Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
The road to Highgate was muddier than Ambrose expected and his progress slow. After his disastrous conversation with Susanna, he had written a note to his sister and called for his horse. He could not stay at the house, he could not see Susanna again without a new plan.
He had decided that Susanna’s conduct would guide his own.
But her behavior was confounding. No smiles, no teasing, no calling him Rosie.
The entire conversation she appeared on the verge of running away.
And her demand to forget yesterday was impossible.
When she asked, his entire spirit had rebelled.
Forget their kiss? Preposterous.
Forget that she had eagerly expected his proposal? Laughable.
He could not forget, he would not pretend.
What then should he do?
He needed advice. He could not ask Henry or William, it felt too much like breaking a confidence. What he needed was a friend who understood love and marriage. Fortunately, one of his school friends was within riding distance.
He arrived at Highgate splashed with mud. The stately house was in some disrepair, but workers were busy on the north side. The footman looked askance but allowed Ambrose inside. Soon he was led down the shabby hall to a modest study.
Relief filled Ambrose as the door opened and revealed Andrew Langford at his desk, account books open before him.
“So it is you.” Andrew’s eyebrows were high over his blue eyes as he stood.
“I am visiting my sister,” Ambrose said as if that would explain his sudden appearance.
“And you decided to ride through all this mud for a social visit?” Langford cocked his head and gestured Ambrose into the room.
“I thought I should pay my respects to your new wife.”
“The devil you did. She is out making calls.” He gestured to the chairs before the desk. “Sit. And tell me the real reason you are here.”
Ambrose did not argue but took a seat. He practically threw himself into it. Langford moved to a sideboard and poured a drink.
Though Ambrose had rehearsed his questions many times as he rode, he was now at a loss on where to begin. Did he need to confess everything to his friend? Andrew Langford was levelheaded and wise, but sharing the details could prove embarrassing.
“First, tell me that nobody is injured or dead,” Langford said as he crossed the room with a half-full glass.
“What? No, nothing like that.” Ambrose took the glass and immediately drank half of the liquor.
“Ah, so it is about a woman.”
Ambrose sighed. “How did you know?”
Andrew leaned against his desk and crossed his ankles. “It is not that difficult a deduction. This house party was meant to help you secure a wife. And now you have run away from the house party. The circles under your eyes tell me you are not here with happy news. Simple really.”
“Simple.” Ambrose shook his head. “I thought securing a wife would be simple and now I am in a mess.”
“The course of true love never did run smooth.”
“Is that Shakespeare?”
“It is, and it is also a very true sentiment.”
“Learn that from Ashworth?” Ambrose finished his drink.
“I learned it from experience.”
“So your courtship was not smooth?”
Langford gave a bark of laughter. “Mine was filled with misunderstandings and disappointment. But it all came right in the end.”
“That is oddly comforting.”
“Is that why you have come? For comfort after a misunderstanding with your lady?”
“I am not at all sure she is my lady. Until yesterday I had no notion she cared for me.” He shook his head. “She was expecting a proposal!”
“Oh? And what did you do?”
“I accused her of being engaged to my brother, almost kissed her, then listed her faults before chasing her down in the rain, falling in a lake, and kissing her.”
Langford let out a low whistle. “That.” He pushed off the desk. “I need a drink. And then you are going to give me more details.”
“I’ll need another.” Ambrose offered his glass to Langford.
A while later, Ambrose had finished his tale and was staring expectantly at his friend. He had done his best to stick to the facts of the case, but he feared the story was too jumbled to be rightly understood. He kept remembering things Susanna had said or looks he had dismissed.
Langford sat behind the desk with his fingers steepled.
“Well?” Ambrose asked when he could no longer stand the silence.
“Are you done?”
“Yes, that is all there is to tell.”
Langford’s eyebrows rose. “Is it? For in your telling, you failed to mention your feelings or intentions toward Miss Susanna Fenton.”
“I fail to see what that has to do with—”
“It has everything to do with everything.” Langford sat forward and put his hands on his desk. “If I am tabulating interest on an account, I cannot do it without knowing the amounts that have been deposited. Before I advise you, I must know how much emotional investment you have in the lady.”
Ambrose rubbed the back of his neck. “I hardly know. Two weeks ago, I would have called her my sister’s brazen and annoying friend. I had no notion of tender feelings.”
“And now?”
“Now, I—”
The image of Susanna looking up at him flashed through his mind, her hazel eyes bright and welcoming, the soft feel of her in his arms, the smell of roses when she was near.
“Now you are in love with her.”
“No!” Ambrose was aghast. “I mean, how is that possible?”
Langford chuckled. “I am all too familiar with the signs. You forget, these last few months, I have watched our friends be struck with Cupid’s arrow. And if I were to make a wager, I would bet that you are in love.”
Ambrose blinked as he tried to make sense of his friend’s declaration. In love? With Susanna? Was it possible?
“But she is confounding. Her teasing is—”
“Love.”
“And she is forever distracting me.”
“Love.”
“When she flirts with William, I become irrational.”
Andrew chuckled. “Love.”
Ambrose stopped arguing and sat back in his chair.
Could it be true? Was he in love?
Long ago, he had assumed he loved Miss Popjoy. That had been like a fever, a constant anxiety to be near her, to earn her approval no matter the cost. When she had broken her promise and married another, Ambrose had determined that he would never fall prey to such a terrible emotion again.
His feelings for Susanna were different.
She held a special place in his heart, a place never occupied by any other.
He wanted her admiration, wanted it so badly that he took her teasing too seriously.
He valued her opinion, valued it so much that he had begun to consider becoming an architect after one conversation.
He cared for her well-being, cared to the point of being willing to fight his own brother to keep her safe.
She was a woman without equal. She challenged him and teased him. She made his head spin and his heart sing. Being with her was like staring into the sun; dazzling, warm, and near blinding.
Was that love?
“I see that I have shocked you,” Langford said. “And so I will venture another revelation. Judging by your story, I believe that Miss Fenton did expect a proposal and intended to accept you. Which tells me she cares for you, she might even return your affection.”
This was really too much to contemplate, and Ambrose had to stand and pace about the room. Langford, knowing not to disrupt Ambrose’s thoughts, stayed silent.
Susanna love him?
That seemed even more improbable than him loving her. Yet she had been smiling when she spoke of marrying him. Despite their argument, she had eagerly kissed him. Surely that was evidence of some tenderness of feeling?
But today she wanted to pretend that none of those things happened. Had her feelings changed? Had his actions destroyed any chance he might have had?
“What do I do?” Ambrose asked.
He turned from the window to look at Langford. His friend looked up from his account books.
“You apologize. You throw yourself on her mercy and hope that she forgives you.”
“And then what?”
Langford’s lips curled into a smile. “If the lady is amenable, you might court her properly. Perhaps eventually propose marriage. Rowan and Leonard are not yet married, you still have a chance.”
“I don’t care about the wager.” Ambrose swatted away the idea with his hand. The entire affair was nothing to him now.
“But you do want to marry Miss Fenton?”
Ambrose furrowed his brow. “I hardly know.”
“You don’t know?” Langford folded his arms. “Tell me, how would you feel if you never saw her again? Or if you did see her but she was on another’s arm? Perhaps married to another man?”
“I would hate it.”
The words did not encompass his feelings. His entire soul seemed to rise up in rebellion at the very notion that Susanna could be so completely lost to him. She was not meant to marry anyone. She was Susanna, his Susanna!
Ambrose ran a hand through his hair and then sank once more into the armchair. “Blast it, Langford. I want to marry her.”
“I know.”
Saying it aloud felt like a confession. As if he had always known the truth but been afraid to admit it.
He, Ambrose Hartley, wanted to marry Susanna Fenton.
It was as simple and as complicated as that.
Finally he had what he needed: a goal, an end that he could build toward.
He wanted to make Susanna his wife. All he needed was a plan to achieve it.
After all that had passed between them, there was no guarantee that Susanna would even talk to him, let alone consent to be his wife. But if he failed to secure her heart and her hand, it would not be because he did not try.