Page 47 of Pursued Beyond Treachery
“You inferred things that do not exist, that is what happened.”
“I apologize. I thought—well, it does not matter what I thought. But why would you leave Miss Wayland like that, especially after it appeared you were”—he dropped his voice— “onverygood terms.”
His head jerked back. “We were arguing.”
It was Eddie’s turn to appear shocked. “That is not what it looked like from the door.”
“It does not matter what it looked like. Miss Wayland is angry with me and there is no more to it.”
The butler handed him his black beaver and he slammed it down on his head more firmly than was necessary. “Good day, Eddie.”
Eddie’s shoulders slumped and he put his hands in his pockets. “And a good day to you.”
Chapter 16
Susannah pulled the covers up to her nose. Why had she been such a ninny? John had a right to be angry. His friend’s characterhadbeen called into question. His intense emotion had caught her off guard, and she had reacted in kind. Why, she did not know.
Yes, you do, that pesky inner voice chided. She knew exactly why she’d reacted so harshly, and it embarrassed her. Somewhere in the world there was a woman withfascinating curlsandcaptivating pink cheeks.Whoever the woman was, she hated her already.
How had she managed to draw John’s attention with only a painting? Then again, perhaps the woman was married and her husband had commissioned the work. That would be a relief.
But would John talk about someone else’s wife like that? Certainly not. No this Venus of a woman had to be of the young unmarried variety, and as such, would be direct competition. Unless, of course, the lady of the painting had already won his heart.
She rolled to her side, yanking the blanket up over her head. Life was unfair. Just when she’d got up the courage to pursue John, he’d gone and fallen in love with someone else. Not that he’d called it love, but she could see it in the way his blue eyes lit with excitement, the ease with which he spoke, and the broad smile that had bloomed on his face the night of the ball, before they were interrupted by the Wallaces.
Was there any hope he’d change his mind? Probably not.
When John found something he liked, he committed himself to it heart and soul, hence the reason he was so good at painting. If this angel of a woman had his heart, she’d hold it forever.
Tears gathered in Susannah’s eyes, the futility of her hopes bringing anger with them. She punched her pillow, once, twice. It didn’t help.
It was time to look elsewhere. Mr. Wallace had certainly shown her a preference, and she had to admit she enjoyed his company. When she and John had first quarreled she had told herself that her anger came from a desire to get to know Mr. Wallace better. And in truth, some of it had. Perhaps her mind already knew what her heart refused to recognize.
It was time to move on, no matter how much it hurt.
How had he messed things up so thoroughly? Johnathan paced back and forth in front of the hearth the next morning. He’d lost his temper, something that rarely happened but seemed to be increasing in frequency of late.
What better way to display his faults against Mr. Wallace’s talents?
The man had recovered nicely from the tension, and what had he done? He’d let his jealousy boil over in anger against the wrong person.
He owed Susannah an apology, one he would have given as soon as the time was acceptable for visiting hours, but she’d not been at home. She and Javenia had gone to the shops and according to Nate would not be home until well into the afternoon.
He had a choice. Brave the shops now or wait another day, for this evening he had plans to meet with Lord Ansley to discuss several bills that would come before Parliament tomorrow afternoon.
Shopping was his least favorite activity. Actually, any activity that involved large numbers of people did not agree with him. Like the time he’d tried spicy Indian cuisine. Idle chatter burned his mouth and shopping left him with an upset stomach.
But he would brave the crowds if it meant any chance at seeing Susannah again.
When he reached the shops on Bond Street, he realized his mistake. How was he ever to find Susannah in this mess of bonnets and parasols?
He slowly made his way down the east side of the street, peeking into windows as he went. Several shops down, a feminine voice called out to him.
“Lord Newhurst!” Miss Guthrie caught up to him nearly out of breath, her younger sister coming up at a more acceptable pace. “I thought I saw you from the window of the haberdashery.”
True to its unfaithful nature, his tongue caught in his mouth as his mind began to race. Why did Miss Guthrie and her sister have to carry such similarities with Susannah? What would he say to her? There was a polite way to begin a conversation. What was it again? A yes.
“Did you know that vicissitude comes from the Latin wordvicissim? It means a change of circumstance or fortune, usually by unpleasant means.”
