Page 9 of Pursued Beyond Treachery (Harrowed Hearts #2)
L ondon was not quite what Susannah had imagined. To begin, it smelled horrendous.
She’d taken to carrying a handkerchief doused in perfume everywhere she went. The strong scent counterbalanced some of the worst areas of the city, but it did not dissipate the depravity she witnessed.
Dirty children seemed to beg at every corner, their sunken eyes pulling at her soul.
Lady Stanford had supplied her with a small purse for such occasions but warned her to be careful and only give out small amounts—and only when they were in Sir Nathaniel’s company.
No need to excite thieves and pickpockets.
Only a few streets seemed clear of the poverty, one of which being where Kendall House was situated in Mayfair. The tall stone home flanked by its companions stood four stories high, a multitude of windows boasting its size.
It intimidated Susannah to think of how much splendor her hostess had grown up in. But Lady Stanford paid little attention to the elegance around them and simply smiled at Susannah’s awe.
Three days in residence had done little to stifle her amazement as she slowly made her way down the stairs to the beautiful gold and cream drawing room on the second floor.
Sir Nathaniel and Lady Stanford were already present as were a few other ladies and gentlemen she did not know. Introductions were made and Susannah hoped she’d be able to remember all of the guests' names. Mr. Kendall came to stand by her, a cheery smile on his face.
“It is a bit overwhelming, is it not?”
“Indeed.” She clasped her hands in front of her hoping he did not see how they shook.
She liked Lady Stanford’s brother. Easygoing and affable, he put her in mind of her younger brother Terrance.
Both had ready conversation and seemed to find enjoyment in being helpful to others.
However, at nearly a decade older than her brother, Mr. Kendall’s mannerisms were more polished as he led her from circle to circle, blessedly repeating the names of people she’d met as he conversed with them.
The door opened, and the butler announced the final guest. Her gaze flew to the door, hungry for the sight of John in all this chaos.
Her eyes widened as she took in his evening blacks.
In the country he rarely dressed so impressively, generally sticking to drab colors with little ornamentation.
But tonight a sapphire stick pin was nestled in the folds of his cravat and a silver chain peeked out of his pocket which no doubt held his timepiece.
As he entered, several of the young ladies took note. As a viscount, he commanded the highest rank in the room for this evening. Ladies leaned together behind fans, their eyes dancing with delight.
Something hot and sticky sank into Susannah’s middle. She wanted to poke their eyes out. The feeling caught her off guard and she quickly adjusted her face, hoping no one had seen her jealousy.
“Welcome, Newhurst,” Sir Nathaniel greeted, using John’s title in the company of those who were not close to them.
The realization that they called each other by given names in her presence suddenly struck her. But it had always been so. From her earliest memories they had used abbreviated names for one another. A name she had taken to using for John.
She knew his full name to be Johnathan, but none of his friends called him that, so neither had she. That is, until her father had insisted she be more formal. It was odd calling him Lord Newhurst but it was probably for the best.
As he approached her, though, the only name that came to mind was John. Her John. No, she could not think of him that way. She had no right, but, oh, how she wished she did.
And he had called her Susannah back in Maidstone. Did he still think of her by her Christian name?
“Good… evening.” He swallowed so hard his throat bobbed.
Had the room full of strangers made him nervous? He’d never liked big groups.
“Good evening, Lord Newhurst. How was your journey?”
She did not expect him to give more than a one-word answer, but he surprised her.
“It would have been more pleasant had my man not become ill along the way. I was obliged to stop multiple times for him to cast up his accounts, but we managed to make it here without ruining my rig's upholstery.”
Susannah grinned when John’s face suddenly colored.
While she did not mind hearing about his ill servant, a woman who had approached them covered her mouth and quickly chose a different course.
Good. She had hoped for a little more undivided attention before she was forced to share him with all the ladies who kept glancing their way.
“D-do excuse me, Miss Wayland. I’d not meant… I mean, that sort of information”—he swallowed again—“is p-probably not suitable for a drawing room.”
Instinctively she reached out and placed a hand on his sleeve, much as she’d done all their years growing up.
“Do not apologize. I asked for the information. I am sorry Fernley is ill. Does he often struggle with carriage rides? Many people do. Lady Stanford had a terrible time of it on our way to town.”
John confirmed that he did, but they were interrupted when the butler announced dinner. She’d hoped to ask a few more questions about his valet in an effort to keep him talking, but she supposed the conversation would have to wait.
Dinner proved to be fairly uneventful, John leading Lady Stanford into dinner and Susannah being paired with the elderly father of one of the ladies. The same lady who seemed determined to catch John’s attention when the men joined them in the drawing room after their port.
Lady Stanford had informed Susannah that Miss Eleanor Wallace with her golden-brown curls and her perfectly formed nose was cousin to the Viscount Ansley.
Her father, Mr. Wallace, held a seat in the House of Commons.
The information brought no comfort to Susannah’s already flailing hopes.
How could she compete with women of such connections?
No doubt the woman’s dowry was ten times the size of hers.
But when the men joined them, John took up the seat next to hers and all thoughts of competition fled.
He placed his hand on the cream armrest embroidered with yellow and red flowers, his fingers slowly moving over the stitches as he glanced at each of the room's occupants.
She waited for him to speak, but her wait was in vain.
The rest of the night he remained silent, eventually leaving early, something Miss Wallace complained extensively to her companions about.
Susannah had to agree. She’d not wished him to leave so soon, but he’d traveled most of the day with a sick servant.
After such a journey, who could deny him a good night's rest for their own selfish comforts?