Chapter 1
One year later
“Susanna?”
Starting at the sharpness of her mother’s tone, Susanna dropped her gaze and then hurried after both her mother and sister.
She had not pushed herself into the ballroom and eagerly looked about her, as she had done so many times the previous year.
This time, she had stayed back, eager to fade into the background rather than press herself forward.
She had become very good at this — the art of controlled disappearance.
Smile when spoken to. Nod at the appropriate moments.
Keep the hands still, the posture straight, the expression pleasant but not too pleasant, interested but not too interested.
Never let the smile reach the eyes, because if it did, someone might see the emptiness behind it, and then there would be questions she could not answer.
She had practiced this performance all through the winter — in the mirror of her dressing room, at family dinners where no one looked at her anyway, in letters to acquaintances where she wrote I am very well so many times the words had lost all meaning.
She had become, she thought, quite accomplished at it.
An actress of the first order, playing the role of a young woman who had never been promised the world by a man who then vanished from it without a word.
The ballroom was magnificent, as always — crystal chandeliers ablaze with beeswax candles, their light catching the gold leaf on the cornices and sending warm reflections dancing across the polished floor.
Garlands of white roses had been wound through the balustrade of the musicians’ gallery, and the scent drifted down to mingle with French perfume and the faintest trace of pomade.
It was the sort of evening she had once lived for, the sort that had made her pulse quicken with anticipation.
Now, it felt like a stage upon which she was expected to perform, though she had long since forgotten her lines.
What if he is here?
Her stomach dipped sharply as a shudder ran over her skin.
Neither her mother nor her father knew of her sorrow and pain, both of which had been her near constant companions these last few months.
She had carried them alone through the long autumn at their country estate, through the grey winter months when the fire in the drawing room could not warm the cold place inside her chest, and now into the brightness of spring — a brightness she could not feel.
A long sigh escaped her as she looked out at the crowd of guests.
This time last year, she had not thought that she would face another Season.
She thought she would be wed by the end of it, that her life would lead her into Lord Lancashire’s arms and into his home.
Alas, she was now faced with the painful realization that all he had said to her, all he had promised, had come to naught.
She did not know why. She did not know what had brought nothing but silence between them. All she knew was that he had stepped away from her and had never returned, leaving her with such an overwhelming sense of foolishness that it had quite shattered her.
“Susanna!”
The heat in her face grew all the greater as she quickened her steps to follow after the Duchess into the ballroom.
Maude, who had enjoyed a very successful first Season, had chosen not to allow any of the many gentlemen interested in her company to pursue her further.
Thus, she was now in her second Season, with the intention of finding the very best gentleman to wed – although Susanna suspected that might take some time.
Maude was delighting in her popularity, and Susanna had already heard her speaking of how much she intended to enjoy herself before committing to one specific gentleman.
Their mother had, in Susanna’s hearing, encouraged this sort of behavior, telling Maude that she should make the most of her Season before settling down.
After all, she had reminded Maude, she was the daughter of a Duke.
With her standing and her beauty, it was little wonder that so many gentlemen were eager for her to become their wife.
The same had not been said to Susanna, of course.
She had not expected it, knowing full well that she did not have the same beauty as her sister, nor the same confidence and poise.
Where Maude had golden hair that caught the candlelight like spun silk and a laugh that turned heads across a room, Susanna was quieter, more reserved — the kind of young woman who was easily overlooked when standing beside someone so vivid.
As the eldest, by rights, she ought to marry first, but Susanna knew their mother would not demand such a thing.
Instead, she felt herself somewhat discarded, pushed into the shadows behind her sister.
Mayhap once Maude had settled on a gentleman, she then might be given the opportunity to find a gentleman of her own.
And my heart might recover a little in the meantime.
She watched now as the Duchess adjusted the fall of Maude’s sleeve with practiced fingers, murmured something about her posture, and then studied the result with the critical satisfaction of a painter assessing her canvas.
It was not affection, Susanna realized — though she had called it that for years, had told herself that this was simply how their mother showed love.
But love did not catalogue a daughter’s flaws.
Love did not arrange a daughter’s ringlets with the calculating eye of a woman dressing a shop window.
What the Duchess gave Maude was attention — constant, consuming, almost devouring — and Susanna wondered, with a pang that surprised her, whether Maude knew the difference. Whether either of them did.
“Good evening, Your Grace!”
As Susanna made her way to stand beside her mother as she ought, not one but four gentlemen hurried towards them all, the first greeting the Duchess with fervent delight.
“What a delight to see you here in London again!” He bowed low. “And you also, Lady Maude. You are here for your second Season, are you not?”
Susanna’s shoulders sagged as the gentleman ignored her completely.
Maude responded with a quietness that Susanna knew was feigned.
Her sister was not at all inclined towards gentleness or meekness.
This display was done solely for the gentlemen.
She watched as the three other gentlemen all greeted her mother and Maude in turn, but none looked towards her.
Was she truly so uninteresting? So very plain that she did not draw even a single glance?
Lord Lancashire did not think so.
Her head lowered, a fresh agony sweeping over her.
Why had he spoken to her of commitment, of courtship, and engagement, only to disappear without a word?
Why had her letters been returned, her questions left unanswered?
He had seemed so very fervent, so very genuine in all he had said to her…
but Susanna feared she had been far too easily taken in.
Perhaps he had only been teasing her, had thought it some sort of joke to have her believe his words about love and devotion.
Perhaps, once he had heard her confess her affection, he had felt himself victorious and, thereafter, decided to take his leave.
His little game had reached its conclusion, and she was now nothing more than a memory.
A memory that he would laugh at, smirk over, and perhaps even delight in.
How easily she had believed him! How quickly his words had tugged at her!
And still, despite it all, she could not cast him out. Something in her longed for him still.
“You look as if you could use a friendly face.”
Awareness ran over Susanna’s frame as she turned her head, looking into the eyes of Lady Ellen. “Ellen!” she breathed, turning away from her mother at once and gripping her hands. “I thought – I thought you were to wed last Season!”
“Oh, I was.” Lady Ellen laughed and shrugged. “But I decided that I did not want to marry my cousin after all.”
Susanna’s eyebrows lifted. “But I thought you liked Lord Denfield a good deal?”
Lady Ellen’s smile tipped. “I did… until he informed me that he was very much in love with someone else. Thereafter, I decided that I did not want to marry him, which was just as well given that he did not want to marry me either!”
Sympathy spread over Susanna’s heart. “I am sorry to hear that, Ellen. I know you were looking forward to being settled at last.”
A long sigh came from Lady Ellen, although there was a glint in her eye that remained.
“Being the last of four sisters to wed does bring its difficulties,” she admitted, “especially when one’s brother insists upon finding a match as quickly as possible!
” The gleam in her gaze grew brighter. “It has helped that my brother has now decided that he is very much in love with one Lady Octavia. Since such feelings have come upon him, he has agreed that he will do all he can to support me in making my own match, whether that be a love match or not.” Her smile grew.
“It seems as if Lady Octavia has changed his heart in a way that I did not expect!”
“That is good, then,” Susanna replied, ignoring the stab of pain to her heart at the mention of love. “Are they to marry soon?”
“They already are,” came the reply. “They are presently on honeymoon, so I am here with my aunt as chaperone. Lady Kilthorn. She has come down from Scotland to assist me.” Her head tilted.
“Would you like an introduction? I am sure that she would be glad to meet you and might well be willing to chaperone us both, if your mother is busy securing Lady Maude’s future?
” The knowing look in her eye told Susanna that her friend knew all too well what it was she faced.
The distinction between herself and her sister was, perhaps, more obvious than Susanna had realized.