“I was too stupid for some of their schemes. If somebody complimented my dress, I took it as a compliment.”
Such an unusual color, my lady. What an original way to draw the notice of the gentlemen.
You actually drink the punch! Ah, so you can send more than one man to fetch you a glass. Very clever, Lady Susannah! Though I suppose you might become tipsy…
“You were too innocent,” Will said. “We’re calling on Lady March for old times’ sake, but also because her mastiff has gone missing.”
Will would be interested in the missing dog, though his tone suggested he wasn’t exactly pleased to be out socializing.
Perhaps he’d scheduled this call to allow Susannah a chance to revisit the sight of her youthful challenges, but she was more absorbed with the pleasure of walking along with her arm linked through Will’s. Maybe their sessions with the dogs had made a difference, maybe Will was simply accustomed to her company, but Susannah’s escort felt more relaxed, possibly even friendlier than he had in their previous encounters.
Most of their previous encounters. Willow Dorning was a prodigiously skilled kisser when caught unawares beneath the maples.
Lady March welcomed them with the flighty, dithery manners she’d shown her daughter’s friends seven years ago. She had aged, and apparently grown more nervous with the passing of time. Her dark ringlets showed not a hint of gray, though the years had dug grooves beside her mouth.
Susannah was abruptly glad Will had suggested this call.
Prior to Susannah’s come-out, Lady March had loomed in Susannah’s imagination like the social equivalent of the Fates, one of the hostesses who could destroy a young woman’s prospects or assure them.
Her ladyship had held neither power, though Susannah could see that only now. Lady March was a creature to be pitied rather than feared, trapped in a boring, anxious, lonely life.
“I do miss my little bowwow,” her ladyship said, drawing a handkerchief from her sleeve when the tea service had been dealt with. “Alexander was such a comfort, such a dear.” She touched the linen to the corner of her eyes, then balled up the handkerchief in a be-ringed grip.
“When did you first notice he was missing?” Will asked.
“I can’t clearly recall. Not long ago. Mere days, I’m sure. I miss him so, it feels as if he’s been gone an age.” More dabbing at her eyes. “How is your sister, Lady Susannah? Lady Delilah is such a pretty little thing, though her looks are quite unusual for a Haddonfield.”
Susannah smiled, though she wished Georgette had been with them, to leave a damp spot on Lady March’s carpet.
“Lady Della is enjoying her first Season very much,” Susannah said. “Society has been most welcoming. I only wish our parents could have been here to see her make her bow. Bellefonte and his countess are inundated with invitations, and her ladyship’s at home is an utter crush.”
Not a complete lie. The afternoons when Leah received were well attended, though not by swains looking to curry Della’s favor.
“But that dark hair,” Lady March said. “Dark hair can be a trial.”
“I’ve never found it so,” Will said, when Susannah might have spared a pointed glance for her ladyship’s curls. “Nor have my siblings similarly afflicted ever complained about having dark hair. Have you any idea what might have happened to Alexander?”
Her ladyship glanced down, and for an instant, her expression was exasperated. “Of course not. He was a very large dog, and if he went over the garden wall, or some careless servant left the gate unlocked, how am I to know of that? I’m too upset to dwell on the details of his disappearance, if you want the truth.”
She poured herself another cup of tea and neglected to offer any to either of her guests. In the late afternoon sunlight, the rubies adorning her rings and bracelet had a flat, smudged quality.
The tea service she’d brought out was plain blue jasperware; the spite she’d served Susannah had been quite fresh, however.
Will tried again, gently, to pry details of the dog’s disappearance from the aggrieved owner, until Susannah realized Lady March would not share anything further.
“Mr. Dorning, we must be on our way,” Susannah said, rising. “Lady March, our thanks for a congenial visit, and I do hope your little bowwow comes home soon.”
While her ladyship directed a footman to clear the tray, Susannah leaned close to Will.
“Forget your walking stick,” she murmured.
His consternation showed only in his eyes, then he gave the barest nod. They left Lady March clutching her handkerchief at the front door.
“Keep walking in case she’s watching us,” Susannah said, threading her arm through Will’s. “She’s lying, Will, I’m sure.”