Page 29 of Pursued Beyond Treachery
She did not know much about Miss Guthrie—Harriet, if memory served—but from the little she’d seen, she seemed far more concerned with her self-importance than with the acquisition of knowledge. Interest in painting, words, or inventions would be the last subjects she’d want to converse on. She probably was not even interested in John himself, but his title.
Her aunt’s family was very well connected. Not that they had a large amount of family in the peerage, but rather they were well liked because her uncle was talented in investing. More than once in the last few weeks she’d overheard gentlemen sing his praises because of an extremely profitable investment he’d suggested to them. That set her cousin far above her in both wealth and connection. Add Miss Guthrie’s pleasant appearance and it was all most men needed to create a union.
But would her cousin ever love John? Highly unlikely. Oh, she might feign a connection in order to secure him, but it would dwindle and die the moment their vows were said. The notion ofJohn trapped in a loveless marriage did not sit well with her, but what could she do about it?
How could she simply stand back and allow Miss Guthrie to dupe the man she loved?
The man she loved?
Susannah snuggled deeper under her blankets. Did she trulyloveJohn? Her heart thumped back a resounding yes. Then the fear set in. What if he never loved her in return?
Chapter 10
Susannah watched the other young ladies in the room, pulling out her fan and trying to mimic their movements. Lady Stanford had tried to teach her the language of the fan, but she’d yet to master it.
The evening's celebration for a Miss Giles’s presentation into Society was a lavish affair complete with an ice sculpture in the shape of a swan. People milled about the rooms, chatting and enjoying refreshment.
Susannah took note of how the ladies flirted with the gentlemen. Perhaps if she became more adept at the practice she’d be able to gain John’s attention. It seemed to entail a great deal of lashes and fan fluttering. The tap of a fan on a gentleman’s arm also seemed to gain ladies a great deal of attention.
“Are you well, Miss Wayland?” Miss Harris leaned close to her.
“I am, why do you ask?”
“You are beating that fan so fast it is making poor Mr. Cartright’s toupee lift off his head.”
She glanced at the older man who stood several feet in front of them. “I am not.”
A smirk pulled at Miss Harris’s lips. “Only because you have stopped.”
“Do be serious. Was I really lifting it?”
“Only a little. Are you nervous?”
“More like uneducated. Lady Stanford has tried to teach me how to use fans in Town, but I am afraid I am a poor student.”
Miss Harris took pity on her and repeated the rules. Susannah listened so intently that she did not see Mr. Roberts approach until he stood directly behind Miss Harris.
“I see you are corrupting another young lady, and for all Society to see. For shame, Miss Harris.”
The hand that had been demonstrating paused midair. Slowly Miss Harris turned, switching the fan to her right hand and fluttering it gently below her nose.
“Just because you are incapable of understanding fan movements does not signify that all ladies who know it are corrupt. It only proves your ineptitude.”
He leaned forward scandalously close and dropped his voice to a low hum. “Come, we both know I understand ladies far better than any other gentleman.”
Miss Harris blinked at him, her fan coming to a complete stop and resting on her right cheek. It moved forward a fraction. He straightened and smiled, triumph gleaming in his amber colored eyes.
She let out a huff. “Come, Miss Wayland. It is time to practice what you have learned.”
“I would not attempt to apply anything Javenia has taught you, Miss Wayland. It might lead you to commit an unforgivable social faux pas.”
Miss Harris rolled her eyes, pulling Susannah away. “Do not listen to him.Algenonis simply jealous of what he will never be able to understand.”
“And what is that, pray tell?” Mr. Roberts trailed after them.
She cast him a dazzling smile over her shoulder. “If you have to ask, you are more obtuse than I thought.”
He stopped, eyes narrowed and mouth firm. His hands clasped behind his back as he watched them walk away. Susannah did not know if she should feel sorry for him or laugh at the obvious win Miss Harris had enacted. Even in her small knowledge, she’d read something in the movement of the fan that would probably have surprised the tall gentleman.
