Chapter 8
Eight
The grey clouds hung heavy in the sky and a cool breeze blew as Susanna strode up Wimpole Street. A footman walked a few paces behind. After receiving her friend’s note, Susanna had been unwilling to wait for a carriage, and Aunt Blackwall had insisted she be accompanied on the short walk.
Grace Arden’s arrival in London was a welcome but puzzling surprise. The Season was nearly over and Grace was meant to be enjoying her new baby in the countryside. Something important must have happened to stir her from her rest.
It seemed almost certain that Ambrose was betrothed and Grace had come for the wedding. The thought put a knot in Susanna’s stomach. Poor Grace, forced to accept Miss Bullocke as her new sister.
She had not seen Ambrose Hartley since the Royal Academy.
Knowing his intentions toward Miss Bullocke, Susanna kept a sharp ear out for news of the couple.
When nearly a week passed with no announcement, she had hoped that nothing had come of his offer.
But with Grace in London, it seemed she had hoped in vain.
When Susanna entered the blue drawing room, Grace was already standing and rushing to her. The friends fell into a laughing hug like they were still school girls and not two years shy of thirty. They exchanged compliments before moving to the chairs.
“That green is fetching with your hair,” Susanna said.
Grace touched her dark hair. “Thank you, Susie.”
Grace’s hair and eyes were darker than the other Hartley children’s. Her fair complexion, dainty features, and above average height made her a rare beauty.
“I adore your bonnet,” Grace said.
“My apologies. I simply could not wait to leave it with the footman,” Susanna replied as she pulled at her bonnet ribbons. “Be glad I paused long enough to remove my coat. Otherwise your beautiful dress would have been covered in London dirt.”
Grace laughed. “As if such a thing would keep me from hugging you. It has been an age!”
“An age indeed. Promise me your next confinement will be shorter.” Susanna removed her bonnet and placed her gloves inside it. The footman stepped forward to take them and then left the room.
“If I have any say, it will be,” Grace said in an undertone. “I tell you I was perfectly healthy and able to enjoy company. But Henry was worried and I thought it best to humor him.”
They made their way to the comfortable green settee and sat.
Susanna took Grace’s hands. “I do not fault your husband for his caution, after your and little Jamie’s sickness.”
At a few months old, their firstborn had contracted a putrid cough, and Grace soon followed.
Poor Henry had feared he would lose both his wife and his child.
Susanna had gone to Brentmere Park and helped to nurse her friend back to health.
She had seen firsthand the deep love and care Henry had for Grace.
It was the kind of love Susanna wanted in her own marriage.
It was watching Henry and Grace that had made Susanna realize the futility of trying to capture a man by pretending to be different than she was. When Grace was with Henry, she was entirely herself, no affectations. They were not just lovers, but the best of friends.
“I know Henry has his reasons,” Grace said with a wave of her hand. “But I simply could not stay away. Though your letters never mentioned it, I am sure you are aware of the predicament my brother is in.”
Susanna’s mouth became suddenly dry. “Which brother?”
“Don’t tell me that William is also in trouble?”
“No, I don’t believe so. That is, he has been found twice where he should not be, but thankfully the lady was no longer with him.”
Grace shook her head. “Good. We do not need another duel.”
A plump maid arrived with the tea tray, and the conversation paused while Grace gave instructions. Susanna wanted to return to the topic but did not wish to appear eager. Grace handed Susanna her tea. She had prepared it with five lumps of sugar. The only way to drink it.
When the door clicked closed behind the maid, Grace spoke.
“I do not know what is worse: William’s rakish ways or Rosie’s stubborn pursuit of a wife.”
“Oh!” Susanna’s eyebrows rose while her heart dropped. “Then am I to wish him joy?”
“I certainly hope not, or I am to have a wasted trip.”
Understanding dawned on Susanna.
“You have come to stop his betrothal to Miss Bullocke?”
“If he will listen.” Grace scrunched up her nose as if she had smelled sewage. “I offered to help him find a wife, but he refused. What is he thinking of, courting her?”
Susanna shrugged and looked down at her tea. “He likely thought Miss Bullocke a perfect candidate.”
Though Susanna tried to hide her annoyance, Grace’s narrowed eyes said she was not fooled. The largest drawback to having a close friend—they saw what you wished to hide.
“And what does Rosie think makes a perfect candidate?” Grace asked.
To avoid a reply, Susanna took a hasty gulp of her tea.
She swallowed the scalding liquid with a wince.
In her many letters since January, Susanna had not told Grace about Ambrose’s notebook or their interactions.
It had not felt like lying to omit them.
But answering a direct question was a different matter.
Susanna was not above small fibs when it suited her purpose, but she did not like having secrets from Grace.
But this was not her secret to tell. She had stolen Ambrose’s notebook, read his lists without permission. To share what she knew felt like a violation of trust. Perhaps worse, since he had not really entrusted her with the information.
“Susie? What—”
A knock at the door saved Susanna from an interrogation.
Grace frowned before replying. “Yes?”
The door opened to reveal the footman.
“Mr. Hartley has arrived.”
Grace grinned. “Please send him in.”
Susanna’s heart did a strange hiccup as the footman turned away.
“I guess I will ask Rosie his reasons,” Grace said.
Quick, heavy footfalls came to them moments before the door swung open to reveal Mr. William Hartley.
Susanna had never been happier to see the eldest Hartley son.
Charming, handsome, and heir to a large estate, William Hartley was welcome in every London ballroom.
Well into his thirties, William was too dissipated and imprudent even for Susanna.
For a brief month in her youth, she had fancied herself in love with him.
She had even tried to mold herself into a woman he might court.
That was before she realized the futility of such efforts.
Before she decided that she wanted to be loved for herself and not who she pretended to be.
“William!” Grace stood and crossed to her brother. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Did not your footman announce me?”
“Yes, but as Mr. Hartley.”
“Ah, and you assumed it was the younger and more responsible Mr. Hartley.” William grinned.
They embraced affectionately.
“I see I am not your first visitor,” William said as they separated. “Though I should have expected Miss Susie to be here.”
At least one Hartley brother did not think of her as an interloper.
William grinned and bowed lavishly over Susanna’s hand. At one time that gesture might have brought pink to her cheeks. Now she merely shook her head fondly.
As Grace prepared his tea, he took the seat opposite Susanna. They made the usual inquiries after each other’s health. Unlike Rosie, Susanna had rarely seen William since they danced together in February.
“And how are you and baby Alice?” William asked Grace as she handed him his tea.
“In marvelous health. I would introduce you to her, but we left the children in the countryside with Nurse. Henry did not want them subjected to travel for such a short visit.”
“That is a shame. I was hoping to knock about London with Jamie.”
William looked genuinely put out that his five-year-old nephew was unavailable to play with.
“Why did you come?” William asked. “Parliament is nearly out of session. A third of the best families have already decamped.”
“I am trying to dissuade Rosie from marrying Miss Margaret Bullocke,” Grace replied.
William burst into laughter, bending forward and slapping his knee.
“I’m sorry. I should not laugh, but you have wasted a trip,” he said. “Miss Bullocke! She will never agree to marry Rosie.”
A smile stole across Susanna’s lips. She tried to cover it with her teacup. It was terrible to be happy about such a thing. But she could not help it. Ambrose not marrying Miss Bullocke was cause to celebrate.
“William, don’t laugh,” Grace said, though her own lips twitched.
“Perhaps I should not, but I have endured months of my brother refusing advice. As if I do not understand the marriage mart. Me! Why, I could be married nine times over if I wished.”
Grace shot Susanna a look of disbelief, and she stifled a giggle.
William rolled his eyes at them.
“Rosie is deaf to all advice,” Susanna declared.
William chuckled and raised his teacup. “Hear, hear.”
“Don’t encourage her.” The deep voice made them freeze.
All eyes swung to the door. Ambrose stood there, arms crossed, frowning. Despite his disapproving air, he looked handsome in his blue coat and black pantaloons.
He focused his censorious green eyes on Susanna, no doubt blaming her for the conversation.
She raised her hands in surrender. “I have said nothing.”
“Only that I am deaf to advice,” he returned and stepped into the room.
“That is not news to your siblings,” Susanna said.
“I knew you would be here gossiping.” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair.
“Susie is here at my invitation,” Grace said firmly. “And if you cannot be civil to my oldest and dearest friend, then you know where the door is.”
Susanna nearly clapped.
William actually did.
“Too right,” William said. “It is not gossiping if it’s amongst family, and Miss Susie is practically family.”
Ambrose threw up his hands. “Fine!”
It seemed as if he would leave, but instead he walked to the far window, only to spin back around and pace back to them. Was he upset about the overheard conversation, or had something happened with Miss Bullocke?
He turned to William. “How did you know that Miss Bullocke would refuse to marry me?”
“Because she is intent on marrying some nabob she met at Brighton last year,” William replied.
“Really?” Grace asked. She exchanged raised eyebrows with Susanna.
How had William come by such information? And why had he not told his brother? If Susanna had known, she would have warned Ambrose. Though he may not have listened.
“If she wished to marry another, why did she accept my attentions?” Ambrose asked.
“Any number of reasons. To make him jealous, to appease her parents, to satisfy her own vanity.” William shrugged. “She is a willful and heartless chit.”
“That is a little uncharitable,” Grace admonished. “But I do not disagree that she has used you ill. She was not worthy of you, Rosie.” She offered him a brimming cup.
Rosie sighed and accepted the tea before casting himself into the other armchair. “I apologize for my earlier rudeness. It has been a trying day.”
Grace reached out and patted his arm. “I am sorry, Rosie. And so is William.” She looked at her older brother narrowly—a look only a mother could master.
“Yes, dash it,” William said. “I should not have laughed. It is a deuced thing to be refused.”
Susanna was burning to ask what had happened with Miss Bullocke. Had he truly asked and been rejected? It must have been mortifying. No wonder he had spoken harshly.
Anger at Miss Bullocke stirred in Susanna. How dare the woman allow him to dangle after her when she had no interest. Ambrose Hartley was handsome, intelligent, and kind. Any lady would be fortunate to have his esteem.
Susanna looked at him over the rim of her cup.
He was staring into his tea with an air of dejection, his hair slipping into his eyes.
Susanna had thought him purely practical when it came to his search for a wife, but she may have been mistaken.
Was his heart wounded? Did he feel tenderness for Miss Bullocke? Did he love her?
Her stomach twisted at the thought. Ambrose deserved far better than Miss Bullocke. He deserved a woman who would love and respect him. A woman that admired his good qualities and accepted his faults.
He looked up, and his green eyes met hers. A surprising heat bloomed in her chest. She blinked and looked away. How foolish, it was only Rosie. She had known him all her life. The heat crept up her neck. Why was she so unsettled?
Her thoughts came rapidly. Before she could finish one, another intruded.
Why would his look—?
She could not possibly—
It was Rosie!
But this was not sisterly affection—
He had much to recommend him—
And much to be desired—
They were forever arguing!
With each unfinished thought, her heart beat faster. Suddenly one thought began to repeat. A simple truth.
A truth impossible but undeniable.
She cared for him, much more than was proper for old childhood friends.
Susanna Fenton was infatuated with Ambrose Hartley.
How very inconvenient.