Always a Maiden (The Belles of Beak Street #5)(4)

Her mother reached across and twitched aside her cloak. “A tear this large couldn’t have happened if you didn’t pull away from him.”

“I didn’t realize…” Susanah tried to frame a defense. She just left off because her mother would no doubt find fault with anything she said.

“You didn’t realize what?”

“That my dress would rip. I’m not even quite certain how it happened.” Susanah fretted with the tattered edges of the tear just so her mother couldn’t look at her face. Not that she was likely to give the lie away with her expression, but her face felt warm. If she was blushing, her mother would never let her be. She had to think of anything other than how her dress had ripped and how Mr. Cooper had so easily lifted her.

“What were you doing talking to him?” Each word her mother uttered, made Susanah want to shrivel.

“I wasn’t—at least not before…” Susanah straightened before her mother berated her for her posture and looked out the window. “I had been talking to Corabelle.”

Her mother sniffed. “Those so-called ‘belles’ are not suitable acquaintances for you as an unmarried girl. They are not all that they should be. You should give them short shrift.”

“Except they are all settled,” Susanah said under her breath. Or nearly all of them. And they were the closest she had to friends or enemies. They certainly were more her intimates than the dozens of people she exchanged pleasantries with. Not that she truly had any real friends.

“What did you say?”

Susanah didn’t bother to answer. Her mother had heard her. The marchioness had a dog’s hearing. Even when she sat twenty feet away, she heard every word Susanah ever said and offered her opinion about what was said later. “I am distressed about my gown and having to leave early. Do you suppose if I changed, we could return?”

Susanah didn’t want to return to another of the endless streams of balls, routs, card parties, and salons. She half wondered if she could find a way to delay during changing her gown in a way that would prevent their return. Perhaps she could manage to destroy her coiffure while a new ballgown was being pulled over her head.

Her mother examined her in the dimness of the carriage interior, but Susanah had her complacent expression firmly back in place. Her cheeks were cooler—thank goodness.

“Lord Farringate has expressed an interest in marriage with you. Your father is entertaining his interest.”

A cold shock poured down her spine. Lord Farringate was sixty if he was a day. He’d already buried three wives and had at least near a dozen offspring—many of whom were considerably older than her.

“The last time Papa tried to land me a husband, it did not end well,” she pointed out, her calm facade hiding the rise of bile in her throat.

Her mother’s lips tightened. She didn’t have to say a word for Susanah to feel the weight of her censure.

“I will find my own husband, thank you.”

No matter what it took.





Chapter 2





Evan drew up his horse in front of his uncle’s house. His cousin Gilbert bounded down the stairs with the eager clumsiness of a puppy whose paws are getting in the way. Although unlike a puppy, Gilbert had no hope of outgrowing his condition.

“Cousin Evan,” Gilbert yelled. Although it sounded more like Couthin Eh-an. His boots crunched across the macadam of the drive.

Evan dismounted and moved forward to lead his horse by the reins towards the stables.

Gilbert hurtled himself against Evan’s chest for an enthusiastic hug.

Evan hugged his cousin nearly as enthusiastically, then patted Gilbert’s back. Although embracing at their ages was not a normal greeting, Evan didn’t mind. His cousin might be fifteen, but mentally he seemed half that age.

Gilbert sagged against him, his breathing ragged. Evan steadied the boy wondering how far he’d run through the house before coming outside.

Gilbert finally recovered and stepped back. “Did you get married?”

It took Evan a minute to sort through the thick words to understand the question, it was so unexpected. He chose his answer carefully. Gilbert would take anything he said literally.

He studied the boys widely-spaced and slightly-tilted eyes as he spoke. “I haven’t picked a woman I want to ask, yet.” Oddly enough the image of Lady Susanah’s shapely legs, exposed when she’d lifted her skirt to tear it, sprang to his mind. He dismissed the thought. A woman’s form—pleasing as it may be—was hardly a good basis for choosing a wife. “Why do you ask?”

“Papa says that is why you always go to London.”

Did his uncle expect him to marry? He’d rather thought not. Uncle Phillip didn’t want word of Gilbert’s condition spreading far and wide. He limited visits from family. Neither Evan nor his siblings had ever been invited to his uncle’s estate until he’d been summoned when he finished his studies at Oxford. Introducing a wife would just expand the people who knew. Without thinking, Evan slowed his steps to allow Gilbert to walk at his normal lumbering pace.

“You need to hurry and pick one so you can live here all the time,” Gilbert said as they approached the stables. He gave Evan a playful shove that didn’t carry much power. “Then your wife can help me find a wife when I go to London.”