Della’s brows drew down at Mr. Dorning’s grave tone, but Susannah understood teasing when she heard it.
“See that you don’t, sir,” she said. “Has your dog been denied the privileges of the park for her earlier indiscretions?”
Susannah noticed Georgette’s absence, for the mastiff was a part of Will Dorning’s ensemble, like a carved walking stick or a particular signet ring, only larger and more noticeable. Susannah wasn’t sure what the violets in Mr. Dorning’s hand were about, though for the past seven years, violets had reminded her of his eyes.
And of his gallantry.
“Willow, you are remiss,” said a fellow trotting up on Will’s left. The newcomer rode a handsome black horse, had the Dorning violet eyes, and felt entitled to an introduction.
The earl, then. Susannah hadn’t seen him for years. Beside her, Della preened, fluffing her skirts and twiddling her bonnet ribbons, exactly as a young lady might.
Exactly as Susannah never had.
“My ladies, this presuming lout is my brother,” Will said. “Grey, Earl of Interruption and Casriel. Apparently, we’re about to be joined by my younger brothers as well, for which I do apologize.”
The last was aimed at Susannah, more drivel, but Mr. Dorning’s eyes said he was also commiserating with her on the entire topic of siblings. More introductions followed, for Mr. Ash Dorning, and Mr. Sycamore—“though he will ignore you unless you call him Cam”—Dorning.
The earl seemed content to sit back and allow his younger brother to manage the entire encounter. Other carriages tooled past, other gentlemen rode by, and for the first time, Lady Della Haddonfield was seen to hold court in the park.
Della teased Ash Dorning about the fancy knot in his cravat, while Susannah tried not to stare at Mr. Willow Dorning’s violets.
“Thank you,” Susannah said, beneath the banter of their siblings. Will Dorning was the most perceptive man Susannah knew, for all he lacked charm. She needn’t say more.
“You’re welcome,” he replied just as softly. “I have my own motives, though.”
Something Della said caused the other three brothers to laugh, and up and down the carriage parade, heads turned. The Earl of Casriel smiled at Lady Della Haddonfield, ensuring the moment would be remarked by the ladies over tea and by the gentlemen over cards.
“We each have our own motives,” Susannah replied. Shakespeare had made the same point in a hundred more eloquent turns of phrase.
Mr. Dorning fiddled with his horse’s mane. “It hasn’t grown easier, then? You haven’t learned to love the dancing and flirting and being seen?”
He’d predicted she would. He’d been wrong, or kind, or both.
“I am content,” Susannah said, which they both knew for a lie. She had never needed to dissemble with him, so she amended her statement. “I will be content, rather. Della has already attached the interest of Viscount Effington, and that portends a successful Season for her.”
This merry, impromptu gathering in the park surrounded by four handsome fellows improved those odds considerably.
“May we call upon you, Lady Susannah? You and Lady Della?”
The question hurt. A childish lament—I saw him first—crowded hard against loyalty to Della. Willow Dorning had been honorable toward Susannah before she’d comprehended how precious such regard was.
He’d make a wonderful brother-in-law, damn him.
She smiled brilliantly. “Of course you must call upon us, you and however many brothers or dogs you please. We’re always happy to welcome our friends.” A slight untruth, for Susannah resented any who interrupted her reading.
“Willow!” the earl called. “Didn’t you bring those posies for the lady?”
Della Haddonfield, who could wield truth like a rapier and silence like a shield, simpered, and Susannah’s heart broke a little.
A nuisance, to have a heart that could break. Susannah had thought herself beyond such folly.
“The violets go with his eyes,” Cam Dorning said. “Willow is partial to violets, you see.”
“As am I,” Della said. “Such a delicate fragrance, and so pretty.”
Violets did not last, though. Susannah had reason to know this. The horse in the traces took a restive step and shook its head.
Time to go.
“I am partial to ladies who forgive us our minor lapses,” Will said, presenting the violets in a gloved hand.
Della reached for the bouquet, and the moment might have turned awkward, but Susannah realized at the last possible instant that the flowers were not for Della, they were for her.
She passed the reins into Della’s hands as if the movement were choreographed, and accepted the violets.
“Thank you, Mr. Dorning. I’m partial to violets as well. I don’t want these to wilt, though, so I’d best get them directly home.”
Della recovered with good-humored grace as the men made their farewells and cantered away.