warmth he’d left on her arm made her feel anything but sisterly.

In truth, she’d wanted to burrow into his arms and cry on his shirtfront.

She missed her mother; she was overwhelmed with her duties as a stand-in parent, and as excited as she was for her season, she worried that John would never recognize her as more than a sister and she’d be forced to find someone else.