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CHAPTER12
Susan spentthe majority of the next day in her room, pouring her heartache, confusion, and frustration out into the pages of her journal and avoiding contact with everyone else in Billington House save for her lady’s maid, Annie, who had come with her to Billington House for the Season.
Susan winced when Annie knocked gently and opened her bedroom door just far enough to poke her head inside.
“There is a visitor for you in the parlour, Miss Wingfield.”
Susan’s head still ached dully from where she’d cried herself to sleep the night before and she turned a hollow-eyed gaze to Annie.
“Who is it?”
Susan’s tone was as flat and lifeless as her eyes, and the lady’s maid frowned with concern as she stepped inside the bedroom and shut the door behind her.
“I believe Lady Eugenia said his name is Lord D’Asti, if I am not mistaken.”
A hot, angry flush jolted through Susan’s body from head to toe at the gall the Count had, coming here after what she’d discovered. Although, of course, the Count would have no way of knowing that Susan was now privy to his secrets. Susan jumped up, propelled by fury.
“Quick! Help me dress. I have quite a lot to say to the Count D’Asti, indeed.”
Annie pursed her lips, as if she might pity Lord D’Asti, judging by the furious expression she must have witnessed on Susan’s face, but she did what Susan asked her to do with admirable speed and skill, until Susan stood before the mirror, attired in an elegant day dress. Annie winced at Susan’s expression which reflected to her in the full-length mirror standing before them.
“I can tell Williams to ask the gentleman to leave, if you like.”
Susan’s brows scrunched together as she frowned.
“Why?”
Annie smoothed Susan’s hair into a presentable knot on top of her head, with a few artfully trailing curls, and chewed on her bottom lip for several seconds before she cleared her throat and replied.
“You look as if you are about to face the firing squad, Miss. I hate to see you so tortured.”
“That is where you are wrong, Annie.” Susan’s lips twisted in a humourless smile. “I am the firing squad, and it is Lord D’Asti who should be worried. Ask Georgiana to meet me in the drawing room, please. Mother would be absolutely horrified by what I intend to do, and I’d rather spare her the shock.”
Annie’s eyes went wide with surprise, but she nodded her understanding and opened the door for Susan, getting well out of her way as she swept out into the hall and stormed toward the parlour.
The Count D’Asti had crossed the wrong Wingfield woman, and now there was going to be a reckoning, whether he liked it or not. Georgiana stepped out of her bedroom just ahead of Susan.
“You’re coming with me.” Susan hooked her arm through Georgiana’s, propelling them both toward the parlour, where Count D’Asti was waiting to see her. “The Count D’Asti is visiting me, and I would much prefer to have you as my chaperone today than Mama.”
“Oh my gracious.” Georgiana gasped. “What on earth are you about to do, Susan?”
“Come along and find out.”
They reached the parlour door, and before the footman could move to open it, Susan squared her shoulders and gripped the door handle, sucking in a deep, steadying breath.
Georgiana reached out, gently gripping Susan’s wrist.
“I know that your interactions with the Count thus far have been far from ideal, Susan, but please... whatever you’re planning to do, know that it can be done with kindness.”
Susan stopped short, letting her hands fall away from the door handle to the parlour, thus utterly confusing the poor footman. She levelled a wide-eyed gaze at Georgiana.
“There is a good possibility — a likelihood, even — that this man has ruined my chances with the man I truly love, and you would have me treat him with kindness?”
Georgiana bit her lip and avoided meeting Susan’s gaze, but nodded just the same.
“Yes. Treat the Count the way you would like Lord Seabury to treat you, should you be afforded the opportunity to speak with him again and explain the truth of your circumstances. You never know, if you manage to love your enemy — or at the very least treat him with dignity, despite what he has put you through — some blessing or another may come of it, if not for you, then perhaps for Eliza or someone else close to you.”
Susan suppressed a groan and shook her head.
“You severely overestimate my self-control.”
“You will not regret listening to me, I promise.”
Georgiana’s voice was quiet, but self-assured.
Susan narrowed her eyes at her older sister.
“Did you treat Wadham with kindness?”
Georgiana wrinkled her nose and forced out a sigh.
“I tried to, and that’s what matters. Now... are we going to stand outside the parlour and talk all day, or are you going in to speak with the Count?”
“Right.” Susan pasted on a forced smile, and the footman, correctly interpreting the moment, leapt forward to open the door to the parlour. “We shall see if I can do this with kindness. Do shut the door behind us Potter. I would prefer that this conversation remain private.”
She met the footman’s eyes, and he bowed, then opened the door fully.
As Susan swept into the room, the Count D’Asti rose and bowed, greeting her with his most charming smile. The gesture had practiced ease, but Susan brushed it off with a brisk curtsey.
“Are you well today, Miss Wingfield?”
