Page 51 of The Scoundrel of Drury Lane
“Lord Basildon... your mother and sister won’t mind that I am unfit as a shopping companion, will they?” She feared being stared at and judged by other fine ladies if she appeared beside a duchess and a young lady of quality.
He offered her his arm to escort her to the drawing room. She slipped her arm in his, feeling as shy as the first time Kit had done that. She was unused to men escorting her to different rooms in the house. It was silly, but also strangely charming.
“Unfit?” Lionel echoed the word as if he’d never heard it before. “How so?”
“I mean, well, I am no one of importance, and they will surely be embarrassed by associating with a disgraced dead man’s daughter.”
Lionel’s hazel eyes focused on her sharply. “Miss Townsend, your father suffered no disgrace. And as for you, you are the farthest thing from beingno oneI could possibly imagine.” He urged her to sit in a comfortable chair and then knelt unexpectedly at her feet and took her hands in his. “In fact, you are everything. Kit, the old Kit I know, is coming back to us. I know you do not know that Kit, not yet, but someday you will see him as the man he was before he was betrayed. And for that, for bringing our friend back to us, you are more valuable to me than the king himself. You have my undying loyalty and my vow of protection.”
He spoke so earnestly that she could not deny the truth of his words. Unprepared for this raw show of emotion, Suzannah wiped at her eyes as she fought off tears. How could she explain to him all that she was feeling? Just a short time ago she was merely a woman who painted sets at the theater on Drury Lane, yet now she was on the verge of becoming a countess and being thrust into the most elite circles in England with no preparation whatsoever. Everyone had been kind to her and treated her like a lady, but somehow that only made her nerves worse.
“I’m so sorry, my lord, it’s all rather too much, you see... I cannot seem to believe that this isn’t all some dream that will vanish and I shall be living once more in a tiny cupboard, as Kit calls it.”
“Do not apologize. You’ve had the only world you’ve known ripped away from you, and you’ve been tossed into a new one. I doubt I would have handled it much better, were it me,” Lionel teased gently and produced a handkerchief as he stood.
She accepted it gratefully.
“Dry your eyes, my dear. I dare not think what Kit will do to me if he hears I made you cry.”
She laughed and apologized profusely as she wiped at her tears before returning the handkerchief to him.
“Lionel Richard Thistlewaite! What on earth have you done to that poor woman?” a regal voice bellowed from the doorway.
Still wiping at her eyes, Suzannah spun in her seat to see a pair of women in the doorway of the drawing room. They stared at Suzannah and Lionel in clear concern, and she understood how it must have looked, her crying and him kneeling beside her in a room with no chaperone.
“Mother.” Lionel stood up and inclined his head at the striking woman in her mid-fifties. The manila silk gown she wore was exquisite and turned an iridescent gold in the light as she moved. She wore no turban, the way many women her age might, but rather she had her hair styled up in a lovely tumble of waves. The young woman beside her was a russet-haired beauty of perhaps eighteen who watched Suzannah with keen interest.
“Might I remind you that not all tears are unhappy ones?” Lionel added when his mother continued to stare at them in concern.
“Yes, well, you can forgive my misunderstanding. I’ve never seen you make a woman so emotional before. You usually have them eating out of your palm and swooning, dear. Not that you’d bother to marry any of those nice young girls you’re always dancing with, and I dearlywishyou would.”
“That is certainly a matter to discuss another day,” Lionel replied with a wink at Suzannah.
Suzannah stood and approached the two ladies with Lionel at her side, ready to make introductions.
“Mother, Octavia, this is Miss Suzannah Townsend. Miss Townsend, this is my mother, Lady Somerstone, and my sister, Octavia.”
Octavia was positively beaming at her. Lady Somerstone, on the other hand, smiled politely but remained a little reserved.
“It is lovely to meet you, my dear. My son has informed me that you are to marry Lord Kentwell?”
“I suppose I am.”
“Yousuppose?” Lady Somerstone echoed. “My dear, are you or aren’t you?” The woman’s tone and air were so clearly of ancient English aristocracy that Suzannah rather felt like she was in the presence of a queen.
“She is,” Lionel cut in. His mother ignored him and continued to stare at Suzannah, waiting for an answer.
“I am,” Suzannah finally said as she lifted her chin and looked resolutely back at Lady Somerstone. She was taking a leap of faith for Kit, and she supposed she must commit to that and accept whatever came next. Time would tell if trusting her heart had been a mistake or not.
“Excellent. As I understand it, you wish to learn how to be a countess. Your first lesson is that a woman in your position must always be decisive, even if you secretly feel conflicted about something. You must show confidence in your decisions to others.” Lady Somerstone seemed to relax, as if she sensed Suzannah had made the decision to throw herself on Kit’s side. “Then let us hunt down a wedding gown worthy of a countess.”
And just like that, she was taken under the wing of the Duchess of Somerstone. They rode in a fashionable carriage with Lionel dutifully accompanying them to Bond Street. Octavia peppered Suzannah with questions and observations. By the time the carriage made its first stop, Suzannah had heard so much of the business of “Lady this” and “Lady that” and “Lord so-and-so” that she felt certain she would mix up all their names and various scandals.
The first shop they entered was full of lavish fabrics, exquisite gloves, beautiful ladies’ boots and slippers, as well as a number of other things a lady could desire. Suzannah had never imagined such a shop existed. She wandered around, clutching her hands together because she was too afraid to touch anything. She was more than aware that she was out of place in her plain gown and scuffed black boots.
A plump woman with a brightly colored turban wrapped around her head sniffed and raised her nose up as Suzannah finally dared to pick up a pair of kid leather gloves. The buttery leather was so soft that Suzannah wanted to rub it against her cheek, but she didn’t dare because she could feel that woman’s gaze upon her.
The duchess joined Suzannah at the display of gloves.
