Page 8 of Pursued Beyond Treachery (Harrowed Hearts #2)

W eeks had come and gone, and Johnathan had done nothing, a whole lot of nothing. Why was he such a coward?

Well, maybe not nothing. He had tried one more time to obtain flowers for Susannah, only to run into Nate and Melior before he’d even reached the hothouse.

Not wanting to explain himself, he’d turned about to walk with them, taking it as a sign that he was not meant to give Susannah flowers, not from Maidstone anyway.

He’d spent so many days over the last three months in the Waylands’ house with very little to show for it.

His painting of her was complete and another one begun, and yet he still had not found the courage to speak more than the plainest pleasantries.

In return she’d smiled and chattered on about the future season with all the delight he’d come to expect from her.

He’d found peace in those moments, enjoying her cheer as they’d sat by the fire with all her family and welcomed in the new year, but today all that peace was gone.

Today she would leave for London. He would follow soon after, but it still did not comfort him.

Why had Melior insisted on giving Susannah a season?

It was the one question that had plagued him over and over again, and yet he’d not been able to bring himself to ask.

Fear of her answer mixed with his stumbling tongue—not that he feared Melior herself, but she read him too well.

As the sister of one of his friends, and the wife of another, she knew him better than most. Had she deduced his secret affection? If so, why take Susannah away?

It seemed cruel. But Melior was not cruel, not by nature.

His butler entered the library where Johnathan had taken to sulking, the heavy door complaining loudly at having to be moved. “Sir Nathaniel Stanford to see you, my lord.”

The baronet strode in without waiting for Johnathan’s acceptance.

Shutting the book of poetry he’d not even had the presence of mind to read, he placed the leather-bound copy of Milton’s Paradise Lost on the round end table near his favorite leather chair.

Removing his reading glasses, he blinked up at his friend.

Wasn’t Nate supposed to be on the road to Town by now?

“There you are. We have come to take our leave.”

“We?” Johnathan asked.

“Yes, the ladies are waiting in the parlor. I know you are to follow in a few days, but Mel insisted we make our visits.”

Of course she would; she’d been raised to the highest standards. The question that had burned within him came to the surface.

“Why, Nate?”

“Probably because she cannot stand going against expectations.”

“No, why did Melior offer to give Miss Wayland a season?”

Nate rocked back on his heels; his attention suddenly drawn to the bookshelves that graced every wall of the large room.

He locked his hands behind his back and hummed.

“Like I said before, she simply wanted to be generous. Miss Wayland has had a difficult year and we both know Mr. Wayland probably doesn’t have the funds or time to take her to London.

Plus, with one less mouth to feed it will ease some of the family’s burden. ”

Johnathan had first-hand knowledge to refute several of his friend’s claims, but the way Nate would not make eye contact set him on edge.

He observed him closely. The tell-tale tuck of Nate’s lip as he bit on the corner, a twitch under his eye, the way he rocked forward and back.

The details were all there. Nate was lying.

Well, perhaps not outright, but he told only half the truth.

He wanted to press him, but he would not keep the ladies waiting. Far be it from him to be rude after Melior had given him the opportunity to see Susannah one last time before all of London beheld her beauty.

Slowly he rose to his full height. Looking down at Nathaniel, he said, “Lead the way.”

A tiny sigh slipped past his friend’s lips, but he’d not escaped questioning. No, Johnathan planned on thoroughly interrogating him once they were all settled in London.

In the splendor of his visiting parlor, he found Susannah dressed in brand-new traveling attire.

He should not have been surprised; Melior would not allow her to go to town ill fitted for the fashionable world, but the fine cut of the light blue garment trimmed in black made the whole experience far more real.

Susannah really was going to London to find a husband. His tongue froze in his mouth as his mind screamed in protest.

“Lord Newhurst.” She curtsied.

She even sounded more cultured. Had Melior given her lessons on diction?

Her name escaped him in a whisper. “Susannah.” When his mind caught up with what he had done, he straightened. It had been years since he’d allowed himself the pleasure of her given name.

Her cheeks pinked and he cursed himself for embarrassing her. “My apologies, Miss Wayland. You are for London, then?”

His words were so blessedly clear of his usual stutter that he gave himself a mental pat on the back.

“I am. And when do you follow?”

Had her father not told her? They’d spoken of it just yesterday. “Day after tomorrow.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Melior’s hand briefly flutter near her midsection, a suspicious smile on her lips. But the moment his head turned she wiped it away, coming forward to offer her goodbyes as well. It was all so awkward and unnecessary.

He studied her as she invited him to spend his first evening in Town with them, claiming he’d need a good meal after such a long journey. Flitting eyes, fidgeting fingers. It seemed Nate was not the only one withholding information. He tipped his head to the side in contemplation.

Melior stopped, then added, “You will not be the only one in attendance as I have invited several families to Kendall House that evening to celebrate our arrival.”

Kendall House? Why not Nate’s townhouse? His gaze flicked to his friend.

Nate stepped forward. “We thought it would make more of an impression on Society if we stayed in Melior’s family home. With Eddie being the only occupant at present, there is plenty of room.”

Johnathan nodded. “And Eddie does not mind you interrupting his peace?”

“He’s the one who begged us to come and relieve him from his solitude. Claimed he would go mad before the opening of Parliament if we did not come early.”

Eddie always had liked company far more than he or Nate. His love of Society could only be rivaled by Al who simpered about, plying ladies with his overly sweet compliments and winning their undying affection.

“Heaven help us if we were responsible for my brother’s deterioration into bedlam.” The smirk on Melior’s face matched that of her husband’s. They made the perfect pair, their banter and absurdity running together like a bubbling brook bringing smiles to both his and Susannah’s faces.

“I suppose dinner at Kendall House would be nice.” He shifted from one foot to the other, realizing he should have offered to have everyone sit, but the way Susannah glanced at the door stopped the words from forming. “I should not keep you. Do you have any other stops before you depart?”

“No, this is the last,” Melior supplied, her gaze wandering to Susannah.

“Yes,” Susannah added. “I… that is…Will you be attending the Prince Regent’s ball at Carlton House in a fortnight?”

The Prince’s ball? How in the world had his friend come by an invitation to his Majesty’s ball?

Nate cringed and Melior stepped forward, wringing her hands. “My uncle, you see…”

He filled in her meaning when she trailed off. Her uncle was the Duke of Bedford. Of course he would be invited to the most opulent balls London had to offer, and by extension his family.

“I am afraid I will not be at His Majesty’s ball, but I wish you a most wonderful time.”

There, that had come out both fluent and benevolent. But inside a riot of emotion pounded at his chest. He’d not be at Susannah’s first ball of the season. How was that possible?

He’d hoped to be the first to lead her to the floor.

Not that his dancing could be called elegant, or even proficient, but the idea that someone else would stand up with her in front of all of Society and he’d not be there to protect her, to support her…

who was he fooling? He would not be there to quail the attempts of all the eligible bachelors.

Susannah’s expression fell, and he wondered if he’d allowed his frustration to show. “I see.” Then she brightened. “Well, I look forward to our dinner Monday evening.”

And like that, the cloud of gloom that had settled over him lifted. She looked forward to seeing him? Dare he hope that those words meant more than in a brotherly fashion?

Gathering all the courage he had, he reached out and took her gloved hand. “Safe travels, Miss Wayland.” Then he bent and placed a kiss on her wrist, just above the edge of her kid gloves.

It was the boldest thing he’d ever done, but the smile she graced him with when he rose compensated for his discomfort tenfold. His mind danced forward on wings of hope, desperate for a chance at winning Miss Susannah Wayland’s affections.

Then she left, and reality sunk in. How was he ever to gain the courage to declare himself? What if she did not feel the same? Could she ever see him as more than a brother?

Somewhere inside he needed to find the courage to speak, and he needed to find it soon or he’d lose her. But how would he find the words?