Chapter 2
Two
Though it was only February, afternoons in Hyde Park were starting to overflow with people and vehicles. Such a crush made driving more difficult, but Miss Susanna Fenton did not mind because she loved to observe the interactions of her fellow Society members.
However, her aunt, Mrs. Susanna Blackwall, preferred to take their outing when it was quieter. As Susanna was her companion, she was obliged to visit the park shortly before the fashionable hour.
The ground was spongy from yesterday’s rain, the horse’s hooves throwing up mud.
The trees were stubbornly refusing to show any signs of new life, but at least the sky was clear.
Susanna drove her aunt’s phaeton with a set of disciplined greys, leaving Aunt Blackwall free to make comments and observations.
Only a few people remained in the park, and most were on horseback or in carriages. Despite herself, Susanna found herself looking for Mr. Ambrose Hartley. It had been nearly two weeks since she stole his notebook, and she was beginning to think he had no intention of asking for its return.
Why must he spoil the fun?
As a boy, he had usually been good for a lark. As he grew older, he grew serious, and now they often quarreled. Sometimes their squabbles were her favorite part of seeing him. Riling Rosie was a favored pastime.
Though after their encounter in the garden, she was all too aware that he was no longer a boy.
Susanna would never admit to how frequently she had thought of his green eyes a foot from hers in the moonlight.
Ambrose Hartley did not cut the same dashing figure as his older brother—he was too thin and a hair short for fashion’s ridiculous standards—but he was still undeniably handsome.
While Susanna had long considered him worth looking at, she had been unprepared for her reaction to close proximity. Why, she had contemplated kissing him!
He had proven his ability to charm all too well.
In that moment it had been easy to believe he needed no help in securing a wife, though Susanna was unsure if he would be able to find a woman that met his exacting standards.
Leave it to Rosie to take all the sentiment out of courtship by making a list.
Her first glimpse of the list had been an accident. She had not meant to pry into his personal affairs and had no intentions of looking through his notebook. But when Rosie did not come for his property, she had taken her revenge by examining its contents.
She’d reviewed his requirements several times, deriving both amusement and vexation from the list. If these were the standards all men held, was it any wonder that Susanna had not received any serious male attention in years?
It was her long-held belief that her high spirits, opinionated nature, and professed disinterest in marriage were at fault for her lack of suitors.
But by Rosie’s standards, it could be her reading of novels or that at eight and twenty she was too old for their consideration.
His list made her even happier she had sworn off conforming to capture a husband.
A decision made easy by her aunt’s current support and promised inheritance.
“Susie, take heed.” Aunt’s cry pulled Susanna from her thoughts, and she focused on slowing the horses. “If you insist on driving, I must insist you pay attention,” Aunt said.
“But if I always paid attention, you would not be able to scold me. And we both know how much you enjoy that,” Susanna said in a singsong voice.
Aunt shook her head, but her full mouth tilted up in a half smile. Though five and forty, Aunt Blackwall did not look a day over thirty. Tall, trim, and fashionable, she was often pursued by fortune hunters, who thought they would be the ones to turn the beautiful, rich widow’s head.
Once Susanna slowed the horses, Aunt began to recount the chemistry lecture she had attended the previous evening.
When Susanna was twenty and freshly come to live in London as her aunt’s companion, she had endured many evenings of lectures.
Now, eight years later, if the lecture did not interest her, she was allowed to stay home or visit a friend.
Of course Grace Arden, her dearest friend, was not in town this Season as she prepared to welcome her second child into the world. Perhaps that is why Susanna looked for Rosie, because she missed her favorite Hartley sibling.
The late winter sun and slight wind made for a cold outing.
Aunt did not seem to notice as she described what made something acidic.
Scanning the park, Susanna’s eyes caught on a familiar set of shoulders walking toward them with a short, trim young lady on his arm.
Several feet behind, a broad, plainly dressed woman followed them as chaperone.
Susanna straightened, and a slow smile spread across her face.
“Oh, Aunt, there is Mr. Ambrose Hartley,” Susanna said. “We must greet him.”
Aunt leaned forward. “You are right. Who is he with? Is that Miss Mannfield?”
“Yes, I believe it is Miss Lydia Mannfield.”
“Why, I thought a Hartley would have better sense than to walk out with such a prosy girl. When we spoke at Willard’s card party, she did nothing but spout sermons.”
Susanna nodded. “She told me it was unseemly for me to drive the phaeton and that I would benefit from considering a woman’s delicate nature.”
“Nonsense. I do not hold with this notion that a lady must also be a weakling. It is nothing more than Society’s attempt to keep women beholden to men.”
Susanna felt one of Aunt’s tirades beginning to take shape.
Father always cautioned her on becoming “fiercely independent” like his sister.
But Aunt Blackwall’s independence was one of the many things Susanna admired about her.
That she lived her life without reliance on a man was commendable.
Indeed, along with being a generous aunt to her nieces and nephews, being self-sufficent was something Susanna strived to emulate.
“Mr. Hartley might prefer a genteel and delicate woman,” Susanna said, in an attempt to avoid a lecture.
She resisted the urge to add that Miss Mannfield was on his list of candidates for a wife. Aunt could never know of her stealing the notebook; Susanna would never hear the end of it.
As their carriage rolled closer, Susanna perceived the moment that Rosie recognized her. His quick scowl should not have filled her with delight.
Would he cut her direct? Pretend not to see her and walk on? No, he was a gentleman and there were witnesses. If she knew Ambrose Hartley, he would stiffly do his duty.
“Why, how very fortunate it is to see you, Miss Fenton, Mrs. Blackwall,” Miss Mannfield exclaimed as the carriage came to a halt.
Susanna resisted glancing at her aunt at this effusive greeting. While they were on speaking terms with the Mannfields, they were not friendly. The chaperone, a Mrs. Munch, joined the group.
They spoke briefly of the card party they had attended a few nights ago and about the weather. Rosie nodded and agreed with all that was said but offered no insight of his own. Susanna hoped he had not been this dull while walking with Miss Mannfield.
As the conversation began to flag, Miss Mannfield looked meaningfully at Mrs. Munch. Susanna thought she saw a muscle jump in Rosie’s jaw when the chaperone spoke.
“Mrs. Blackwall, Miss Susanna, pardon my presumption,” Mrs. Munch said in a high-pitched tone. “I believe Miss Mannfield is quite fatigued. I would be obliged if you might take her up and see her home safely.”
Susanna’s eyes widened at the speech. Miss Mannfield was young and healthy, surely she did not expect them to squish together in their phaeton when it could not be above a half mile to her home?
“Oh, no,” Miss Mannfield demurred. “I would not wish to impose on you. Indeed, I can manage.” She glanced down at her muddied shoes. “I think my boots can’t be ruined further.”
Such pretty speeches annoyed Susanna. While she could perfectly parse the lady’s double meaning, she disliked the subterfuge. Why didn’t the girl simply admit that she was worried for her shoes and desperate to ride?
Though Aunt Blackwall certainly thought Miss Mannfield capable of walking and would dislike being squished together even for the short drive, she was sure to do the correct thing and provide a ride. Susanna wanted to have a little fun first.
“Mrs. Munch, I would offer to take up Miss Mannfield, but I fear she would be uncomfortable riding in a carriage with me at the reins. I believe I am far too delicate to properly manage these horses.”
Aunt’s shoulders shook gently with suppressed laughter, and Rosie’s eyebrow ticked up in surprise.
Miss Mannfield’s face turned red up to the brown hair showing under her bonnet. “Dear Miss Fenton, no one seeing you driving today could doubt your ability. I am sure I would feel perfectly safe.”
Susanna smiled. Miss Mannfield had forgotten she was meant to be refusing to ride. There was something delicious in exposing someone’s hypocrisy. She glanced at Rosie and thought he might share her feelings.
“You flatter me,” Susanna said. “But I know my limits. I have not the skill to control an overflowing carriage.”
“How reasonable of you to recognize the limits of your ability,” Rosie said with barely concealed annoyance.
“I am prized for my reason.” Susanna turned her gaze on him with suppressed mirth.
He would not like what she did next, and that made it all the more enjoyable.
“And it seems reasonable to me that Miss Mannfield and I might exchange places.” She turned to her aunt.
“You are a good deal better at the ribbons than I, so Miss Mannfield and Mrs. Munch need have no fear of riding with you. And as Mr. Hartley is an old friend, there can be no objection to him accompanying me home.”
“A very tidy solution.” Aunt raised her eyebrow but did not voice any additional thoughts. She was sure to ask Susanna many questions when she returned home. “I have no objections.” Aunt turned to the other women. “Miss Mannfield? Mrs. Munch?”
The younger lady looked at Rosie as if he might provide an answer. He did not notice because he was staring daggers at Susanna.
Susanna half expected the young lady to demur again. Certainly she would not wish to be supplanted by a potential rival? Unless Miss Mannfield had no interest in his attentions?
“If Miss Fenton is quite sure she does not mind walking,” Miss Mannfield said with a glance at her chaperone.
“I do not mind. Indeed, I think I prefer to walk in this chill.” Susanna handed the reins to her aunt and stood so there was no doubt that she was in earnest.
“Well, if it is not an imposition.”
Susanna swallowed a caustic remark. Would the woman quit hesitating and accept the ride she so clearly wanted?
“It is no imposition,” Aunt said. “We are glad to be of service.”
Perhaps when Susanna was five and forty she would be able to be patient and accommodating.
Finally, Miss Mannfield accepted the ride.
Rosie approached the carriage, his glower barely under control, as he offered his hand to help Susanna climb down. While a hand was perfectly sufficient for her, he had given it so grudgingly that she could not resist insisting on more.
“Why, Mr. Hartley, you know my ankle is far too weak to step down on my own.”
He grunted, but with an audience he could not contest her. He squared up to her.
She put her hands firmly on his shoulders, while his came about her waist. With no warning, he lifted her. She was momentarily dizzy as he rotated and placed her on the ground. His thin frame contained a hidden strength that thrilled her. She wanted to laugh but didn’t understand why.
He released her waist, but she did not feel quite able to remove her hands from his shoulders. The heat she felt in the garden had returned.
“You have reached the ground,” he said with a wry look.
With a self-conscious giggle, she lifted her hands and turned away to compose herself.
Seemingly unaffected, he dutifully helped Miss Mannfield and Mrs. Munch into the carriage. Did Miss Mannfield feel heat at his touch? Or was she indifferent to the man?
Susanna was certainly not indifferent. She had planned to tease and annoy him while they walked. But perhaps she would be a proper lady instead. She could smile and laugh at his jests and compliment him. Would he enjoy that? Might he enjoy walking with her?
She shook her head and pushed aside the strange desire to please him. She was not about to stifle herself for Ambrose Hartley of all people.
When she was first out in Society, Susanna had tied herself into knots trying to be what everyone wanted, what they expected.
But being a perfect paragon of womanly virtues was tiring.
She was never able to hold the facade for more than a few outings.
Gentlemen were inevitably disappointed when they discovered her true nature and stopped seeking her company.
Such rejection had been painful, but eventually she learned to embrace her flawed nature and cease searching for acceptance from those who did not understand her.
She did not seek to curry anyone’s favor with wiles, and she would not make an exception for Rosie.
Besides, it would be much more satisfying to vex him.