Will wanted to take Susannah in his arms, wanted to kiss the frown from her brow, but she’d probably bludgeon him with her reticule and use the leashes to tie him to a tree if he made those sorts of advances now.
“I’ve done nothing but think about alternatives, Susannah, and a strategic retreat at least deserves consideration. I suspect one of three individuals has authored Lady Della’s difficulties, and she’s not in a position to take on any one of them, much less all three.”
“Say on,” Susannah said, waving a hand. “I won’t like it, but if I mention anything about this situation to Nicholas, he’ll break heads first and apologize to his countess later.”
As long as Bellefonte didn’t break Will’s head. “First, we must consider Tresham. He bears Lady Della antipathy, and told me last night he wants her gone from Town. I know not why, but those were his words.”
“Perhaps he’s simply a disagreeable gentleman,” Susannah said, worrying a nail. “My fingers taste like dog.” She withdrew a linen handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped at her fingertips, though that wouldn’t make any difference.
“Tresham is a very wealthy disagreeable gentleman,” Will said. “One who could have his pick of the debutantes. Lady Della is no match for him.”
Will was no match for such a man, not in terms of worldly consequence or coin of the realm.
“Della should also be of no matter to Tresham,” Susannah said, cramming her handkerchief into the reticule. “Who else do you suspect?”
“Lyle Mannering, though again, I’m at a loss for a motive. Mannering’s sisters have antipathy toward you, they’ve been vicious in the past for the pleasure of bullying an innocent, and Mannering was in the vicinity of the men’s punch bowl last night. He gossiped about Lady Della, but he’s such an empty-headed gudgeon, no one much listens to him.”
Will plucked Susannah’s reticule from her grasp, extracted her handkerchief, folded it neatly, tucked it back inside, then returned the bag to its owner.
“I would skewer my brothers for such presumption as you just showed,” Susannah said.
“Lucky for me, I am not your brother.”
That observation earned Will not a hint of a smile, as Susannah stroked Georgette’s head again.
“Who is your final suspect?” she asked.
Now for the delicate part. “Lord Effington.”
Susannah shot off the bench, and Georgette trotted after her. “Willow, have you taken leave of your senses? Effington is the only man to show Della marked notice. He was the first to waltz with her other than Nicholas’s handpicked stable of married titles, and he’s— Your theory is preposterous.”
No, it was not, but expecting Susannah to view the matter objectively had been.
“Effington has allowed Della to suffer the nasty talk, to stand alone, when he might have stood by her side, literally and figuratively. Effington is, not coincidentally, Mannering’s bosom bow. Effington has not championed Della’s cause when she has badly needed a champion, nor has he set Mannering to doing the same.”
Susannah muttered something from three yards away, her back half turned.
“I beg your pardon?” Will asked, rising.
“I said, perhaps Effington hasn’t been as forthright as he might have been because that would only fuel more talk, and perhaps somebody else was already at Della’s side.”
Samson whined again, while Will wanted to kick something. “You imply that when Effington abandons the lady, and my brother Ash waltzes into the breach, Effington is to be accorded points for gentlemanly discretion, while Ash—what? I’m not fabricating the sequence of events, Susannah.”
But Will was arguing with a lady.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m upset, and that’s upsetting the dogs. Lord Effington is by no means an ideal suitor, but he’s all Della has, and I’ve not endeared myself to him.”
“You’re reasoning with me,” Will replied, letting Susannah lead him back to the bench, upon which he was heartily sick of sitting.
“Irksome, isn’t it?” Susannah said. “You and I are the ones typically reasoning with our siblings. Tell me again why you think Viscount Effington is sabotaging Della’s Season.”
Because Georgette hadn’t liked Effington, because Yorick didn’t trust his own master not to deal him a blow when no blow was warranted. Because Effington used his innocent dog to cheat at cards.
“Effington says he cares for Lady Della,” Will said, “then he leaves her to slay dragons on her own, then castigates her for accepting the help of the knights who come to her aid. I cannot abide a hypocrite. If Effington truly has Lady Della’s best interests at heart, he ought to be thanking the other fellows, and never leaving the lady’s side. He ought to be offering for her, in fact.”
Nonetheless, Will did not want to see any woman shackled to a husband who’d needlessly beat a small dog.
Though Lady Susannah apparently regarded even Effington as better for her sister than no husband at all.
Eleven