by Gill, Tamara
At Victoria’s attempt to dissuade Lord Danning, Suzanna took pity on her friend and the awkward silence that settled about them all. “You should enjoy the evening. I’ll find your mama and sit with her.”
“Are you sure? I don’t wish to leave you alone.” Victoria frowned.
Suzanna quickly met Lord Danning’s eyes and smiled. The gesture was all she could summon due to the lump wedged in her throat. “Of course,” she said quickly. “In fact I’ve just spotted your mama. I will see you a little later.” And with a quick curtsy, Suzanna moved toward the ballroom doors with no intention of seeking out Victoria’s mama.
Cool air hit her face as she moved into the less crowded passageway, a welcome reprieve from the overcrowded stifling ballroom. She leaned against the wall and caught her breath that seemed to be coming in rapid repetition.
What a silly fool she was, to imagine Lord Danning would fall for her. A ridiculous notion she should never have contemplated. To think she had been going to seduce him and play him for a fool. Yet, once again he had trumped her ace. No, squashed her under his leather top-boots like an annoying little ant not worth his notice. She had presented herself like a wanton hussy and heat stole up her neck at the thought. Not that she did anything terribly wrong. Yet one should never allow rakes to kiss them in the way he had last week in the garden.
Suzanna pushed away from the wall and ambled toward the retiring room. No one spoke to her when she made her way to a window seat overlooking the darkened garden and stared out at her reflection on the glass.
Perhaps being here, among the highest London peerage, was a foolish notion. Yet tonight she seemed popular with the gentlemen; but more than likely her acceptance this eve was solely due to arriving with Victoria’s mama, the Countess of Ross.
The lump was back in her throat and tears welled. She wiped them away and sniffed. What lunacy to think she could find a husband in this society. Yes, she had wealth but what of it when no one cared about nor welcomed such a family into their lives.
She needed a change of scenery.
No longer would she refuse the abundant cards of the lower society that arrived daily and sat unopened on her brother’s desk. At least by marrying a gentleman from her own sphere, her chances of marrying for love and not for some Lord’s financial gain were in her favour.
Calm settled about her like a comforting hug. It was the right decision, a decision long overdue.
The ton could go hang.
***
Royce stood at the side of the Tattersall’s auction ring and fought not to lose his decorum. All morning the auctioneer slammed down the hammer like a death knell on his prized horseflesh and vehicles. With every item sold, Royce cursed himself and his brother to Hades.
His friend, Lord Renn, was even here, purchasing his prized horseflesh without a flicker of remorse. Self-disgust ate at him, the feeling lying heavily on his shoulders.
It was a sobering day.
“With the horse sales, the harvest reaping, and the sale of your Rome estate, I do believe you’ll see your financial situation to rights, my lord.”
Royce glanced at his solicitor tallying away in his notebook. He cringed as the final hammer gong came down on his champion two-year old, Kingstar. There went his racing season. His temper soared when the even-tempered colt was led from the arena by Suzanna’s brother, Mr. Henry March.
“Bastard.”
“Pardon, my lord?” His solicitor gazed at him in concern.
“Nothing.” Royce marched over to the auctioneer and thanked him for his services before returning to his man of business. “Pay off the most pressing debts immediately, and send word to me of who is left to pay. Write to them and see if they will hold off until the harvest is in. It is not too much to ask, surely.” Royce could only hope the debtors agreed.
“Yes, my lord.” His solicitor nodded and sauntered toward his carriage. Royce walked out onto the street and realized he no longer had the luxury of such a vehicle. Hailing a hackney cab, he jumped in and threw himself onto the squabs. The smell of tobacco and vomit wafted from the seat.
Royce shook his head and lowered the cab’s window, disgusted by the odour that would ruin his suit. This would never do. How could he continue to grace society when all would be privy to him selling off his horses and carriages? To explain away such an action would be impossible. The ton would never believe the excuse he merely wished to renew his stock. They would see through his lie like a piece of glass.
Royce yelled out his direction to the driver and clasped the belt above the window as the carriage rumbled over the cobbled road. His thoughts turned to his brother whom he’d not seen these past four days.
He frowned.
Chapter Six
Over the following weeks, Suzanna attended many balls and parties of London’s gentry’ society. Henry, happy to see her away from the money-hungry rakes of the upper London ton, attended with her and made the necessary introductions when required.
It was very liberating, Suzanna found, to be the most sought after and highly regarded, among their set. The only drawback was Victoria’s absence from her side. Being an earl’s daughter, her friend circulated in a different sphere to the one Suzanna now called home.
“Penny for your thoughts, Suzanna.”
With a sigh, she looked across at her brother seated in the family carriage. His eyes and his white cravat were the only parts she could make out of him in the darkened space. “Just a penny? You’re turning cheap, Henry.” At his resounding chuckle, Suzanna laughed. “I was just thinking of how much I miss Victoria and yet not her society at all.”
“We are as good as anyone else.” Henry shifted on his seat, a sign of his aggravation at the reminder of their heritage. “Our money may have come from the hard work of our father, but his fortune was honestly earned and not to be considered lightly. I wager, had a high and mighty lord needed your fortune desperately enough, his dearest mama would have been easy enough to buy. Makes me sick, thinking of your marrying a rogue who is only after your purse. To risk having you thrust into a family who, after access to your blunt, may have treated you abominably.”
Suzanna sighed, one rogue in particular coming to mind although Lord Danning had no need for her money. What a shame he didn’t attend some of the balls of her new sphere. He would then see what a catch she was, even if not to his taste.
“I understand Mr. Jenkins will be in attendance this evening.”
“Really,” Suzanna said, trying to hide the boredom that entered her voice at the mention of the man. A baron’s third son who thought she would make him a perfect wife, whether affection was involved or not. Not in her case.
Had she not escaped to her brother’s side two evenings past, Suzanna was sure she’d still be trapped in Mrs. Hill’s supper room, listening to him preach about the appalling gravel paths in Hyde Park and how he’d tripped over a pebble some days past. Pity the boring man wouldn’t fall into the Serpentine and disappear altogether. “How fortunate for us,” she said.
Henry grinned. “So you won’t be marrying the poor fellow, then?”
“Certainly not.” Suzanna met her brother’s laughing gaze. “And I expect if he comes to call, you will let him down gently and save him the embarrassment of hearing it from me.”
“I will do no such thing, Suzanna. If he asks, you will do your duty and tell him no yourself. In any case,” he said, checking his cravat and picking up his hat, “you should be warned, it is not only Mr. Jenkins who’s been looking at you for a wife. Many gentlemen have approached me and asked of you. Surely one of them meets your favour?”
“Not yet,” she said, clasping the seat as the carriage rocked to a halt. “But I’ll let you know when one does.”
“Marvellous,” Henry said, his sarcasm in no way masked. “Now come; dinner awaits.”
Suzanna entered the foyer of Baronet Blyth’s Belgravia home. With the help of a footman, she shrugged off her cloak and took her brother’s arm. Sir
William and his wife, Lady Blyth, greeted them warmly at the drawing room door before ushering them inside. Footmen bustled about, serving hors d’oeuvres and drinks to the gathered throng. Suzanna glanced about the room to see who was present. Her steps faltered.
“He’s a cad,” her brother growled through his teeth. “If he thinks I’ll give you away to him, he has rocks in his head.”
Suzanna patted his arm and smiled as they came up to a group of ladies of her acquaintance. “I’m sure he has a reason for being present. I highly doubt it’s because of me.”
“Suzanna,” he said, pulling her to a stop. “You would make a most suitable and equal wife to Viscount Danning. And he knows it. I’ve no doubt he is here because of you. Tell me,” he paused, looking over her shoulder, his eyes narrowing in the direction of his lordship, “have you ever seen him in this society before?”
She frowned and shook her head.
“Neither have I. But the moment you step away from the ton, he comes crawling into our sphere like a dog sniffing out a wealthy bone.”
“Don’t be so rude, Henry. Lord Danning, for whatever reason, is here as a guest of Sir Blyth. You must be polite or I’ll tell Victoria what a grouch of a husband you will make.” Suzanna chuckled at the blush that rose on her brother’s cheeks.
“You’re a cruel woman, Suzanna.”
She smiled and pulled him toward her new friends. “Not cruel at all and you know it. Just making sure you behave like the gentleman I know you to be.”
Sometime later, Henry escorted her into dinner where, much to Suzanna’s despair, she was deposited beside Lord Danning. Henry, seated across from her, threw his lordship a baleful glare before turning to the entree before him.
“So this is where you have been hiding over the last few weeks, Miss March.” Lord Danning looked about the room with a studied air.
“I thought a change of society would do me well, my lord, and up until this eve it had done so.” He smiled and Suzanna immediately regretted her politely worded set down. Having told her brother to act the gentleman, she had been unable to hold her own tongue.
“Lady Victoria misses you greatly, I believe. Will you ever come back and light up our ballrooms as you once did?”
A spike of irrational jealousy shot through her at the thought of Victoria airing her feelings to Lord Danning and receiving condolences in return. It was silly of her; Lord Danning could speak with whomever he wished; she was nothing to him. And Victoria was her friend and she should not think ill of her over a man. Especially this man. “I saw Victoria only last week, my lord. I do believe you are exaggerating.”
“On the contrary, Miss March. Why, only last eve while dancing a waltz with her she told me how she wished you were there. Of course, I concurred and said I would take it upon myself to find out where you had gone and what you find so favourable to keep you away.”
Barely repressing her temper, Suzanna placed down her spoon and turned toward the vexing man at her side. “Well, now you have found me. Do not let me be the one to hold you from your entertainments. You see, I happen to like this society and the people who grace it. As for the last sphere I graced, other than Victoria, I cannot say there was anything else to recommend it.”
Lord Danning clasped his chest. “You wound my fragile heart.”
Her eyes narrowed and she took a calming breath. “What are you really doing here, Lord Danning?”
He smiled and sipped his wine. “I’ve come to see you. I’ve missed you.”
“Really?” Suzanna chuckled, the sound tinged with sarcasm. “You’re a liar and a rogue, my lord. And if you think I will fall for your pretty words, you’re sadly mistaken.”
He grinned. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are when you’re angry? Your temper suits the fiery colour of your hair.”
Suzanna looked about the table in fear of others hearing his lordship’s inappropriate compliment. She shushed him. “Perhaps you should heed the warning my hair is giving you then, my lord. And in any case, you’re wasting your flattery on me.” The feel of satin knee breeches, a knee in particular, rubbed suggestively against her leg. Suzanna struggled to swallow her mouthful of soup as her breath caught in her lungs. Her body longed to feel the man beside her and she quickly squashed the emotion like a bug.
“In all honesty, I came because Sir Blyth is one of my oldest and dearest friends. We attended Cambridge together.”
Suzanna swallowed and met Lord Danning’s eye before looking about the table. She had not known he had such a friendship with Sir Blyth. It would explain the genial banter between the two before dinner. To know he did not decry the middle aristocratic class placed him in a slightly more favourable light.
Only slightly.
“You’re surprised?” he asked, mirth visible in his dark-blue orbs.
Suzanna shrugged. “Of course I am, my lord. I wouldn’t have thought,” she said in a lowered voice, “Sir Blyth was deemed good ton.”
“He isn’t, by high society’s standards but by mine, of course.”
He smiled as the first course was cleared from before them. His appreciative study of her made her stomach somersault, reminding her of the night they were together on the terrace…
“You shouldn’t look at me like so, my lord. It’s disconcerting.”
He chuckled but said nothing. Nor did he need for Suzanna to know what he was thinking. The very same thoughts as she was having. Of them locked together under an ivy vine, his hands against her flesh, holding her captive to an onslaught of desire, which until that night was unknown to her.
Suzanna reached for her water and fumbling, spilled the entire drink on the white, highly starched tablecloth. Heat bloomed on her face and as she stood to avoid the liquid spilling onto her skirt, she heard a resounding thud—her chair crashing against the floorboards.
“I’m so sorry, Sir Blyth. I’m so clumsy.” Unable to still the tremor running though her hands, Suzanna tried to mop up the abundant spill with her napkin.
Sir Blyth waved her concerns away and summoned a footman. “Please see to the mess, and fetch Miss March another glass of water.”
Suzanna slumped onto her chair and when she sat into nothing but thin air, wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. All the humiliations of last season came crashing down, along with the remains of her dinner, when her hands shot out to clasp anything to stop her fall.
Shouts and gasps sounded about her. Suzanna looked down at her ruined gown, covered in the entrée of mutton cutlets, soubise sauce, and wine. The multicoloured stain also covered most of her bosom.
Unable to stop herself, she looked up at Lord Danning, whose visage was impossible to read, and gained her feet. She strode from the room with all the dignity she could muster, willing her feet to take her far from the scene of such complete humiliation. All those months and money spent on making her a lady who fit the ton and all its lofty ideals were for nothing. She had not changed; she was still the unlucky debutante from last season.
At the sound of voices and footsteps from behind, Suzanna rushed down the hallway and fled into the ladies retiring room. She shut the door and leaned against it in the hopes whoever had followed her would be discouraged and leave her alone. When the door opened with an almighty shove, she was thrown face down onto the Aubusson rug. It seemed such a wish was not to be granted this eve.
“Suzanna, I do apologize. Here,” Royce said, leaning down and pulling her to stand. “I would never have barged in had I known you were standing behind the door.” He watched her right her clothes as best she could before she turned, sauntered over to a basin of water, and tried to wipe the remains of her dinner from her gown.
Suzanna glared at him over her shoulder as a blob of sauce dropped and splattered onto the floor. “My clothes are already soiled, so landing on the floor for a second time this evening will not matter.”
His gaze stole over her ruined apparel and the sad, unsure woman he had known last year stared back at
him across the room. An ache settled in his chest at the dishevelled picture she made. All of which was his fault. Had he not tried to fluster her by touching her leg, she would not have suffered such humiliation.
“I apologize if my actions earlier this night upset you to the point you spilled—”
“My drink. All over the table before falling on my backside in front of the dinner guests I was trying to impress. Since,” she walked over to him and poked his chest with a finger, “the society I had initially graced wanted naught to do with me and all because of a certain pompous, arrogant, high-in-the-instep lord.”
Royce sighed. Her tone did not bode well for his plan to win Suzanna and make her his wife. “Like I said, I apologize. Perhaps for me to make amends, you would agree to a ride in the park tomorrow. I believe the weather is to be congenial.”
“Unlike the company,” she stated, with a narrow, piercing stare that could have turned him to ash on the Aubusson rug beneath his boots.
“There’s no need to be….” Her eyes narrowed further as Royce cut off what he was about to say. He doubted his suggestion that she should be polite would place her in a more pleasant mood.
“You should leave, my lord. If you could find my brother and send him in, I would be appreciative.”
Royce tucked a flyaway curl behind her ear and noted for the first time a delightful mole above her slightly parted and lusciously plump lip. She was mouth-watering in this dishevelled state. A little of the soubise sauce clung to a strand of her hair, and he had an overwhelming urge to clean it away. She pulled away from his hand.
“And you may stop looking at me like that, Lord Danning.” She ambled toward the window and fumbled with the heavy velvet drapes drawn closed for the evening. “I know I may make interesting sport for a rake of the ton, but I refuse to allow you to laugh at my clumsiness or make me cry any longer. I want you to leave.”
Royce watched her attempt to hold her composure and a fear unlike any he had ever known assailed him. He’d made her cry?
