Page 56 of Pursued Beyond Treachery
John’s attention bounced between the two ladies, his already confused expression growing more distressed by the minute. The man looked like he did not know what to do with himself as the two ladies continued to give excuses of why the other should leave their little grouping.
“Or perhaps you both should sit down,” Mr. Roberts said, coming upon them from behind. “I am afraid I need to deprive you of your escort.” He placed a hand on John’s back and Susannah swore John breathed a sigh of relief although no sound came out.
“D-d-do excuse me, ladies.” He shrugged off both their hands and stepped out of their reach.
Mr. Roberts put out a hand to her. “You as well, Miss Wayland. Lady Stanford has been looking for you.”
She glanced at Mr. Wallace, not sure what to say. “Please excuse me.”
He smiled at her. “By all means.”
She handed her tea things to a passing servant and followed John and Mr. Roberts away from three frustrated looking women. Andifa little cheer for her good fortune happened to bubble up within, she would not show it—no matter how much she wished to gloat over the others.
Mr. Roberts stopped when they reached the next room and took out his timepiece.
“Why did Lady Stanford need me?” she asked.
He glanced up at her as if surprised she still followed him. “She doesn’t. I simply saw that a rescue mission was in order.” He grinned at John. “I shall leave you two, for I have a baron’s daughter to annoy.” And with that he headed straight for Miss Harris who was deep in discussion with the son of their hostess, looking like she enjoyed the gentleman’s company.
She looked after him for a moment, at odds with what to do next. John also seemed preoccupied with watching his friend. Then as if some invisible permission had been given, they both began to talk.
“Miss Wayland, I need to—”
“Lord Newhurst, I’m—”
They stopped.
He peered down at his feet and cleared his throat.
She looked away, her gaze catching on Lady Braithwaite clad in black with only white lace at her neck and sleeves to relieve it. The lady glanced her way and locked gazes with her, gave a subtle nod, and refocused on the two men who were speaking to her.
John’s fingers lightly touched Susannah’s sleeve. “I must ask your forgiveness, Miss Wayland. I had no right to lose my temper with you, especially as you were not to blame.”
She shook her head. “Not so. It is I who must apologize. You had every right to defend your friend.”
“Yes, but as you so keenly p-pointed out, Mr. Wallace was not to blame for the offense.”
“But your sour mood was not the reason for my upset. I—” She quickly shut her mouth. Could she really admit to her jealousy over something as simple as a painting? It seemed silly now. Perhaps she had read too much into his reaction. What if he had no more interest than that of a devoted artist?
“Susannah, dear,” Aunt Guthrie said, taking hold of her arm. “Lady Stanford is this way.”
She blinked at her aunt in confusion. “But I—”
“Do excuse us, Lord Newhurst.” Aunt Guthrie tugged on her arm. “Harriet, will you be a dear and keep the gentleman company while I help your cousin find her friends?”
John stepped forward, his face set in a firm frown, but Miss Guthrie latched back onto his arm like a hungry leech.
Susannah wanted to object to her aunt's high-handed ways but she was already pulling her away.
“Do not make a fool of yourself,” Aunt Guthrie hissed when they were out of hearing of the others. “Lord Newhurst is far above your station. You’d be better to assert your efforts with Mr. Wallace, if the man will have you. Even that is a stretch for someone like you.”
Susannah stopped, the force of the larger woman’s forward trajectory nearly pulling her off her feet.
Aunt Guthrie let go and turned to glare at her. “Do not be so stubborn, girl. I do not have tolowermyself to help you.”
A litany of arguments gathered in her mind, but she could not get any words past her lips. Her aunt’s words held merit. Johnwasabove her station. Perhaps Mr. Wallace was as well, but she needed that status to relieve pressure off her own family.
Black swirled behind her aunt, and a silky-smooth voice said, “An offer of help from you might be considered lowering to anyone, Mrs. Guthrie.”
