Chapter 12
“Susanna?”
Looking up from her book, Susanna smiled in welcome as her mother came into the room. “Yes, Mama?”
Her mother sniffed. “I hear that you told your father about some dreadful rumors which have been swirling about him – and about us, I might add!”
The smile quickly dropped from Susanna’s face. “That was a few days ago, but I am glad to know that they are only rumors.”
“Indeed they are.” The Duchess narrowed her eyes. “Who is it, might I ask?”
Susanna frowned, aware that there was still a deep unwillingness within her to deliver Lord Lancashire’s name to her mother or to her father.
“I am afraid I cannot recall, Mama.” It was nothing short of a lie, and given the frown that lined her mother’s forehead, Susanna was quite sure she did not believe her.
All the same, she refused to speak Lord Lancashire’s name, her unwillingness speaking of a heart still tied to his.
The Duchess wrinkled her nose. “Well, whoever told you these rumors is clearly not a gentleman worth thinking of. No acquaintance should be continued, no conversation even thought of.”
A little surprised that her mother was showing her such consideration, Susanna nodded slowly. “I can see why you would have such concern. I will make sure not to continue with any such acquaintance, should he come near to me again.”
Her mother frowned. “No, Susanna, I do not mean you. I am speaking of Maude! Tell me, is the gentleman you spoke to someone that she is acquainted with? Is it one of the fellows who are, at present, pursuing her? Have you ever seen him in her company?”
Susanna’s shoulders dropped, her heart slamming hard into the floor as tears quickly sprang to her eyes.
How foolish she had been to think that her mother had been thinking of her!
She ought to have known that there was nothing in this conversation to do with her and her own present standing.
Mute, she shook her head, hoping her mother did not catch the glimmer of tears in her eyes.
“That is a relief.” The Duchess let out a soft sigh, only to tilt her head and look Susanna straight in the eye, her gaze suddenly sharp. “And I will expect you to inform me at once if the gentleman comes to introduce himself to Maude, since it seems you will not tell me his name.”
“It is not that I will not, only that I cannot,” Susanna protested weakly. When her mother only arched an eyebrow, Susanna closed her eyes and nodded. “Yes, of course. I will make sure to inform you at once.”
“Good.” The Duchess sniffed. “Maude and I are going to call upon Lord and Lady Buist. I hear that there are to be a good few gentlemen present at their afternoon soiree. As you know, your sister must be given every opportunity, for she has so many gentlemen eager for her company that she is quite overwhelmed!”
Susanna opened her eyes. “Of course, Mother.”
“She will need to think of courtship soon, for I should like her engaged by the end of next month.” The Duchess looked out of the window, her gaze distant and her voice no longer holding the same firmness as before.
“There are so many of them coming to call and the like, but still, there have not been any offers of courtship.”
This surprised Susanna, and she sat up a little straighter.
“None?” That was not something that either Maude or the Duchess had made clear, and Susanna had been under the impression that there had been multiple offers or expressed hopes of courtship, and Maude simply had to decide who to accept. “I thought that –”
“It does not concern you.” Snapping her gaze back to Susanna, the Duchess drew herself up.
“Now, to speak plainly, this afternoon’s invitation did not include you, unfortunately,” the Duchess continued, not sounding in any way displeased or upset by this.
“I am sure you can entertain yourself for the afternoon?”
Without another word, she quit the room and left Susanna staring after her, a sense of abandonment stealing away every tiny hint of happiness or contentment from her.
Tears came quickly, but Susanna did not permit them to fall for fear that either her mother or her sister would come in and see her in a state of unhappiness.
Even if they did, Susanna thought to herself, there was no promise of any concern from either of them.
Given what her mother had just said and the lack of consideration she had displayed, even Susanna’s tears would not bring any sympathy.
I cannot sit at home all afternoon.
Looking around the room, Susanna stood up and took in a long, steadying breath, feeling the walls beginning to close in around her.
She could not stay here, not when her mother’s words would reverberate around the room and leave her scrambling for hope and purpose!
To stay here would mean to linger in that constant reminder of being forgotten, of being pushed away and ignored – and she could not let herself do that.
Swallowing thickly, she walked to the door of the parlor and, seeing a maid there, directed her to send for her lady’s maid at once.
With her fists clenched against the upset that threatened to overtake her, Susanna walked directly to the front of the house and looked out.
She would go somewhere – anywhere – that would take her away from here, even if only for a time.
Otherwise, she feared, she would fade completely in the background and would never be remembered again.
She chose the bookshop on Piccadilly — Hatchards, with its bow-fronted windows.
A quiet hush that settled over its narrow aisles like a blessing.
It was one of the few places in London where Susanna felt she could breathe without performance, where no one expected her to smile or make conversation or pretend that she was perfectly content.
The shop smelled of leather bindings and old paper and the faintest trace of beeswax.
The light that filtered through the tall windows fell in golden columns across the spines of a thousand volumes.
She had come here often last Season, usually alone, and it had always felt like a sanctuary.
Today, however, the familiar scent of aged paper and leather, usually a comfort, seemed to press in on her — a heavy blanket rather than a gentle embrace.
She wandered aimlessly, her fingers trailing over the spines of books she had no intention of reading.
Her mind replayed her mother’s words, each one a fresh stab to her already bruised heart.
“It does not concern you.” The phrase echoed, cold and dismissive, stripping away any lingering illusion that she held a place of importance in her family’s world.
She was merely an inconvenience, a shadow to her sister’s brilliance, a problem to be managed rather than a daughter to be cherished.
The tears she had held back earlier pricked at her eyes with renewed intensity.
She blinked rapidly, forcing them back. Not here. Not in public.
She moved deeper into the shop, seeking the most secluded corner, and sank into a small, uncomfortable chair tucked behind a display of travelogues.
A slim volume in deep green sat unopened in her hands, a mere prop.
Her thoughts were a tangled mess of resentment and sorrow and a desperate yearning for something — anything — to change.
“Susanna?”
A yelp escaped her as a low voice spoke her name, making her drop the book she held in her hands. Turning quickly, she took a step back, only for her eyes to flare wide at the sight of Lord Lancashire.
Her heart began to thud wildly, but she said nothing, watching him as he bent to pick up the book she had dropped.
“Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you.” Handing it back to her, he licked his lips. “I did not think I would see you here this afternoon.” One eyebrow lifted gently. “Is your mother or sister present?”
Susanna shook her head, gesturing to her lady’s maid but saying nothing more.
She did not know what Lord Lancashire meant by coming to speak with her in such a way, but they had to be careful.
Lady’s maid or not, to have a private conversation with a gentleman in the center of a London bookshop could quickly bring whispers about her.
A sudden memory of another time she had been in private conversation with Lord Lancashire in the corner of another bookshop stormed into her mind — he had lifted a volume of poetry from the shelf and read to her in that low, warm voice of his, and she had been so enchanted, so entirely lost in the sound of it, that she had not noticed the shop growing quiet around them — and Susanna flushed hot, her cheeks burning as she dropped her gaze and fastened it to the floor.
Why was she being so very foolish? Why could she not simply push Lord Lancashire aside and forget him completely?
The pain she had endured simply did not seem great enough to break apart the love she held for him.
“I do not have to speak with you if you do not wish it.”
Raising her eyes, Susanna looked back at him as steadily as she could, ignoring the wild thundering of the blood in her veins. “What is it that you wish to say, Lord Lancashire? I thought we were finished with our acquaintance.”
To her surprise, his eyes closed, and he ran one hand down his face, grimacing as he did so.
A low exclamation broke from him, and he shook his head, letting a long breath escape as he dropped his head.
His shoulders lowered with it, and, to Susanna’s eyes, he appeared to be a gentleman in the throes of despair.
A sudden roar of hope crashed over her, and she caught her breath, holding it steadily in her chest as Lord Lancashire finally lifted his gaze to hers.