Desperately Seeking Suzanna (4 page)

God bless the invention of the masquerade ball. Holden had always been amused at the liberties a proper lady would allow simply by covering her cheekbones. Suzanna had yet to remove her lace-trimmed black mask but it suited her somehow. Her eyes, the color of falling autumn leaves, seemed to glow within the shadows of the mask.

“What do you find so amusing?” she asked.

“You.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am—a bit.”

“You shouldn’t be. This is certainly the most memorable masquerade ball I’ve ever attended.”

“I imagine most masked balls don’t include being kicked in the nose by a lady’s grand entrance.” She laughed, the sound reminding him of raindrops falling on metal. Where had this delightful woman come from? She was part lady, part angel, part bawdy temptress, as far as he could tell. He wasn’t aware that the combination had ever been attempted on English soil before.

“No, I believe you are unique in that respect, Suzanna.” He laughed and spun her to the side of the room with a flourish just as the music ended.

She stopped spinning and looked up at him with a laugh lingering on her lips. She was intoxicating. Her small fingers were still curled within his from their dance. He wasn’t inclined to release her and she didn’t seem to mind. No one seemed to notice their connection because of the rather large crush in the ballroom. Aunt Penelope would be pleased, and with Suzanna in his grasp, he was rather pleased as well.

“Would you like a drink? The unmasking will occur soon and then the champagne will be in short supply.” A drink and then he would slip her away—to the gardens or back to his bed? He would have to wait and see how she responded to the champagne. He smiled and squeezed her hand. This was an entertaining evening indeed. And it would only improve from here.

“A drink would be lovely.”

“Very well, then. Wait here by this…”—he quirked a brow at the sculpture they were standing beside before turning back to her—“truly hideous Grecian man. I’ll return in a moment.”

***

Holden had only been gone a few minutes. And yet the country dance playing in the ballroom seemed to stretch on forever in his absence. Sue wound her fingers together and feigned interest in the dance before her. In her heart, however, she was back upstairs under the weight of him, with his hands on her and his mouth—she blushed.

Glimpses of Evangeline and Victoria passed by as they moved around the floor with gentlemen hanging on every swish of their skirts. Isabelle was on the opposite side of the ballroom laughing at some remark the gentleman beside her made. It seemed like a lifetime ago when Sue had descended the stairs with her family. So much had happened. The very air around her was new and alive. She would never be the same now and she was happy for it.

A hand wrapped around her shoulder, spinning her toward the back terrace doors. Although the grip was a little tight and lacked the warmth of Holden’s earlier touch, she turned with a smile for him.

“Back so soon?” The smile slipped from her face.

“Back? Who were you expecting, Sue? Dressed as you are, I’m not sure I wish to know.” Her mother’s thin lips were drawn into a straight line of disapproval as her eyes swept over Sue’s hair and down her face to land on the gathered neck of her gown.

“Mother.”

“Yes, I am. Who, however, are you? No daughter of mine should be here disguised as some disgusting creature of the demimonde.”

“That’s not how I’m dressed at all. I only came here because…”

“I will not hear your excuses,” her mother hissed. “You will come with me.”

Her long thin fingers wrapped around Sue’s wrist, propelling her toward the nearby terrace doors. Sue only dared to throw one glance over her shoulder, searching for Holden, but he was still in the next room acquiring drinks. He wouldn’t know where she’d gone. How could she inform him? The question was pushed from her thoughts as her mother pulled her into darkness. The crisp night air hit Sue’s face as she left the ballroom, washing away all the warmth and happiness she’d found there.

Her attention returned to her mother as the mask was stripped from her face and thrown on the stone floor. Sue blinked at the rush of cool against her skin.

“Shameful.” Her mother pulled a handkerchief from the edge of her glove and trapped Sue’s face between the two fingers clamped on her chin. Dragging her into a rectangle of light falling from a window, her mother began rubbing at the rouge on her cheeks. The rough linen scrubbed across her skin, leaving her cheeks raw in its wake.

“Mother, that hurts.”

“As it should. It pains me to have our family represented in such a fashion at a friend’s ball.”

Once Sue’s cheeks were raw and her mother satisfied with her work, she began cleaning the color from Sue’s lips. It was as if the entire evening was being wiped away. Scrub. Holden’s kisses. Scrub. Her smiles. Scrub. Their laughter. She blinked away the moisture gathering in her eyes.

“Now to be rid of these feathers. Really, Sue. Such excess. Evangeline may be able to wear such adornment, but not you. You don’t have her lean grace, nor her face.” With that explanation, her mother ripped the feathers from Sue’s hair and tossed them into a nearby bush.

Next came the ribbons. The artful bows were stripped from her gown, releasing the folds of fabric around her. This must be what it felt like to be the wrapping on a parcel. She was the plain paper that had once wrapped an exquisite gift and was now left behind for the maids to dispose of. When the last ribbons were released and her gown relaxed around her shoulders in a stretched mess of fabric, Sue looked down at the brooch clasped at her bosom. Running her finger over the dark stone in the center, she savored its solid existence. Her mouth quirked up at the corner. The last piece of Suzanna and of this magical evening was still clinging to her heart.

“That brooch doesn’t belong to you. Did you take it?”

“No, I didn’t.” Any other words she would have said were stripped from her along with the brooch.

“Sue Green, you will return straight away to your cousin’s home. Your father and I will be along shortly. If I find you anywhere but in your bed when I arrive there, you will be sent back home while the rest of the family travels to London. It is what wisdom tells me to do already. Yet I am a forgiving mother, even under such…”—she looked down her superior nose at Sue as if something foul surrounded her on the air—“circumstances. I will have to think on what to do with you. We shall discuss this tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sue glanced down at her rumpled, plain rose gown and turned to leave. Inside the ballroom, the unmasking had begun. Squeals of laughter rang out as she made her way through the crowd. She pushed past a group of ladies as she tried not to be stepped on in her haste to leave. On her way to the door that led to the carriages outside, she neared the statue where she was to meet Holden. He wasn’t there.

She paused for a moment, partly to catch a glimpse of him one last time, partly to recapture the joy that had been present in her heart only moments before her mother’s arrival. If she stood in this same place, would her joy find her again as if she’d left it on the polished wood floor?

“Pardon me, miss.” There was a nudge against her arm and she turned, looking into Holden’s green eyes.

“Ah, you found champagne.” She smiled up into his unmasked face. She began to raise a hand to accept her glass, but her hand only made it halfway to him. She held her hand there in midair for a heartbeat waiting for him to look at her—really look at her.

He lifted the glasses higher and well beyond her reach. “Yes, I found a footman with a bottle in the next room. If you’ll excuse me, I can’t chat at the moment. I’m meeting someone here.”

“Oh.” The word was more of a sound ripped from her heart than a coherent response. He didn’t recognize her. Her hand dropped to her side with her fist clenched to keep it from trembling. She searched his face but his eyes didn’t stay on her. He was now scanning the room, looking for Suzanna. Was she so different? She’d been beautiful in his arms.

But now…

She looked away as the room began to swim through her unshed tears. She was only Sue. That was all she would ever be. She needed to leave. She didn’t belong here among the beauty of the masquerade ball. She turned away from Holden, not that he noticed her departure.

“Sue, what’s happened?” Evangeline asked, her hand snaking around Sue’s elbow.

“Mother is here. You should leave.” With her warning stated, she threw off Evangeline’s grasp and fled for the main hall. Tears were beginning to burn the backs of her eyes, and in another moment there would be no blinking them away. He hadn’t recognized her. His gaze had been cold as he dismissed her. Taking a breath, she pushed away from the railing of the main stairs and back into the crush of people at the masquerade.

Her feet were moving toward the door without any thought to who she bumped into or how she now appeared with tears beginning to roll down her raw cheeks to land on her horribly wrinkled gown. They couldn’t see her anyway. After all, Sue Green was invisible.

Against his better judgment, Holden raised his hand and knocked on the front door of the Fairlyns’ neighboring manor house. It rankled to no end that Suzanna had managed to slip away last evening. He left for one damned minute and the chit was gone. And now he was here, chasing after her like some foolish schoolboy.

Calling on the day following their meeting? He’d never stooped so low in his life. Ladies chased
him
, not the other way around! He ran a hand through his hair and looked across the lawn in the direction he’d come. He should leave. Taking one step backward, he was about to turn and abandon this ill-fated idea when the door opened.

“Yes, m’lord?” the butler’s voice rang out.

Realizing it was too late to run, Holden turned and faced the man. “Ah, I’m Viscount Steelings. I’m here to call upon…” His words were drowned out by the bright voice of a young lady inside the home.

“Cardwell, do we have a guest? Do invite our caller in, won’t you?”

“Yes, Miss Fairlyn.” The door was opened wide to reveal a large, echoing hall—a surprisingly empty hall.

Holden stepped inside, glancing around the large room devoid of any furnishings. The smell of fresh paint hung thick in the closed-off air. Didn’t they know how to open a window?
It’s for Suzanna. You’re enduring this for Suzanna.
He sighed and offered the butler a pleasant smile as he passed.

Aunt Penelope had mentioned the new neighbors, but he hadn’t realized how new until now. The last time he’d set foot within these walls, he’d been no more than eleven. The rooms had been stuffed to overflowing with foreign artifacts—much like his friend Thornwood’s home, only here it was to the point of excess. He could remember being worried a sarcophagus might fall on him, squashing him flat. The new neighbors appeared to agree with his views on décor for every shred of the former home’s furnishings had been stripped away, leaving behind a hollow shell.

His eyes fell on the lady standing by the doorway that led to a parlor, if he recalled correctly. She couldn’t be more than eighteen, he would wager. She was lovely in the traditional English way—with blond ringlets surrounding pale skin and blue eyes. Yesterday, he would have thought her beautiful, but that was before a tiny lady with all the right curves had kicked her way into his life.

“Welcome, Lord…”

“Steelings,” he supplied, taking a step toward her and the parlor door at her back. Could Suzanna be inside the parlor? His heart sped up at the thought. Perhaps this would be easier than he’d anticipated. He would find her in the parlor, and they would be finishing what they’d begun by nightfall tonight. Splendid!

“I’m Isabelle Fairlyn.” She dipped into a well-rehearsed curtsy. Her dimpled, rosy cheek winked at him as she smiled. “I believe we’re neighbors, aren’t we? I’ve heard your name mentioned, at any rate.”

On any other day he would find her charming company if he were to be honest, but not today. Today she was slowing his path to Suzanna. He ground his teeth within his smile. He’d never been unkind to a lady, and he wasn’t going to begin now. This was Suzanna’s friend after all. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Fairlyn. I spend a good amount of time with my cousins at Torrent Hall, so, on their behalf, allow me to welcome you to the area.”

“Torrent Hall seems a lovely estate. Your cousins must enjoy living there.” She glanced around him toward the butler before adding in a whisper, “The ball last night was enchanting.”

“Yes, the masquerade was a fine evening’s entertainment. My aunt will be pleased to hear of your enjoyment. I’ll be sure to pass on your appreciation.”

“No!” She lurched forward with the vehemence of the command, her fingers clasping the fabric of his coat. Then, seeming to collect herself, she released her grasp, straightened with a sheepish smile, and clasped her hands before her. “I mean, that’s not necessary, Lord Steelings. Why don’t we go into the parlor where it isn’t so terribly…loud? Would you like some tea?”

“I can only stay for a minute, I’m afraid. I don’t wish to take up too much of your time.” That was the truth. What had that bit regarding the masquerade been about? Something was off with Miss Isabelle Fairlyn, and he didn’t particularly care to lounge about over tea to find out what that something might be. If not for the prospect of Suzanna behind the parlor door, he would flee. “Actually, I’m here to call on your friend Suzanna. I believe she’s a guest of yours?”

“Suzanna? Oh, Suzanna.” She laughed with a forced titter, and her genuine smile was instantly replaced by a smile that looked as if it had been left to dry on a wire and bake in the sun too long. She swept around him, nudging him in the back as he entered the parlor. “Of course. You must come into the parlor. I insist.”

This was a strange interview, to say the least. His eyes scanned the room in search of burnished gold hair and lush curves, but she was nowhere in sight. And there wasn’t much of anything in sight, for that matter. He moved into the sparsely furnished room, circling one of the two chairs before the fireplace but not pausing to sit. Instead he stood with an elbow resting on the back of one chair, making for a fast exit once he found Suzanna. After a moment’s silence, he narrowed his gaze on Miss Fairlyn. His patience was growing thin.

He watched as she settled into the opposite chair, fluffing her skirts where they fell around her ankles. Finally she looked up, catching his gaze with a bland smile. Was she going to speak? Ever? He’d asked her a question! He took a breath and tried again. “Would you be so kind as to inform Suzanna I am here?”

“Oh, that. Well, I can’t.”

Can’t? Why the hell not?
He smiled. “Is she unwell?”

“No, she…left the estate.”

“Left…the estate.”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath that seemed to be one of relief. “She left early this morning. So she’s not here. No, no one here who would answer to the name ‘Suzanna.’ That much is certain.”

“Do you mind informing me where she might have gone?” His hand had formed a tight fist on the back of the armchair at some point. Whether he longed to hit something, grab Suzanna, or strangle someone was uncertain. He forced his fingers to relax as he studied the woman opposite him. Something was afoot. She wasn’t being honest; that much he could guess. The truth of the situation and why she was hiding Suzanna remained a mystery. The parlor door banged open, disrupting his thoughts. And good God, there were two of them now. He was doomed.

“Isabelle? Oh, there you are,” the other Miss Fairlyn stated as she hurried into the room. As her eyes landed on Holden, her pace slowed to a stop. “And you’re with a guest.”

“Victoria, this is Lord Steelings. Lord Steelings, my sister, Miss Victoria Fairlyn.”

“Miss Fairlyn,” Holden offered with a slight nod of his head.

Victoria glided farther into the room with her chin raised to resemble a swan crossing a pond. She landed a smile on him that would make most gentlemen weak in the knees yet only served to make Holden wary. “Lord Steelings, it’s a pleasure to have you call on us today. Won’t you sit?”

Isabelle cleared her throat to gather her twin’s attention. “Lord Steelings is here asking after Suzanna.”

“Ah, I see.” There was a look between sisters. What did that mean? It was as if they had their own language, all spoken in raised eyebrows and pursed lips.

Isabelle continued, “I’ve just told him she is…”

“Indisposed.” Victoria interrupted with a smile back in Holden’s direction. “She’s in bed ill as can be, the poor dear.”

“Away,” Isabelle said with a pointed look at her sister.

“Away?” Victoria spun away from Holden.

“Yes, you remember, Sister? She packed her things and left this very morning.”

“Oh. Which is why she’s away. Away, yes. Far, far away.”

“Traveling and ill. Suzanna does seem quite busy today,” Holden threw in, knowing they were both lying for their friend. Why did she not want to see him? Had he taken things too far with her on their first night together? Had he overwhelmed her? If so, it was no reason to avoid him. He could slow things a bit. He could give her one more evening to become accustomed to his presence before he allowed things to progress further between them. But he couldn’t even offer her that courtesy if she wouldn’t see him.

“Traveling ill? Oh no, she must be feeling much better.” Isabelle shot a look at Victoria that insisted on her agreement.

“I’m happy to hear it.” Holden needed answers. Facts! Truth! “Do you know her destination this morning? I would like to offer my appreciation for the dance last evening.”

Isabelle opened her mouth to speak but clamped it shut again with a barely audible whimper.

Holden waited. His gaze turned to Victoria.

She pondered him for a moment before moving to shut the parlor door. Turning back to their conversation, she held the look of a man of business settling into a large stack of papers. “I’m sure Suzanna will be pleased to know you called upon her.” Her voice was smooth as she spoke. This was no doubt the oiled tone she used to lure helpless men into some trap. “You know, Lord Steelings, our Suzanna can be a bit shy at times. I have no doubt it was nervousness that drove her away today. However, my sister and I would like to assist you.”

“We would?” Isabelle asked.

“Yes, Isabelle, of course we would,” Victoria admonished with a false laugh.

“Oh. Yes, we would,” Isabelle agreed with a nod of her head, causing her ringlets to bounce all around her.

“I’m sure I don’t require your assistance.” In no way did he want to be entangled with these two identical terrors. He could find Suzanna on his own. It would be difficult, yet dealing with these ladies was proving to be arduous as well. He would take his chances.

“We know Suzanna’s schedule for the season.” She raised a hand and began ticking off fingers. “Which balls she will attend, the parties and gatherings where she can be found, even what color gown she will be wearing. Are you sure you don’t require our assistance?”

Damn. He did need their assistance. “Why would you offer this?”

“For Suzanna. You see, Suzanna has left…a string of gentlemen behind her. She’s ever so desirable—as you well know—but alas, she runs when things turn serious.”

“This is not serious!” Did they think this would involve marriage? Because that would not happen!

“I didn’t mean to imply that it was, my lord, only that we wish to see her happy. And with her scampering away when any kind and well-respected gentleman, like you, becomes interested…” She shook her head in despair while artfully pursing her lips. “I’m sure you can see the issue. What Suzanna needs is to be…made to stay put, chased down when she tries to flee…trapped, if you will.”

“Trapped? But Victoria…” Isabelle shot a shocked look at her sister, which Victoria quickly dismissed.

His reaction was much the same as Isabelle’s. Why would Suzanna’s friend wish such a thing on her? However, if Suzanna had a history of running from gentlemen, he could see the issue with that, assuming these girls wanted to see their friend married. But still, trapped?

He shook his head. “I don’t wish to
trap
her.”

Perhaps that wasn’t the most honest statement he’d ever made. Right now, with the memory of her still on his skin, he did wish to trap her—only not in the sense these ladies envisioned. Ladies’ ideas of trapping usually involved a leg shackle of some kind, which wasn’t nearly as much fun as what he had in mind.

“Capture, then? Find?” Victoria waved an impatient hand through the air. “Whatever the terminology you wish to use, my lord, we can help you achieve that end.”

He should say no, damn it all. He didn’t trust these ladies, especially Victoria with her sly grin and man-eater eyes. However, they knew how to find Suzanna. And he didn’t even know her surname. “Very well.”

Victoria clasped her hands together. “Perfect! She will be in our company at the Dillsworth ball next week in London. I do hope you’ll be in attendance.”

“Certainly. I should be leaving now.” Deals with the devil always made him want to leave with haste—not that he’d made many deals of that nature. Or did that depend on one’s view of what constitutes a deal with said devil? At any rate, he wanted out of this parlor—now. He offered the Fairlyn ladies a smile. “I would hate to take up any more of your time on this lovely afternoon.”

Victoria laughed. “Oh, you’re no burden on our time. I’ve enjoyed our little chat immensely.”

“Yes, it’s been very enlightening. I will see both of you in London. Until then.” He offered the ladies a slight bow and headed for the door. As he rounded the corner into the hall, he could hear their voices echoing in the nearly empty room behind him.

“What was that about?”

“I’m simply making our season in London a bit more interesting.”

An “interesting” season was precisely what had Holden concerned. He grimaced and walked out the front door. By anyone’s definition, this qualified as a deal with the devil.

***

The tea grew cold while Mother instructed one of the maids in the pinning of Evangeline’s dress. Sue sighed and set her cup down on the small table at her side, which already teetered with piles of fashion plates. Every surface of the small drawing room they’d been given during their stay with the Fairlyns was covered in samples of fabric and ribbons and sketches of gowns for Evangeline’s come-out season.

Sue shuddered to think what any man would think if he walked into such an eruption of femininity. But that was hardly a problem since the only men around were footmen, who were forced to endure such chaos; her uncle, who was out hunting something on his new lands; and Father, who remained perpetually locked inside the library.

Normally, she would have stayed locked away in her suite painting during teatime instead of suffering through yet another one of Evangeline’s fittings—but not today. She’d been instructed to stay at Evangeline’s side until further notice. Sue assumed her mother wanted a bit of her sister to rub off on her like the green of wet grass on her knees when she sketched outdoors—only Evangeline would somehow make her clean and perfect. Ha! She snorted and covered the sound with a cough. Her sister and cousins had presumably slipped away from the ball last night without notice, lucky felines that they were.