Chapter 17
Seventeen
On the fourth day of the house party, Ambrose climbed the stairs to the nursery in search of Grace. When he reached the third floor, he strode to the door and entered without knocking.
The sun streamed through the wide windows, brightening the yellow walls. It was easy to see why Grace enjoyed the room. True to its name, it held small beds, a small table and chair, and several toys. However, it did not contain his sister but someone else entirely.
There, standing in the square of light from the second window, was Miss Susanna.
“Pardon me,” he said. “I was told I might find—”
“Shhh.”
He cut off as she turned with pleading eyes and he realized she was holding baby Alice.
He placed a finger to his lips to show he understood the instruction.
Since the young lady was alone—a baby was not a fit chaperone—Ambrose should have left immediately, but instead he moved closer. It would be rude to rush away.
With soft steps he crossed to the window.
Miss Susanna turned to him with wide eyes, as if she were afraid he would try to take the child, or worse, wake her.
But Ambrose knew better than to disrupt the sleep of a babe in arms. Between his two sisters, he had seven nephews and nieces and had learned a few things over the years.
“I only wish to look,” he whispered and raised his hands in surrender.
Miss Susanna did not reply but bit her lip and glanced down at the child. In a few more steps he was beside her and able to see the babe. Like Jamie, little Alice Susanna Arden was smaller than average. She was also nearly bald.
They stood for a moment, admiring the baby in silence.
“Is this why you could not be found to go riding?” Ambrose asked quietly.
“You know I prefer to be behind the horse and not on top of it,” she replied.
“True.” His lips turned up. “A wild carriage ride with you would have been preferable this morning.”
“Oh? But I thought Miss Colley went.”
“She did.” Ambrose rubbed the back of his neck.
It was on the subject of Miss Colley that he had wished to speak to Grace. The young lady met many of his requirements, but he found her company unsettling. The trouble was he could not pinpoint a precise reason why. He wanted another opinion.
For a moment he considered asking Miss Susanna. But despite their long association, and her past offer of help, it felt wrong to discuss his search for a wife with her.
Alice stirred and Susanna began to sway gently. She looked down, making gentle shushing noises.
Though not a mother, she appeared comfortable holding the infant.
Her soft smile as she gazed down was perfectly charming.
Her blonde hair was caught up in a simple twist, but wisps had fallen down and framed her face.
The lighter strands of hair were highlighted by the sun pouring through the window, giving her a near halo of dancing gold hair.
It was a deceptive tableau, for he knew she was no angel.
Unbidden, the image of her arguing with Mr. Scott came to him. She had been a sight with her stubborn frown and bright eyes. When her obstinacy and wit was not directed toward him it was rather entertaining. He admired her strength of character.
She would be an excellent mother.
She glanced up, catching him staring, and he hastily returned to admiring the baby.
“Why, look at this hair,” Ambrose said to cover his embarrassment. He reached out to brush the few wispy strands that graced Alice’s head.
Miss Susanna batted his hand away. Her hazel eyes flashed as they met his startled gaze.
“I swear, Ambrose Hartley, if you wake this child,” she whispered harshly.
If she had been his sister, her reproof would have made him pull his hands behind his back. But this was Miss Susanna, and she brought out the devil in him. He took a step closer.
“What will you do?” he asked with a small smirk as he lifted his hand once more.
She grabbed for his hand, stopping it midair, and met his gaze with a challenge.
When had he come close enough to see the flecks of green in her eyes? Their bare palms were touching, and a heat built between them. His mouth was suddenly dry and his eyes darted to her lips.
Confounded, he released her hand and stepped back.
“I must go and find my sister,” he mumbled.
She nodded and turned to face the window.
Ambrose took a few steps and then glanced back at her, but she seemed unaware he was still in the room. Shaking his head, he lengthened his stride, careful not to walk so fast that it appeared he was fleeing.
His heart beat rapidly as if he had done something much more improper than touch her hand.
Was her heart racing? Or was he the only one affected?
Why had he stayed when she was alone? Why had he teased her? Why, after so many years of being vexed by Susanna Fenton, did he suddenly have the urge to kiss her?
Ambrose did not truly wish for answers. He preferred to forget the incident entirely.
For the rest of the day, he valiantly ignored any thought connected to Miss Susanna, a task made difficult throughout dinner as she was sat opposite him. It was impossible to ignore her smiles and laughter.
After dinner, while the other men discussed boxing, Ambrose stared into his drink and tried not to think at all. The conversation drifted to balls and dancing, and it was clear that William and Mr. Scott were keen to get up a dance that evening.
“I know of no better way to determine a woman’s suitability than a spirited dance,” William said.
“I can think of several better ways,” Ambrose mumbled into his glass.
Skill at dancing was not on his list of requirements for good reason. Dancing required no real refinement of mind or manner and was likely to excite passions that would interfere with rational plans. The last thing he wanted was more irrational emotions.
When the men began to stand, Ambrose was not ready to rejoin the ladies. Fleetingly he wished that he might go to the library or nursery and hide away while the rest of them danced. But such behavior would be remarked upon, and so he joined them.
Walking to the drawing room, he reasoned that there was no cause for alarm. He had danced with Susanna many times with no ill effects besides frustration. Tonight would be no different from their other dances.
Once they had reunited with the ladies, the plan to dance was eagerly taken up. Ambrose was assigned to help clear furniture with Mr. Scott, while William and Henry took charge of opening the folding doors between the music room and drawing room and positioning the piano.
As the men and footmen bustled about, the women clustered together excitedly. Once the rugs were rolled up, the furniture against the walls, and the music and drawing rooms joined, they had a more than serviceable dance floor.
A bright scale sounded through the room. Ambrose looked to the piano and raised his eyebrows.
Susanna was sitting at the piano talking animatedly with Grace. Did she intend to play instead of dance? Why would she do such a thing when she adored dancing? It was not right for her to play like some old spinster.
Grace hugged her friend and then crossed the room. Ambrose strode to meet her.
“I am dancing,” she said merrily. “Susie insisted on playing. Raced to the piano and refused to move.” She giggled. “Do you know, I believe it has been a year since I danced properly.”
“Then I am glad for you,” Ambrose replied.
“I must tell Henry,” Grace said, sounding very much like an eager debutante. She nearly skipped away to her husband.
Many women would pursue their own pleasure and expect the hostess to accompany the dancing.
Miss Colley and Miss Witworth had certainly not offered to play.
Before the house party, Ambrose had forgotten Susanna’s thoughtful kindness.
Not only had she assisted Grace preparing for the party, but she was constantly helping with the children or guests.
Ambrose looked at Susanna as she sat, adjusting her sheet music. She had changed to a pink evening gown and tamed her hair. He almost missed the wayward curls. As if sensing his gaze, she glanced up and caught him watching.
Her grin sent a jolt through him, and an invisible string pulled him toward her. He paused before the piano, not knowing what he wished to say.
“Yes, Rosie?” Her dimple flashed at him.
“Don’t call me that,” he said more out of habit than annoyance. “You aren’t to play the piano all evening. You must dance.”
He nearly winced. He sounded like an overbearing father.
But she did not seem to mind his tone. Indeed her smile grew, her second dimple making an appearance.
“I am not fond of being ordered about,” she teased. “But since our wishes are aligned, I have no objection. Once Grace has danced her two, I shall relinquish my post and dance with you.”
“I did not ask you to dance,” he spluttered.
“Now, don’t be absurd. You just told me I must dance. Surely you meant with you.”
He opened his mouth but could not argue. He did want to dance with her.
Her lips quirked before she spoke again.
“In return I will give you an order. You must dance first with Miss Witworth. She is sure to tire quickly, and it would not do for you to miss the opportunity.”
While she spoke with perfect mildness, Ambrose knew her well enough to detect the mischief.
“Miss Witworth has many excellent qualities,” he said.
“Did I say otherwise?” She blinked up at him.
His lips twitched. Drat the woman. She knew exactly what she was doing and he hated that he almost enjoyed it.
“You best hurry or you will not have a partner and be forced to turn the pages for me.”
Ambrose inclined his head and stepped away before he could examine why staying beside Susanna was more appealing than dancing.
The rest of the party was gathered in the center of the room. As Ambrose approached, William met him.
“For a moment I thought you were going to refuse to dance and hide in Miss Susie’s skirts.”
Ambrose narrowed his eyes.
William laughed and clapped his shoulder.