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Edward and Mr. Stephens both pushed to their feet in an automatic acknowledgment of the fact that she had risen. Hardly sparing either of them a glance, Susan swept out of the study and back up the hall towards the front of the house. Ignoring the cluster of people in the front hall, both her family and Edward’s, Susan moved with single-minded purpose. They must have found something in her expression and demeanour fearsome, because they parted like the red sea before her.
Without a second glance back at any of them, Susan rushed up the stairs and into the parlour, crossing it in a few quick strides. She moved to the exact window that Eliza had looked out of on the day that the Count D’Asti had moved in across the street, glaring across at his townhouse’s facade.
Susan clutched the windowsill in a white-knuckled grip, staring unblinkingly at the Count D’Asti’s front door. Finally, she spoke through gritted teeth, her voice low and guttural as a wolf’s growl.
“I will not be snared and forced into a marriage I do not want.” She issued the warning to his house, as if the man himself — via the house — might somehow hear or feel her utter and complete fury.
“I fear that there is only so much we can do, sister.”
Georgiana’s gentle voice sent a jolt through Susan which left her heart skipping several beats as she whirled around to face her sister.
“No.” Susan hissed. “You mark my words, sister. I will not be charmed. I will not be coaxed. I will not be enticed. I will not be trapped by this man, nor anyone else, not when my heart is already hopelessly lost to someone else.”
“I understand your feelings on the matter, believe me. Do not forget that Wadham almost succeeded in forcing me to marry him. For now, however, we have other concerns we must see to.”
“What concerns?” Susan sighed, rubbing at her temples as a headache started to throb there.
“Surely you haven’t forgotten that Lady Walcot’s Ball is tomorrow night. You must try on your new gown from the modiste and make sure that it fits properly.”
“Oh, no.” Susan groaned, already shaking her head. “Please, can we not tell Lady Walcot that I am unwell and thus unable to attend? I am in no mood to dance and socialise, Georgiana. I don’t want to go to any Balls this season if I have to see the Count D’Asti at every one of them.”
Georgiana let out a long, belaboured sigh and fixed Susan with an unwavering gaze.
“Under different circumstances, I would be more than happy to allow you to stay here during Lady Walcot’s Ball, but Lady Eugenia expressed an earnest hope that you would be attending tomorrow night’s Ball so that she would not have to brave her first true Ball of the season without a friend to face the ton with. She specifically requested your presence.”
Susan opened her mouth, ready to argue, ready to beg, ready to plead. Anything to keep from having to go to Lady Walcot’s Ball after what she just learned from the Bow Street Runners today. The look Georgiana gave her turned the words to dust on Susan’s lips and she stared up at the ceiling for a long moment.
“I do not want to leave Lady Eugenia to the wolves, but that is the only reason I am attending that ridiculous Ball tomorrow after the day I have had.”
That said, Susan groaned and retreated to her room to try on her new gown from the modiste for Lady Walcot’s Ball, little knowing that the day she had had, as she called it, was only just the beginning of the strangest February of her life to date.
